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Harry Potter, aged seven and three quarters – nearly eight – is a very special boy (that's what Padfoot says – Harry is inclined to believe him). All his teachers know it because Harry is certain to tell them, repeating the exact phrasing Sirius always uses when he says it.

"You're a special boy, Haz. A special boy with a wonderful house. Let's keep it that way and not set it on fire."

"Harry, you're so special, d'you know that? All those brilliant friends. Do you want to keep them for a long time? Yes? Then I'd suggest you stop poking them with sticks while you pretend they're wands and that you're cursing them catatonic."

"Special boys have the sexiest godfathers, did you know that, sprog? Too bad it's not been helpful in the shagging department recently."

Harry doesn't think Sirius had known he'd heard the last one, and he'd never said anything of the sort again after Harry had loudly repeated it to his newest teacher upon their first introduction when Sirius had come to pick him up at the end of the first day of school. Blushing furiously while trying to act as though he wasn't, nostrils flaring, Sirius' gaze had dropped to Harry where he'd been humming between the two adults. Sirius still turns a terrific shade of red whenever he's forced to interact with Ms Hatherton, the woman eyeing him like a treat dipped in chocolate, not that Harry notices much.

"Trying to kill your old dad, aren't you?" Sirius had hissed out the side of his mouth after the encounter as they'd nearly jogged down the pavement away from the school and the chortling woman. Harry hadn't entirely understood, but he'd laughed at the exasperation in Padfoot's voice.

Sirius isn't really Harry's dad, he knows that. He'd had another a long time ago, his First Dad as Harry has taken to calling him in his head, unbeknownst to his godfather. He'd had a dad and a mum, too. Sirius has told him stories about them, and there are photographs all over their house of the couple, Harry sometimes sitting beside them in their lounge and imagining them moving, waving at him, their eyes crinkling as they look at him proudly. Sirius had loved them and still does. He says they'd been his family, his true family, his First Family not very good at all.

Harry sometimes wonders if that's how it works, if you have something and don't like it or lose it, and then find another, maybe better than the first go around. Not that Harry necessarily thinks Sirius is better than his mum and dad would have been, but he is fond of Sirius and the noises he makes whenever he attempts to cook them dinner and inevitably injures himself, asking Harry his preference on pizza or Chinese as he sucks a burned finger into his mouth.

It's a good life, just the two of them, and Harry has very few complaints, even if Mrs Weasley likes to corner Sirius in her kitchen with advice or suggestions that leave Sirius in a foul mood and grumbling under his breath for hours. They're happy as they are, and Sirius sings when he washes dishes or picks Harry's clothing up off the floor, terrible sounds that causes Harry's ears to hurt, but he never complains.

But sometimes, at night, when Harry can't sleep, he'll sneak down the stairs quietly and peek around the edge of the doorframe to the sitting room. He often finds Sirius there, legs curled up in front of himself on the sofa, a half-empty bottle glinting in the dim lighting of the room, photo album abandoned beside his knee. He's never looking at it when Harry locates him, always staring at the opposite wall or at one of his feet like he's seeing nothing at all. And Harry thinks he looks sad in these moments, sadder than Harry ever remembers Sirius behaving during the daylight hours when he knows Harry is watching.

"I think he's lonely," supplies Hermione knowingly on the playground one day when Harry brings it up. "Mrs Weasley thinks the same thing. I heard her telling Andromeda during Christmas, which means I'm right."

"What's he got to be lonely for?" scoffs Ron, frowning at Hermione. "He's got Harry, don't he?"

"Yes, but adults like other adults around, Ron," says the girl in irritation. "Honestly, don't you pay attention to anything?" As Ron sputters, Hermione turns to Harry who's digging his hands into the sand surrounding them. "Don't you think he's lonely, Harry?"

Shrugging, Harry makes an uncertain face. "I dunno. He seems okay except at night sometimes. Maybe it's what's in the bottle he's always got, but I can't figure out what it is. I can't ever find it in the morning, like it never existed and I just made it up."

"Grown-ups don't like for kids to know when they're sad," informs Hermione promptly.

"D'you think he puts his sadness into the bottle and throws it away before I wake up?" asks Harry. "That way I'll never see it and he thinks I don't know it's there?"

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah!" chirps Ron excitedly. "I bet that's it. What else would it be?"

"Maybe he's drinking it," insists Hermione pressingly, cleverly, but neither Ron nor Harry are paying her any attention now.

"You should get him a girlfriend!" tosses out Ron eagerly, kicking up a bit of sand as he lurches forward onto his knees. "Bill's got one of those now. They've always got their faces shoved together. It's gross." He pulls a disgusted expression, his nose and mouth twisting like he might be ill.

"I think my dad likes boys," muses Harry thoughtfully. "I've seen him flirt with them at the market and in the park."

"He flirts with the girls, too, I've seen it," urges Ron, appearing puzzled.

Harry frowns a little in consideration, his eyes twitching away as he recalls encounters he's witnessed with Sirius. "Doesn't seem the same when he does it with them. He mostly just smiles and nods a lot. Like he's being nice more than anything."

"So, get him a boyfriend, then!"

"But how do I do that?"

Hermione clears her throat, pulling their focus. "You'll have to study," she provides, sitting up straighter, and Ron moans, flopping backwards into the sand, a cloud bursting around him. He swats the grains away with an annoyed hand.

"You always want to study," he grumbles, scowling at the bright sky overhead. "Study, study, study."

Hermione rolls her eyes.

--------------------

The studying Hermione had spoken of turns out to be watching films they've never seen before, a fact that instantly brightens Ron when he realizes. Tucked away inside Hermione's room, her VCR rewinding with a low whirring sound in front of them, Harry is anxious, mostly because his friend won't show him the covers of the boxes or let them see the titles.

It only takes fifteen minutes into the first film for Harry's excitement to fade and for Ron to grow bored and annoyed. They'd expected something exciting, not Hermione's mother's collection of romantic comedies. He watches dutifully for a while, but Harry can't find all that much funny about them, his attention beginning to flicker in and out even as Hermione sits with a notebook over her crossed legs, taking avid notes with scribbled handwriting Harry can't even read.

Hermione swears the research is beneficial as Ron complains with his head hanging over the edge of her bed, but Harry goes home the next day and soon forgets the entire matter. Sirius is good at things like that, making Harry forget previously important things, always ready with entertainment. It's not until a few weeks later when Harry really remembers at all, just a small wiggle in the back of his mind.

Sirius takes him to the library often. It's a fun adventure for them. Harry gets to select all the new books he can carry or play with the epic assortment of toys in the children's section while Sirius browses the adult shelves in the back, making his own carefully curated selections, always a mixture of exciting tales and non-fiction alike. He says it keeps his mind sharp so Harry can never best him, always ready with knowledgeable facts whenever Harry's curiosity gets the best of him on a specific topic. Sirius claims Harry gets that from his mum, his incessant need to know things.

Racing off to the side corner of the library as soon as they arrive like he always does, Sirius calls after him in a loud whisper, telling him to behave and not to leave the building without finding him first, but Harry already knows this. They're there for a long time, Harry plucking more and more books from the shelves until he's finished, settling at a table with a girl his age and talking about a new popular series about magic and wizards and werewolves as he waits for Sirius to locate him as he always does, but Sirius never comes.

Eventually tiring of being stationary, the girl trailing away with her own mum long before, Harry lurches out of his seat, gathers his books, and goes in search of Sirius instead. He rushes through the back stacks of books, hastily apologizing twice when he nearly rams into random people before quickly dodging around them, ignoring the building ache in his arms from his carried load. Sirius is nowhere to be found, and Harry pauses at the edge of the rows of shelves, frowning to himself before he winds his way to the front of the library again. It's there that he hears Sirius' quiet chortle of laughter, lower and softer than usual, his dad rarely restrained but containing himself more while they're inside the library than any other time.

Stopping next to an artful display of books chosen by the staff to promote during the current month, Harry looks around until his eyes land on the man he's been trying to locate. He's with someone else, another man, light brown waves of hair falling into his eyes a little and a dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks. Sirius is bent in close to him, both their heads hovering above an open book, the man pointing out something that makes Sirius hum, grey eyes flickering up to the stranger's face with interest that the other man doesn't appear to notice.

Placing his own books on the floor beside his feet, Harry watches them as Sirius slides his finger next to the man's, the tips barely brushing together. Sirius' gaze flickers to the man's neck and down to the collar of his shirt before darting away, Harry seeing when his tongue swipes around his back teeth, another curiosity Harry has observed on multiple occasions, a peculiarity of Sirius' in instances like this when Harry thinks his dad finds particular interest in someone, like a tell.

Laughing again, Sirius gracefully pushes in closer to the stranger's side, head tilting further, his dark hair clearly tickling the other man's cheek. Brown eyes flitter up to his face, soft around their edges, and Sirius smiles charmingly as he speaks quietly, his arm purposefully knocking into the other man's.

Sirius is bold when he flirts, even Harry knows that. Mrs Weasley sometimes complains about it where she thinks Harry can't hear, thinking the way Sirius goes about things is contradictory to what Harry and he both need and she says they deserve. Harry isn't entirely certain what that means because he thinks they have everything they could ever need or want, but he's heard Mr Weasley or Andromeda and Ted quietly agree during some occasions when Mrs Weasley is less agitated in her rants.

People seem to like Sirius enough, especially women, though Sirius never really entertains their advances beyond easy smiles and kind words in return. It's the men he presses in on, that he flocks to, people of all varieties always seeming to form gaggles around the man without him ever really trying all that much. But when he finds someone he really likes, someone that truly catches his fancy, a switch flips inside Sirius. His charm amps high, his body language altering until he's barely recognizable. He's suave, or so he calls himself much to Harry's amused confusion, not understanding the meaning behind the word. He gets what he wants.

He's doing it here, now, obvious in the way he holds himself, in his presentation and the low rumble of his voice, Harry cocking his head to the side as he watches inquisitively. What's surprising is when the stranger abruptly straightens, his smile blossoming brightly, spreading across his face, and he says something Harry can't hear, flipping the book closed. Sirius blinks, his mouth parting before closing. He takes a step backwards, and then he trips, stumbling around a rubbish bin, staggering forward in an overcorrection, hands catching on the heavy book and sending it flipping off the table in front of them, plummeting towards the floor and landing squarely across the strange man's toes.

"Shit," swears Sirius louder than he'd previously been speaking as the other man winces and immediately shifts away on instinct. "Christ, I'm sorry. That was a – fucking hell. You all right?"

"Fine. I'm fine," assures the man, flexing his toes inside his shoe as he stares down at it and then looks back up at Sirius with a generous smile. "It's not the first time I've had a book to the foot. Likely won't be the last."

"Ah," exhales Sirius, appearing uncertain, like his bearings are thrown off. "Right. Ah. Um. I can, er…want me to check them for you?"

"You want to check my toes?" questions the man in amusement, and Sirius stiffens.

"No. Yes!" sputters Sirius, flummoxed and grappling for his composure back. "I mean – "

Chuckling silently, his chest shaking with the action, the stranger's mouth twitches noticeably as he stares at Sirius' frantic expression, brown eyes glittering. Shaking his head after a moment, the man relaxes as Sirius' face falls in mortification.

"I think they'll survive," he promises with a spreading smirk, and Sirius looks as though he's ready to bury himself in a hole in the ground. The man's head whips around when someone calls out for help, sparing Sirius for a second as he begins to slowly slink backwards before he stops when brown eyes turn on him again. "Really, it's fine. I'm not fussed and you shouldn't be either. Accidents happen." Offering out the book, waiting for Sirius to take it from his grasp, the man smiles warmly, a tilt to it that appears almost sly. "Enjoy your reading."

Swallowing loudly, Sirius takes the book, watching as the stranger walks away with only a small limp to his step. Once he's out of earshot, Sirius' head falls backwards, eyes closing as he groans to himself.

"Fuck me on a flying horse," he mutters sourly, a wet sound leaving his mouth next, exasperation and annoyance clear in the noise. Harry quickly gathers his books and walks up to his dad, Sirius' startling when Harry pulls on the sleeve of his leather jacket. "Haz! You, uh. Ready to go?"

Nodding as he shows off his books, Sirius quickly glancing at the titles in approval, Harry watches him with a curious tip to his head.

"Did you really want to see his toes?" he asks as they walk towards the front desk. Sirius stumbles in his steps, faltering a little as his eyes dart down to Harry.

"You saw that?" he demands weakly, groaning again when Harry grins at him. "Little sneak, hiding in the shadows."

"There weren't any shadows!" cries Harry loudly, one of the library workers gently shushing him, her smile kind when Harry looks in her direction. His voice lowers. "Only that book thing. You were silly, Dad."

Huffing to himself, Sirius' hand comes down on Harry's shoulder. "Yeah, yeah," he mumbles. "Let's just get out of here before I break everyone's bones."

Harry once again forgets the important things until a little more than two weeks later when, after a large amount of begging and Sirius digging his heels in, they return to the library. He dashes away again quickly, Sirius not even bothering to call after him this time with reminders, his eyes too busy darting around the open space nervously.

Racing into the children's section, Harry slides to a halt when he encounters a large group of other kids, all different ages. They sit on the floor in a loose half-circle around a chair, low murmurs drifting out of them, but for the most part they remain quiet. Tiptoeing his way through them, his interest mounted high, Harry drops to the foamy padded section of floor next to a girl similar to his own age.

"Hello," she greets him primly, her dark eyes shifting to him, framed by equally dark curls and pretty skin.

"Hi," replies Harry, curling his legs up in front of him. "Why is everyone just sitting here?"

"We're waiting for someone to read us a story," she tells him informatively. She reminds Harry a bit of Hermione. "It's a special outing."

"Oh." Going quiet, gazing around at all the different kids, Harry's brows pull together. "A special outing from where?"

"The group home." When Harry continues to frown, the girl tilts her head, her mouth tugging at one corner. "The orphanage. We live at an orphanage."

Harry blinks. "Oh," he repeats. "Okay." After a second, he offers, "I'm an orphan, too."

"Are you? Where did you come from?"

"My dad brought me."

The girl frowns this time. "You can't be an orphan if you've got a dad," she says a bit crossly. "That's not how that works."

"He's not my real dad. I only call him that because he does all the things a dad is s'posed to do."

Studying him for a long moment, the girl takes time to respond, sizing him up. "All right, then." She looks towards the empty chair before glancing back at him. "That's a neat scar. It's like lightning."

Fingers rubbing across his forehead beneath his fringe, Harry grins sheepishly. "Yeah," is all that he says.  

They don't speak again until a door opens off to the side, a man stepping out, and the girl instantly lights up, her back straightening in excitement.

"Oh!" she gushes, her hands twitching around her knees. "He's lovely. He comes to the home and reads to us every week. He does all the voices!"

Harry's gaze settles on the man as he drops into the waiting chair, his smile bright and a little wonderful, and Harry's eyes widen with recognition. It's the same man Sirius had asked to see his toes, those freckles splattered across his nose and cheeks unmistakable.

"Hello, everyone," he welcomes them in a louder voice than he'd used when talking to Sirius, accent thicker and clearer now than it had been with his softer tones. "My name is Remus. Today, we're going to read a story called Amelia Bedelia. You might think her to be a little silly, but she does have a very unique way of looking at the world."

With a wink and a smile, Remus shows off the front cover of a book depicting a woman wearing a blue apron and matching hat. He cracks it open and begins to read. He does indeed do the voices, Harry finds, leaning forward over his legs in fascination as he listens to a tale of a curious woman who dusts furniture with powder, draws pictures of drapes instead of closing them, and crafts clothing for chickens to dress them. Harry giggles, his eyes sliding around the library, something about the story reminding him of Sirius, and then he remembers his dad's obvious interest in Remus, who seems kind, who likes kids, who laughs with them as they do and doesn't fuss at the younger ones when they get too loud.

This is when Harry has an idea, his eyes jumping around all the kids before landing on Remus again as he finishes out the story, humming dreamily about sweet pie within the book, much to the children's delight. Harry puzzles over his developing plan as Remus stands, placing the book on a nearby table and lifting a tray filled with biscuits, beginning to pass them out as he moves between the kids on the floor.

"Everyone take a biscuit if you'd like, and then you each get to choose a book to take back with you," he tells them, smiling brightly at the murmur of small cheers that rise up around him. "I'll help you find something nice if you need it, and next week I can collect all the books to bring back to the library when I visit."

He pauses in front of Harry, bending to offer the tray to him and the girl beside him. Remus catches his eye as they select their treat, winking at Harry before moving on down the line. As the others finally scatter in search of their books, Harry is slower to move, browsing through the shelves without really seeing the titles, still not entirely sure how to put his plan into action to make it successful. He knows Sirius wouldn't appreciate the meddling. It's rare that his dad introduces him to anyone new, rarer still that they have any interaction with Harry beyond a very brief encounter, usually only happening when it can't be avoided. Mostly, if Sirius goes out, Harry doesn't know about it, either staying with the Weasleys, the Tonkses, or someone stays with him at home while Sirius disappears for a while, always returning not long after Harry goes to bed.

"Having trouble deciding?" asks a lilting voice, and Harry startles from his very deep thoughts, spinning around to find Remus crouching beside him, observing Harry's face. "Would you like some help?"

Harry stares at him from behind his glasses for a second, Remus tilting his head as he waits patiently, until Harry finally springs into action. He pulls two books out at mostly random and offers them to the man.

"Which is better?"

Glancing down at the books briefly, Remus' mouth wobbles a bit before it settles, his eyes lifting back to Harry's face.

"I'm not sure either of those would be entirely right for you," he says with loaded humor, coaxing Harry to look down at the books clutched in his hands, both of which are meant for nursery aged kids.

Harry makes a face. "Oh," he sighs, and Remus chuckles.

"Why don't I help you find something more for you age?" he suggests, turning on his feet towards the shelf without standing, fingers skimming the titles. "Ah, here. This is a good one. Very exciting. It's all about tiny people that live in the walls and borrow our things for their own purposes."

"Neat," breathes Harry, eyes sweeping the cover before they lift to Remus again. "Will you adopt me?" he blurts and then panics as the man chokes in surprise.

"Pardon?"

"Er…" Harry's mind races. Yes, he'd had half a plan. This hadn't been it, but he shrugs inwardly, remembering what Andromeda says all the time. In for a penny and all that. "You're nice. You should adopt me."

Remus takes a minute to answer, studying Harry closely. "What about your own parents? Don't you think they'd like to keep you?" he asks kindly.

"I'm an orphan," Harry rushes to say, and it's not a lie as he'd established with the girl earlier. He doesn't have parents. He has a Padfoot, and that's different. Besides, he reasons to himself, this isn't really about him at all.

"Ah," says Remus, his eyes softening in their corners. "Are you?" Harry nods. "Well, then. I'm sorry about that. I'm an orphan, too."

"What?" slips Harry, gaping. "You can't be an orphan! You're a grown-up!"

Remus laughs, twisting back to face Harry fully. "You don't have to be a child to be an orphan, you know? My parents are gone. I'm still their child even as an adult. Makes no difference in the end."

"Really?" says Harry in puzzlement, and Remus smiles, eyes a bit sad as he looks over Harry.

"Really. But strangers can't just go around adopting kids, no matter how much you might like that idea."

Harry argues, "You're not a stranger. You're Remus." The man bursts out in laughter that echoes between the shelves like a chime, his face lighting up as Harry stares at him. "I'm Harry. You can't be strangers if you know someone's name."

Still chortling faintly to himself, Remus pushes himself upwards, hands braced on his knees. "Well, Harry, it's lovely to meet you. How about we take your book over here and check it out?"

Disappointment blooms in Harry's chest when he loses track of Remus later, the man wandering away to help a few of the other kids. When they begin to file out of the library, Harry follows like he belongs, but he ducks away from them near the exit, winding his way to the back of the library in search of Sirius, who he finds tucked into a corner at a table, bent over a book of his own. He looks up when Harry approaches, smiling but faltering when he sees Harry's arms aren't loaded down this time.

"Only one this time, sprog?"

"Yeah. I already checked it out. Can we go? Please?" begs Harry, trying to hide his sullenness from Sirius' searching gaze as he stands.

"All right," agrees Sirius, hand falling over Harry's head, fingers slipping through his hair in a practiced movement, tilting Harry's face in his direction, studying him in bemusement. "Okay, kid?"

Harry nods without speaking, and Sirius accepts it without further question, eyes tracking Harry as he follows him to the front. Sirius leaves without a book, Harry tucked in closely to his side, a safe space, the boy never noticing the man watching with a small smile from the opposite side of the large space.

"I think I found him," expresses Harry the next day at school.

"Who?" asks Ron, squinting through the leaves above their heads.

Harry sighs. "My dad's boyfriend."

Head snapping up from Harry's book he'd offered her to read, Hermione looks at him with wide eyes. "Oh. I was wondering about that. I thought you'd given up." She pauses, her mouth twitching thoughtfully. "Who is it?"

"His name is Remus. He works at the library. Reads to kids."

"I've seen him!" exclaims Hermione, leaning forward over the book. "He's incredibly kind. Very nice. I think he really loves books."

"He showed me that one," says Harry, motioning to the open pages across his friend's lap.

"Maybe he should be Hermione's boyfriend," mutters Ron, sounding bored, his blue eyes rolling around inside his head, "since she loves him so much."

"Do grow up, Ron," utters Hermione scathingly before turning back to Harry. "Sirius likes him?"

"I think so," muses Harry, twisting blades of grass between his fingers. "He wanted to see Remus' toes."

"He what?" demands Ron, pushing himself upright, blinking at Harry. "Why his toes?"

"He dropped a book on them, I think."

"I don't remember that from any of those films," mumbles Ron, frowning at the ground. "Is that what you do with people you like?" Harry shrugs his shoulders.

"Dunno. Padfoot didn't seem happy about it, but Remus was smiling a lot."

"Grown-ups are weird," grumbles Ron. Harry can't help but agree.

Fluttering her hands, Hermione silences them. "If Sirius likes him and Remus doesn't mind having books dropped on his feet, what's the problem? You seem upset."

Harry pulls a piece of grass apart with his fingers before rolling it around into a ring. "I asked him to adopt me and he said no," he explains. Ron snorts as Hermione frowns.

"Sirius said no? I thought he'd already adopted you?"

"No, Remus did."

Expression blank, Ron says, "Remus adopted you?"

"No," presses Harry in exasperation. "I asked Remus and he said no."

"But why do you want Remus to adopt you if Sirius already has?" pokes Ron, leaning forward to peer at Harry's face like he's lost all sense.

Harry huffs. "I don't," denies Harry, "but Sirius likes him and I was trying to get them to talk. I thought if Remus agreed to adopt me, it would make them. And if they adopted me together, then they'd be together. Like your mums and dads. Parents of a kid have to be together. It's the law."

"I don't think – " begins Hermione.

"I get it!" cries Ron with enthusiasm, but he sobers after a second, his expression falling. "Oh. But he said no."

"Yeah," says Harry with a heavy sigh, flopping backwards across the sun-warmed ground. "Dad never even saw him yesterday. He hid in the back until I found him and we left. Usually, he wanders around. I think he's scared."

"I didn't think Sirius was scared of anything," voices Ron, sounding disbelieving.

Thinking back to the time Harry had fallen off the climbing bars at the park and injured his leg, to the time Harry had wandered off in a crowded shop, the look of terror and relief on his face both times when he'd realized Harry was fine or mostly fine, Harry doesn't think that's true.

"I think he's scared of a lot of things," reasons Harry. "Remus is one of them, but I'm not sure why."

"Maybe he's just nervous with him," suggests Hermione, and Harry pauses to consider that.

"He did look nervous. I've never seen him act like that before with anyone. It was weird. It's the same way he acts when the flame gets too high while he's cooking or something blows up in the microwave when he stops paying attention."

"It's because he likes him," expresses Hermione.

"Yeah, but he's liked people before."

"Maybe Remus is different."

"Maybe," concedes Harry, "but I still don't know how to get them to be real boyfriends if Dad won't talk to him and keeps hiding."

"That's easy," says Hermione promptly, superiority in her tone. "Just make him go back to the library and don't let him sneak away. Make sure he stays with you until you find Remus."

Harry slides his eyes to Ron, who pulls a face but huffs his agreement. "I think she's right, mate."

So, that's what Harry does, or what he tries to do. He asks Sirius to take him back to the library at the end of the following week, and Sirius agrees, but on the day in question, it doesn't happen.

"I'm sorry, Prongslet," apologizes Sirius, his expression twisted, waiting for Harry's disappointment. "I don't have time today." He looks a little frazzled, and Harry almost feels sorry for him. Almost, except Harry also wants to pout because this is for Sirius. "Benjy just took leave unexpectedly and dropped all his patients into my lap. I've got to go over their files before Monday so I don't kill anyone." His last words are more of a mutter to himself, a scowl pulling across his mouth before it relaxes back into apology. "We'll go next week, all right? Maybe Hermione has some books you can borrow for the weekend. We can give her a ring and check, yeah?"

Slumping away to his room with a mumble of agreement as Sirius drops to the table with a large sigh amidst the scattered folders, Harry spends his evening staring at his ceiling mulishly. If Sirius won't go to the library with him, he's not sure how to make the two men talk to one another. He's also not sure how long a person – Remus – would reasonably wait around without finding himself another boyfriend, but they wouldn't be better than Sirius, Harry knows that.

He's still puzzling out his problem when there's a light knock on his door, Sirius poking his head around as he opens it slowly. There's a smile on his face as he locates Harry on his bed, but it's strained more than usual. Stepping inside the room, Sirius moves until he seats himself on the edge of Harry's mattress beside him, the bed sagging under his weight, causing Harry to roll a little towards him.

Exhaling a weighted sigh, Sirius murmurs, "I really am sorry. I know how much you like going to the library, and I don't like it when I can't take you or do any of the things we like to do together." Pausing, Harry can feel Sirius looking at him, and his voice brightens a little when he speaks again, falseness in the tone. "Maybe if Dora doesn't have plans, she can take you tomorrow or Sunday," he suggests, trying to urge a bit of hope into Harry. "You like spending time with her and she loves taking you places."

Harry shrugs noncommittally, staring down at where the sheets are rumpled between their bodies. Sirius is quiet for a minute.

"I'm doing the best I can, kid," he whispers, and the melancholy in his voice along with the sadness cascading over his face when Harry looks up at him washes Harry's disappointment and his sullen mood away.

Shifting around and up onto his knees, Sirius watching him, Harry drapes himself over his dad's back, arms curling around the front of his neck. Sirius releases a weak chuckle, barely a huff, but it's enough as Harry rests his chin on top of the man's shoulder, Sirius' hand patting Harry's arm.

"Love you, Haz."

"Love you, too, Dad," returns Harry easily, truthfully.

They remain like that for a little while until Sirius finally draws in a stabilizing breath, clearing his throat, but he doesn't let go of Harry's arm.

"Ready for some dinner?"

Harry's eyes light up as he lifts his head, peering around to see Sirius' face. "Can we get dumplings?" he pleads, Sirius barking out a more customary laugh.

"Sure thing, sprog. C'mon, grab your shoes."

It's the following day before Harry has his bright idea. The library isn't that far away, he realizes as he sits on their lounge floor, watching Sirius work through the open kitchen door. They walk there all the time, and Harry knows the way there after so many visits. He doesn't need Sirius to come with him if he can somehow get Remus here.

So, he waits until Sirius is deeply immersed in his files, hand scribbling at his left side as he takes notes he barely glances at as he writes. Standing, Harry calls out to say he's going to play in his room, Sirius' eyes lifting only long enough to catch sight of his godson and nod before he returns to his work. Inside his room, Harry pulls on his trainers, jacket, and grabs his finished book before carefully creeping back down the stairs and out the front door, pulling it closed silently behind him.

It's only when Harry gets halfway to the library, outside of their neighborhood with the nice, neatly kept rows of houses, that Harry realizes the world is far bigger than he'd ever noticed without Sirius by his side. But he isn't nervous. Or scared. He's not.

Somewhere in the back of his head, Hermione's voice admonishes him. Harry ignores it, but that only makes way for Sirius to encroach, and Harry drops his shoulders, hunching over a little as he walks, his dad's angry face swimming across his vision. More than that, Harry can suddenly see that fear in his grey eyes again, the same fear he'd had the day he'd lost Harry and hadn't known where he was, shouting frantically at the top of his lungs until Harry had come around the corner, Sirius' hands wrapping around his small arms and clinging almost painfully as he'd checked him over, breathless and enraged to hide his terror away.

If Sirius goes to check on Harry and finds him absent from his room and the rest of the house, it'll be like that again. Harry swallows around a growing lump of guilt in his throat, considering turning back until he sees the peak of the library's roof behind another building, changing his mind and continuing forward.

Once inside, Harry breathes out a small sigh of relief. Nothing bad happens here. All the people are very nice to him, and there are loads of adults around. Harry is fine and Sirius likely won't even notice him missing. Angling towards the children's section first, Harry begins to search for the familiar face of Remus, but he doesn't immediately find him, so he keeps exploring through the library, most everyone inside paying him no attention.

Remus isn't anywhere that Harry can find him, and he begins to worry that he's not working today, which means Sirius will be upset with Harry for nothing when he returns on his own. Stopping at the end of a row of shelves, Harry takes a minute to ponder what to do. He could ask one of the grown-ups about the man, but they would probably try to help him themselves, which is kind, but not what Harry wants.

Disappointment rippling through him again, Harry sags, resigning himself to returning home, preparing himself for his dad's displeasure, but he stops again when he hears a familiar voice, head snapping up. Not far down the wall, a door is pushed open, a laughing woman leaving the room beyond. Harry creeps forward slowly, catching a glimpse inside before the door swings closed again, and he sees Remus standing by a table, pausing in pulling on his own jacket to take a sip of something steaming from a lidded cup.

Excitement replacing all else, Harry reaches forward and grabs the doorknob, jerking it open quickly. Remus looks up in mild interest when he notices, and then his features shift with surprise.

"Hello," he greets, voice filled with confusion. He peers at Harry for a second before his expression shifts with recognition. "Harry? It's Harry, isn't it?"

"Yes," confirms Harry in a rush, something happy bubbling inside him at the sight of the man.

Head turning inquisitively, brown eyes darting up and glancing behind Harry, Remus' mouth twitches oddly.

"Do you need something?"

Brazenly, Harry holds out the book. "I finished it," he proclaims.

"Ah. That's wonderful. Did you like it?"

Harry nods furiously. "Yeah, it was really good!" he gushes. "I shared it with my friend and she liked it, too."

"Brilliant!" chirps Remus, clearly pleased as he slides a button through the waiting slot on his jacket. "I'm leaving, but I can help you find another on my way out if you'd like that," he offers.

Harry shifts on his feet as he debates with himself, but he finally says, "Okay."

Smiling warmly at him, Remus finishes fastening his buttons and grabs the bag draped over the back of a nearby chair. He slings the strap around his neck and then steps forward, removing the book from Harry's hands. On their way to the children's section, Remus drops the book at the front desk with a tap on its cover at one of his coworkers, then proceeds to guide Harry through to the best selection of stories.

"What are we in the mood for this time?" prods Remus as he slides a finger along the spines of the orderly rows. "Action and adventure? Magic? Imagination? Little bit of all three?"

Grinning, Harry nods, and Remus hums satisfactorily. His eyes slide over the books before he releases a small noise and plucks one from the shelf, handing it down to Harry.

"That one, I think," he encourages. "You should like it. It's got dragons."

Remus guides Harry back to the front, stopping at the desk. He slides the book across its surface.

"Harry here would like to check out this book," he informs the other man behind the counter with a wink and a sly sort of smile. The interaction pulls a displeased frown from Harry because it kind of looks like the sort of flirting he's seen Sirius do on occasion, but Remus only turns his attention back to Harry, the other man remaining pleasant but not pushing for further conversation. "If I'm here next time once you finish this one, I'll help you find another."

"Okay!" says Harry happily, and Remus beams down at him.

The book sorted and handed back to him, Harry clutches it protectively to his chest as Remus starts his path towards the exit, Harry following closely at his side.

"I do hope you enjoy it," bids the man as he pushes the door open. "And I hope to see you again soon, Harry."

He walks through the door but stops when it swings closed and Harry is still at his side, now outside the building. Remus stares at him, his expression a little baffled, brows pinching together.

"What are you doing, Harry?"

"Um…going home?" responds Harry cautiously, ducking his head a little.

Remus' mouth parts in confusion. "By yourself?" At Harry's nod, Remus' eyes jump to the door behind Harry, gaze shifting across the windows like he's searching for something. "But where's your – " He stops, looking down at Harry again, frowning deeply, lines creasing into his forehead. "Did you come here on your own?"

"I walked," announces Harry proudly, straightening his shoulders, but the horror on Remus' face causes it to dwindle a little as he droops. "We don't live all that far away."

Head turning as he looks off down the street, Remus appears to teeter. He drops his eyes back to Harry, mouth working soundlessly.

"You can't be out here on your own, Harry," he presses adamantly. "It's not always safe. Does the person you live with even know where you've gone?"

Harry bows his head as he admits in a guilty mumble, "No. I snuck out."

"You – " Remus blows out a loud breath above Harry's head, and he risks a peek upwards, watching Remus' face. "All right," he says finally, seemingly coming to a decision as his eyes meet Harry's. "Not far, you said?"

"No. Not far at all."

"Suppose I'll take you back, then. Can't have you wandering around the streets by yourself," murmurs Remus, mostly to himself.

Harry does his best to hide his delight as the man motions for him to lead the way. As they walk, Harry can feel the man's eyes on him periodically, so when he finally glances up, he's not surprised to find Remus staring down at him with curiosity.

"So," he broaches, arching a brown eyebrow at Harry, "the man who usually brings you to the library…" Remus trails off at the startled expression on Harry's face, and he laughs. "Oh, yes. I know," he says with immense humor, lifting his gaze to take in their surroundings, the skin around his eyes crinkling. "Who is he?"

Sighing in defeat, Harry drops the book from his chest, letting it dangle from his fingers at his side. "My dad," he mutters truthfully. Remus hums knowingly, lips twitching.

"Not an orphan, then."

"Well, not exactly – " begins Harry slowly, because that's complicated, he's sure, but a car horn blares loudly on the street beside them as it passes, pulling Remus' attention momentarily. When he turns back to Harry, he seems to have forgotten his previous statement.

"Is he nice to you? Your dad?"

"I – yes?" says Harry in bemusement. "Why wouldn't he be?" he asks defensively, bristling for reasons he doesn't understand.

Remus motions for Harry to calm down with a gentle hand. "No reason," he assures in a soothing voice. "I was only checking, Harry, trying to understand why you…well. I can't piece together why you would ask me to adopt you and pretend to be all alone when you already have what seems to be a very lovely father."

"Oh," clips out Harry, his eyes widening as he looks ahead of them, his mind whirring through possible answers as Remus observes him closely. "It was just a game," he mumbles.

"A game?" repeats Remus, sounding not entirely convinced.

"Yeah. Yeah, just a game," insists Harry, not looking at the other man, and they fall to silence as they turn the corner onto Harry's street. He points down the pavement. "It's that one there."

Stepping up in front of the door, Remus casts Harry a glance and then knocks. They wait, but when more than a minute passes with no response, the man looks at Harry again, his expression questioning. Harry can only shrug his shoulders, not understanding why Sirius isn't coming to the door anymore than Remus. He knocks once more, louder this time, and when there's still no response, he attempts to ring the bell.

The door yanks open suddenly, a frazzled and angry Sirius confronting them, face to face with Remus.

"What?" he snarls rabidly, but the expression on his face falters for three seconds, long enough for it to fade into shock as he blinks at Remus, eyebrows tucking inwards without comprehension. As quickly as they had altered, his features change back, his lips curling around his teeth with rage, grey eyes going hollow with fear, fingers gripping around the cordless phone receiver clutched in his hand. "What do you want?" he demands heatedly.

Remus drops his gaze to Harry, appearing uncertain of what else to do, and Sirius follows his line of sight. The phone drops from his grasp when he sees Harry on the front step, his mouth falling open as he gasps in a choked breath. Sirius looks like a towel that's got wet, wrung out, twisted and contorted the wrong way, and then left in the rubbish bin in the hot sun for months. His skin paler than usual, no color in his cheeks, hair a knotted mess on his head, clothing rumpled and stretched in places like he's been picking at it, pulling it away from his body with anxiety. Harry feels dreadful as he stares up at him.

Dropping to his knees, Sirius stutters out a weak laugh that sounds more like a restrained sob. His arms gather Harry to him, holding him tightly against his chest, and Harry can't see his face anymore, but he can feel the hammering of Padfoot's heart beneath his ribs. And then Sirius is hauling him backwards, hands dragging over Harry, starting at his head and searching every surface area of Harry's body he can easily reach and even some parts he can't, going so far as to poke at his toes inside his trainers just to count them.

"What were you thinking?" he stresses, teeth gritting together and jaw clenching, his anger steadily returning to the lines of his body now that he knows Harry is fine. Sirius' hand wraps around the back of Harry's neck, fingers digging in a little as he tries to cling, to reassure himself Harry is there at all. "You cannot do that. Do you understand me, Harry James? You cannot simply disappear without a single word to me. I have to know where you are. I have to know you're safe."

Harry nods with a bowed head, the guilt back in full force now, gnawing away at his heart with sharp, tearing teeth. Releasing another low noise, Sirius squeezes his neck in one last reassurance before a loud racket emerges from the dropped phone. Closing his eyes briefly, Sirius grabs it, lifting it to his ear as he stands from the floor.

"Hi – no – yes, I know – no. No. No – Ted. Bloody – Ted. He's fine. He's here, he's okay." Sirius pauses, eyes still pinned on Harry. "No. No. Yes, I know she – oh, for fuck's sake. I have to go. He's back, he's safe. I'll ring you both later. Ted? Let the Weasleys and the Grangers know, will you? Yeah, thanks."

Sirius' mouth pulls into a tight line as he disconnects the phone, palm pushing the antenna back down, still staring down at Harry. He finally shifts his gaze, landing on Remus in suspicion.

"Why are you with my son?" he questions accusingly.

"I – " Remus looks like he wants to respond with his own sharp retort, but he appears to bite it back, his features smoothing out as his eyes slide over Sirius, likely taking note of the panic that still hasn't completely faded. "He was at the library. I only brought him back to make sure he was safe when I realized he was alone."

"The library?" hisses Sirius, angling his intense stare down at Harry. His mouth pulls tightly, shoulders tensing in fury and upset. "I said no, Harry. What's more is that I told you I'd get someone to take you if you really wanted to go. Beyond that, you lied to me. Why?"

Sirius' last word is nearly pleading, and Harry hangs his head. He'd done it for Sirius, but he still feels wretched. And it's not as though he can tell his dad that, leading to another lie, so Harry settles for the closest thing to the truth that he can shuffle to the forefront of his mind.

"I just wanted a new book," he mumbles to his shoes. He can see Sirius' mouth wobble from the corner of his eye.

He's quiet for a minute before speaking again, voice tight when he does. "Go to your room, Harry," he commands. "We'll talk about this later."

"But – "

"Now, Harry," grinds out Sirius, eyes flashing with warning when Harry looks up at him.

Casting one last glance up at Remus, the other man giving him the faintest of smiles, Harry hangs his head again and mounts the stairs. It's only when he rounds the corner out of sight, quickly turning and crouching low to peer down at the two men, that Sirius allows himself to fall apart a little. He releases a loud, shaking breath, eyes closing tightly, hand gripping around the base of the banister with white-knuckled fingers.

"Are you all right?"

Remus' voice seems to startle Sirius back to himself, and Harry thinks he'd forgotten the other man was there at all until that moment. His head snaps up, eyes widening a little as Sirius looks at him, but he nods as he clears his throat, turning back to face Remus directly.

"Yeah, I – " He stops and clears his throat again. "Yeah. Fine, really."

"Good," says Remus genuinely, still standing in the doorway, having not entered.

Gaze shifting to the side briefly before returning to Remus, Sirius mumbles, "I'm sorry about…well, you know. The way I opened the door, snapping at you. Accusing you." He swallows loudly. "I wasn't sure what to think, and when you first showed up, I was – "

"It's fine," interjects Remus quickly, taking a small step forward across the threshold without even seeming to realize what he's done. Sirius watches him but doesn't protest or tell him to leave. "I've no doubt you were…incredibly frightened. I'm sure I wouldn't have been any different in your situation."

"Do you have children?" questions Sirius inquisitively, his mouth tugging at one corner.

Shaking his head, Remus replies, "No, I don't. I just meant – well, if I did, you know. I can't imagine the fear of finding them gone when you think them safe."

Releasing a sigh, Sirius nods his head in a small motion before turning away. He walks to the table along one wall where they keep the telephone, returning it to its cradle as Remus tracks him with his eyes.

"Thanks. For bringing him back," voices Sirius distantly as he leans against the wall, gaze travelling back to Remus. "I'm sorry if he put you out."

"It wasn't any bother," denies Remus easily, his body beginning to relax as they converse. "He's an interesting kid."

Sirius' eyes trail up the stairs, Harry quickly twitching backwards, out of sight. "That's one way to phrase it," he mutters, but there's still a hint of fondness in his tone that's unmistakable.

"If you want to go and speak with him, I can go – " tries Remus, but Sirius shakes his head sharply, cutting across his words.

"No. No, I think if I did it now, I'd likely smother him with a pillow." It takes a second, but Sirius' eyes widened comically as his head whips in Remus' direction as though he's only just realized what he's said to a complete stranger, but Remus chuckles quietly in understanding, Sirius slumping against the wall. "Fucking hell," he breathes out. "What a bloody awful day."

The other man watching him sympathetically, Sirius reaches up and massages the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb, exhaustion clear in the way his moves and the fall of his face.

"I told him I'd take him to the library yesterday," he says between them, explaining needlessly. Remus looks uncertain for a moment, but he finally steps inside, closing the door quietly behind him to trap the heat. "It's not often I don't follow through with my word, you know, but I couldn't help it this time. I had to work this weekend. I have a mountain of files to go over so I don't potentially kill someone Monday morning."

At Remus' startled look, Sirius groans deeply.

"Fuck. Doctor. I'm a doctor," he explains, and Remus' eyes brighten with the connection to what Sirius had previously said. "A colleague of mine had to take unexpected leave because of a family matter. All his patients transferred over to me while he's gone, which is fine, I don't mind, but…" Sirius trails off, motioning with one hand towards the stairs. "Harry tends to suffer when things like that happen. I did offer to get someone else to take him. I've no idea what he was thinking. He's never done something like this before, not intentionally."

Remaining quiet for a moment, watching the side of Sirius' face, Remus appears to silently argue with himself before he takes another step forward and speaks.

"You're not all that far from the library," he says slowly, Sirius raising his head to look at him with a furrowed brow. "If you want, if something like that happens again, I wouldn't care to collect him and bring him in for a while. I could bring him back home when I was finished for the day, or you could pick him up."

Sirius shakes his head in protest. "I couldn't ask that of you," he denies, appearing astonished and curious in the same instant.

"You're not asking. I'm offering," presents Remus with a secret sort of smile, and Sirius huffs, eyes flickering up to the ceiling.

"Mm, maybe," he concedes before looking at Remus again. "What's your name?"

"Remus. Remus Lupin."

"Sirius Black." Remus' eyes light up a little as Sirius' narrow the smallest amount. "How're the toes?"

Blinking for a second, Remus suddenly laughs, his middle shaking with it, Sirius' smile a wonderful thing as it spreads.

"I suppose knowing you're a doctor puts your request to see them in better perspective," he admits.

Sirius only hums delightfully.

Later that night, Sirius finds Harry in his bedroom again. Harry hasn't been brave enough to leave since he'd slipped away after Remus had departed, knowing how angry and upset Sirius likely still was. Settling down on his bed again, facing him but not looking at him yet, Sirius looks haggard, worn down into a groove. Harry curls his legs inwards automatically, his new book spread across his lap forgotten now.

"Why did you do it, Haz?" his dad finally asks, voice tight and sad. "I don't understand." He looks up at Harry then, and his grey eyes are pleading, nearly desperate. It burns something inside Harry's chest and throat. "I thought you were here, I thought you were safe. I come up to see if you want lunch, and you're just…you're gone. Do you have any idea what that – "

Sirius cuts off abruptly, his words sounding strangled away to nothing, like he's got no choice in the matter. And Harry still can't tell him, doesn't know how without making the entire thing worse.

Looking down at his book, flicking his finger across the pages, Harry only mumbles, "I'm sorry, Padfoot."

Blowing out a breath, deflating and sagging the mattress further, Sirius shakes his head as his body trembles a little. He reaches out, hands snagging around Harry, the book dumping to the bed as Sirius hauls him forward, into his lap. And maybe Harry is entirely too big for this now, or so he thinks, but Sirius doesn't seem to care, his arms strong where they wrap around him, pressing Harry into his chest, like he's trying to absorb him through his skin.

"You can't scare me like that," he utters, and his voice is a sickening collection of overwhelming emotions. "You're all I've got, mate. You and me. I need you safe, okay? I'm meant to keep you safe and whole, and I can't do that if you're sneaking off to places without telling me."

Harry nods against Sirius' neck as fingers find the hair at the back of his head, holding tightly. "I'm sorry," he repeats. "I won't do it again. Promise."

Sirius takes him at his word, but he doesn't release him for a long time. Harry decides not to complain. He doesn't think there's much to complain about like this.

--------------------

"You ran away?" screeches Hermione, her eyes bulging in their sockets. "Are you mental?"

"I didn't run away," argues Harry, pouting and crossing his arms over his chest, choosing to watch Ron poke a stick into the pond beside his house instead of looking at his other friend. "I came back. It was part of the plan. Remus brought me back, and they talked. I think they really like each other."

"Mum was ready to call the government. Enlist the military," chimes in Ron as he bends low to inspect a glob of pond scum he'd dragged to the surface. "Should have seen her. She cried when Andy rang and said you were fine." He pauses. "She didn't say very nice things about Sirius."

"It wasn't Sirius' fault!" cries Harry in outrage. "What's she got to judge him for?"

"I think it's a mum thing," reasons Ron diplomatically, and Harry scowls.

"Be quiet, Ron," scolds Hermione, seeing the discontent spreading over Harry's face. "Harry, you know Mrs Weasley likes Sirius."

"Yeah? So why is she always so mean to him?" demands Harry with a harsh bite.

"I just think she worries. About you, mostly, but about him as well. She says he's young, and his job takes a lot of time. He never gets to focus on only one thing. And he's all alone with just you – "

"I'm trying to fix that!"

"She says he's in over his head," expresses Ron distantly, still poking at the scum with a disgusted face.

"He's not," argues Harry, beginning to feel the stirrings of anger and resentment. "He's okay. We both are. We have a lot of fun."

"Mum says there's more to raising kids than fun."

"Well, yeah, but – "

"She says you have to teach them right from wrong, discipline them when necessary so they learn, give them love and support and all that gross stuff. Feed us proper stuff like green things and not just takeaway all the time – " Ron casts Harry a half-apologetic look at this. " – and be a parent, not only a friend."

"Padfoot is a parent," grumbles Harry. "He does all those things. 'Cept the green things. But he does make me eat salads a lot when we get food."

"Salads are lovely," commends Hermione as helpfully as possible. "I think Mrs Weasley just worries when she can't see you both."

"Andy never worries. She never says things like that."

Hermione appears uncertain. "I'm not so sure about that," she says cautiously. "Andy loves you and Sirius. I think she does worry, only in a less obvious sort of way. I think it's natural to worry about the people you love, and Sirius is wonderful, Harry, he is, but he does seem lonely sometimes, as you've said yourself."

Harry stares at the ground for a while, thinking deeply. "I'm trying to fix it," he repeats.

"And we're going to help," promises Hermione. Ron beams at him from the edge of the pond.

--------------------

Harry's first order of business with his friends is to consult the notes Hermione had taken from the films they'd watched. She has to decipher them for him, her handwriting flying across the page illegible to anyone but herself. Once that's sorted, they develop a loose plan, which leads to Harry's next task.

Get Remus back to his house with Sirius and then confine them in a bedroom.

Harry isn't entirely sure why this is necessary, nor is Ron or Hermione. It had happened a lot during the movies her mother had allowed them to watch, but none of them are certain of what occurred behind the closed door as the films always seemed to jump to another scene or other people each time. Sometimes there had been noises, and Harry wonders if they'd simply been jumping on the bed. He's done that a lot with Ron and Hermione over the years, but that's never made them couples. He thinks maybe it only works with grown-ups.

He's also not sure how to get Remus to their house without a repeat of what happened the first time, something he'd promised his dad he wouldn't do again, and Harry intends to follow through with that. But his job is made infinitely easier the next time they visit the library, Sirius no longer hiding away and avoiding Remus.

He finds them tucked together over a cart that Remus has been pulling around, Harry's own arms loaded with books. As he steps up beside them, Remus smiles at him in greeting as Sirius' hand comes down over Harry's hair, ruffling it affectionately, but his eyes remain glued to Remus' hands as they flick through what looks like old pages of a large tome.

"I didn't know the library had things like this," breathes Sirius in clear fascination, bending lower over the book, studying a few diagrams.

"Mm, most don't. Though most don't care to know, if I'm honest," expresses Remus with a bit of melancholy. "You're the first I've found to show interest in them."

"You can't find these anymore," presses Sirius adamantly, voice excited. "They're extremely rare."

Remus hums, brown eyes watching the side of Sirius' face as he stares, enthralled, at the open medical book. "They are, you're right. If a shop stumbled across one of these, they wouldn't even be allowed to sell them. They'd have to submit them to an archive for preservation instead," informs Remus, his irises dancing with a spectacular sort of light as he continues to observe Sirius' immense interest. "As it stands, these fall into the valuable reference texts we've got available here. People can make use of them, but they're not permitted to leave the library with them."

"Pity," voices Sirius, straightening slowly, looking at Remus again, "but it makes sense. I can only imagine the damage some people could do to things this old."

"Hmm, yes," agrees Remus in a musing tone. He stares at Sirius for a little longer, Sirius' eyes creasing in the corners as he gazes back, until Remus breaks the contact, his attention dropping to Harry. "Hello, Harry. Did you find some good things?"

"I think so."

Crouching beside him, Remus says, "Let's see them then, shall we?" Presenting his selection of books, Remus looks over them, his smile growing. "Yes, I think those will do nicely."

Hand ruffling through Harry's hair again with his own warm smile, Sirius appears reluctant as he mumbles, "S'pose we should be getting on. We'll have to worry with dinner soon and I know for a fact that someone still has homework to attend to." He casts a pointed glance in his son's direction, and Harry squirms sheepishly.

Remus also appears unready for them to depart so soon. "I, ah…I'm on my way out, too," he says hesitantly. "I can grab my things and walk with you?"

"Brilliant," chirps Sirius brightly. His eyes widen comically when he hears himself. "I mean, er. Yeah, that's good. Grand. We can wait, can't we, sprog?"

Harry nods enthusiastically and Remus chuckles, turning away slowly, eyes pinned on Sirius until the last second. When he's gone, Sirius exhales a large breath.

"Bloody hell," he mutters, shaking his head. "That man makes me feel like a teenager again, fumbling through the dark."

Harry isn't sure what that means, exactly, but he laughs, and Sirius drops him a mock scowl in response that only causes Harry to laugh more, much to his dad's amusement. He urges them towards the front with low, exaggerated grumbles that pull further chortles out of Harry. As they finish with the man behind the counter and he slides Harry's books back to him, Remus emerges behind them, Sirius' face instantly splitting into a blinding smile that coaxes a deep flush across the other man's cheeks.

"All set," announces Remus pleasantly.

"Us, too," says Sirius in response, tapping Harry's stack of books, taking a few from him so they're easier to carry. "Ready to go, Prongslet?"

With Harry's bubbling agreement, the trio exit through the doors, walking down the pavement a bit, Sirius and Remus chattering above Harry where he's wedged between them. Harry glances from one to the other as they talk more about the medical book they'd been looking at, but Remus eventually stops, shifting a little on his feet.

"Uh…I'm that way," he informs with a motion of his head in the opposite way of where they're going.

"What? Oh. Oh, right," says Sirius, sounding immensely disappointed. Remus' mouth twitches with the hints of amusement. "We're, um. We're that direction."

"Yes, I'm aware." Remus' eyes dance as he watches Sirius fumble awkwardly. "You've a dinner to sort out."

"Right. Right, yeah. I do. That." Sirius huffs an exasperated breath. "S'pose I should get on with it."

"I think Harry would appreciate that," says Remus, shooting Harry a bold wink.

"I like food. Dad always tries to cook, but he burns it or himself or sets the curtains on fire, so we get pizza or noodles. Sometimes we get shawarma and that's always good."

Sirius mutters under his breath as he nudges Harry in warning, his own face blazing with fire now. Remus laughs loudly, and Sirius slumps.

"Bugger," he says with a sigh. "Harry likes to reveal secrets that are meant to stay secrets."

Shaking his head, Remus mimes locking his mouth closed. "My lips are sealed," he swears, and Sirius appears to melt a little beside Harry. "I'll let you get on with it, then. Maybe I'll see you at the library soon."

"Yeah. Yeah, soon," mumbles Sirius, watching as the other man begins to turn away, but he stops him quickly, suddenly standing straighter. "Hey, uh…Remus?" When Remus glances over his shoulder at them, Sirius sucks his bottom lip between his teeth before continuing. "I've only just remembered, I've got some older texts at the house. You know, if you're interested in seeing them."

Eyes dropping to Harry for a moment, Remus is slow to respond as he looks back up at Sirius. "Texts at your house?" he prods questioningly.

Sirius' own eyes bulge. "Oh, fuck," he stumbles and then begins to stutter as he looks down at Harry quickly. "No, don't you repeat that. I see you, stop looking at me like that." Looking back up at Remus with a bit of panic, his hands flail through the air. "That sounded – it seemed like – christ." He hangs his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Never mind," he moans despairingly.

Bubbling laughter pulls his focus again, Sirius' mouth parting when he finds Remus in front of him once more. "I'd love to see your books, Sirius," he soothes with obvious humor. Harry thinks Sirius whimpers just a little, but they all eventually angle themselves in the direction of home, and Harry thinks this couldn't have gone any better if he'd planned it himself.

Back at the house, coats hung on the hooks beside the door, Sirius begins to shuffle Harry away to do his homework, informing Remus as he does so that the books are on the shelf in his bedroom. And then he's stuttering again, stammering out an explanation about keeping them away from Harry when he'd been younger, trying to urge Harry back to them like a shield against whatever faux paus he keeps making that Harry doesn't understand, but Remus only laughs again, waving Sirius off and telling him it's fine, that he understands.

Harry ventures to his own room, but once he knows the two men are settled inside Sirius', he slithers out again and creeps past the bedroom to the stairs. All the doors in the house lock from the outside with a skeleton key. It's an odd design, one that Sirius had never understood or made use of, but he'd kept the key just in case, stashed away in a drawer within the kitchen. Harry shuffles through it blindly, not quite tall enough to see to the back where the key has found its way over time. When he locates it, fingers wrapping around the metal triumphantly, Harry grins brightly and traipses back up the stairs on silent feet.

Carefully, he pulls the cracked door closed, muffling the voices inside. Sliding the key into place, he waits until there's a burst of excited babbling from Sirius to click the key to the side, effectively locking the door, and then he settles in beside it to wait after grabbing his homework from his room so that at least he's still doing what he'd been told.

It takes a while for anything to happen, though Harry isn't entirely certain what is meant to be happening at all. To him, it sounds as though they're still only talking about the medical texts Sirius has collected over time, but Harry supposes that's better than nothing at all.

Eventually, the chatter quiets a little, Harry trying to press his ear to the door to hear better, but it doesn't work very well. He waits longer, homework forgotten as he tries to figure out what they're doing, but Harry startles when Sirius' voice sounds louder, closer to the door.

"Guess I should order us some dinner. Haz is right, I really am a shit cook," he says with amusement. "You're welcome to stay. I always get too much and we rarely eat the leftovers – the fuck?" The knob rattles, followed by a pause before it shakes harder. "The door's locked. Why is it locked?"

"Isn't there a latch?" attempts Remus, and Sirius groans with feeling.

"This fucking old house," he mutters sourly. "No, it doesn't have a latch. The whole place is so ancient that they only lock from the outside with a master key. It must have…I dunno. Shifted? I don't even remember closing the door."

"Old houses are drafty," muses Remus. "Maybe it pulled closed on its own."

Sirius sighs heavily, and then he calls out loudly, "Harry!"

Harry doesn't move, remaining frozen on the floor, staring up at the doorknob that Sirius continues to jiggle, trying to force it open.

"Harry!" he shouts again, beginning to sound a bit desperate. "Haz, come on! We're stuck!" There's a mumble of something from behind him and Sirius swears. "Bollocks. He can't hear me."

"Suppose we're living our lives here then, aren't we?" supplies Remus, not sounding all that worried. Sirius chuckles nervously.

"Ready to marry me and start a family?" he quips, the words immediately followed by a choked noise that's undeniably Sirius. "Fuck me," he groans to the door.

"Well, if you insist," comes Remus' humored voice, but Harry thinks Sirius misses it as he begins pounding his fist against the wooden surface, shouting as loudly as he can.

"Harry! Harry, you're not deaf, mate! Harry!"

Shifting away from the door quickly as Sirius' yelling begins to hurt his ears, he contemplates what to do. He finally crawls across the floor quietly, back into his room, making a show of opening the door and emerging again. When Sirius hears him, he sighs in relief.

"Why's the door shut?" asks Harry in faked bemusement, hearing Sirius grumble from the other side.

"I don't know, kid, but can you please get us out?"

"How do I do that?" Harry keeps his voice purposefully blank, playing with the key nestled inside his pocket.

"I need you to get the old key from the drawer in the kitchen to unlock the door. Remember the one I wouldn't let you play with? I think I saw it in the back the other day." 

Trailing away, Harry tramples down the stairs to make sure Sirius hears him. He spends a bit of time at the base before climbing them again. Everything behind the door is suspiciously silent as Harry inserts the key and clicks the lock to the side, his gaze landing on the two men as the door swings open.

Sirius is bright red, a rarity for him, Harry's dad hardly ever getting flustered or embarrassed, except for where Remus Lupin is concerned, apparently.

"Wait. Did you say – before, when I said – did you say – " stutters Sirius, his mouth working faster than his words are forming.

"What?" questions Remus innocently, face void of any hints to what Sirius is referencing but his brown eyes glinting with knowledge.

Sirius' mouth remains open for a second before he seems to finally notice Harry. "Oh, thank christ," he gushes, turning away from the conversation. He takes the key back from Harry, arm squeezing around him gratefully in thanks. He refuses to look at Remus again. "Right. Dinner. I'll go order."

Leaving them quickly, nearly sprinting down the stairs, Sirius is gone in a flash. Harry stares after him before his gaze flickers to Remus, the other man clearly biting back a smile. When his eyes meet Harry's, he winks at him again, and Harry laughs joyfully.

Remus does stay for dinner, much to Harry's delight and Sirius' obvious dithering. He spills soy sauce into his lap and stares at it as Remus tries to hand him napkins to sop it up, loses the cap to the saltshaker, slinging white grains across the table, and nearly topples out of his chair twice when his elbow manages to bump against the other man's or their feet knock together over the floor.

Harry has never seen Sirius so much of a mess of himself as he's noticed when he's with Remus, none of his words flowing smoothly unless he's distracted by something else, dropping things, tripping over himself, and just being a general whirlwind of catastrophe. When Remus leaves that evening, Sirius falls face down on the sofa, groaning deeply to himself and muttering about throwing himself over the side of the nearest cliff he can find. The entire encounter gives Harry another idea, something he remembers seeing in Hermione's notes.

He plans out what he can by himself, but a few days later, when he's at the Tonks', in a moment of bravery, Harry decides to ask Andromeda for help.

"Why do you need to know how to make a dinner?" she questions curiously as she reorganizes their cupboards. She's always doing that, moving things, never settled, always cleaning or readjusting something, like a perfectly kept mini tornado. "Are you growing tired of the takeaway? I've been saying that to Sirius for years now, but he's hopeless. Gods know I've tried to teach him."

Harry doesn't immediately answer, shuffling his feet, but the thing about Andromeda is that she's got a way of dissecting him with nothing more than a look. She does the same to Sirius, Harry has noticed, anything he doesn't want said spilling out of him with little to no prying from his cousin, who always appears smug and victorious afterwards. She pins him with that look now, the cupboards forgotten, two tins in her hands hanging in the air as though they don't exist at all.

"Harry," she says with delving intent, suspicion in her eyes, "what are you up to?"

It comes out of him like sickness, pouring over his lips without a blockage. Andromeda stares at him with an unreadable face for several seconds before she begins to laugh, dropping the tins to the countertop as she bends forward, her body shaking.

"Oh, Harry," she manages breathlessly, looking back up at him with glistening eyes shining with mirthful tears. "Sirius is going to hate this, you know that, don't you?"

Harry only nods as Andromeda continues to laugh, but she agrees to help him, providing him with things he can easily produce without the use of the hob. What's more is that she offers to distract Sirius while Harry constructs his plan, and Harry feels like he might find success this time.

Unbeknownst to Sirius, during their next library visit, just before they leave, Harry tells Sirius he has to go to the loo and slips away to find Remus instead. He invites the man to dinner the next night, disguising the information as though it's come from Sirius rather than himself. Something flickers through Remus' eyes, his gaze rising above Harry as it darts around before dropping to him again.

"Sirius said that?" he says speculatively. "He wants me to come? You're sure?"

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah," Harry rushes to say with a jerking nod of his head. "He just forgot. I said I'd do it while he got our books."

Remus eventually agrees, though he remains a bit hesitant, but Harry takes it at face value and scrambles away to find his dad again. The next afternoon, Andromeda barrels through their door unannounced, grabbing Sirius by the front of his shirt as she pulls him through the house. They hole up in Sirius' office for a long time, which gives Harry ample time to sort out their dinner. It works fine until it…doesn't.

He struggles with the tin opener, dumps half the soup onto the floor, making it a slippery mess. He's seen Sirius clean up disasters like this with flour before, so Harry drags a chair across the kitchen to the counter, climbing onto it to grab the canister of flour. He somehow spills that, too, but most of it makes it onto the soup, though it only creates a clumpier mess than he had before.

Harry decides to ignore it for now.

His next step is heating the soup after he spills what remains into a bowl. Shoving it inside the microwave, Harry bashes in ten minutes, thinking that good enough, and moves on to the salad, which Andromeda had said was vital to a proper date. Except their lettuce is a bit old and saggy, browning around the edges, and he doesn't know he's meant to clean it.

Into another bowl it goes, along with sloppily grated cheese and one lonesome, unsliced tomato that only has one bad spot in it, overall. They don't have any dressing, but Harry only shrugs it away, thinking it'll be fine.

Moving to the table next, he recalls from the films they'd watched that most nice dinners have cloths covering the surfaces, so Harry clears away what's on the table and ventures upstairs, digging through an old wardrobe until he finds a sheet he no longer uses but one Sirius had kept because he'd said it was still "nice". It's got He-Man on it, one of Harry's favorites, and while he still loves it, he's got newer sheets now.

He makes quick work of spreading it out across the table, being certain He-Man's large form is displayed proudly in the center. When Harry is finished, he dashes into the lounge, gathering up all the candles he can find (which isn't many, in truth, Sirius not being much of a candle person) and sets them in the center. He debates for a second about how much trouble he'd be in for trying to use the matches on his own to light them, but before he can form a decision, a loud pop swells through the kitchen, Harry ducking on instinct as he spins around on his feet.

Seeing nothing of merit, Harry slowly rises from his defensive crouch again, peering around in confusion until the microwave dings, reminding him of the soup. Clambering up onto his chair again, tugging the door open, Harry discovers the source of the nameless sound, soup exploded and splattered everywhere, now leaking out of the machine and spilling onto the counter.

"Oops," says Harry to himself, angling a worried glance over his shoulder in the direction of the door, as though Sirius will be alerted any second and come blazing inside the room. When he doesn't, Harry releases a low breath and turns back to the mess. "Er…"

There's virtually nothing left in the bowl, but Harry carefully removes it from the microwave with the dog mitts that dangle from the front of the counter, dishing it out into two smaller bowls with spoons. His last mission is their pudding, but that's easy. Shifting the chair around, Harry climbs back up and digs into a high cupboard, removing two individually packaged cakes Sirius keeps for them for special occasions. He pulls away the wrappers and drops them on a plate, then loads everything to the table.

Just as he's finishing, about to try to clean up some of the mess he's made, the door chime sounds through the house, and he hears Sirius emerge from his office with Andromeda. Harry freezes, eyes darting around as he tries to figure out what to do. He finally creeps to the door, cracking it open enough to peer through and see the three adults gathered at the front.

"Remus," says Sirius in surprise, his voice raising higher in pitch, fingers twitching at his sides. "Hi. Nice to see – what are you doing here? Um. Hi."

Remus stares at him with a furrowed brow for a moment. "I – well. I came for dinner?"

"Dinner?" echoes Sirius in confusion, his eyes not leaving Remus.

"Oh, you've got a date!" exclaims Andromeda with impeccable acting. "You should have said so, Sirius. I wouldn't have intruded for so long."

"What?" squawks Sirius, his entire body jolting as his hands flail through the air. "No. No, I don't – this isn't – "

"You don't have to be embarrassed, Sirius," dismisses Andromeda. "I'm happy for you, really."

"No, Andy – ah, for fuck's sake. This isn't a date," he bites out, mostly due to confusion without any true ire. He turns to Remus, his face set into deep lines. "I don't have dinner." Remus takes a step backwards, and Sirius only then seems to realize the tone of his voice. "Shit. Sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean – "

"No, I'm sorry," breaks in Remus, shaking his head, taking another step back, moving away from the door. "I should have known. Harry said – "

"Harry," groans Sirius, his head tipping backwards over his shoulders, eyes rolling to the ceiling.

Andromeda turns, hiding a snicker. She catches sight of Harry peeking through the door and passes him a delightful grin.

"I'll just go," says Remus with a smile that doesn't completely reach his eyes, beginning to pull away. "I'm sorry I intruded – "

"No!" Sirius cuts across his words with a blaring shout, lurching forward a little, hand jerking at his side. Startling, Remus stops, blinking at him. "Uh. No. No, it's fine. You can stay if you – well, I still don't have anything for dinner, but I rarely do. We can order something. You're already here. You'd might as well stay."

Remus doesn't immediately respond, not moving, looking wholly uncertain, but Andromeda cracks through the silence.

"I'll be on my way, then," she asserts, grabbing her coat from the hook and slinging it over her arms as she steps between them. "Leave you three to your evening. Have some fun, Sirius." She casts him a wink that Remus can't see and then she's gone, whisking down the front path to the street beyond.

They both watch her disappear from sight before Sirius' eyes glue to Remus again. He steps back, opening the door wider, waving his hand to invite the other man inside. It takes a second, but Remus finally moves forward, walking over the threshold, removing his coat slowly in the process, and this is when Harry begins to panic, spinning around to look at the mess of a kitchen behind him.

"Oh no," he utters to himself, quickly scrambling away. He grabs a bundle of towels from a nearby drawer and begins to try to scrape the flour concoction free from the floor which is now stuck fast and hard. This is where Sirius and Remus find him when the door inevitably opens only a few minutes later. "Uh…"

"What – " starts Sirius, his mouth dropping open. "Harry!"

"I'm sorry!" he cries because it seemed to have worked for Sirius and Remus not long before.

"You – what are you – oh. Oh, the microwave," moans Sirius pitifully, his shoulders dropping dramatically in his despair. "Do you have any idea how difficult that is to clean, Hazza?"

The finger tapping at his back pulls Sirius' focus. He turns to see Remus stifling laughter, the same finger pointing over his shoulder towards the table. When Sirius catches sight of it, Harry wonders how he keeps his eyes inside his head so well with how wide they go, his dad taking in the mess of half-formed food, the stackings of unlit candles (luckily for Harry, he's realizing), and the sheet of a mostly naked He-Man on full display beneath it all.

"Right," says Sirius. "Yeah. Right, I think I need to sit down."

Chuckling behind him, Remus willingly obliges, his hand pressing to the small of Sirius' back like an instinct, beginning to guide him forward towards the table. Sirius relaxes automatically at the touch, something even Harry doesn't miss. Once settled in the nearest chair, Sirius' eyes track Remus as he drops down across from him before glancing over the table as Harry shuffles over.

"Feel like explaining?" Sirius asks of his son, watching as Harry climbs into the chair at the head of the table between the two men.

Harry shrugs. "You always feed us," he provides in a small white lie that's also truth. "I can do it, too."

Sirius narrows his eyes over the table at him in suspicion, but Remus offers, "That's very kind, Harry. Considerate." The corners of his mouth wiggle with the hints of a growing smile he's fighting against.

"Mm, considerate," mumbles Sirius, looking back down at the table. He's quiet for a minute before, "Prongslet?"

"Yeah?"

"I – look, I appreciate the effort, I do, but…we can't eat this," says Sirius, appearing partially pained by the words as he meets Harry's gaze. "You know that, don't you, mate?"

Looking down at the food spread across the table, barely a few spoonfuls of partially burnt soup in each bowl and a crummy, sad salad, Harry sighs.

"Yeah," he mumbles a little dejectedly, and Sirius huffs a laugh, leaning back in his chair, but his hand comes down over Harry's arm.

"We've got the stuff for some nice sandwiches," he supplies. "Want to help me make those?"

"Okay!" cries Harry, jumping down from his chair and rushing to their cupboard to remove the good bread Sirius always buys, Sirius laughing as he follows at a slower pace.

As they assemble their dinner, Remus watches them from the table fondly, having offered to help but remained where he was with Sirius' quiet denial. Sirius lets Harry decide what to put on the bread, but Harry is certain to ask Remus what he wants, already knowing how his dad likes his sandwiches, a staple in their household.

While they're eating, Harry doesn't miss the way Sirius stutters over some of his words or how the two men's eyes slide over one another, jokes tossed around about condiments and deli meats. Every time Sirius catches sight of the sheet made into a tablecloth, his cheeks and neck turn a brilliant shade of red, something Harry finds amusing but doesn't know why. When his dad slides their empty plates over He-Man's body in strategic places, Harry frowns but doesn't ask even as Remus snorts into his glass of provided juice.

When they're finished eating, as Sirius reluctantly removes the dishes from the table and He-Man with Remus' insistent help, Harry points to the candles hopefully.

"Can we light them? Please, please?" he begs, Sirius eyeing him from the sink filled with suds, gaze shifting to Remus beside him briefly before he looks back at Harry knowingly.

"I don't think – "

"I can do it. Got any matches about?" interjects Remus, appearing highly amused by the entire thing, and Sirius fumbles a bowl in the hot water.

"You want – ah. Yeah. They're, um. In that drawer at the end, on top. Should be easy to find," supplies Sirius, sounding a bit mystified. He watches in what appears to be fascination as Remus locates the matches and moves to the table, bending over it with Harry, carefully lighting each wick until they're all blazing with flickering flames. He offers the burning match to Harry, allowing him to blow the fire out. Sirius turns back to the dishes before Remus glances at him again and can see his face, his mouth curling upwards as he scrubs furiously at the abused soup bowl.

Remus chatters with Harry about the books he's read for a long while as Sirius sorts out their treat for the night, filling bowls with ice cream and offering out sauces and candies for toppings, much to Harry's delight and what seems to be Remus' as well. Sirius doesn't indulge in sweets that often, preferring other things instead, but he picks at his own as he watches them both affectionately, laughing when their mouths and chins become covered in stickiness, though Harry thinks Remus' mess is more purposeful than his own.

It's much later in the evening when their bowls are cleared away, rinsed clean but left in the sink until Sirius decides to tackle them with the rest of the kitchen, most likely after Remus is gone. The two men are locked in a conversation about Remus' visits to the group homes of the city when Harry suddenly pushes himself out of his chair and drops to the floor.

"I'm going to bed," he announces loudly, causing Sirius to pause and look at him strangely.

"Already?" he questions, glancing at the clock on the wall. "Bit early for you, isn't it?"

"I'm tired," says Harry adamantly, and Sirius' mouth pulls into a knowing line as he stares at him.

"Mhm. I'm sure you are. You've had quite the day, making a full dinner," he mutters with an arched eyebrow, letting Harry see that Sirius knows exactly what he's doing, but his dad doesn't argue. "All right, then. Give us a hug and go on."

Arms swinging up readily, Harry latches around Sirius' neck, pulling him down a little in a tight embrace. Sirius huffs out a laugh over Harry's shoulder, hand gliding down his back lovingly, and then Harry pulls away, darting to the door. He stops on the other side as it swings closed behind him, Harry catching it just before it stops, leaving it cracked so he can peer inside.

It's quiet for a few minutes, Sirius plucking at the sheet between his fingertips, fussing with it, looking awkward and a bit on edge now that he's alone with Remus. Harry wonders if he's still worried about Remus' toes.

"So, your son," says Remus with a small tilt of his head and a curl to his lips, trying to kickstart the conversation again. "Bit of a spitfire, isn't he?"

Chuckling, Sirius' eyes dart to the door where Harry is hiding just beyond, watching through the crack. "S'pose he is, yeah. No idea where he gets it," he quips easily, lightly, and Remus laughs as he leans backwards in his chair, body beginning to relax in Sirius' presence. Sirius goes quiet for a few seconds, staring at the table briefly, cheeks flushing red again when he catches sight of He-Man's bared chest, before his gaze flickers up to Remus again. "Full disclosure, he's not – well, he is. I mean…you know, I look at him that way, but he's, you know, he's not really – " Breaking off with a groan of frustration, Sirius bows his head, shaking it a little before raising it again. "He's not actually mine." Remus' face twists in confusion and Sirius clicks his tongue, sliding it across his teeth afterwards. "Godson."

"Ah," exhales Remus, understanding lighting in his eyes and across his features. His licks over his lips as he studies Sirius. "His parents…gone?"

"Yeah," mumbles Sirius, voice thick. He clears his throat, fingers digging into a rough section of the table. "Yeah. Nearly seven years now."

Remus winces in sympathy. "Sorry," he mumbles and then groans. "That's shit. Sorry sounds very inadequate. I am sorry about it, but I'm never very sure what I'm meant to say in situations like this."

"It's fine," dismisses Sirius with a wave of his hand before dropping it back to the table. "Neither am I, really."

"Were they family?" asks Remus, prodding gently but giving Sirius the space to drift away from the subject if he chooses.

"They were as good as. James and Lily were my best friends. It was a rare day that passed when I didn't see them or talk to them after we left school," explains Sirius, opening up willingly, the words pouring from him and down to the table below. "James was my brother, more so than my real brother ever has been. We did everything together from the time we met when we were eleven."

Blowing out a large, long breath, Sirius taps his fingertips over the wood surface, spinning his cup around by the handle with his other hand, something distracting he does often.

"They went to a party at a mutual friend's for Halloween," he pushes out, Remus watching him closely from his seat, his face impassive. "I could have gone. They asked me to, but it was one of those…you know, tame affairs. Adults and kids mixing together. And I was anything but tame back then, wanted something better. Wilder." He smirks at Remus, but it doesn't reach his grey eyes and fades as quickly as it had formed. "They'd had a bit of fun, had some drinks, nothing major, but enough they weren't comfortable driving themselves. Their ride fell through. They tried ringing me but got my machine because I was out, so they called another friend of ours. He'd been a bit…well. He just hadn't been around as much, but we'd not thought much about it. Amounted it to drifting, growing apart like people do. Turns out, he'd connected with some less than savory people we'd gone to school with, got into things we'd never taken much part in. He was high when he picked them up, drove into a barricade under a bridge."

Sirius' voice grows thick, his features wobbling with his next words.

"James died instantly, or so they told me that night when they collected me at home once I got back. Lily didn't make it to hospital. They lost her in the ambulance. And Peter – " His voice cracks, breaks apart, forcing him to stop, grief and anger warring for purchase in the air around him. "He lived for a day and a half before he…" Sirius shakes his head, squeezing his eyes closed. "Harry was with them," he admits, and Remus' breathing ceases. "That's why he's got the scar on his forehead. But he was…he was fine. Other than that. I'm not even sure how, no one is. Lily was in the backseat with him, and I sometimes wonder if she – maybe she protected him somehow. Sacrificed herself. Her injuries, the way she was hurt, everything they said…being in the back like she was, none of it makes much sense unless she did something."

Chest shuddering harshly, Sirius suddenly looks away, eyes pinning to the dark window at his side as he hides his face. His fingers tap more frantically on the tabletop.

"I didn't hear the message they left me until three days later," he chokes out, head shaking again. "If I'd just stayed home or gone with them – "

He stops abruptly when Remus cranes forward in an instant, hand covering Sirius' above the table like an instinctual action, not even thought about. Sirius looks down at where they connect in surprise.

"I'm sorry, Sirius," says Remus solemnly, sincerity layering thickly over each word. "I'm so very sorry. You lost so much so quickly."

Sirius' gaze slowly lifts from their hands to Remus' face, almost like he's scared to lose the sight, like he might lose the touch as well by looking away from it.

"I didn't lose him," he declares adamantly, as though he's trying to convince himself of that fact as much as Remus, the smallest of smiles curling the corners of his mouth, a bittersweet sort of sadness flooding his eyes. "I've got Harry. I didn't lose him. I could have, but I didn't. I miss them, my friends, my family. All the time, I miss them, and I could drown in the loss of it, but I've got Harry and he's a win. He's the biggest, best win in the middle of it all."

And Remus smiles at him, a soft expression, the kitchen gone darker with the setting of the sun, candlelight reflected in his eyes. He squeezes Sirius' hand, the motion firm, nothing timid in it now.

"Of course he is," he agrees. "He's your family now. He's what matters."

"Yeah," exhales Sirius, but he's looking at Remus like the missing piece to a puzzle he's been searching for, like he wants to reach out and pull the other man across the table to him, not let him go. He's looking at him the same way all those people in the films looked at the ones they claimed love for in the end. "Yeah. He's all that matters…"

"Sirius," prompts Remus with a small tilt of his head, encouraging Sirius to say what's on his mind.

Sirius shakes his head. "Nothing. It's fine, it's – " He blows out a loud breath, looking at the table. "He's older now. I've been…careful. You know, kids…they get attached easily, and I never wanted that. I've never really – I've not been one to – " Sirius stops, his face hardening before softening again as Remus watches him. "It's only ever been me and him. No one else, not really. Not in that – that way. He's more important. But he won't always be here, will he? He's going to keep growing up, he's going to go off on his own, and what will that leave me with?"

He falls backwards in his chair like all the air's gone out of him, his hand nearly pulling away, but Remus holds it firmly, not letting Sirius escape. Sirius' fingers twitch in his grasp.

"Grandkids, one day, hopefully," jests Remus, and Sirius groans around a laugh.

"Don't make me think about that yet. I'm still struggling through with the kid I've already got," he says, motioning a bit mournfully to the state of his kitchen. He shakes his head, closing his eyes. "But I meant…you know, between that. I – "

"You'll have whatever you want," presses Remus. "If you want to be on your own, then you will be, but if you don't…" He waves his free hand around in the air a little. "Then don't. We only have to be alone if we choose to be, Sirius."

"You make it sound so easy."

Remus smiles, one finger skating across Sirius' knuckles, and Sirius watches the motion.

"It's not easy. If it was, we wouldn't stumble around blindly as much as we do. We wouldn't push it off with excuses and reasons that aren't really reasons at all but fears instead."

"I'm not scared – " protests Sirius.

"We're all scared, Sirius," interjects Remus gently. "Doesn't mean it's a permanent state of existence, though, does it?"

Mouth pursing, Sirius looks away. He doesn't answer, but he sighs wearily when his sight lands on the microwave again.

"Bugger," he mutters. "Guess I'd better clean that up and the mess in the floor. We'll have ants next thing I know if I let it stay overnight."

"Can't have that," voices Remus, looking reluctant as Sirius pulls his hand away and stands. His gaze follows Sirius across the room before he straightens from his chair as well, appearing to hesitate in his place. "Suppose I should clear out, leave you to the rest of your night," he hedges. Sirius' shoulders hunch inwards at the suggestion. "Unless…well, I could help, if you'd let me? It is sort of my fault it's there to begin with."

"It's really not," denies Sirius, but his features brim with hope when he casts a glance over his shoulder at Remus. "You don't have to help, but you're welcome to stay. It'd be nice having the company."

Remus brightens. "I'll help," he says, moving to Sirius' side. "I don't mind."

With both men on this side of the kitchen, Harry pulls away from the door, allowing it to close, fearful they'll see him now that they're closer. He hears a drawer open and close, a cupboard banging, the sound of running water, and the cleansing spray hitting the surface of the microwave, ear pressed tightly against the wood surface as he listens.

"Christ, what did he do, set it to broil?" remarks Sirius in a strained voice as he scrubs, the noise loud across the interior of the machine.

"He's tenacious, I'll give him that."

"Tenacious doesn't even begin to cover it," grumbles Sirius.

It's quiet for a minute as they work, only the sounds of their breathing and small grunts slipping through the door. When Remus finally speaks, it's softer, a bit timid.

"You know, I couldn't help but notice – well, that comment the woman here made – "

"Cousin," informs Sirius distractedly. "Andromeda."

"Stars. Curious. Clever," responds Remus, earning a snort from Sirius. "But right, yes. Andromeda. She made a comment before she left, and I did notice something in Harry's initial setup…"

Silence greets his words, Sirius not immediately answering the question in the other man's voice.

"Yes, well. As you said, he's tenacious. Gets something in his head and runs with it," mumbles Sirius, the scrubbing sounds increasing in intensity.

"Of course," says Remus demurely, words fading out quickly.

"Look, can you just – I've got this side, yeah? Can you go after that spot there?"

"Here?"

"No, the other place, the really bad one. Try to get it before it sets in any worse. No, not there. I meant – just here, right here – " Sirius' words slip away with a half-squeak of surprise, followed by the sound of trampling feet. "Bloody fuck, you all right?" demands Sirius, aiming for firm but sounding breathless.

"Uh. Yeah. Yes. Fine. Must have found some of the flour," fumbles Remus in a winded tone.

"Good. That's – yeah. Good."

"Never knew it was so slip – mmhm – "

Their talking stops abruptly with a startled sound from Remus that fades and shifts into what might be a sigh. Harry leans closer to the door, trying desperately to hear, tempted to push the door open again just for a small peek to understand what they're doing, but a loud rattling clatter fills the air, jerking him away from the door instead, Harry scrambling backwards on his hands and bum. He thinks he hears the microwave closing and reopening, the dinging sound it makes sometimes when you push the buttons too many times or are too rough with it. There's a grunt, a muffled word Harry can't make out but sounds like some version of a name, and then another clattering sound like dishes crashing together.

Suddenly afraid one or both will come barging through the door at any moment, in search of something or Remus on his way out because maybe they're fighting, Harry not understanding at all, he decides it's best to clear away and do what he'd said earlier. Racing up the stairs as quickly as he can, he pops into the bathroom for a fast brush of his teeth and then darts across to his bedroom, changing his clothes in a flash before jumping beneath the sheets of his bed.

He strains his ears to listen beyond his closed bedroom door, trying to sort out unusual sounds from the normal noises of the night. A long time passes before he hears anything at all, and it's a thump, followed by a hissed curse that's definitely his dad, something that's a sign he's not in the best mood. Sinking deeper into his blankets, hiding his face, Harry waits for his door to creak open, something Sirius also does sometimes, simply checking on Harry before he goes to bed himself, but it doesn't happen tonight, Sirius' own door closing louder than usual, echoing through the house before silence falls again, only interrupted by a few more thumps here and there.

Settling down, his heartbeat calming, Harry soon slips to sleep, and he mostly forgets about the previous night by the time he wakes in the morning. He drags himself from bed, rubbing sleepily at his eyes, and shuffles towards the top of the stairs, only stopping when he hears low voices, one insistent.

"Go. No, fuck, you've got to go."

"I'm trying. Stop fucking pushing me and I'd go faster. I can't put shoes on when you keep overbalancing me."

"I'm sorry," hisses Sirius, sounding a bit frantic and panicked. "Christ, I'm sorry, but he can't – "

"Padfoot?" calls Harry blearily, blinking down the steps at his dad and the man next to him that's definitely Remus. "Hi, Remus."

"Harry!" both men chorus at the same time, heads whipping up in unison to gawk at him. Remus' cheeks are flushed red and growing steadily darker, Sirius' eyes wide and threatening to fall out of their sockets. Sirius is shirtless, which isn't that strange, except for when they have company that isn't someone like Andromeda, both of their hair a bird's nest of a mess on top of their heads. A few of Remus' buttons down his shirt are gaping open or don't line up the right way. Sirius' exposed skin sports faint red lines that bleed into the tattoos of his chest and back, marks that Harry's never really noticed before.

"I, uh – I mean, we – er – morning, Hazza!" stutters Sirius, finally taking a step forward, blocking Harry's full view of Remus a little. "Did you, um. Sleep all right?"

"Hallo, Harry," greets Remus in a rumpled sort of mumble, and Sirius stiffens a bit in front of him.

"Yes," answers Harry. "Why's Remus here again?"

"Oh. Oh, he's, uh…" Sirius' eyes bulge as he clearly struggles, much to Harry's confusion. "Breakfast!" he suddenly bursts. "He came round for breakfast. Wants to have breakfast with us, Remus does! Isn't that nice, sprog?"

"I guess," supplies Harry, the only thing he really cares about currently being fully waking up. "Can we have waffles?"

"Yeah. Yes!" barks Sirius, straightening where he stands. "Yeah, waffles. I'll just go and…do that. Waffles for breakfast! Remus? Want to come help me?" His eyes slide sideways to the other man, and Remus nods, not speaking as he follows Sirius around the base of the stairs, sending a feeble sort of smile up at Harry before he disappears.

Harry moves around upstairs for a few minutes, changing out of his pajamas and pulling on socks to guard against the chilled floor of the old house. When he finally emerges downstairs, he slows as he approaches the kitchen door, hearing muffled voices from inside. Carefully pushing it open a crack, Harry peeks around, watching his dad move in a near frenzy around the kitchen as he hisses at an observant Remus, the other man now appearing far more put together.

"I didn't mean that," says Sirius pressingly, hand whisking at batter in a bowl, waffles the only thing Sirius can for some reason manage to make without severe incident or burning them. Some of the creamy batter sloshes out of the bowl and splatters across the still disgusting floor. Sirius ignores it. "I don't regret it, that's not what I said. I just meant I didn't plan on you being here afterwards." He drops the bowl with a loud clang to the counter, hands flying into the air to enhance his point. "I didn't plan on any of this! This wasn't in the cards. I mean, sure, yes, I'd thought about it since that day with your toes and the book – "

"You had?"

"Shut it," warns Sirius, pointing the dripping whisk in Remus' direction, more batter dripping to the floor, combining with the already existent flour. "Obviously. Did I hide it or something? No. But it doesn't change anything. He never sees it. He never knows. When I do this, I do it away from the house. And on the rare occasion I bring it here, I make sure he's gone for the night, staying with someone I trust. He doesn't see it. It's not a factor in his life. He doesn't have to get attached to someone who likely won't stick around. He doesn't have to worry about losing them or me. He doesn't have to be afraid of losing yet another person, because he's lost too much already, Remus."

Remus stares down at his feet and the mess beside them for a long time as Sirius heaves in air in front of him. "It was an accident, Sirius," he says a bit mournfully when he finally speaks.

Tossing the whisk back into the bowl, Sirius groans, lifting both hands to his face, bending his head a little. "Fuck. Fuck, I know, okay? I know it was, and not just yours. I went to sleep, too. I just – " Sirius motions weakly to the door as he pulls one hand away from his face before he tries to return it, but Remus steps forward, catching his wrist in his grasp, keeping one of Sirius' eyes uncovered.

"I know," he assures gently. "I know, too. I'm not here to disrupt everything you've built with all your hard work, I promise. I didn't plan this either, Sirius." Nodding as Remus gathers his other wrist in tender fingers, Sirius relaxes a little. "If you're worried about that, any of it, he doesn't have to know. He doesn't have to know about any of it. There doesn't…well, there doesn't have to be anything more to know about, but I'd like – "

"No!" exclaims Sirius quickly, startling Remus as he lurches forward in his hold. "No. No, I'd – I'd like, too. I'd like, Remus."

Remus smiles, small at first but growing and spreading across his face. Sirius' eyes drop to his mouth, beginning to lean in, but that's when Harry's stomach gives a loud, insistent growl, and he pushes the door open. The two men spring apart as though they've been demagnetized, suddenly on two opposite sides of the kitchen, Sirius picking up the bowl, beginning to whisk again.

"Waffles on the way, kid!" he announces with half-crazed eyes, turning away when Harry provides him with an odd look.

--------------------

"So, he came back for breakfast? That's good! They must like each other if he was there the next day."

"Yeah, but I think they fought the night before," explains Harry to a puzzled Hermione. His pencil hovers over his forgotten homework where he and his friends are spread out around his room. "They were acting weird in the morning, and there were strange noises in the kitchen before I came up here. I think Sirius was angry or upset. There was a lot of banging, and I heard him swearing."

"What did they have to fight about?" prods Ron, spread out across Harry's floor, a feather he'd plucked from a pillow fluttering above his face. He blows it again, sending it higher and spinning. "Sounds to me like they got on well enough while you were there and after you left until the microwave bit."

"Dunno," mumbles Harry, beginning to doodle at the edges of his homework until Hermione swats his hand scoldingly. Harry sighs, flopping back over his pillows. "They were strange in the morning."

"Maybe it was just because it was early," suggests Hermione, scrawling across her own paper. "You said yourself Sirius wasn't even dressed. Seems to me like Remus pulled him straight out of bed. He's never been the best in the mornings, Sirius."

"She's got a point, mate. We all know better than to talk to him too much first thing after he wakes up," offers Ron, blowing at the feather again. "He's never mean, but you can tell he wants to be, sometimes. You know, when we're loud or ask a lot of questions about breakfast or something. He gets this look on his face, like he's thinking about drowning us in the sink. Not that I'm worried. The only time I thought he was seriously considering it was when George and Fred stayed with us. Sirius likes them all right, but I'm not so sure he likes anyone first thing in the morning."

Blowing out a breath, Harry stares at his ceiling. "Guess you're right. Dad did seem really fussed about the whole thing, but he must have invited Remus. Maybe he was just grouchy."

"How were they the rest of the time he was there?" asks Hermione.

Harry shrugs. "Still a bit weird," he says with a scowl. "They didn't talk to each other much. Mostly just to me. And Padfoot kept knocking things over again. And he never cleaned up the floor the night before, not until after Remus left again."

"Has he been back? Remus." Ron flops over onto his stomach, the feather floating down freely and tangling in his red hair. "I'd say it's a good sign if he has."

"No," denies Harry with a frown, "but it's only been a few days."

"Take him back to the library!" exclaims Ron. "Make them talk to each other."

Harry pulls a face. "Probably can't do that for a few more days. Dad's busy."

Hermione taps her chin with her pencil, looking contemplative. "Where is he now? Maybe we can convince him to take all of us when he comes home," she suggests brightly.

"Dunno. Work? He said this morning that he'd be home a lot later than usual. Before I went to bed, but that doesn't leave time for the library."

"Shame," expresses Ron dolefully. "I want to see this bloke."

"So do I," mumbles Harry dejectedly. "I really like Remus, and I think Dad does, too. He's so stubborn." Harry's face shifts into a small pout.

"You just need another plan to make sure they have to see each other again, preferably outside of the library when Remus isn't working. That's no fun," says Hermione, bending over the side of the bed to grab her bag. She rifles through it for a minute before pulling out a familiar notebook, flipping it open to her list from the movies they'd watched. "We need something that draws Remus out of the library, ideally, and makes them have to meet up."

Harry sits up and leans sideways, attempting to read the notes as Ron crawls across the floor and clambers onto the bed at Hermione's other side. They look over the list together, but really, it's pointless, no one but Hermione able to clearly read it.

"Here!" she exclaims after a few minutes. "This one. It's perfect."

"Care to tell us what it is?" deadpans Ron. "We can't read that, Hermione."

She rolls her eyes, but before she can elaborate, the door pops open, Dora's bright pink head inserting itself. She beams at them.

"Mum sent biscuits with me today," she informs, offering out a plate stacked high with a tower of chocolate. "I heated them up, but that's the most you're getting from me. Do not ask me to bake unless you want to have to call a rescue team to extract us from the house when it's filled with smoke."

Dropping down on the floor, folding her legs up in front of her, Dora pins them with a curious expression. "What are doing, then?" she inquires, glancing at Hermione's notebook. "Are you still trying to get Sirius that boyfriend? I'll help, if you'd like it."

Taking a biscuit from the plate, Harry bites into it before he grins at her and begins to explain their next plan.

--------------------

It's more than a week before Sirius has the time to take him back to the library while it's open. Harry is patient (mostly), and he's excited when they disembark. He only hopes Remus is working today.

Interestingly, Sirius follows Harry into the children's section this time instead of branching off on his own as he usually does. He pulls books from the shelves and presents them as possibilities that Harry pulls into his arms to examine at a table once he has a decent selection, but eventually, Sirius stops paying as much attention as he had been in the beginning, his eyes roaming the area, like he's searching.

It's only when a familiar voice sounds behind them that Sirius stops, jolting where he stands as he rounds quickly, Harry doing the same, both of their gazes landing on a smiling Remus. Sirius' face nearly splits in half, all his teeth showing as he grins, a cherry flush forming across his cheeks that's nearly mirrored in Remus' own.

"Hi," says Sirius in a slight gasp. He blinks, snaps his mouth closed, eyes dropping to Harry quickly before shifting across their surroundings. He appears to rein something of himself in then, his features smoothing out, only the ghost of a smile remaining on his lips, but his grey eyes don't lose their warmth. "Er, um. Yeah. Hi."

"Hello," returns Remus, his own expression more tailored now. He looks down at Harry, his smile growing wider. "And to you as well, Harry. It's been a while."

Something about hearing the timeframe spoken aloud causes Harry to droop. "Yeah," he mumbles a bit miserably, and Sirius frowns at him, fingers finding Harry's hair as his grey eyes flicker up to Remus again with silent questions and mounting concern.

"All right, Haz?" questions Sirius.

"M'fine," replies Harry, and after a moment, Sirius reluctantly turns back to Remus, the pair falling into a conversation in muted tones. While they're distracted, Harry carefully slips his fingers into Sirius' back pocket, cautiously removing his wallet. Once he's got it stashed inside the pocket of his coat, he says loudly, "I need the toilet," and then rushes away, leaving a flabbergasted Sirius behind him.

Out of sight of the other two, Harry sneaks around the edges of the library until he locates the room for employees he'd found Remus in once before. Nudging the door open, he checks to make sure it's empty before pushing inside and quickly locating Remus' coat. When he finds it, Harry drops the wallet into the side pocket and then leaves in a hurry, taking the long way back to the adults. He notices when he locates them again that the two men have drifted closer, talking in quieter voices, lower, with better smiles on their faces and eyes that watch one another, but they shuffle further apart when they spot Harry approaching.

Eventually, Remus has to return to work, and Sirius says it's getting late, so he ushers Harry away and to the front to check out his selected books before they depart. Returning home, Harry spreads out in the sitting room with Sirius, beginning to read through his newest collection while his dad looks over work files, scribbling notes across the pages periodically, the pen scratching loudly in the silence.

A little more than an hour later, Harry's stomach produces a loud rumble, causing Sirius to look up as he chuckles.

"S'pose that means it's time for dinner," he supplies, glancing at the clock on the wall. "How does pasta sound tonight? Some of those nice breadsticks we like so much? We haven't done that in a while." Harry hastily agrees and Sirius stands, stretching as he does so, patting at his pocket with a small frown. "Must have put my wallet in my jacket. Give me a mo and I'll ring them to order, yeah?"

Watching as Sirius leaves the room, Harry leans across the table, tracking him to where their coats hang by the front door. Sirius rummages through the pockets of his leather jacket, but he returns empty handed, appearing flummoxed.

"I know I had it earlier," he mumbles to himself, bending and tugging at the sofa cushions, searching beneath them. "I don't know where – Hazza, have you seen my wallet?"

"No," denies Harry, flipping the page of his book but looking up at Sirius briefly. "Saw it last night when we stopped to get pies."

"I've had it since then," says Sirius, tone mystified. "Got some tea in the café this afternoon, and I know I put it back in my pocket."

Sirius continues to search the house while Harry observes him, never saying anything. He tears certain places apart, putting them together again only to pluck away at them once more as though he's not already looked before. Harry can hear him moving around upstairs for a while, clearly looking through his bedroom and likely Harry's as well, but Sirius returns empty handed, trying his office next before circling back to the lounge.

"Prongslet, bad news," announces Sirius suddenly, turning to face him. "I think someone's nicked my wallet." Sirius rubs over the back of his neck, looking a little stressed. "I've got to call the credit card company, the bank. Bloody hell, even the hospital. It had my ID for when I go there for cases." Sirius hangs his head, shaking it a bit as he digs his fingers into his eyelids with a low groan. "What a miserable fucking nightmare," he mutters quietly, likely thinking Harry can't hear him as he drops to the sofa in a heavy, boneless heap.

It takes a minute, but he finally lifts his head to Harry again, looking apologetic. "Sorry, mate. Dinner's on hold for a bit until I…figure something out," he mumbles, deflating into the cushions behind him. "Christ on toast. Maybe Andy will feed us if we look pathetic enough, d'you think?"

Before Harry can offer a response, a knock sounds from the front door. Sirius waggles his eyebrows at him.

"Possibly that's a good Samaritan here to deliver some food into our bellies?" he jests with a loaded wink, standing to make his way to the door. When he opens it, Harry once again leaning over the table, he falters. "Oh. Hi. What's this?"

Approaching quickly, curiosity piqued, Harry arrives behind Sirius to find another man on the other side of the door, Remus just beginning to speak. There's a brown paper bag held up in his hand that, surprisingly, does look like food.

"I found this earlier," explains Remus, fingers dipping into his pocket and emerging with a folded strip of black leather.

"My wallet?" questions Sirius, sounding baffled. "How – "

"I've no idea," cuts in Remus quickly. "My coat felt strange and heavier than usual when I put it on, and I found this inside the pocket. When I realized it was yours, I was on my way to bring it back to you, but I noticed the time and figured you'd be fretting dinner, so I stopped and picked this up. I didn't use your money!" he rushes to say, eyes widening a little. "My treat. I didn't want you two here going hungry."

"Right," exhales Sirius, reaching out and slowly plucking the wallet from Remus' hold, his fingers fidgeting with it. "This is…strange. The wallet, I mean. But thanks. You know, for the food. I was about to take us to Andromeda's and beg her for sustenance."

"I thought as much," says Remus, sounding pleased. He offers out the bag to Sirius. "I hope it's good. I've never had the place before, but it was busy. I didn't know what you two liked, or if you have any allergies, so I just got a bit of everything. It's all labeled, just in case."

Taking the bag, eyes large with something like wonder, Sirius clutches it in his hand, pulling it close to his hip. He shakes his head a little.

"You're a bit of a marvel, d'you know that?"

The blush that spreads across Remus' face with the words is bright and vivid. He rubs around the back of his neck, head ducking to stare at his feet, appearing sheepish.

"It's not a big thing," he dismisses. Clearing his throat, Remus looks up again, tilting his head to catch a glimpse of Harry behind Sirius, his eyes crinkling a little with the action. "I should be off. Enjoy."

"You're not going to stay?" asks Sirius, voice smaller than Harry thinks he's ever heard it. Remus' eyes snap up to his face again.

"Yes," he says quickly before shuffling backwards and redirecting dramatically. "I mean, I don't want to impose. I wasn't trying to – that wasn't my intention, you know, it's – wallet, food." Remus brings the side of one hand down into the palm of the other with the last two words, making his point and purpose clear. "I wasn't inviting myself. That's rude and uncouth and – I mean – " He stops, sucking in a large breath as Sirius watches him with a blossoming, nearly besotted smile. "Can I? Is that all right?"

Laughter bubbling out of him, Sirius turns to Harry, his eyes slow to leave Remus' face. "What d'you think, Hazza? Dinner guest?"

"Yes!" chirps Harry eagerly, bouncing forward a little. "You should eat with us. 'Specially if you bought it."

Still laughing, Sirius steps backwards, clearing the door for Remus' entrance. "You heard the lad. Think of the disappointment he'd suffer if you didn't join us."

Remus hums, eyes sliding over Sirius slyly as he removes his coat, hanging it neatly from the waiting hook.

"I'm sure he'd be sick with it," he replies, and Sirius smiles a secret sort of smile. "Can't have that, can we?"

"No, we cannot," agrees Sirius, hand tucking in at Remus' lower back, urging him forward and gently guiding him towards the kitchen. "Can't have that at all."

--------------------

Harry considers his wallet misplacement plan a success, their dinner passing smoothly this time, though Harry thinks Sirius might suspect, his dad asking odd questions later that night after Remus had left and the following few days. But overall, Harry is pleased.

The only problem is that Remus still hasn't returned to their home again, and with Sirius working longer days that often lead into the earlier parts of the night in what Harry assumes is an effort to keep up with his current patient load, their library excursions together are limited. He's even started working a little on the weekends and some in the evenings, something he's rarely done in the past.

Hermione, of course, has an idea for Harry to try, what she calls their last effort.

"But how do I get it to him if Sirius can't take me to the library? And even if he did, he'd notice I'd given it to Remus. Anyone who takes me will," argues Harry mulishly over lunch one day at school after Hermione had presented the next plan.

"That's easy," brushes off his friend, failing to notice Ron stealing her wrapped biscuit from her plate. "Andromeda and Dora know, right? You get one of them to take you. Even if they question it, you can tell them and they'll likely play along."

"How do I get it from him, though? He wears it everywhere he goes, and if he's home, he'd be able to take me to the library. I don't see how it works."

"S'ill som'thin' on eet," says Ron around a mouthful of his sandwich. He swallows roughly, blue eyes watering a little as he chokes, much to Hermione's apparent disgust. Ron beats on his chest a little, clearing the passage before he speaks again. "You spill something on it before he leaves that morning, that way he's forced to leave it behind. Whoever takes you to the library can clean it before you go. You just make sure it's easy to clean, but Sirius won't have time to do it before he leaves."

Harry rolls that option around in his head for a while, still uncertain about the probability of it working.

"It is a good idea, Harry. Ron's right," says Hermione reluctantly. "It's probably the only way you'll get it away from him. It's worth it. It's a big part of all the films, and it happens all the time in the programs Mum watches on television."

Heaving a sigh, Harry slouches over the table, poking at his untouched apple. "Dad's going to be very unhappy," he mutters sadly.

But Harry moves forward with his head held high. He asks Dora first, his cousin anxious and excited to help, agreeing readily, telling Harry to simply let her know when he needs her for action. After that, he only has to wait for the right opportunity. It comes on a morning several weeks after Harry had tucked Sirius' wallet into Remus' coat.

"One of my appointments got shifted yesterday," Sirius informs him over their breakfast that morning. "Mrs Figg couldn't make it in so she'll be coming round today to see me, but she can't be there until after work this evening. I'll still be home in plenty of time for dinner. I'll bring something back with me."

As Sirius cleans up their dishes before they depart, already dressed and ready to walk through the door once finished, he says, "I asked Andy to pick you up from school and hang out with you, but apparently Dora wants to spend the afternoon with you instead. Sounds like she's missing her little cousin." Sirius grins at Harry, who beams up at him. "All right with that?"

"Yeah, Dora's fun," claims Harry. Sirius hums, draining away the water in the sink, drying his hands. As he begins to grab the detergent bottle to set it to the side, Harry takes his chance. "I've got it!" he calls helpfully, gripping it tightly and "accidentally" angling it towards Sirius. Liquid soap squirts across his shirt and jacket, leaving them sudsy and smeared.

"Fu – Harry, really?" bemoans Sirius, exhaling a frustrated sigh.

Harry shuffles his feet. "Sorry," he mumbles, hanging his head.

Glancing at him as he rubs a towel across the materials, Sirius softens. "It's fine. Accidents happen." He keeps rubbing, but it does no good, only spreading the mess around, leaving a stain on his shirt and smearing the leather of his jacket. Eyes lifting to the clock on the wall, he tosses the towel to the side as he removes his jacket and drapes it across the counter. "Okay. I've got to change really quick and then we have to go. We'll both be late if we don't."

As Sirius leaves the room, Harry stares at the jacket in triumph.

Later that afternoon, Dora meets him outside his school. "Wotcher, Harry," she chirps brightly, slinging an arm around his shoulders as they begin to walk in the direction of his house. "Part one of the mission a success?" She beams when Harry gives her a confirmation, her heart-shaped face scrunching. "Lovely. Let's go get your dad a proper boyfriend."

Harry makes quick work of cleaning the leather of the jacket when they arrive home, Dora offering to help, but Harry eyes her speculatively, the girl laughing in response, not appearing hurt by Harry's cautiousness. When he's finished, the material clear and dry, they leave for the library, making a quick trip. Harry doesn't even bother with the books this time, the jacket heavy in his arms, Harry firm in his mission to locate Remus, Dora following close behind him as they scope out the interior of the building.

He finds Remus in the non-fiction section, a cart of returns at his side, pages spread open in his hands as he skims the text printed inside. When he notices Harry approaching, he blinks in surprise.

"Harry?" he questions, brown eyes instantly raising and searching their surroundings suspiciously. "Where's Sirius?"

"At work," gives Harry breathlessly. The jacket really is heavy. He's not sure how Sirius wears it every day. Remus doesn't look entirely convinced.

"Did you come here on your own again?"

Shaking his head, Harry points behind him where Dora is reading a book she's plucked free from a nearby shelf. When she notices Harry looking at her, she waves boldly at the pair.

"Dora brought me. She's Andy's daughter," explains Harry, and Remus instantly looks relieved as he glances back down at Harry. "I brought you something."

Remus looks down at the jacket as Harry lifts it as much as possible in his arms, the leather spilling over, sleeves beginning to drag the ground. He stares for a moment before reaching down to take the weight away from Harry, gathering it into his own arms, his touch gentle, caring, almost reverent.

"Is this Sirius'?" he asks in confusion, eyes only leaving the jacket for a second to glance at Harry, fingers sliding over the buttery leather in his grasp. "Why did you bring this to me, Harry?"

"Dad wants you to have it. He says yours is nice, but not as nice as his. He also said it would look good on you and keep you warmer," expels Harry in a nearly jumbled rush.

"Did – did he?" murmurs Remus, clearing his throat between the words, as though something is choking him a little.

"Yes," confirms Harry, the guilt squirming in his belly more easily ignored now with the soft, worshipping expression filling out the man's face. "You should wear it. Dad would really like it. If you did that. A lot. He'd like it so much."

Gaze leaving the jacket to land on Harry, Remus is quiet for a minute. When he opens his mouth to speak again, his brown eyes spark and dance like waving leaves in a tree caught by sunlight.

"All right, then," says Remus easily, quietly, and Harry nearly falls over with how effortless the whole thing had worked out.

"Really?" he asks before he can stop himself, and Remus bubbles out a laugh.

"Yes, really," he confirms. His fingers continue to stroke over the leather slowly. "You should probably go home now. You don't want your dad wondering where you are, and I'm sure he's bringing you dinner when he comes. Best to eat it when it's hot, isn't it?"

Beaming vividly, Harry nods. "Yeah, okay!" he agrees. "Bye, Remus! See you later."

"See you later," echoes Remus like a promise as Harry rushes back to Dora's side, the pair leaving the library together and returning home.

Later that evening, after Sirius shuffles Dora on her way, they're in the kitchen, Sirius pulling down plates from the cupboards. He hadn't brought dinner home as he'd said that morning, promising that it would be on its way soon enough. Harry misses the third plate in the stack that's usually only two.

"Sprog, have you seen my jacket?" he calls to Harry where he's doing his homework at the table. Harry shakes his head, saying nothing in reply. "Strange. Could have sworn I left it here this morning. Jackets don't just grow legs and walk away during the day in my experience."

A knock sounding on the front door saves Harry from having to lie further, Sirius trailing out of the room to answer it. Harry assumes it's the food, but he soon hears continued voices coming from the front of the house, and he grows curious. He's about to slip from his chair to investigate when the door opens, Sirius entering and holding it open for the second person behind him, Harry perking up considerably when he sees that it's Remus, the other man smiling at him.

There are bags in his hand which the pair begins to unload onto the counter, the containers different from what Harry is used to, looking more like the ones Andromeda and Mrs Weasley use to store food inside and often send home with Sirius and Harry. Meals prepared at home, not takeaway, made with loving hands. Remus appears very familiar with these containers as they shuffle through them, the man explaining to Sirius what's inside each one.

"All right with another dinner guest, Haz?" inquires Sirius, glancing up at him. At Harry's nod, his face twitches pleasurably, eyes squinting a bit. "Brilliant. Since it's Friday, we thought Remus might stay later and we could all watch a film together. Sound good?"

Harry blinks in surprise because that's new, not just for Remus but for…well, anyone, really, save for their family and close friends. Sirius doesn't invite people to remain in their home for long with ease, and Harry can't think of a single time he's done that with anyone who hasn't been present for the majority of Harry's life.

"Harry?" prompts Sirius when Harry doesn't answer, ceasing what he's doing and placing his entire focus on his son. "Are you okay with that? It's fine if you're not. You just have to say so."

"No!" shouts Harry, startling Sirius a little, a shocked laugh escaping him. "No, he can stay. Please stay," he begs of Remus, the other man clearly fighting a too-bright smile.

"Good. All right, then," murmurs Sirius, turning to face the other man. "Suppose that's settled, isn't it?" He stops for a second, eyes sliding over Remus. "Hang on a tick. Is that my jacket?"

Tugging at the bottom, Remus displays the leather draped over his arms and shoulders with pride. "I think so, yeah. It was a gift," he declares, eyes flickering to Harry, filled with slyness. "I was told you'd greatly appreciate it if I wore it."

Tilting his head as he examines the jacket on Remus, Sirius hums. His hands lift, falling onto the front of the jacket, fingers skimming the leather before they pull at it a bit and then tuck inside, spreading across Remus' chest.

"It does look good on you," he compliments with that same secret sort of smile, and then Harry gawks as Sirius tugs Remus forward, kissing him without shyness on the lips. They linger that way for a moment before Sirius slowly pulls away. "Makes you smell like me, too. I like that."

Glancing over at Harry quickly, Sirius releases a barking laugh, Remus chuckling silently in front of him, his body shaking with it in Sirius' hold. Only when Sirius lets go does Remus move across the room to Harry, a filled plate held in his hand. He places it in front of Harry, and his fingers slide carefully into his hair as he stares down at him.

"Still want me to adopt you?" he asks with a tilt of his head.

Harry's eyes widen in wonder. "Really?"

Remus smiles, fingers dropping to tweak Harry's chin gently. "Maybe someday. You never know what might happen, do you?" he says with a wink.

Harry beams blindingly.