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Chapter Text

“…fortunately, no child is as pathetic as you as to not be able to tell apart the adults looking after and loving them; unless of course, the difference was that one possessed a vagina and the other possessed a penis.”

Yikes. Sirius paused with his hand on the handle of his office door.

“What the hell? I thought you agreed with me.” A man said.

“I did agree with you originally, the picture quite obviously shows Black has a husband and child. I just don’t agree with your heterocentric prejudice.” The woman continued calmly.

“Prejudice? Who the hell are you calling prejudiced? I didn’t say anything rude to cause you to insult me, don’t talk to me like that. You don’t know me.”

“I’ve learnt enough about you to know that I don’t want to know any more. You disgust me.”

“I disgust you? I’m normal. You’re one of them, aren’t you? You’re just like him.” the man spat. Sirius wound his hand into a furious fist—he’d just about heard enough. And yet, he still didn’t leave his office; some part of him wanted to hear what the woman would say in response.

“Correct me if I am wrong, but you are truly curious to know if I am a gay man with a husband and a son? As much as I may wish otherwise, the answer is no.”

“You’re a lesbian.”

“And if I am?”

“You just need a real man to show you a good time,” the man leered. Oh, hell no, Sirius immediately leaped into action, this guy was truly pissing him off. “How about you and I get out of here and—”

“What’s going on here?” Sirius asked, deadly calm.

They both turned to look at him. The rather handsome man (he’s an asshole, Sirius’s brain reminded itself helpfully, and the man immediately become a troll) had turned bodily in response to his voice and looked panicked for a second, before bringing his facial expressions under control. Sirius assumed he believed that no sound could be heard from inside the office—a mistake Harry made only once. The office was soundproof, so meetings could take place in true privacy, but sound could enter—once annoyed at being duped by the declarations of an enthusiastic salesman, Sirius was now glad of the fact, especially since he would soon have a young teenager running around the house (not that Harry was comfortable enough in his new home to run. But Sirius could be ambitious sometimes). And now, job interviews.

A young woman—girl, really—was sat in one of the chairs he had stolen from Remus’ library for the occasion. She only turned her head to glance at him, and went back to scrolling through her phone. She wasn’t pretty by any means, but strikingly beautiful; with smooth brown skin, small sharp eyes, full lips and a cascade of dark, curling hair. Sirius’s gaze was immediately drawn to her glasses; they were thin and gold and massive, and perfect for her face. He would have to see about getting Harry better glasses than those ugly frames his ‘relatives’ had given him.

Well. Nobody seemed inclined to talk to him.

“My next interview is with a Mr. Corforth?” Sirius asked.

“That would be me,” said a distinguished-looking man Sirius has yet not noticed. He was sitting a few seats away from the young woman; was balding with a full white beard; and, most importantly, had not intervened in the conversation Sirius had overheard. Sirius’ lip curled with distaste (both men straightened a little, for Sirius Black was more than a little intimidating even when he was not angry). He had a feeling he already knew how this interview would go.

“Uh, excuse me?” said the troll, “I’ve been waiting for longer than anyone here. I’m Benjamin Echolls. My appointment was meant to take place at half one, it is now five to two.”

The girl rolled her eyes.

“Ah, my sincerest apologies.” Sirius said genially, tucking an errant strand of hair behind his ear. “I won't make you wait any longer.”

The troll puffed up, and took a step forward.

“I’m afraid this isn’t the job for you.” Sirius said. The man froze, gaping unattractively. “My son and husband will no doubt be frequent guests at The Sanctuary, and after what I just heard, I cannot trust you not to insult them.”

“What—I didn’t say—I’m not homophobic, I swear! My sisters’ best friend is gay!”

“I’m sure you can see yourself out.”

“You can’t just not interview me—I came all this way… it’s so unfair—”

The girl snorted: “Yes, how tragic, the life of a straight, white man, you must face such injustice on a daily basis.”

“Don’t—you—!”

“Mr. Jones, please get out of my house.” Sirius said firmly. “Or I will call the police.”

Still spluttering in fury, the troll left. The girl waggled her fingers as he went.

“Mr. Corforth, please step into my office.” The man did just that.

Before Sirius could follow him in, his husband stuck his head through the doorway. “You all right, love?” he asked, a familiar glint in his amber eyes. Ah. So Remus and the troll had crossed paths.

“I’m fine, babe,” Sirius reassured him quickly. “I’ve only got two interviews left, Mr Corforth, who’s waiting for me in my office. And Ms—”

“Liz,” the girl said quickly. “Please call me Liz. I think I included that in my application.” She reprimanded gently.

“Yes, of course, Liz.” Sirius said in apology. “Why don’t the two of you get to know each other while I carry out this interview. Remus?”

“Of course,” Remus said, amused. Liz had a look of understanding in her eyes, and stood up, offering him her hand. Sirius grinned wolfishly and disappeared into his office. Yes, Liz would be a welcome employee.

Chapter Text

“Harry,” Remus said quietly.

The poor boy still jerked, but luckily Remus had been quiet enough that he didn’t mess up his artwork. He was scrawled over the fluffy rug in front of his bed, and had been furiously scribbling away in his new notebook.  He looked up at Remus, bright green eyes pensive behind his floppy fringe. “Hi p—hi, Remus,” he said.

Remus said “Hello, Harry,” and walked into his room, wondering what he had stopped himself from saying but not wanting to scare Harry into silence with his questions.

“What are you drawing, sweetheart?” he asked softly, settling on his knees behind his new son. Harry closed the book firmly.

“Um…it’s just—my therapist said…”

“It’s alright, Harry,” Remus said. “You don’t have to show me.”

Harry lay on his stomach for a few seconds, before sitting up abruptly, hugging his notebook to his stomach. Remus wished he could comfort his son, hold him in his arms, place his hand on the back of his neck, but knew it would only scare Harry. He had only been living with them for a week after all—the one time Harry had initiated contact was during a fierce nightmare, and that was only to push away a worried Sirius so he could run to the bathroom to vomit.

“When will… Sirius be finished downstairs?” Harry said, his voice dying to a whisper by the end of his sentence.

“I’m afraid I don’t know, Harry.” Remus answered truthfully. “It does seem rather awful, doesn’t it, interviewing so many people? In fact, I decided to make some brownies. Sirius does prefer cupcakes, but I love chocolate, shush, don’t tell him we’re not actually out of cupcake cases.”

Harry smiled. It was very small, but a victory nonetheless.

“It’s almost time to take them out of the oven. Would you like to help me?”

Harry’s smile fell. He put his book down on the floor (he was very good at hiding his reluctance, but Remus was looking extraordinarily carefully and caught what many wouldn’t) and stood up almost robotically.

“Harry,” Remus said carefully, “What do you think I want you to do?”

“Take the brownies out of the oven,” the little boy said immediately, “Wash the dishes. Shine the silverware. Scrub the oven. Sweep the—”

“Harry.” Remus said a little more insistently. “You are a young child. I do not expect you to do any of these chores. if you would like to, you can complete your artwork—”

 “I want to help!” Harry said immediately, “Please I can help!”

“I know you can, baby. But I don’t want you to.” Remus placed his hand on one soft cheek, as if he could draw out his pain via skin contact. Harry immediately leaned into the touch. Maybe Remus had been going about this wrong way… if Harry was hesitant to imitate touch, maybe Remus would have to show him how to go about it. He placed his other palm on Harry’s other cheek, and bent down to kiss his forehead.

“You finish your drawing,” he said, muffled against Harry’s forehead. He leant back and stroked Harry’s fringe away from his face. “And then you can come downstairs and help me eat all the brownies.”

Harry didn’t respond verbally, but his answering smile was so bright. So bright, that even after he turned and flung himself back onto the floor, Remus finds himself staring at the place where his son’s face had been. The smile had danced in his vision for a few seconds, like an after image after looking at the sun.

Remus’ good mood was ruined about 18.3 seconds later, when he bumped into one of Sirius’ interviewees leaving. It had evidently gone awry, evidenced by the fact Sirius had tossed him out as opposed to seeing him to the door. Sirius may flaunt his ‘disgusting depraved lifestyle’ to his family, but he did have enough manners (or self-preservation, perhaps) not to allow a guest the potential of becoming lost in his home.

He was about to offer his assistance when he heard muttering: “…fucking asshole, was only ever going to hire one of his kind—”

And then he heard a word that made him burn with rage. “Ex-cuse me,” he spat between bared teeth, “Just what did you say?”

The man freezes in abject terror. Quite rightly, too. On paper, Sirius Black seems scary. He is a falsely accused prison veteran; a Black, those rich bastards who seemed to own the town just a few decades back; he wears a leather jacket to match the knives attached to his muscled legs and tucked into his boots; he is an ex-cop, with all the stamina and endurance that profession requires (lucky Remus). Remus? He teaches English at a secondary school. He is not a fighter, does not ride motorbikes, does not carry knives in place of a wristwatch and yet. He is tall. He is fit, with broad shoulders, and has seemingly all-seeing eyes. And right now, those eyes are burning.

The Complete Asshole is now shaking and gasping. Oh, right. Remus has crowded him against the wall. Remus bends his head: “If I ever see near my family or even hear of you,” he warns in a voice that does not sound like his at all, “Then no one will ever see or hear you again.”

The Complete Asshole gulps. Remus has not even touched him, and he may have already pissed his pants. Pathetic.

“Get out,” he snarls. The Complete Asshole flees.

Holy hell. If The Complete Asshole had pissed him off, what could he have said to Sirius?

“You all right, love?” Remus asked.

“I’m fine, babe,” Sirius said, flashing him his dimples. Remus relaxed, back softening from the harsh stance he hadn’t noticed himself taking.

Sirius was still talking: “…two interviews left, Mr Corforth, who’s waiting for me in my office. And Ms—”

“Liz,” the girl said quickly. “Please call me Liz. I think I included that in my application.” She reprimanded gently.

“Yes, of course, Liz.” Sirius answered. “Why don’t the two of you get to know each other while I carry out this interview. Remus?”

“Of course,” Remus said. Sirius must have taken a liking to her very quickly. Remus looked at her a little more carefully. She was wearing a tan skirt and matching scarf around her neck. A black and white flowery top and strappy black heels. Massive golden frames, a watch, hoop earrings. Nothing too obvious to indicate why his husband had decided to hire her.

Liz stood up and held out her hand. Ah, initiative. Appealing in an employee, especially one so young. Remus shook it.

“Remus Lupin,” he said, “Please. Call me Remus.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” she grinned, “I’m Lizzie Platt, or Liz, I’m sure you remember.”

“Would you like to join me for some brownies?” he offered, “It’s just about time to take them out of the oven.”

“Oh, yes please. I love chocolate.”

… “We are going to be very good friends, Liz.”

“Eighteen,” Liz said, “My birthday was in January. After I got my inheritance, I left foster care STAT. I’m renting an apartment, but the money will only last so long. Hence the need for a part-time job.”

“Are you considering further education?”

“Yes, actually. I’m going to be studying BSc Clinical Pharmacology at Oakland.” Liz stopped abruptly and took a sip of her tea.

“Excuse me for prying, but you don’t seem too happy about that.” Remus said thoughtfully.

“I… wanted to study medicine but didn’t quite make the grades. I actually got the clin pharm space through clearing.”

“It’s still a very prestigious course and university. But if you really want to study medicine—”

“No, I don’t think I could retake my A Levels. And honestly, this feels like a blessing in disguise. This course combines healthcare research with drug development and clinical skills and I’m excited to see what I’ll learn.”

“That’s excellent to hear—”

The patter of footprints silence Remus, and he watches Harry run into the room. Harry freezes as he takes in the new guest.

“Hello,” Liz says surprisingly gently, “I’m Liz. You must be Sirius’s son.”

Harry’s eyes grow wide. “He—I’m, we…I’m adopted.” He manages finally. “I’m adopted.” He repeats.

“Are you happy?” Liz says even quieter.

“…Yeah.” Harry whispers, and then says more confidently: “I really like it here.”

“Good. That’s all that matters.”

“Would you like a brownie, Harry?” Remus stands up and pulls the bar stool from the kitchen island next to the table. Harry loves spinning on the bar stools, and almost always sits at the kitchen island, but Remus wanted him to get to know Liz a little more.

Harry shily walks over and climbs onto the barstool. Liz kicks at it playfully, causing it to spin. Harry giggles, and Remus’ heart lifts, as he pushes a plate piled with brownies across the table.

“I can’t eat all those!” Harry protests. “Would… would you like one, Liz?” he says softly, looking up at her through his fringe and then at Remus for approval. Remus nods at him proudly, and Harry pushes the plate towards Liz.

“I’ve already had one,” Liz says, “But it was so delicious… I think you should hide this plate before I eat them all!”

Harry giggles again, and Liz raises a hand to his cheek, squeezing softly. “You are so cute, maybe I should eat you instead.” She coos. Remus is shocked—he would never have guessed this teddy bear lived beneath Liz’s confident and sharp demeanour. Harry’s head moves just a miniscule amount before he blushes and looks at the table, torn between amused embarrassment and discomfort. Liz doesn’t mention his instinctual flinch but removes her hand immediately, and begins to look at the boy with slightly clearer eyes.

“I like your watch,” Harry says suddenly. It is sitting on the kitchen table; Liz had taken it off and played absentmindedly with the clasp while answering Remus’ questions. Harry’s eyes are fixated on it, and yet he takes no move to touch it, as some children his age might. Liz takes it and gently slips it over Harry’s hand, clicking the clasp into place. Harry is too astonished to even flinch, watching as the watch immediately falls down his tiny arm to rest in the crook of his elbow.

“I like my watch too,” Liz says, “It was my mums apparently.”

Harry looks at Liz with wide green eyes, understanding her unspoken words.

“I was given my dad’s watch too. It’s black and chunky and ugly and designer and probably stupidly expensive. It’s huge too, not quite as big as that one on you, but near enough. My… I was told to get it resized, take some of the links out, but I like it. I like knowing how big my dad’s wrist was. Is that weird?”

“I have a blankie,” Harry said quietly, gently touching the watch with one fingertip, almost reverently. “It’s the only thing I have from my mum and dad. It even had my name on it. I kept it hidden in my cupboard, and then when I moved into Dudley’s second bedroom, I tucked it into my underpants so they couldn’t find it.”

Remus had never seen nor heard of this blankie, although he did vaguely remember a very pregnant Lily calmly knitting what seemed to be an entire baby wardrobe, continuing in her task even as a panicked James ran around like a headless chicken after her water broke. It was nice to see Harry opening up, and he silently observed while sipping his tea.

“Hmm,” Liz said, picking up a brownie and breaking off a piece. “I’ll give you 50p if you catch this in your mouth.”

“Catch this—” Harry looks adorably confused, and then Liz has tossed the brownie in the air. It lands on the table in front of him. Harry gapes.

“I wasn’t ready, do it again!” he exclaims. Liz complies, and it leaves a smear on his cheek on its way to the floor. The third brownie piece makes it into his mouth, and Harry shuffles in an odd dance, arms in the air.

“Yesh!” he mumbles. He swallows and says: “Your turn!”

Liz looks astonished. “You think I want you to throw a brownie at—hey!”

Harry and Liz now contain matching smears of chocolate on their cheeks. Harry had thrown his brownie directly at Liz with much more force however, and it sticks to her face for a few seconds, before falling into her lap with a plop.

“You… have terrible aim.” Liz says in mock-serious whisper.

Harry giggles and giggles. “Do not!”

Remus’ phone buzzes in his pocket; he startles a little. “Who is it, pa—Remus?” Harry asks.

“It’s your dad,” Remus mutters distractedly. He doesn’t see Harry’s furious blush or Liz’s inquisitive eyes. “He wants to talk to me. Do you want to come with me, Harry?”

Harry was very shy, and Remus wanted to give him an excuse so he would not end up with Liz alone. To his surprise, Harry doesn’t reply, and then shakes his head.

“Well… ok, then.” Remus says, a little confused. He gets up to leave, slowly. Liz waves goodbye, and Harry is already facing away from him, talking to Liz’s lap. He is quiet and so very shy, but he is talking.

Chapter Text

“So, you’re here for the job interview?” Harry asks shyly.

“But I’ll stay for the brownies!” Liz uses a napkin to pick the brownie out of her lap. “You think your papa will give me the recipe?”

“My…” Harry looks panicked.

“You don’t feel comfortable calling Remus your papa?”

Harry doesn’t reply and slowly gets to his feet. Liz watches as he runs to the sink and washes his face, and brings a damp washcloth to clean the floor. He takes her dirty napkin and tosses it in the bin. The washcloth is washed and wrung and hung to dry. He offers her a clean napkin; Liz offers him her face. There is a tiny smile on his face as he cleans her face.

“Why don’t you sit down, Harry.” She says before he can run off again. He sits with his hands in his lap, worrying at the dirty napkin in silence. “Do you feel better now?”

“I like cleaning. My therapist says—” Harry freezes, green eyes wide with horror.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” Liz says gently. “There’s nothing wrong with seeing a therapist.”

Harry gives her a cautious look. “You make me talk.” He complains.

“What’s so bad about that?” Liz jokes, “Talking is awesome; it’s my favourite hobby.”

“Talking is dangerous.”

“It can be,” Liz agrees. “But your dad and papa aren’t dangerous, are they?”

“They’re safe.” Harry bursts out immediately, before shrinking. “But…”

“But?”

“I already had a dad, James Potter,” Harry whispers, “It’s not fair if I have two more.”

“Have you talked to your therapist about this?”

Harry shakes his head, confirming her suspicion. “I think it’s good your talking to someone about this,” she ventures carefully, “James Potter will always be your dad. But he can’t look after you right now. And he would want for his son to have loving parents, whether you have one dad, or none, or two, or five, or a hundred doesn’t matter, ok? As long as you are safe and happy and loved.”

Harry stares up at her with watery green eyes.

“You all right, Harry?”

“When… papa saved me, he said he loved me. And—and daddy says he loves me every night… but I never said it back!”

“That’s all right, Harry. You can say it in your own time, if you ever want to.”

Harry nods determinedly, tears falling down his cherubic cheeks. “I want to!”

“All right!” Liz exclaims, happy Harry seems more energetic and less shy even if he is currently crying. “There’s nothing stopping you, angel.”

“I’m an angel?” he asks, eyes full of wonder.

“Course you are.”

“Are angels brave?”

“The bravest.”

“Ok.” Harry takes a deep breath, and almost between one blink and another, tears out of the kitchen.

“Harry!” Liz calls, but he doesn’t stop.

“Daddy!” the little boy shrieks. “DADDY!”

Remus yanks the office door so hard the handle makes a small dent in the wall. He wrestles a frantic Sirius to be the first out of the door, but his husband elbows him viciously in the stomach and so Remus is a split-second behind him.

“Kitchen!” Remus says sharply. They both take the first left.

“Harry!” Sirius calls, sprinting. Remus’ legs are longer and yet he is struggling to keep up. They see a red-faced, teary-eyed Harry racing towards them. Sirius falls to his knees as Harry barrels into him and clutches his son to his chest. Remus sits down with no less urgency, stroking a hand through Harry’s hair, analysing his body for any injuries.

“Daddy—” comes Harry’s muffled voice. Sirius releases Harry to look into his face, wiping away his tears. He freezes when Harry places a gentle palm on either side of his face: “Daddy I love you.”

Sirius is silent. He doesn’t even breathe. Harry drops his little hands and looks at Remus in confusion. And then—

Sirius begins to bawl. He bends to bury his head in his son’s stomach and cries earnestly; loud, ugly, echoing sobs.

“Papa—”

Remus lifts Harry out of Sirius clutches quite easily, and sits him on his lap. Sirius moves without complaint, curling himself around Remus, and pulling Remus’ left arm around him for comfort. Tiny arms wind themselves around Remus’ neck, and Remus thinks he has never been happier in his life.

“Papa I love you,” his son whispers in his ear, and Remus moves on instinct, kissing his baby's cheek, and then his nose, his other cheek, his forehead, his lips, his chin. Harry giggles and Sirius finally raises his head.

“You scared me monkey,” he said, releasing Remus’ arm.

“Monkey?” Remus kisses in between the eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

“Yes, because you’re clinging to Papa’s neck like a monkey.”

“I like hugging papa,” Harry says shyly.

“Me too,” Sirius grins, before moving over to sit astride Remus’s free leg.

Harry looks horrified. “You can’t sit on papa, you’re too big!”

Silence. Sirius: “Did you just call me fat?”

Harry now looks mortified. Sirius merely stares at him, the drama queen. They both look at Remus when their chair begins shaking. Remus, as green and grey eyes glare at him in an identical indignant expression, begins to laugh. Harry giggles. Sirius huffs, unhooks one of Harry’s hands from around Remus’ neck and kisses it.

Click.

The family look up to see Liz holding an iPhone in front of her face. She lowers it to reveal a massive grin on her face. “Figured you’d want to savour these memories,” she says by way of explanation.

“Lizzie!” Harry exclaims happily.

“Harry!” she returns just as excitedly.

“Bye papa, bye daddy,” Harry murmurs as he kisses his parents’ cheeks, ignoring the rapid click of the camera. He rushes out of his papa’s lap and runs to Liz.

“You’re hired,” he says, after posing for the camera.

“Am I now?” Liz says, amused.

“Yes,” he answers determinedly, “Now let me show you to your room,” he grabs her hand and pulls her down the hallway.

“…My whaaat? Harry, wait—” Liz’s voice begins to fade.

“Remus,” Sirius says, moving so he is straddling his husbands’ lap, “That was the happiest I’ve ever seen my son.”

“I think it was, Siri,” Remus chuckles into his hair. “And as adorable as it is that your son’s happiness makes you horny, get off my lap so we can save that poor girl.”

“But I’m so comfortable here. And I think Harry’s moving her in already. I can’t say no to Harry.”

“Sirius.”

“Fine.”

Chapter Text

“Do you think they’d hire me too?” Marie asked, looking around what was to be Lizzie’s new room. “We could share!”

“Sorry,” Sirius said, walking in with yet another box. “One shop assistant slash live-in student babysitter is more than enough.”

“Only you, Lizzie, could go for a job interview and end up sneaking your way into a family.”

“Wait ‘til Harry gets here,” Lizzie said, turning to unzip a suitcase, “You’ll understand completely.”

“Speaking of Harry,” Sirius said, having heard the car pull into the driveway a few minutes earlier. “And that’s them at the door.”

“Lizzie! Daddy! Lizzie!” said the excited voice of a child with seemingly more energy than he had left for Karate class with.

“No running on the stairs, Harry!” said Remus.

“I’m just walking really fast!” came the shrieked reply. Sirius, however, tore down the passageway and practically vaulted down the stairs and heaved his son into his arms. Harry giggled as his little face was peppered with kisses.

Liz faked a massive gasp. “Harry was your daddy running?”

The little imp nodded, green eyes wide, “On the stairs, papa!” he called out.

“Hi Lizzie!” he ran over to her, ignoring the way his dad collapsed and clutched at his chest, gasping and muttering words akin to: ‘betrayal’ and ‘the knife of the son cuts the deepest’. Remus’ long-suffering sigh could be heard from the moon.

“Hi Harry!” she replied, matching his enthusiasm. “This is my friend, Marie.”

Marie waved, and Harry’s energy visibly shrank. He did not immediately run for safety, however, which Liz took for the achievement it was. “Wanna help me untangle my necklaces?”

The boy zoomed over, clearly interested, although he resolutely refused to put his back to the stranger. He set to work carefully, green eyes intent and little fingers enviably nimble.

With the help of such dedicated friends, she was soon more unpacked than not and deemed it a good stopping point. Marie went to the bathroom, and Harry began humming as he considered how to organise all her books. And a Happy Harry is the perfect bait for catching wayward Sirius’.

“This is starting to look like something,” he whistled appreciatively. “A lick of paint, a few more bookshelves, some decent curtains…” He had an angry red mark on his face (clearly, his attempt to seduce Remus away from his marking had failed. Again) and Harry licked his fingers and rubbed at it. “Ah, monkey!” Sirius whined, “You definitely learnt that from your papa. This is my war scar, child, from when my husband needlessly attacked me.”

“Was he attacking, or defending himself?” Liz said wryly.

“You!” Sirius pointed an accusatory finger at her. Liz looked dramatically from side-to-side, making Harry laugh. “You are a bad influence on my son. He even… told his papa I stole his chocolate. And I would never. Do. That.”

“Did the chocolate eat itself then?”

“Did the chocolate eat itself—!” Sirius made as of to tackle Liz and Harry, doubled over with laughter as he was, jumped to her rescue.

“Quick, Lizzie!” he said, wrapping himself around her torso. She near tipped over with the force of his excitement. “We have to hide from the tickle monster!”

“As adorable as this scene is, we have been summoned.” Marie said. The three of them turned in unison to stare at her. It was as adorable as it was creepy: which is to say, very. “Mr. Lupin is waiting,” she prompted, when they failed to move.

“His majesty awaits!” Sirius exclaimed, sweeping his son into his arms. Harry whispered shyly in his dad’s ear, and Sirius responded: “I am not a horsey, I am a fabulous unicorn at least, nay a Pegasus—”

“So, it looks like you’ve got a good thing going on here,” Marie ventured.

“Mm-hmm,” Liz said. She fussed a little with the cover on her new bed, avoiding meeting the eyes of her only friend.

“Are we not going to talk about this? It’s weird—”

“Yes, yes, you’re right, it is.” Liz snapped. “It’s different and not normal and utterly pathetic that living in this house, leeching off another family—”

“Liz.”

“I fit in here. Maybe. And I won't have you anymore.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt again.”

“I’m not hoping for anything anymore. Just some friends, and a new bestie in Harry.”

“Replacing me already, are you?” they both smiled at that, but the silence was strained.

“Well, at least I can start again at uni. And I can make an impression all by myself.”

Marie snorted. “Thank god.”

“Can you imagine, Mehek and Elaine sitting in an anatomy lecture?”

“Oh, god, no. And Derek—”

“But please, miss, in what situation would this knowledge even help me ever?”

They both burst out laughing, joy cracking a little light into the darkness of sour nostalgia. “You are notpathetic.” Marie said defiantly., “Don’t think I missed that.”

“Let’s go back to making fun of people.” Liz tried.

“I love you. You’re like my sister, and I’m going to miss you.”

“Why are you torturing me like this?” Liz whined, but hugged her back all the same.

“Make sure you call me.”

“Let me know when you’re back in town. Show Cambridge what St Matthews’ girls are made of.”

“Will do. Try not to forget me when you’re taking over Oakland.”

I could never, Liz thought as she watched her friend leave. She sensed Remus walking up beside her, and resisted the urge to hide her face. No tears had fallen from her eyes, after all. “I was hoping your friend would stay for dinner,” he said lightly, “Although Harry is notably more comfortable. So maybe it’s a good thing we kept this visit short.”

“Thanks for letting her come over,” Liz said. “She’s going to go places, that girl, mark my words.”

“I’m sure you will too. But first, to the kitchen, before Sirius helps himself to my hard work.”

“We can't let that happen!”

“No, we cannot.”