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Chapter Text

It only took a week for Remus to find evidence that Sirius was innocent. 

(It was most probably the hardest week of his relatively-hard life, but it was a week). 

It had started with cleaning out the flat. If it could even be considered cleaning, as it consisted more of smashing-and-throwing-against-the-wall. 

Even in Remus’s short taste of grief, he had begun to categorize his days. The second day had been an ice day, when his bones seemed to freeze beneath his skin and he lay in one spot for hours on end, his mind a dizzying snowstorm. 

(The first day had been nothing. Numb.)

This day was a fire day, and Remus could barely keep himself from howling like the wolf he had locked away, a long drawn-out wail of bastard fucking bastard how could he bastard.  

A fire day meant move-or-combust, so Remus found himself stalking around the flat, their flat. A swing of his arms - the carefully stacked records cascaded to the floor. A kick of his foot - the coffee table still holding a black mug splintered to the floor. Everything in him screaming for justice, for Sir- for someone to pay for what had happened to Lily and James.  

(That was the thing, wasn’t it? There was no one left besides Remus. No one left to pay.) 

Remus punched his way through framed photos as if the red cuts crisscrossing his knuckles could slit their way into the throat of who deserved it. 

It was only later, when fire cooled to ice, that he saw the camcorder. 

* * * 

It was a muggle thing, a giant hulking rectangle that he and Li- Remus squinted his eyes against the memories- he and Lily had bought on a whim. It was a new thing, apparently, for muggles to be able to record each other and watch it back. Like using a Pensieve, Remus supposed. 

They’d mucked around with the camcorder at a party, just the once. Remus remembered Lily, drunk on cheap champagne, wandering around thrusting the lens in their friends' faces, asking them to say hello, say hi to your future selves, SIRIUS AND JAMES I saw that, don’t you dare try to get me to record THAT, all while still giggling helplessly. 

The next week, they learned about the prophecy, and that was the last party they’d ever had. The camcorder had been tucked on the bookshelf, used as a far-too-large bookend for Sirius’s muggle mystery novels. 

(Those were jagged confetti on the floor, now). 

 Remus stared at the camcorder for a long time, fighting back the wave of desperate fear and want that broke over him. Half of him longed for one more glimpse of that party, filled with the only people in the world he cared about, and the other half howled that it would be better to tear his heart out than to possibly see the face of Siri- him . 

In the end, it was the position of the camcorder that decided it for him. Even in the wreckage of his rage, Remus could see quite clearly that it was now facing forward, lens pointed out, when he knew for a fact that he’d put it there facing back, unable to get over the creepy feeling of being watched. Yes, he’d wrecked much of the flat, but not that much.

Someone had moved it, after him. 

Someone had recorded something else. 

It was the ice in Remus’s bones that did most of the work. He was detached from the motions, following a half-remembered instruction manual as he removed the tape and crossed the room to the VCR, now blanketed with splinters from the mess of the coffee table. The miniature television that Mary had foisted on him sat on its side, wires dangling from where they’d been ripped out. 

It took only a minute for him to insert the tape, reconnect the TV to the VCR, and fuss around with the buttons to press play, then-

Say hi, Remus, Lily’s voice laughed, and he shattered apart. 

(It was too much. He was an idiot for thinking he could handle it). 

Remus grasped for the TV while looking anywhere but the screen, searching for the off button, a way to make it stop, to keep the unfairness of it all from burning him alive from the inside out. Lily called out, oi, Sirius, come over here and-

Silence. Remus remembered how to breathe. 

He’d managed to turn off the sound. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could still see the flickering white light as the party from another life continued. Was Sir- he there? Was he laughing with James, as though he wouldn’t be covered in his blood just months later? Was he picking up Harry and swinging him upside down in the way he used to, no sign that he would be responsible for the tiny black-haired baby’s orphaning? 

Finally, the white light cut out. Remus exhaled shakily, turning back to look, and- 

Sirius was there. 

Not there there, but staring out of the TV, alone in a dark room. His face (Merlin, his face ) was shadowed, deep circles under each eye - but still so painfully beautiful. 

Remus watched, rooted to the spot, as Sirius began to speak silently. How could you do it? he thought desperately at the halting video. How could you? 

Through a fog, Remus reached out and turned the sound back on. 

“-Moony,” Sirius was saying distractedly, and the single word cut through Remus like a curse. “I think I got this fucking thing to work, you never really know with muggle stuff. I’m trying- I have to record this, and see if it works. It’s a loophole, see? The Fidelius charm won’t let me tell anyone else, but I’m not talking to anyone else, I’m talking to myself.” Sirius grinned, and for a moment the darkness lifted off his weathered face. 

( HOW COULD YOU? )

“Bloody wizards. Never really give muggles enough credit. That’s why we’re having this fucking war, I guess.” His face darkened again. “Right, I should give this documentation thing a proper go. It’s Halloween, 1981, just after noon.” 

( The day they died. The day you killed them ).  

“My name is Sirius Orion Black III, and this message is intended for Moo- Remus John Lupin. Tonight, I’m going to visit Prongs and Lily and Harry, where I’ll tell them the same things I’m telling you, but it feels important that I get this done now.” 

( YOU KILLED THEM ). 

“You’re not here, if you’re wondering. You left weeks ago for another mission.” A flash of anger bit through the screen. “You’re always on a mission, these days. That’s why, you know. That’s why they think you’re the spy.”

( You were the spy. The rat. You ).

“I didn’t want to believe it, I swear, but you know what it feels like, Moony. It feels like- like you’re locked in a maze and there’s a trap after every turn. Like spies are lurking in the corners of your sight. Like the whole world is on You-Know-Who’s side. And you’re never here anymore, Moony… I miss you.” 

(I miss- ) 

“So, that’s why we did it. Why we switched. But now I’m sitting here, and I just feel like we made a mistake. Like not trusting you is going to be the worst mistake of my life.” Sirius leaned forward, his blue eyes honed to knife points. 

( Did the war do that? Make what used to be so soft into something so sharp?)

 “So I’ll tell you now, just in case. I’ll probably destroy this later, when the war's all over, and- well, I guess we’ll know who the spy really was.” 

( YOU ). 

“But just in case, in case something happens to me or Lily or James-” 

(MURDERER). 

“Here’s the truth. Shit , I hope this works.” 

(HOW COULD-).  

“I’m not the secret keeper for Prongs and Lily. It’s Peter.” 

(...you?). 

Chapter Text

“We- well, merlin , it really was just me , I’m the one who thought it would be a good idea to switch at the last minute. Not just because… you know, you-being-the-spy, but also - who would ever think Peter would be the secret keeper?” 

The recording of Sirius continued to shakily explain, but Remus was frozen. 

Was he really-? No, of course not. He couldn’t be telling the truth. This was a trick, nothing but a trick.

“I thought that maybe you wouldn’t believe me, Moony, especially after... after how we’ve been treating each other - so,” Sirius lifted a shot glass into the frame, “it’s Veritaserum, I got Lily to give some to me for emergencies. I know this is just a muggle recording, but you know potions, don’t you?” Sirius held the glass up to the camcorder. Even in the grainy film, Remus could tell it was glowing slightly and the silvery color of melted metal. Precisely the way textbooks described Veritaserum. 

Sirius twisted the shot glass around once again in front of the camcorder, then pounded back the shot in the way that Remus had seen him do so many times at parties. He coughed, gagging on the potion (could it really be a potion?). “So. I’ll say it again. Peter Pettigrew was the secret keeper for the Potters, not me. If anything happens to them, it’ll be his fault.” Sirius swallowed, his dark hair falling into his face. “ Merlin , I hope nothing happens to them.” 

Remus tried to recall what he’d been told. Sirius had told Voldemort, Voldemort had killed Lily and James, Peter had confronted Sirius, Sirius had killed him and twelve muggles then been sent to Azkaban. That was what happened. That’s what everyone said, what the Ministry had said. 

The locked-away part of Remus’s heart raised its head, the part that had asked Dumbledore over and over are you sure? are you sure? are you sure? when he’d heard the news. That’s not right , it thought stubbornly. 

Sirius set down the shot glass and smiled, a tired echo of his trademark smirk. “I”m probably overreacting. Wouldn’t be the first time a Black was too dramatic. I’ll probably come back from Lily and James’s after the Halloween party and delete this. And you’ll come back from the mission, and we’ll talk. Really talk. Because - well, I don’t know for certain, but I hope you’re not the spy.” Sirius gave his head a shake, as if he could toss off the weight of his words. “Merlin, this truth potion doesn’t mess around, does it? Might as well be out with it now.” He sighed, standing up and walking toward the camcorder. “Because I still love you, Moony, and it’d really suck if you betrayed us.”

The words sat in the silence for a moment. Remus tried to ignore the way he felt them echo in his chest. I still love you. 

Then Sirius scoffed. “Look at me, talking to people who aren’t there. This thing probably wasn’t even workin-” the video switched off, a black screen once again. 

Remus sat in his ruined flat ( their ruined flat), and thought. 

He’d spent a lot of time at Hogwarts thinking, always studying and reading and trying to understand the world that had never quite seemed to want him. Even now, his brain fell back into the familiar pattern, turning over ideas and sectioning things off until it reached the right answer. 

(He already knew what the right answer was.) 

Remus thought about Dumbledore, insisting that Sirius was guilty, and all the newspapers that had claimed it was unsurprising, seeing how the rest of his family turned out. And he thought of Mary’s voice on the phone, a hollowed-out specter of her usual giggle, telling him again and again that she didn’t understand, couldn’t understand . And he thought of Sirius, putting his life on the line for the war time and time again. Sirius, so certain that goodness would win. 

And his brain, as simply and concisely as it had understood a spell or a lesson before, understood this - Sirius Black had not killed James and Lily Potter. Sirius Black had not been the secret keeper. And if that was true, then - Sirius Black had confronted Peter Pettigrew, but then still killed him and the muggles? That piece didn’t fit, and Remus needed everything to fit. 

He turned over more ideas - Sirius whispering in the dark about the many Blacks in the Death Eater ranks, how he could never call people who believed such horrible things and did such horrible deeds his family. And the smoke-tinged memory of that one battle, where James and Sirius had only disarmed while Peter hadn’t ever hesitated to use the killing curse. 

These were facts, cold and hard, which added up to maybes. Maybe Peter Pettigrew had known Sirius Black would hunt him down. Maybe Peter had planned it, made it look as though Sirius was the one to set off the curse. Maybe Peter had managed to escape, leaving Sirius to take the blame. Maybe Sirius, maniacal with grief, had been captured by a Ministry who was only too ready to think him a killer. 

Which meant Sirius Black was wrongfully in Azkaban for the crimes of Peter Pettigrew. 

The scattered pieces of memory settled into place, and Remus felt his lifetime fracture once again. Not into Before-Halloween and After-Halloween, like it had in the last week, but into three neat sections. Before. During the Lie. After. 

The problem was solved, the right answer presented, and the ice in Remus’s bones finally began to melt. 

* * * 

“I need to see the headmaster,” Remus told the wizened witch who sat in front of him. The plaque on her desk read Senior Secretary for Hogwarts-Ministry Relations, which was something Remus had not known existed until about an hour ago, when he’d barged into the Ministry. 

“Reason?” the witch wheezed, slowly picking up a quill. She sat at a warped desk piled with old papers, a huge brick fireplace taking up most of the cramped wall behind her. 

“It’s urgent,” Remus said, shifting in the spindly chair he’d been given. “I can’t say anything else.” 

“ Unspecified request …” the witch mumbled, filling in a box on her form. 

“How soon can I see him?” Remus said, watching her hand shakily move back to the inkwell. 

“... likely exaggerated sense of importance ,” the witch continued, making another note. 

“It’s not exaggerated!” Remus said, catching himself before he could yell. He stood up and tried to pace, if only to spend some of the energy sizzling in his veins, but the room was so small his only option was to step to the left once, then step back to the right. “I told you, it’s an urgent matter. I need to see Dumbledore immediately.” 

“Does it concern the safety of a student?” the witch asked. 

“No, well- a former student-” 

“No,” the witch said, checking a box. “Does it concern a breach of The International Statute of Secrecy due to school teachings?” 

“No-” 

“Does it concern pressing danger for the Hogwarts institution?” 

“No-” 

“Thank you for your request. The headmaster will see you in approximately five to seven business months. Have a good day.” 

“No!” Remus said. He held up the camcorder by its strap, the bulky black rectangle swinging crazily. “I need to show him this, an innocent man was sent to Azka-” 

“Have a good day,” the witch repeated insistently. Remus fought the urge to hex her, the rage that was never too far below the surface bubbling up. This situation was the Ministry’s fault, and the Ministry was going to fix it. 

“I could just Floo to him, you know,” Remus said. “What’s the point of your job if people could just ignore you?” 

“Only certain fireplaces have access to the Headmaster’s study, including the one located in the offices of the Senior Secretary for Hogwarts-Ministry Relations and under their express control,” the witch said, glaring at Remus through her thick glasses. 

“So let me use it!” Remus shouted. The wolf growled from his chest.  

“Have. A. Good. Day.” The witch punctured every word with a sharp jab of her quill onto the paper. “The office of the Senior Secretary for Hogwarts-Ministry Relations requests that you leave the premises immediately.” 

(And Remus had, frankly, quite enough of that). 

He leapt over the desk, whacking the heavy camcorder on the side as he went and scattering the piled parchment, then grabbed a handful of the Floo powder sitting in a dish on the massive fireplace.

“Sir!” the witch cried, twisting around in her seat with her eyes bugged out. 

“Thanks for the help,” Remus said sarcastically, then tossed down the Floo powder and stepped into the flames, shouting, “Dumbledore’s Office, Hogwarts!”  

He whirled away, ash and shoot kicking up into his face and clogging his throat, the wolf howling with victory, and experienced a few dizzying seconds of being sucked through various fireplaces before finally stumbling out, colliding with an end table covered in weird spindly objects, and falling face-down on a thick carpet as the table upended on top of him with a crash. 

(It was not, Remus could admit, a steller beginning to this conversation.) 

Chapter Text

“Mr. Lupin!” a voice cried. A familiar figure wearing deep red robes jumped to his feet from behind the desk, wrinkled face creased with anger. 

Remus pushed himself up to a shaky standing position, still clutching the camcorder and covered in soot. The table resting on his leg thunked to the floor, shattering several more objects. “Headmaster, I need to talk to you-” 

“Mr. Lupin, this is highly inappropriate,” Dumbledore thundered. “I must ask you to-” 

“SIRIUS IS INNOCENT!” Remus roared, swinging the camcorder forward and almost smacking Dumbledore in the face. 

Dumbledore stepped backward, wand raised, and iciness in his gaze that Remus had never seen before. “Mr. Lupin, there has been a trial. Sirius Black was found guilty based on the statements from several witnesses.” 

“Sir, please,” Remus said, trying to stamp down on his desire to punch the old man. “I have new evidence. You need to see it.” 

“What evidence?” Dumbledore said, face still as stone. He seemed exactly the same as Remus remembered, aside from the length of his beard. 

(And maybe the weight on his conscience).

“This,” Remus said, holding up the camcorder, which swung limply from his arm. “It’s a muggle thing, Headmaster, it’s called a camcorder-” 

“I am familiar,” Dumbledore said, lowering his wand slowly. 

“Oh, er-” said Remus, who had been prepared to have to explain further. “Well, Sirius recorded a video on it, the night James-” his voice broke, “the night they died.” 

“Is it a recording of the incident itself?” Dumbledore asked, shrewd interest sparking in his eyes. 

“No, it’s just him,” Remus said, irritation burning at the way Dumbledore acted like the worst night of his life was something to study, to put under a microscope. “We could just watch it, but-” he looked around, as if a working VCR was likely to be sitting in the Headmaster of Hogwarts’ office. “I didn’t bring the right things…” 

“There is a spell,” Dumbledore said calmly. “One moment.” He waved his wand, returning the toppled table and smashed instruments back to perfect order. Another wave, and he vanished the soot clinging to the carpet and to Remus. “If you could set it down, Mr. Lupin.” He gestured to the desk and swept around it, standing imperiously behind his chair. 

Remus plunked the camcorder down on the desk, refusing to sit.  

Dumbledore glanced meaningfully at the chair in front of the desk but didn’t press it. He muttered a spell as he tapped the camcorder, and a cloudy square about the size of a television appeared in the air above it. A view of the flat flickered into view, followed by Lily’s lilting voice. Say hi, Remus.

Remus flinched. “Can’t you- don’t want to-” 

Dumbledore only nodded, like Remus had confirmed something he already knew, and tapped the camcorder again. Remus hated him for it. “I take it the footage we are after occurs later in the tape.” The video shuttered, and Sirius’s shadowed face replaced the bright party. 

“-think I got this fucking thing to work, you never really know with muggle stuff,” Sirius said. Dumbledore leaned forward, bracing his hands on the back of his chair. 

Remus stayed still as Sirius continued his explanation, every word like a blow to his chest. Why didn’t I figure it out? his mind demanded, followed by why didn’t they trust me?  

Sirius reached the part about Peter, and Dumbledore drew in a breath. 

Sirius took a shot of Veritaserum, and Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. 

Sirius said I still love you , and Dumbledore merely blinked. 

The recording stopped. 

“Well?” Remus demanded, his nerves raw with the emotions the video had dragged to the surface. 

“Mr. Lupin, you have to understand,” Dumbledore began. “This by itself is not strong enough.” 

“NO!” Remus burst out. This couldn’t be happening, that couldn’t be true-

“Even if the video is not a fake, which I am certain you possess the magic to do-” 

“It’s not! I don’t even know how, that’s really Sirius-” 

“It could have been filmed at any time, in order to deflect suspicions. We have no way of knowing if that is truly Veritaserum-” 

“USE YOUR EYES-” 

“And the fact that it is technology which doesn’t usually work in the presence of magic is enough to discount it.” 

“It's working now, isn’t it?” Remus demanded. 

“My office has certain wards to allow that, wards which will not hold up in a court of law,” Dumbledore said decisively. 

“Then you need to call back the trial, give him some more Veritaserum, and prove he’s telling the truth. You should have done that in the beginning!” Remus’s voice shook. 

That was the part that really got him - everything that should have been done. Once again, this world had the means to avoid injustice, avoid the trap of the muggle prison system Remus had felt looming over his whole life, but simply couldn’t be bothered to use them. 

“Veritaserum has been banned from trials for years, as certain dark wizards built up a tolerance,” Dumbledore said, like he was teaching a history lesson. 

“Then try something else!” Remus yelled. “Use your fucking MAGIC!” 

“Even if this video could be validated, it is not enough to call back a trial that already had multiple witnesses-” 

“MUGGLES, who were OBLIVIATED-” 

“MR. LUPIN!” Dumbledore shouted, suddenly pointing his wand at Remus again. “That. Is. Enough. I know you do not wish to believe that your former friend could have caused such harm, indeed, none of us do, but you must accept it.” Dumbledore lowered his wand, something terrifyingly like pity in his eyes, and Remus remained frozen. “I was truly sorry to hear of what happened to the Potters and Pettigrew.” 

“Don’t you dare mention them in the same breath,” Remus practically growled. 

Dumbledore just nodded, like Remus was a child playing pretend. “I understand how losing a loved one can twist with your mind, making inconceivable things seem possible.” 

Remus swallowed. “You think I’m making it up, then.” 

“I think you may be confused, reeling from the loss of friends.”

“Right, and I decided to grieve by pretending their so-called murderer is innocent. Makes sense,” Remus said flatly. 

Dumbledore moved around from the desk, handing the camcorder back to Remus. “Mr. Lupin, this is simply not enough evidence to convince the Ministry. The case is closed.”  

“So you don’t care that an innocent man is rotting in Azkaban?” Remus asked. 

(Though he knew, already, it was more of a statement than a question). 

“On the contrary, Mr. Lupin. I merely think there is no innocent man in Azkaban.” 

“You could solve this, Headmaster,” Remus said. “But you’d rather do nothing.” 

Dumbledore stared down at him, his normally calm face twisted.“I think it’s time for you to leave my office, Mr. Lupin. My condolences for your loss.”

Remus let the urge to fight and yell and kick rock through him, anything to get Dumbledore to listen. He wanted to hold his wand to the old man’s throat and not let up until he agreed to release Sirius. 

But that was never an option. 

“One day,” Remus said quietly, walking back to the fireplace. “One day you’ll see.” Without letting Dumbledore answer, he pinched up more Floo powder and shouted his address, letting the flames take him. 

* * *

Back in the flat, Remus stood among the wreck he’d made. Plotting. 

The Ministry would do nothing. That was confirmed. 

There was no way to get Sirius out the lawful way, not with Dumbledore refusing to see reason. And it was doubtful that any other witch or wizard would be willing to listen, not with the Headmaster staunchly disbelieving and his only evidence a muggle camcorder and seven years of knowledge of his friend. Sirius would be locked up forever. 

But Remus’s brain was not one to accept a blocked path. He’d spent his entire magical career scrambling for anything he wanted, learning to sink his teeth into something and not let go. He made lists, and read books, and wrote notes, and he found a way around. 

So there wasn’t a lawful way to save Sirius. 

Maybe there was an unlawful way.

Chapter Text

There were three things the Ministry didn’t know. 

Remus looked down at the blank notebook in his hand and carefully wrote The Plan along the top. Below that, he scratched out the beginnings of a list. 

#1 - the rings. 

His own ring sat next to him on the propped-up coffee table, a simple gold band. He hadn’t been able to put it back on, not since… that night. 

Halloween, 1981, had been a full moon. Of course it had, of course Remus had been unreachable on the worst night of his life. His best friends were murdered, and the wolf howled unknowingly. 

He remembered coming back to himself, laying alone on the cold forest floor. The pack he’d spent the night with was already gone. He’d lived for weeks with them, trying to figure out their loyalties, only to discover on his last day that they’d just as soon join Voldemort as help the wizards.

(Of course the mission that was the reason he’d been gone that night was a dead end). 

The wet leaves beneath him stuck to his bare skin. Remus had pushed himself up, wincing at the grating of his bones against each other. He shuffled through the trees, eventually finding his clothes where he’d stashed them under a log. 

Remus had been angry, he remembered. Pissed off about another useless lead. 

(He hadn’t known, then, what real anger felt like). 

 He’d pulled his shirt on, the thick fabric wet with dew and smelling of moss. Slowly, slowly, he’d found his wand and stuck it in his pocket, caught in the last moment of Before like a fly in honey, then picked up his ring from where it had been sitting on a stone. 

He thought about Sirius, how the last time they’d talked he’d ended up shouting. 

Maybe today he could fix it. Go home and make it up, find his way back into the path they’d fallen out of. 

The gold circlet glittered in the morning light as he slipped it on. 

Pain bit into his hand, burning and branding into his skin. Remus had yanked the ring off, almost flinging it to the ground, terror suddenly surging into his chest like water into a sinking ship. Sirius. Sirius needed help. 

The Remus of a week later looked down at the ring sitting on the table. He could almost feel the ghost of the pain pounding into his finger - three short bursts, three long, three short. Then one long swell, so hard Remus thought the ring might snap with the power behind it. A scream. 

They’d done it late one night that summer. Harry had just turned one month old, and Lily and James had thrown a party like he’d saved the world. It was just a few Order members, barely ten people, but they’d gotten roaring drunk and laughed until baby Harry had woken up in his crib. Remus and Sirius had spent the night on the Potter’s couch, absolutely plastered and yawning. 

“Wish I had that…” Sirius slurred into Remus’s shoulder, laying on top of him like a heavy quilt with one arm flung off the edge. 

“Had wha?” Remus said back, trying to shift to a position where Sirius’s elbow wasn’t digging into his side. 

“What they have,” Sirius said sleepily, digging his elbow deeper. “Prongs and Lilys.” 

“What?” Remus said, the words fuzzy on his tongue. “A kid?” 

“No,” Sirius slurred. “A promise. That they love each other.” 

Remus finally managed to flip himself around, so he was edged between Sirius and the back of the couch. “Like… being married?” 

“Yeah,” Sirius said, his eyes dark and deep. “They have forever.” 

Remus blinked, struggling to break through the haze of Witches Brew. Sirius’s hair looked like liquid obsidian in the darkness, and Remus reach out to touch it. “We could be married?” he said, thinking deep in the back of his brain that they weren’t supposed to talk about this while deeply drunk. 

“Do you wanna?” Sirius said. “I do.” 

Remus closed his eyes, fighting against the rush of feeling in his chest. Was this really where he was, getting proposed to by the first boy he’d ever loved? “Now?” he said, struggling to find the right words. He knew there was a script to this sort of thing, but he couldn’t get a good grasp on it now. 

“Yeah!” Sirius said, sitting up so fast he almost fell off the couch. 

“We don’t have… the rings,” Remus said, latching onto the one detail he could recall. “We need rings?” 

“Can make ‘em,” Sirius said. “Accio wand!” His wand flew out of the darkness, almost poking Remus in the face. “Oh, sorry Moony…” he pointed his wand at the chain of Mary’s purse, discarded on the floor next to them. “Make rings!” he cried. “Moony, nothing happened.” 

“That’s not a spell,” Remus mumbled, attempting to sit up but losing steam halfway and sinking back to the cushions. Something about this situation felt out of hand, but exactly how to get it back in hand was a mystery. “Use… gorra…? geto…? Goritagon.” 

“That’s it, ‘course you know, Moon…” Sirius said. “Goritagon!” The metal chain split from Mary’s bag and spun into two simple gold rings, glittering on the floor. Sirius picked them up, managing to both put down his wand and grab the rings in a display of drunken dexterity that Remus was sure had to be some pureblood magic. “Now what?” 

Remus pushed himself up, feeling both too sober and not sober enough. “Are you sure?” 

“Sure ‘bout what?” Sirius said, looking at the rings in a puzzled way. Then he looked up, the shadows slicing into his cheekbones. “Getting married?” 

“Yeah…” Remus whispered, suddenly feeling like everything was too loud. 

Sirius leaned forward, like he was sharing a secret. “Moony, wanna know something?” 

“Alright...” 

“I love you,” Sirius whispered decisively. 

“I knew that,” Remus whispered back. “I loved you first.” 

“No,” Sirius stuck out his bottom lip. “I loved you first!” 

“No, I did-” Remus stopped and sighed, thinking again that they were going off the rails. What had they been talking about?

“People who get married love each other, that’s why,” Sirius said, remembering his original point. “So we should get married.” 

“Okay,” Remus said, smiling. He knew there was a flaw in that logic somewhere, but it didn’t feel important. 

Sirius shifted so he was straddling Remus, then grabbed one of his hands and pushed the ring onto the wrong finger. 

(Remus didn’t care). 

“Now you do me,” Sirius said, sticking out his hand. Remus took the other ring from his palm and carefully slotted it on. Sirius looked down at it, smiling faintly. “Now we’re married.” 

“Don’t we have to say something?” Remus said, slowly tipping back onto his side. 

“Hmm, you’re right…” Sirius laid down too, his legs twisted with Remus’s. “Oh, I know- ‘till death do us part .” 

“ ‘Till death do us part, ” Remus echoed. “There’s something else too…” 

“I do!” Sirius said very loudly. “That’s it!” 

“Shh,” Remus hissed, clumsily putting his hand over Sirius’s mouth. “Everyone’s sleeping.” 

“I want them to know,” Sirius protested. “We’re married now! I wanna tell Prongs-” he started to get up, but Remus grabbed his arm. 

“Tell him tomorrow,” he said, casting about for a reason. “Then we can tell everyone together.” 

Sirius nodded, taken by that idea. “Tomorrow.” He buried his face in Remus’s chest, arms tightening around him. “Now we have forever…” 

“Yeah,” Remus whispered into his hair. “Forever.” 

Mary had been rather annoyed about her purse the next morning, but then proceeded to shriek with joy and wake up the entire house when she saw the rings. Remus had been worried that Sirius would consider it a drunken mistake, but then he spent the entire day glancing down at his hand and smiling like he’d won the House Cup all over again. 

(So, Sirius was pretty okay with being married, Remus supposed). 

Of course, that was before everything went to shit. 

A week later, after a bad raid for the Order, Remus had the idea to add the pressure charm. If one of them squeezed his fist around his ring, the other’s would transmit the feeling. He and Sirius spent a lazy day teaching themselves a few things in Morse code - hello, I love you, bollocks ( bollocks had been Sirius’s contribution). 

But Remus had never felt his ring burn like the morning after Halloween. Three short, three long, three short. SOS. Over and over, then endless pain like the equivalent of a scream. 

Then he’d apparated to the flat, and Mary had called, and Remus had thrown the ring across the room and stopped feeling anything at all. 

Now, Remus carefully picked up the ring and turned it over in his hands. He tried to push down the image of Sirius, choking in the Potter’s house, desperately squeezing his ring while the wolf ran wild in the woods. 

Remus slipped the ring on. A heavy coldness seeped from the metal, so different from the bright warmth that had used to radiate from it. 

Remus flexed his fingers. Took a deep breath. He looked at the code he’d written on the edge of his paper. Just two words. 

(.. .----. -- / -.-. --- -- .. -. –.).

He formed a fist. He clenched it, his fingernails cutting into his palm, and followed the code. 

I’m coming. 

He released his fingers, heart pounding. Of course, there was the chance that Sirius didn’t have his ring anymore. That the dementors had taken it, or the Ministry. 

(Or that maybe he’d thrown it away, just like Remus, accepting that the one person he was supposed to count on thought he was a murderer). 

 The ring on Remus’s finger burst with warmth.

Chapter Text

Another thing the Ministry didn’t know - Sirius wasn’t the only Black who wasn’t very taken with the family business. 

Remus stared at the door of the house, his hand poised to knock on the weathered wood. He’d had to cast three different finding spells just to find the out-of-the-way cottage, tucked at the end of a wide suburban street and backed up against a field of wild grass. Now that he was here, he wasn’t sure it was a good idea after all. Remus squeezed his fist around the ring, and the answering burn came almost instantly. 

(He’d barely spent a minute without compulsively fisting his hand, just to feel the warmth that meant Sirius was still there, still alive). 

Remus squared his shoulders and knocked as loud as he could. 

Footsteps pounded behind the door, and a child’s voice shouted, “I’ll get it, Mum!” 

The door was yanked open, and Remus looked down at a girl about eight years old, panting and grinning with wide gray eyes. 

For a moment he froze, brought back to that moment so many years ago on the train and Sirius staring at him through the window. 

“Well?” the girl said, and Remus shuddered back to the present. 

This must be… Dora? He’d met the kid once, but she was just a tiny baby then. 

“Are you selling something?” the girl asked, glaring at him. “Mum says to tell you ‘No thank you, we don’t want your crap’ only I’m not supposed to say the part about crap.” 

“Dora?” a woman’s voice called. “Who is it?” 

Remus cleared his throat. “I’m not trying to sell you anything, I need to talk to your mum.” 

“A MAN WHO’S NOT SELLING SOMETHING AND WANTS TO TALK TO YOU!” Dora shouted, so loud that Remus flinched. 

“Nymphadora Tonks, what do we say about outside voices?” the woman said sternly. The click of heels on wood sounded around the corner. 

“Outside voices are for outside…” Dora groaned, screwing up her face. 

“You can’t go screaming any time you want me to hear you-” the woman rounded the corner and abruptly cut herself off, staring at Remus. 

Remus had to resist the urge to reach for his wand, his reflexes honed from of years of nightmares featuring that face. It was Bellatrix, only with wider eyes and softer curls, wearing a simple green skirt and billowy white blouse. Andromeda. 

“I’m-” he started, and Andromeda suddenly pulled him into a hug. He stiffened, her curls getting dangerously close to his mouth. 

“Remus Lupin,” Andromeda said into his shoulder. “I remember, Sirius used to-” she choked on something that might have been a sob. 

“Mum only hugs Dad and family,” Dora announced below them. “Are you family?” 

“Er-” Remus said, managing to disentangle himself from Andromeda. “I was friends with-” 

“He’s married to Cousin Sirius, Dora,” Andromeda said over him. “Do you remember, I used to read his letters to you? Congratulations, by the way,” she added, her eyes landing on his ring. “I wanted to send you a gift when Sirius told me, but I didn’t… get around to it.” 

Dora squinted up at them. “But- you said Cousin Sirius was bad. Is this guy bad too?” 

“No, no, darling-” Andromeda started, her eyes filling with tears, at the same time as Remus burst out, “HE’S INNOCENT!” 

Andromeda looked up at him, clapping a hand over her mouth. 

Remus felt bad for just yelling it out, but for Merlin’s sake, there was no reason to just stand about hugging each other. Every second he spent free while Sirius wasn’t felt like another boulder thudding on his chest. 

Dora put her hands on her hips. “How come he can use outside voices and I can’t?” 

“Do you really-” Andromeda said, lowering her hand. 

Remus could barely wait long enough to hear her question. “I have evidence, but the Ministry refuses to consider it-” 

“I KNEW IT!” Andromeda cried, bursting into tears. 

( Oh no , thought Remus). 

“I said he wouldn’t do it, I told them and no one believed me! I said Sirius loved his records and his bike and you and he loved James like a brother, he never would have done it, I told them-” she broke off. “I told them.” 

“Mum never uses her outside voice,” Dora announced solemnly to Remus, sounding awed. “ And you made her cry. You’re really in trouble.” 

Remus looked between the two witches, at a loss. He’d been expecting to have to convince her, to use all the arguments that had failed so miserably when it came to Dumbledore. It was easier this way, of course, but it felt almost like cheating.

(What was that like, having someone who loved you so much they refused to accept that you could do something wrong?)

Remus needed to work for it, just to have something to point at and say later to prove how much he’d cared. How he hadn’t let anyone down. 

“No, he’s not in trouble, darling,” Andromeda said shakily. She grabbed Dora by the hand, pulling her against her skirt. 

“Mum, I’m too old to hold your-” Dora protested.

“What are we going to do, then?” Andromeda said, looking toward Remus. 

“Er- well, I thought that since the Ministry won’t do their bloody job-” 

“You sweared,” Dora said loudly. 

“We’re going to break him out, right?” Andromeda said, ignoring her daughter. “Right?” 

“Well, yeah,” Remus said. “He’s fuc- blooming innocent and we need to save him.” 

Andromeda surged forward and pulled him into another hug, gripping his shoulders. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank Godric for you, Remus Lupin. Sirius was blessed to have you.” 

Remus closed his eyes, letting the unfamiliar smell of lilacs and sugar envelop him. Was Sirius lucky to have him? A husband who thought he was a murderer for an entire week? A husband who’d spent the weeks leading up to that week snapping and shouting at him and waiting to be left? 

(Was Remus lucky to have him , a husband who’d thought he would have sold their best friends to Voldemort?)

“Whoa,” Dora breathed. “ Two hugs.” 

Andromeda finally pulled back, brushing off her skirt briskly. She nodded once, as if confirming her own thoughts. “You’ll need to come in, then.” She turned and headed down the hall, her heels clicking away. 

Remus started to follow her, but Dora stepped in front of him. 

“You’re married to Cousin Sirius?” she asked, her hands firmly planted on her hips. 

“Er- yes?” Remus said, looking down at the girl. 

Dora nodded, exactly like her mother had. “And he’s not really bad?” 

“No, it was a mistake-” 

“And you’re not bad?” 

Remus opened his mouth, then closed it. Illiterate gay werewolf. There were plenty of people who would have found something bad in that, let alone all of it. “I try not to be,” he said eventually. 

“Me too.” Dora blinked. “Sometimes I am, though. It’s more fun, isn’t it?” 

“Sirius would agree,” Remus said, not sure what was compelling him to talk. “We used to play pranks on the teachers at Hogwarts.” 

“Whoa,” Dora said. “That’s cool.” She stood silently for a moment, then fixed him with a glare. “Why do you smell like chocolate?” 

“Oh- er-” Remus said. Where had that subject change come from? “I have some in my pocket, in case I don’t feel good.” He pulled out the offending chocolate frog, holding it toward Dora. 

“Mum says that chocolate makes your stomach hurt, but I think it’s great,” Dora said. “Your way is much better.” She reached out and snatched the chocolate frog out of his hand, then took off at a dead sprint down the hallway, knocking down an umbrella stand on her way. 

“Nymphadora!” Andromeda shouted. “Slow feet are happy feet!” 

Remus stood on the doorstep, wondering what he’d gotten himself into. 

* * * 

“Do you mind if I try?” Andromeda said, pointing at Remus’s fist. It took him a second to realize he was squeezing it again, just to feel the ring burn in response. 

They were sitting around their kitchen table, a tray of scones and tea slowly cooling between them. Appeased by the chocolate frog, Dora had disappeared upstairs and was now doing something that involved quite a bit of banging around. 

“Oh, alright,” Remus said, pulling off the ring. He tried to ignore how cold the kitchen suddenly seemed. He’d explained to Andromeda about the camcorder and the rings, how he’d been communicating in stops and starts with Sirius for the past few hours. There was no way of knowing what Sirius understood, how much of Morse code he could remember in the yawning depth of Azkaban, but at least they knew he was still there . 

Andromeda took the ring from his outstretched hand, carefully slipping it on. She closed her eyes, slowly forming a fist. A few seconds later, she gasped, and Remus knew Sirius must have responded. 

Her eyes flipped open, shiny with tears again, and she passed the ring back across the table. Remus pushed it back on, the heat returning to his core. 

“The past week has just been such hell,” Andromeda sighed, wiping at her eyes. “You can’t know- well, I guess you can know, Remus. You might be the only person who does know.” She rested her face in her hands, making her voice muffled. “Just thinking - if a man like him, the best thing to ever come out of our bloody horrific family history, can end up corrupted by war, then how can anything really be good?” 

“Was any of it worth it?” Remus added quietly. 

“Exactly,” Andromeda sighed, lifting up her head. “I just kept thinking - did I ever really know him? My favorite cousin for my entire life, was any of it real? And now you’re here and we know he’s innocent, and I feel like the worst person in the world for ever thinking he could have done it.” 

“That’s war,” Remus said, remembering how many times Mary had told him the same thing. How could he offer any sympathy, when he’d been just the same? 

(It sometimes felt easier, to have just accepted it. To have never picked up the camcorder and just gone on with life, stripped of any of the extra weight. Just him, the way he’d started). 

 “War puts the truth out of reach.” 

“Not for the Potters,” Andromeda said, sniffling. “They were always good, I could tell from the way Sirius talked about them.” 

Not good enough to trust me, Remus thought before he could stop himself. Not good enough to see the real spy . 

(And the grief was still there, still so so strong and ripping him apart, but now the anger in his chest seemed to rip right back). 

“That’s true,” he said instead. 

“So,” Andromeda said. “How are we going to get Sirius out?”

Chapter Text

And the final thing the Ministry didn’t know - Padfoot. 

First the rings, then Andromeda, and now this. 

He’d gone back through the records of the trial-that-wasn’t, searching for any mention of Sirius being an animagus, and come up empty. Somehow, impossibly, the Ministry still didn’t know what three idiotic boys had done that one month at Hogwarts. 

And what Sirius couldn’t do, Padfoot might be able to manage. 

It was Sirius, actually, who’d come up with that. They’d been only barely communicating with words, usually just sending the warmth back and forth between their rings like a call-and-response song. 

(That was easier, Remus thought, than trying to string enough words together to explain the feeling that crouched on his chest with its claws and teeth). 

But sitting with Andromeda in her kitchen with a book of Morse code between them, they’d decided to at least try to bridge the divide. 

Break you out , Remus tapped out through his ring. How? 

They waited, no way of knowing how much Sirius understood, if anything at all. Azkaban might have already stolen whatever parts of Morse code Sirius had learned in the first place. 

But then - Dog, Sirius sent back, the long pauses between each letter twisting into Remus’s veins. Can out. 

Andromeda squinted at the paper they were using to translate. “What does he mean? What dog?” 

Remus furrowed his brow for a moment, then it clicked. Their greatest prank.

“He means Padfoot,” he told her, before realizing there was no one left to remember that nickname. “I mean - he’s an animagus, he can turn into a dog.” 

“I thought he was taking the piss,” she said, her mouth falling open. “He told me in a letter one time, just as a footnote, and I assumed he was making it up for a laugh! That arse!” She smacked her hand into the table. 

Remus smiled. That was exactly Sirius, dropping a secret and then going on like it was nothing. 

“Yeah, they did it when we were maybe… fifteen? He can become a dog, and James was this huge deer, and Peter-” his words dropped out. “He was a rat. Funny, that. I guess they really do reflect your personality, huh?” Remus laughed something that wasn’t really a laugh at all. 

“Magic doesn’t make mistakes,” Andromeda said darkly. For a moment, Remus saw the steely determination of Narcissa Malfoy color her face. “That’s always been true.” 

The unsaid thought sat between them like an anchor, before Remus cleared his throat. 

“So - what does dog can out mean?” 

“I don’t know,” Andromeda said slowly. “Maybe- his animagus form can do something that he can’t?” 

Remus dragged his finger down the list of letters in the book, squeezing out a response. Through the bars?

Dog can out, Sirius just sent again. 

“But then,” Andromeda said, propping her head on her hand, “if the dog can get out, why hasn’t he escaped already?” 

Remus clenched his jaw, biting down the response that immediately sprung to his tongue. 

( Maybe he thought there was nothing left for him either way. Maybe I’m not enough ). 

“I don’t know,” he said instead.

The ring burned. No swim. 

“It’s an island, isn’t it?” Remus said, picking up a book from the heavy stack in front of him. “I read they have some sort of charm to make it constantly storming, the bastards. He can’t swim through that, he’d drown.” 

(There were plenty of worse things, in those books. All the trappings of a system that was never meant to help those it was supposed to protect). 

Andromeda nodded, her eyes brightening with understanding. “But, if he can get out of the cell as a dog, then-” 

And once they knew that, the rest of the plan fell into place. 

* * * 

“My lovely Father, would you please move over so your brilliant daughter can actually see out the window you are hogging?” Dora said, blinking up at Remus with her hands clasped tightly. 

“Dora,” he hissed, moving sideways. “The whole point is to act normal. How you would normally treat your dad.” Louder, he added, “Of course, darling, here you go.” 

(Merlin, were all kids like this one?). 

Dora pushed past him to press her forehead up against the glass of the large window. “It’s called acting , you doofus,” she whispered back. “You could use some lessons.” She fixed him with a side eye, eerily reminiscent of her aunt they were currently sailing toward, then shouted, “Oh thank you, Father!” 

The only other person on the ferry, a wizened old witch holding a bag that kept wiggling, gave her a weird look. 

Remus sighed. He reached up to scratch his chin, unused to the feeling of his thick beard. Andy had spent the better part of an hour charming him to look like Ted Tonks, resulting in a wavy crop of red hair, a much wider jaw, and the challenge of Dora as a fake daughter. 

(Remus would have rather left her at home, but Andy had explained something about childcare very fast before bundling them both into her tiny car despite his protests). 

Outside, the storm raged, tossing the ferry up and down in a way that was already making Remus’s stomach roil. Lightning cut through the sky, reflecting on Dora’s wide eyes. The inside of the ferry was drafty and small, a wall of windows looking out on the prow. A row of rickety benches lined the other walls, and a weathered sign above the door to the deck read Azkaban Visitor and Transport System. 

The ferry pitched sideways, a wave surging up to splatter the window. Remus squeezed the ring, letting the warm metal bit into his skin. 

“Father,” Dora said, her voice no longer playful. “Is that it?” She pointed through the glass, and Remus felt a jolt of fear flit down his spine. 

A huge tower rose from the sea, stark black like a rook in a muggle chess set. Jagged rocks spiked the tiny island around it, as big as houses and honed to knife points. 

A thick coldness swept into the ferry, clouding into Remus’s chest and slipping down his throat like oil, dark and heavy, before he could even open his mouth to cast the spell-

-the wolf howled from within and ripped at his bones ( any memory of joy slipped away ) and the moon rose looming and white while Lily screamed, stark terror in her voice slicing into the air ( he’d never been happy ) while James shouted desperately for help ( never ) while Harry began to cry while Hope Lupin lay silent in that hospital bed ( nothing was real ) while Marlene and Dorcas shrieked ( nothing ) while Sirius, Sirius laughed over and over ( never ) his voice twisted into raw meat, and-

Dora took gasped, suddenly clutching Remus’s hand, and he jolted back to the ferry. Focusing on the warmth of her little hand, Remus pushed down the tide of screaming and fought his way back into the safer corner of his head, where Sirius still kissed him behind a Christmas tree while their friends sang carols offkey in a bright room. 

“ Expecto Patronum !” he shouted, and the wolf cut itself free from his chest to burst into light. 

Feeling flooded back into his skin, the voices silenced. 

Across the ferry, the old witch conjured a shriveled-looking fish, which swam slow laps around her head. 

Dora let out a breath, and Remus looked down at her. Her hair had gone stark white, and Remus remembered how she’d shifted colors with every cry as a baby. “That was terrible,” she whispered. “Is that what Dementors feel like?” 

“Yes,” Remus said, lowering his wand. The wolf sat down in front of them, teeth bared at the looming tower. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the bar of chocolate he’d grabbed before leaving the flat. “Here, eat this. It’ll help.” He broke off a square for her and one for him. 

Dora took the chocolate suspiciously and popped it into her mouth. A second later, her eyes fluttered closed, and her hair slowly bled back into its normal brown. 

Remus ate his square, letting the familiar taste chase away the echoes of screams. 

(Not fully away, never completely away, but at least into a part of his mind that muffled them enough to let him breathe). 

“That’s better,” Dora said, opening her eyes again. “Thanks, Father .” She smiled, if a bit shakily. 

Remus smiled back, swept into years of sitting in the hospital wing while Madam Pomfrey put him back together. 

“And this,” Dora said, suddenly reaching out to touch the wolf, who, to Remus’s surprise, inclined its head and let her pet it. “Is this a… Patronus?” Her fingers glowed where they touched the magic. “He’s so cute.” 

Remus looked at her, taking a shaky breath. Cute? What was he supposed to say to that? 

“What’s he made of?” Dora asked, releasing Remus’s hand to crouch next to the wolf. 

“Um- happiness, I think,” Remus said, calling back the lessons he barely remembered from Hogwarts. “You think about a happy memory, and it acts as a barrier to the Dementors. Everyone’s animal is different, you’ll learn yours when you’re older.” 

“I bet mine is awesome,” Dora said, peering at the wolf’s snout. “Like yours.” 

“Thank you?” he said. 

Across the room, the old witch cleared her throat. “You are so kind with her,” she said in a faint accent. “A good father, you are.” 

Remus looked away, tears abruptly filling his eyes, thinking of another child and another father, one that wasn’t quite strong enough. 

Dora glanced at the old witch and leaned toward Remus, whispering conspiratorily. “Yours is much better than hers. I’d demand a switch if I got a measly ol’ fish.” 

“DORA!” someone shouted, and Andromeda ran in from the other room, a glowing black mare galloping in front of her. She rushed over and swept Dora into her arms. “I was in the loo, I didn’t know we were so close, I’m sorry, I was going to come and cast it early, but don’t worry, we have our Patronuses now...” she trailed off, burying her face into Dora’s shoulder. 

“Mum, I’m fine,” Dora said, muffled. “Remu- Father gave me chocolate and I met his wolf.” 

Andromeda released her, looking up at Remus. “You-” she noticed the wolf, now sitting underneath her horse. “Chocolate?” 

“It helps,” Remus said. 

Andromeda let out a sob and pulled him into a hug, sandwiching Dora between them. “Thank you, Remus. Thank Merlin you were with her.” 

Remus took a breath, trying to pretend he wasn’t desperately holding back tears. Combined with the old witch, that made two people, one of them a complete stranger, who knew nothing about him but still thought he could be trusted with a child. 

(No one had ever trusted him like that, before). 

(Would they still trust him, if they knew what he really was?) 

“Mum, c’mon!” Dora protested, her hair flashing red. “He’s okay, I’m okay, and now we have a horse and a wolf.” 

Andromeda sighed and released them, wiping at her eyes. 

The ferry shuddered below them and lurched to a stop. Through the rain-flecked window, Remus could make out a set of rickety stairs leading up the cliffs to where Azkaban sat like a sword driven into the sea. 

“YOU HAVE ARRIVED,” a disembodied voice said into the room. “PLEASE DISEMBARK AND FORM AN ORDERLY QUE FOR THE SECURITY PROCESS.” 

“Let’s go save Cousin Sirius,” Dora whispered.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, there were only two ways to get to Azkaban. 

One was, of course, to be convicted of a crime. Andromeda voted a firm no on that option, which left only the second one  - to visit a blood relative. 

“Bellatrix Black,” Andromeda said to the thick-necked wizard who stood at the bottom of the dock. 

“Lestrange?” the wizard prompted, scanning boredly through the sheaf of papers in his hand. 

“Oh, yes, Bellatrix Lestrange,” Andromeda amended. Lightning flashed in the distance, catching on her cheekbones like a skull. Between them and the guard, a long table spanned the length of the dock, a set of stairs leading up the jagged rocks to Azkaban looming behind it. Further down the table, the old witch from the ferry talked to a different guard, her fish Patronus swimming nervous laps above her head. 

“Relationship with the prisoner?” the guard asked. 

“Sister,” Andromeda said. Her own Patronus reared up for a moment before settling back down on the rotting wood. “Older sister.” 

“And the rest of your party?” The guard narrowed his eyes at Remus and Dora, standing slightly behind Andromeda. 

“My husband and daughter,” Andromeda said decisively. “Ted and Nymphadora Tonks.” 

Remus reached up to scratch at his newly-grown beard, while Dora grabbed onto his leg in what was clearly supposed to be a daughterly way but ended up feeling more like he was a tree and she a feral cat. 

The wizard gave them a long look, taking in everything from Remus’s scuffed shoes to Dora’s tangled hair, slowly bleaching white at the roots. The rain picked up, lashing Andromeda’s curls into Remus’s face. 

“Please empty your pockets and place your items on the table,” the guard said finally. 

“Is that really necessary-” Andromeda started, her spine stiffening. 

“Empty your pockets,” the guard repeated. 

Andromeda glared at him but reached into the pockets of her robes, withdrawing a drawstring bag and a small wallet. Thunder boomed from the darkening sky like a distant avalanche.

“And you, sir?” the wizard said. Remus slowly reached into his pockets, pulling out a bar of chocolate, an empty flask, and a Chinese takeaway container. 

The guard sighed and pulled out a long metal stick, glowing white at the tip. It hummed as he prodded at Andromeda’s bag, the wallet, the flask, and then (Remus breathed in sharply) flashed red over the takeaway container. 

The guard stared at the small white box, suddenly more alert. He pulled open the flaps and tipped it over, sending the contents slipping onto the table. “What is this?” 

“Leftovers,” Remus said, his skin flashing hot. “It’s, er- double steamed cabbage. In case we get hungry, you know?” 

The guard poked at the slimy noodle-like things, a thick mildewy smell cutting through the layer of salt in the air. “In case you get hungry,” he repeated suspiciously. 

“Oh, you know how kids are,” Andromeda put in, grabbing onto Dora’s shoulder. “Bottemless pits, aren’t they?” 

Dora blinked at the slimy thing, looking utterly repulsed. “Yum.” 

“I don’t have any children,” the guard announced, looking equally repulsed. 

They waited, another crack of lightning splitting the sky. Remus clenched the fist with his ring, his fingers slowly going numb. When he looked up, Azkaban crouched over them, unfeeling and unknowing. 

(Even when he didn’t look, he could still feel its shadow). 

“Muggleborns,” the guard scoffed under his breath. “This portion of the screening is over. Please gather your belongings.”  

Andromeda let out a breath. Remus carefully scooped the slimy tendrils back into the container and stuffed it in his pocket. 

“Welcome to Azkaban,” the guard said, holding out a hand. Remus looked at it. Was he supposed to shake it, or-

“Your wands,” the guard snapped. Remus felt any air left in his lungs crystalize. 

“Oh, yes, of course,” Andromeda said, then looked down at the wand in her hand. “But - the Patronuses?” 

“No wands allowed in the facility,” the guard said. “Standard protocol.” 

“Yes, I knew that, but…” Andromeda trailed off, sounding a bit panicked. “The Dementors?” 

“No wands,” the guards said, stepping forward threateningly. 

Remus gripped his wand, the wolf snarling silently. “Surely, you- you can’t expect me to allow my daughter into Azkaban without the protection of a Patronus?” he asked, doing his best to mimic Ted’s deep baritone. 

Andromeda nodded very fast. “Yes, we simply must insist that-” 

“A ministry-appointed guard's Patronus will accompany you,” the wizard said, with the air of reading a well-rehearsed script. “You will be in no danger.” 

Remus looked to Andromeda, who looked equally at a loss. 

“Re- Father?” Dora said quietly, leaning into him. “I don’t want to leave the wolf behind.” 

“You will be in no danger,” the guard repeated. He pointed toward a small shack at the top of the stairs, the single window lit with a ghostly glow. “A guard will be happy to provide you with a strong, Ministry-approved Patronus charm for the duration of your visit.” 

Andromeda bristled, a hint of Narcissa in her expression attempting to drown out the hint of fear. “Do you know who you are speaking to?” she said, her voice like ice. “I am a Black, and I can assure you-” 

“According to the Ministry, you’re a Tonks,” the guard said, any trace of boredom gone. “And I’d say most of your former family is currently locked up behind me. Care to join them?” 

Andromeda cast a look toward Remus and must have accepted what she saw, because she held out her wand. “I will be writing a strongly worded letter, you can be sure, sir.” 

“You do that,” the guard said, taking the wand. The horse Patronus flickered out, letting in a gust of cold air. He lifted up a hinged portion of the table and pointed toward the shack at the top of the stairs. “You’ll get your Ministry Patronus up there. Now yours, sir.” 

Remus bit down on his cheek, the jolt of pain grounding him as he shakily held out his wand. The wolf snarled, stalking forward as if it scented danger.

The guard snatched it up, and the darkness rushed back in. 

Remus swayed as the swarm of voices threatened to overwhelm him. Lily and James and Marls and Dorcas and Sirius Sirius Sirius-

( What was the point of this? Even free, Sirius hadn’t chosen Remus, why would he choose him now, why would he feel any differently, why would anyone want him, why- )

Remus swayed, the docks blinking into a mess of shadow. Azkaban bore down on him like a whip, a gavel, a set of chains ready to bolt his limbs to the floor of the Shack and hold him down while the wolf screamed-

Suddenly, a person was next to him, gripping his arm. “Remus,” they whispered. Andromeda. “They’re not here. They can’t hurt you.” 

( That had never stopped the memories before ). 

“You can do this,” Andromeda said. 

( Why ?)

“Walk forward,” Andromeda commanded, and Remus felt his feet stumble up the first step. “Just a bit unsteady,” Andromeda called out. “He’ll be fine soon!” 

“Father didn’t take his nap today,” Dora added. 

But everyone else was still there, still screaming into his head, and Remus bit down so hard he tasted blood. 

(Didn’t she hear them? Weren’t they all wailing, weren’t Frank and Alice and James and Lily and Marlene-)

The wind and rain ripped at his robes, threatening to drag him down. Below, the sea roared like the wolf, ready to tear and bite at any shred of light still left. Remus felt his knees buckle.

( Why? )

“Come on, Remus Lupin,” Andromeda growled. “I didn’t come this far to let them win.” 

(Didn’t she see?)

(They already had.)

The stairs faded into a whirling blend of fear and shadow, every step forward another knife cutting to his bone. Reality sank into the sea and dashed itself against the rocks, and Remus took another step. 

“Patronus?” he could hear someone yelling. It sounded like Sirius, but higher. Where was Sirius? 

“Merlin, what are you lot getting paid for-” the person cried. “Patronus! Now!” 

“Father?” a younger voice said nervously. Was that Sirius? No, too little. Sirius would never have talked to his family like that, anyway. 

“PATRONUS!” the first person roared, and Remus pitched sideways. What was holding him up? Sirius? Somewhere far off, Lily was screaming. What did she need? 

“ Expecto patronum !” a different voice shouted, and light blasted back into the rain and Remus remembered. 

He stumbled upward, his legs working again. Andromeda (that was who it was, Andromeda) gasped in relief. Remus took a deep breath, locking away the voices once again. Rescue Sirius. That was what he was doing. 

“Are you okay?” Dora said quietly. “That was scary.” 

“I’m better, thank you, Dora,” Remus said, swallowing the last tinge of blood in his mouth. “Just got a bit dizzy.” 

“Maybe you need some chocolate,” Dora suggested sagely. 

“Took you long enough,” Andromeda snapped at the guard who’d finally conjured a Patronus. 

“Which prisoner?” the guard said, his small weasel Patronus racing around them. Remus watched it skitter in circles, reminded of another Patronus that he’d seen once. A rat. 

“Bellatrix Lestrange,” Andromeda said, each word dripping with authority. 

“Ah, a crazy,” the guard said, licking his lips. “Wouldn’t a thought she’d be getting no visitors, huh?” 

“I’m her sister,” Andromeda said.

“Then yer a crazy too,” the guard said, then whirled around. “This way.” He lead them past the shack, where Remus could see a half dozen witches and wizards sitting around with Patronuses flying above them. The path wound through the boulders, eventually spitting them out at the bottom of Azkaban itself. 

The black brick tower seemed to shimmer, reaching toward the tortured sky like a drowning man reaching for air. The guard tapped his wand against a heavily bolted door and it slid open, revealing a gaping hallway. A draft of stale air gusted out, and Remus thought for a moment of a great beast, exhaling and inhaling. 

“Down this way,” the guard said, setting off into the building with his Patronus sliding ahead. 

Andromeda tucked Dora close to her and followed him, leaving Remus lingering on the threshold. No no no , some primal part of him cried. Not there, not in. 

Pack, the wolf howled from his chest, pacing past the bars of its cell. Pack is in there. Pack. 

(Remus wasn’t sure which part was right). 

“Coming?” the guard called, staring out at him. Remus stepped forward, and Azkaban swallowed him. 

They took the hallway to a set of curving stairs, then it was up and up and up, winding higher into Azkaban. If the door was the mouth, that was a slow ascent up the spine. Six floors in, Dora started to falter. Fourteen floors in, she grabbed one of Andromeda’s hands and one of Remus’s and they had to lug her up each step. Twenty floors in, and the singing started, a high, tilting wail that echoed off the stone walls and curled into Remus’s bones.

Andromeda paled, her steps slowing. “She used to love to sing,” she whispered, and no one had to ask who she meant. 

Floor twenty-one, and the guard tapped his wand against a new door and led them down a different hallway. He stopped in front of a small window, thick iron bars set into the square a few feet above Remus’s eye level. The singing was clearly coming from inside. 

“Visiting allocations are ten minutes,” the guard said, taking up a forced position along the opposite wall. He waved his wand once more, and the window ballooned, stretching down to the floor and out to each side, forming an almost-doorway slotted into strips of gray light with the bars, behind which sat a small, damp room, with waves crashing and spray splattering in from another tiny barred window, only a bucket just visible and a single mangy cot where a woman sat on it with her back to them, singing. 

Andromeda stared at her, frozen. Dora clutched tighter onto Remus’s hand, tugging him closer to them. The woman kept singing, a wordless, tuneless crescendo that hit the walls at sharp right angles and shaved through the bars into the sea. 

“Bella?” Andromeda said finally. 

The singing cut off, but the woman continued to face the wall. 

(Remus wished like hell he had a wand to grip.)

 Slowly, slowly, she tipped herself backward until her torso rested on the cot and her head hung upside down over the edge, curls a tangled mess of ink on the floor. 

“ Andy ,” Bellatrix Lestrange said, grinning ferally. “Just when I thought my little sister was finally done with me.”

Chapter Text

Dora inhaled sharply, tucking herself into Remus’s side. Remus forced himself to see only Bellatrix, not the so-similar image of Sirius his memories had pasted on top. 

“Oh,” Bellatrix purred, staring at Dora almost hungrily from her upside-down position over the edge of the cot. “This must be my baby niece. She looks just like Mother, doesn’t she? How lovely, you’ve passed the family genes along. And-” she continued, as if only talking to herself, “the bastard mudblood himself, is it?” Her dark eyes traveled up the length of Remus’s body, leaving behind a trailing feel of ink pouring down his skin. “Not my type, I’ll admit, but there must be something to him that made you want to cut your ties , little sister.” 

“Ted is a million times better than you,” Andromeda said fiercely. 

Bellatrix only laughed, a high giggle that fell out of her mouth like tinkling coins onto the floor. “One day you’ll learn, Andy. You’ll learn.” She straightened her legs and leaned them straight against the brick wall, her pale toes wiggling. 

“No, but you will,” Andromeda said, gesturing to the bars. “Haven’t you already? Look who’s in the cell and who’s standing free.” 

Bellatrix smiled, sharper and wider than anything natural. “Not for forever, little sister.” 

“But it is forever, Bella, don’t you see?” Andromeda said, voice almost shaking. “You’re in here forever .” 

“He’ll come back,” Bellatrix whispered, then laughed. The sound cut its way into Remus, a hundred memories of battles painted with that girly laugh, screaming with mirth while green light burst all around them. “He’ll be back.” 

“Voldemort is dead!” Andromeda cried. “We won-” 

“No no no,” Bellatrix said, sing-song. “That was your problem, Andy. You and everyone else, playing hero like Dumbledore’s fool puppets. None of you ever understood how strong he really is.” Her eyes slipped halfway closed, caught between terror and ecstasy. “There’s nothing anyone can do.” 

“There’s always something to do,” Andromeda said, clenching her fists. “You just have to be brave enough to try it.” 

Bellatrix burst into laughter again, her entire body shaking. She closed her eyes, and suddenly it wasn’t clear if the sounds ripping out of her were of tremendous pain or tremendous hilarity. She planted her hands on the ground below her head and kicked her feet forward, rolling off the cot onto the floor. She stayed there, flat on her back, arms thrown above her head like a burning star. 

“How lovely!” she said, gasping from laughter. “How admirable, how good ! Just be brave, my little sister says. Be brave!” Her voice turned higher, like the words were hot shards of glass. “That’s what Dumbledore wanted, was it? That’s what they all wanted, was it, all those Order fools, willing to waste pure blood like it’s water, as long as their agenda is furthered? What a worthy cause, what bitting, cutting, screaming nobility!” She ended on a shriek that filled the room and coiled like a snake between the bars. 

“And your cause was?” Andromeda shouted over it. “Killing defenseless Muggles, never lifting a hand to protect anyone except yourself?” 

Bellatrix sat bolt upright, still screaming, her hair dripping in her face like seaweed. In the dark glow of the storm outside, her cheekbones seemed to slice out of her face, little more than a living skull. Her wail tripped abruptly back into laughter, finally trailing off. “None of that mattered, Andy. It wasn’t about the fool Muggles, it was about blood . And spilling it.” 

“It was about justice!” cried Andromeda. 

“Justice! Justice!” Bellatrix screamed back. “And who protects this justice, the glowing, shining, perfect justice? Who enforces it, the Ministry and their glowing, shining, perfect rules ? Does justice hang on their walls, does it swim quietly in their inkwells and coat-hangers?” 

“You should know, as it sits in that cell with you,” Andromeda said icily. 

“Oh, I know what justice is,” Bellatrix said, suddenly dangerously quiet. “And it’s nothing to fight for. It’s bleeding into gold, it’s coiling around privilege, it’s dripping dripping dripping down the dark dark dark towers of Hogwarts and drowning drowning drowning the children. Justice follows whoever can offer it the most, whoever is in the best position to receive it like a distinguished houseguest and serve it boiling hot tea and sit it in the best chair of the manor.” She gasped, both hands reaching to claw at the floor. “I’ve seen justice, little sister. And it will tear you apart.” 

“That’s not true-” Andromeda started, but Bellatrix cut her off with another scream that reverberated in the cell before chopping itself into words that she spat out like knives, or a rope being ripped out of her. 

“It is true, little sister, it’s truer than anything else I know,” she said, speaking faster and faster, “you were always the good girl, always the perfect girl - until you weren’t anymore and you were chasing down your better life better love as if family was a cloak you could toss aside, when it’s in your blood it’s in your bones and it’s wrapped around your beating crying screaming heart and it always always always pulls you back-” she cut herself off with another shriek, then dropped right back into speech, “-and it puts a wand to your throat and it slashs cuts slices with magic until your’re sobbing on the hardwood floor and then it pulls you up and it covers you in silk and it says it loves you until the next time the next time it goes wrong and the blood that was supposed to be a child is left buried under the earth and you don’t know why and you can’t fix it because you’re back on that hardwood floor and family is slicing through your skin and letting the blood stain that hardwood floor until you can always see can always point to the spot where you lost touch with what you thought was so important and it never- it never- it never-” she choked, almost sobbing, “lets you out and you can’t leave even as your sister one third of your soul skips out because your’re the oldest and family has you locked back to the crystal chandelier that you’ll hang from if you keep going this way and finally finally finally you learn there was never a safe-real-safe way out and you let family-justice-family crawl into your thoughts and sit in a cage of your bones and breed in your broken womb and command you and you follow-follow-follow and you let it and when you kill you laugh and laugh and laugh because isn’t it funny how hard you tried to escape isn’t it funny because this was all it was ever going to be THAT’S ALL THAT WAS EVER GOING TO HAPPEN THAT’S ALL THAT’S ALL THATS ALL THATSALLTHATSALLALLALL-" 

and then she was screaming, and cackling, then screaming again until Remus could feel the raw energy emanating from her in waves as she tilted her head back and shrieked at the ceiling. 

Andromeda was on her knees clutching Dora to her, both hands clapped over her ears and tucking her into her chest, staring at her sister in shock. 

Finally, Bellatrix’s wail slowed down, until suddenly she was singing again, her lilting voice scraped raw but still threaded with steel, tears slipping down her face. 

Remus felt his chest heaving as silence filled the gaps of her song. 

“Bella,” Andromeda said finally. “I didn’t have to be like that. You could have left, dammit, and I would have helped. I loved you,” she added softly. 

“I couldn’t have,” Bellatrix said, suddenly dropping her head back down and tilting it at an unnatural angle. “No one can leave, that’s why it’s so perfect.” She smiled like it was pulling her apart, suddenly back to the way she’d started. “And if you can’t leave, then you do the opposite. You take what they give you and you make it so so so much worse . At least then,” she laughed again, “then you have a choice. You’re terrible-feared-crazy-awful-murderer but you’re at least you’re something .” 

“Merlin-” Andromeda whispered. 

Remus just stared at the woman in front of him, the woman responsible for so many deaths, the one who tortured Frank and Alice until they forgot their son’s name, the woman whose face clouded so many of his nightmares. And beneath all the hate and rage and disgust, there was an echo of a connection. Another person, fucked over by a system never made for them. 

Bellatrix smiled at him, slowly licking her lips. “He knows what I mean,” she told Andromeda. “He’s got something in him, the filthy mudblood. He sees.” Remus shuddered, trying to shake off the feeling of her gaze. “You’ll see too, baby niece,” Bellatrix added, suddenly looking at Dora greedily. “You’ll be just like me one day. All the Blacks, all the girls, we end up the same.” 

“No,” Dora said, whirling from Andromeda’s skirt, her little hands clenched into fists like her mother’s. “I won’t be like you, because you’re bad, Aunt Bella, and me and my mom and my dad and Remus are good .” 

Remus stiffened. Would she catch the name, or-

“Remus?” Bellatrix said, musing. “Remus Lupin? A friend of yours, Andy?” she giggled, tipping herself backward and lying flat on the floor, her hair in her face. “I remember hearing some funny things about him and one of our cousins , hmm. He’s here too,” she announced to the ceiling. “Little Sirius, the red sheep, ended up as a murderer too.” Remus felt the air in his lungs turn cold. “Oh, he never served the Dark Lord. That was Pettigrew, the rat, but everyone thought it was Sirius anyway. That’s the family name for you. Blacks are nothing but hated, every year of our history, and we do nothing but prove them right.” 

Remus stepped forward, rage turning his vision white, when the guard cleared his throat from behind them and said, “Five minutes.” 

Barely redirecting his energy, Remus squeezed his ring with all his strength. Bellatrix has distracted them from the plan, but time was still ticking down. Sirius wasn’t a murderer, and they needed to save him. He released the ring, and two things happened at once. 

One - another voice rose in a scream, a voice as familiar as Remus’s own, howling like the wolf. 

And two - Dora collapsed to the cold ground of Azkaban, her eyes fluttering closed.

Chapter Text

The world blew wide then shrunk back down, narrowing in on Dora’s pale form crumpled on the floor. 

Remus dropped to his knees, grabbing ahold of her cold hand. “Help!” he cried, barely remembering to use his fake voice. 

The guard started forward off the wall, his Patronus skittering over to circle Dora. “What now?” he mumbled, peering at Remus shiftily. “She take a fainting turn?” 

“Father,” Dora moaned, reaching up to claw at Remus’s robes. “I need- fresh air!” She began twitching, rolling her eyes back in her head. Remus resisted the urge to give her a pinch. 

(That girl, she’d be an actress one day). 

The guard stepped backward, screwing up his face. “Yer visiting times almost over anyway, can’t she-” 

Dora let out another moan, then quickly switched to a hacking cough that gave the impression she was trying to expel her lungs from her body. 

“She’s- she gets like this sometimes,” Andromeda said. “She’s- she has a disease, er- a type of fever-” apparently giving up on qualifying Dora’s mysterious illness, she pointed dramatically at the guard. “She needs fresh air immediately! Or she’ll- she’ll die!” 

At her feet, Dora gave another violent twitch. “Father… I see the light…” she said, widening her eyes further than Remus thought possible. 

“Circe’s tits,” the guard swore, looking up and down the hallway. “I can’t just leave yeh-” 

“It’s getting brighter!” Dora cried, reaching both arms up to grasp at the empty air. 

“Please, sir, she just needs some fresh air,” Remus said, grabbing Dora and slinging her over his shoulder as he stood up. She continued to convulse, making it feel like he was carrying a particularly wiggly fish. 

“You can’t let her die!” Andromeda added. In the cell, Bellatrix had sat up, watching the events unfolding like it was a particularly interesting television program. 

The guard looked from Andromeda to Dora, a mix of panic and distrust on his face. “I can’t- it’s not-” he sputtered. 

Dora shrieked in a shockingly good imitation of her aunt, and the guard jumped. Bellatrix burst into laughter, clapping her hands with delight. 

“Baby niece is dying, baby niece needs help,” she told the guard, sing-song. Her eyes came up to meet Remus’s, and he was suddenly certain that Bellatrix knew exactly what was going on. “Save her, save her…” she giggled. 

“Isn’t there anywhere we can go where she can get some air?” Andromeda asked urgently. 

The guard did a cross between a nod and shake, glaring at Andromeda. “Look, yeh only have a few minutes more of visiting time, then the little crazy could have all the fresh air she needs-” 

“She needs it now!” Andromeda commanded, authority crackling from her words like lightning. Dora twitched so vigorously that Remus almost dropped her, and Bellatrix let out a delighted squeal. 

“But- yeh can’t just-” the guard protested. 

“NOW!” Andromeda shouted, and the guard stepped forward, pointing his wand threateningly in her face. 

“Now, yeh listen to me, Ma’am, I am in charge here,” he growled. “And I don’t know what happening to the girl but I tell yeh, something don’t seem right about this whole-”

“Sir, I’d advise you to think carefully,” Andromeda said, voice cold enough to set Remus’s skin prickling. Bellatrix started laughing again, both musical and discordant at once. “I happen to have quite a few friends in the Ministry, and I assure you, I will not hesitate to let them all know exactly how you’re handling this situation. I can’t imagine they’d be likely to keep you on the staff if you have a habit of allowing innocent visitors to die due to your inaction.” 

The guard struggled for a moment, then finally seemed to give in. “Alrigh, alrigh, I can let yeh out onto the cleaning room fer a second, but that’s all-” 

“Yes, yes, do it immediately,” Remus said. Their time was ticking down, every second another grain of sand slipping to the bottom of the hourglass sitting in his chest. “You don’t want our daughter to die on your watch, do you?” 

The guard quickly pointed his wand at the wall to the right of Bellatrix’s cell, and a metal door splashed into existence like paint thrown onto to the black bricks. “One minute out there, then yeh’re back in here, do yeh understand? I can’t leave the prisoner-” Bellatrix laughed harder, almost shaking. “And the witch needs to stay with me,” the guard finished, pointing toward Andromeda and smiling nastily. “Seeing as she’s the one related to the crazy.” 

Andromeda opened her mouth to protest, but Remus pushed past her and pulled open the door. A thick wind rushed in, bringing with it the scent of wet salt and blood. “Yes, thank you, we’ll be right back-” 

Remus pulled the door shut behind them, finding himself in what seemed like a closet, only instead of a wall the little room was entirely exposed to the outside, where the rain was still pouring down. Remus walked forward, onto the ledge that jutted out above where the sea pummeled the island. 

His vision swam then refocused, blood surging up in his ears like a swell of the waves below. 

It was just a few layers of brick, spiraling up and down the tower like chains locking it to the water. One step too far, and-

“Remus?” Dora said, suddenly quitting her twitching. “What now?” 

“Shh,” he said, putting her down safely in the not-closet (for some reason, there actually were a few mops and bedpans stacking along the walls). “Keep acting, that was good.” 

Dora smiled and nodded shakily. “We’re doing good, aren’t we?” she asked quietly. “We’re gonna save him, right?” 

Remus looked down at her hopeful face. For a moment, he was stuck at just how little she really was. Only eight, and already brave enough to face all of Azkaban (braver than him). Somehow, this girl had enough love in her to risk everything to save family she’d barely known, enough light to be able to walk without a Patronus and barely stumble, enough color to drown out the Black still rushing through her blood.

(There was something in there about family, and growing up with the right one, but Remus didn’t have the strength to fully catch on enough to put it in words). 

“Merlin, I hope so,” he managed finally, the words sticking in his throat. Dora nodded again and laid back down, picking up her moaning again. 

Then. On to the next stage. 

Remus carefully stepped onto the ledge and edged down the bricks, one hand balanced on the cold wall while the wind pulled at his robes and tore into his resolve. He passed under the tiny window that connected to Bellatrix’s cell and paused, barely making out the sound of Andromeda arguing with the guard about something to do with wages while Bellatrix sang hauntingly again. A sufficient enough distraction, Remus hoped, to allow him to finish his task and return before the guard came to get them from the not-closet. 

A few more steps, walking the divide between life and life sentences, and he reached the next window. Was this the one? Were those the bars spaced just enough to allow a black dog to slip out and into the storm? 

(Remus couldn’t, not really, but he imagined he could feel something Sirius-y bleeding out of that dark room and getting washed into the empty air, a little bit of pack dripping down the side of the building). 

Thunder boomed, and he reached into his pocket for the takeaway container of Gillyweed. Apparently, Andromeda had a friend who did indeed run a Chinese food restaurant (although that just wasn’t all that they sold). It had been her idea to smuggle it in disguised as noddles. It was almost funny, how quick the Ministry was to dismiss anything they saw as strange. 

With Bellatrix’s song still tangling with the pounding rain, Remus wedged the little box into a gap between the bricks. That was the most important part done with, that Sirius would be able to breathe under the weight of the water. 

Foolishly, perhaps, Remus let out a breath. They’d gotten in, and they’d left the Gillyweed, and somehow, maybe, against all odds, an innocent man might be able to slip through some bars that night and make it out of the system that’d been so ready to lock to him away.

(Remus failed to notice that the singing had stopped.)

He just closed his eyes, and let - maybe this was the foolish part - and let himself think that they’d actually succeeded. That maybe everything would be alright, in the end. 

Then a soft gasp cut through the sound of the storm, and Remus knew they’d never had a shot at all. 

Bellatrix Lestrange was staring out the window at him, head tilted at an unnatural angle. She must have been standing on her bed, Remus thought, which was an idiotic thing to be thinking about at the moment. 

“You’re a sneak,” Bellatrix said quietly, her face overtaken by a grin that seemed more like a snarl. “You’re trying to break him out, aren’t you?” 

Remus swallowed, the idea of forming words suddenly seeming impossible. This entire thing was impossible, impossible, he was just a bloody fucking idiot for ever thinking it could actually work-

“He’s being moved, is he?” A new voice, a different voice, drifting out of the window above him. 

“Yeah, as soon as these bloody visitors leave. Ministry says they can’t have two Blacks next to each other, meaning the man’s getting shunted down the base levels.” A grim laugh. 

“Ah, poor bugger. Not too many windows down there, eh?” 

And lastly, from the other window. “Look, woman, yeh’ve had enough time. I’m getting yer husband and the little crazy and yeh’re leaving, righ’ now.” 

Remus felt something like ice drop down his spine. All in a moment, all while still holding Bellatrix’s gaze, a cold current of understanding sliced through him.

If Remus didn’t get back to Dora immediately, they’d be caught. 

Sirius was moving cells, as soon as they’d left, to somewhere there would be no bars for Padfoot to slip through and reach the Gillyweed. Meaning if he didn’t escape immediately, Sirius would never have another shot. 

But it was the middle of the day, and during visiting hours, and there was no way that a human guard could miss a dog escaping Azkaban, even if the night watch of Dementors could. 

And, the final twist of the knife - Remus was immediately certain that Bellatrix understood the entire thing. 

“You’re the Lupin boy, aren’t you?” Bellatrix purred, pushing her face against the bars grotesquely. “You love him.” She laughed. “I could report you, you know. I could open my mouth and scream and scream and scream just like I always do, and I could get you all caught, even my little little sister.” 

“They why don’t you?” Remus said, frozen to the ground. The wolf smelled chains, and it was scratching and biting to be let out. 

“I was always the best at wandless magic,” Bellatrix mused, as if she was making small talk at a dinner party. Remus knew it was only a matter of time before Andromeda and the guard stopped arguing and noticed the prisoner talking out the window, but Bellatrix’s words seemed to pull him into the bricks. “Oh, Andy had the power behind her, and Cissy had the brains, but me- I had the intention. I could twist it around my fingers and trail the magic like it was a string of pearls slipping around my throat spilling to the floor pooling under my dress, no spell or thin wand needed for me to knit what I wanted into the air and spin the magic into reality…” 

She paused, a sudden flash of sobriety on her face. It was still her, still the same woman who’d done so many unspeakable things, but now she seemed stripped, entirely bereft of her usual mask and entirely desperate to be understood. 

Remus forgot to breathe, letting a Bellatrix he’d never met whisper into the churning storm. 

“I loved them, that’s why I had to do it, I’m the oldest, don’t you see? I’m the oldest. I had to protect them that’s what I had to do,” she said, ever faster, a confession and a revelation and the words of a woman who saw the wood sparking with flame beneath her, “I drank all three glasses of the wine they sat in front of us and I took all three cuts they tried to slice in us and I pointed my wand all three times they wanted us to and it’s me that’s poisoned by it bleeding from it marked by it it’s me that’s corrupted broken wrong wrong-” her voice broke, shattering into tiny shards of glass that fell out the window into the lashing rain, “it’s me that’s the oldest-protector-oldest and wrong and DARK but they’re, they’re not they’re my sisters, don’t you see? Don’t you see?!” she choked out, an anguished sob crawling into her voice. “I had to do it!”

(What was that like, Remus wondered, having family that you’d kill for?) 

(But he already knew the answer, of course, it was the reason he was standing out in this storm to begin with, one step from an end and a forever). 

 Bellatrix suddenly laughed again, but it was totally raw, scooped out and hollow. Her eyes slipped back into the dream, a perfect lady recounting her imperfect story. “I wonder if they snapped my wand when I came here? Don’t suppose you know, do you, Lupin boy? No, you wouldn’t, but I think I could still do it. It’d be easy, everything’s easy when you used to depend on it, you don’t lose that sort of thing, not when it’s sewn into your blood-” She abruptly switched back, completely sane and desperate once again, no trace of the laughing mask. “Tell Andy I didn’t mean it, will you tell her tell her I’m still her sister and tell her he doesn’t deserve it here but I do I do I do-” and then she was tripping back into laughing, staring out at him gleefully, everything about her oozing wrongness , and Remus couldn’t blink.

Bellatrix reached a hand out the window, and Remus finally realized what she meant to do, but it was too late for him to do anything but clench the hand with the ring, hoping to hell that Sirius would recognize the sign they’d agreed on, the sign for him to run , while Bellatrix shrieked with laughter then cut herself off and said, as clearer than anything else, “ Lumos .” 

A light flared above her fingers, then the air was split with the pounding of a bell, Remus threw himself back across the slippery brick ledge to the room with Dora just as the door was thrown open, as every ward on Azkaban burned alive at the flair of magic from the Lestrange cell, as the voices of the guards shouted and Andromeda shouted right back, as just enough attention was focused on the broken woman at the top of the tower with her hand out the window, screaming with laughter hard enough to break herself into two that maybe, maybe no one was able to detect the black dog as it leaped from the barred window out into the raging storm.

Chapter Text

In the coming days, the Ministry will wonder again and again what happened. 

How a high-security prisoner about to be moved deep below ground in the middle of a storming sea managed to escape from his locked-up cell through bars that were not possibly wide enough to fit a full-grown man. The Ministry will cast unveiling spells and comb back through every second of what tripped the wards, they’ll find the last tendrils of gillyweed in the strange little box on the windy ledge, and they’ll replay the jumbled memories of the unfortunate guard who was taking visitors to the prisoner next door. 

They’ll see through his eyes the two wild-eyed parents, the moaning daughter, and the laughing broken aunt. Maybe, if they’re careful enough, they’ll see the father and daughter get let into the cleaning room, but, no matter how many times they pull up the memory, they’ll never see the father slip out onto the ledge, holding a tiny box. All the attention will be focused on the woman who tripped the wards. 

Bellatrix Lestrange did magic , the guards will repeat over and over. The wards detect a break, they don’t pinpoint it. If a person happened to slip through the bars at the exact moment the fire lit above Bellatrix’s fingers, there’s no way of knowing. 

No one will watch the black dog swallow the tangle of weeds left for him. No one will witness the strange sight of a dog with gills and fins leaping into the crashing sea. They’ll only see an empty cell, a laughing woman, and a bedraggled family hurried back to the docks and shunted onto the ferry by their soon-to-be-fired guard. 

According to the ministry - Sirius Black will have disappeared. 

The news will hit the wizards in a flurry of panicked ward-checking and wanted posters. It will seep into the Muggle radio broadcasts and blink from TV screens.

No one will know where he is. Oh, they’ll wonder, of course. People will speculate that he’s gone to Brazil, that he’s drowned deep under the waves, that he’s posing as a rundown rockstar in some alley in London (he has the hair for it, you know). 

But they’ll be wrong, of course. The real answer is both so much simpler and yet as complicated as an old, knotted locket chain.

Sirius Black will be standing on the doorstep of the little house deep in muggle London that belongs to Andromeda Tonks. He’ll have transformed from the tousled dog behind a dumpster, but his rumpled striped clothing will still give him the air of someone who was recently soaking wet but the wind managed to stiffen it to more of a salty damp. He’ll look left, then right, then press the bell, a child’s voice will yell out “DOOR!” at the top of her lungs, and Sirius Black will forget how to breathe as Remus Lupin opens the door for him. 

* * * 

“Sirius.” 

It wasn’t a question, or a gasp. Remus wasn’t even sure he’d consciously decided to say it, the name just seemed to slip from his tongue, like he needed to qualify the man standing in front of him to confirm he was really there. 

“Remus,” Sirius said, his voice rough as rocks rubbed together.

“Sirius!” cried Andromeda, flying past Remus to fling herself at Sirius. Sirius stumbled back once, then regained his footing, too-thin arms (how was it possible he’d changed so much in a few weeks?) wrapping around her. They were almost the same height, but Andromeda still seemed to dwarf her cousin. 

Remus stayed totally still, willing his pulse to dip back to a normal level. 

Finally, Andromeda pulled back, brushing away her tears distractedly. “Don’t you ever do that again!” she ordered, jabbing her finger in Sirius’s face. 

“Don’t… get wrongfully arrested for murder?” Sirius rasped, and Remus’s heart clenched at the almost-smirk on his face. 

“Merlin!” Andromeda swore, pulling him in for another strangling hug. “You’d think that moral peril wouldn’t provide for a lot of humor, but you’re always the joker, aren’t you?” 

“Who’s that?” a voice said from next to Remus. He looked down to find Dora, her arms crossed over a brightly striped purple dress. “Oh, never mind, I know,” she amended, watching her mother sob into Sirius’s shoulder. “That’s Cousin Sirius.” Remus could only nod. Dora narrowed her eyes. “I thought he’d be a bit cooler, you know, since he’s a criminal.” 

“He’s not a criminal, Dora,” Remus said. “He didn’t actually do-” 

“It’s against the law to break out of jail, isn’t it? So now, he’s a criminal, anyway,” Dora said, with the irrefutable logic only an eight-year-old can have. 

“Wouldn’t that make us criminals too?” Remus pointed out. On the doorstep, Andromeda was pushing Sirius’s hair out of his face so aggressively you’d think tangled curls were a punishable offense. “We broke him out.” 

“Huh,” Dora said. “I guess so.” She pondered that for a while, then grinned up at him. “I’m probably the coolest out of our criminal crew, don’t you think? Since I did all the acting.” 

“Your acting was certainly… admirable,” Remus said. 

“Yeah,” Dora agreed. “Next time we break a cousin out of jail, I’ll be expecting some payment.” 

Before Remus could come up with a response to that statement, Andromeda abruptly pulled back from where she had been trying to pick the seaweed out of Sirius’s hair. “Merlin, what are you doing still standing out here? Anyone could see you, get inside, right now!” She grabbed his arm and pulled him past Dora, almost mowing over Remus in her haste. “There’s a room for you prepared, Dora can show you,” she said very fast as she pulled the door shut, “I’ll put the kettle on, you get clean clothes, for Merlin's sake comb your hair-” and then she was already down the hallway and turning a corner out of sight. 

Which left - Remus. And Sirius. Just staring at each other. 

“You’re not very cool,” a voice announced. 

Oh. And Dora. 

Sirius looked down at the little girl, raising his eyebrows. “Oh? Are you certain?” 

“No, I’m Dora,” she replied icily. “But I’m changing it to Tonks. Dora isn’t a very good name for a highly-respected criminal actress.” 

“We’ll see what your mum thinks about that,” Remus said under his breath. 

“Tonks it is, then,” Sirius said, grinning at her. “I’ll have you know I’m the owner of a flying motorcycle. How’s that for cool, huh?” 

“I’ll think about it,” Dora conceded, but several purple streaks shimmered into her hair and gave away her interest. 

“I’m your mum’s cousin,” Sirius said unnecessarily. “Sirius Black.” 

“Aren’t you married?” Dora said, in the sort of tone that implied Sirius was a total idiot. “That means you’re Sirius Lupin , now. Or Sirius Black-Lupin, that sounds cooler.” 

“Oh, er-” Sirius looked up at Remus, and their eyes met for the first time (Remus could barely breathe). “We hadn’t really discussed it.” 

“You should,” Dora told him seriously. 

“Maybe we will later, Dora,” Remus said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Now, we should probably-” 

 “What’s a criminal actress?” Sirius cut in, leaning down closer to Dora. 

“An actress who uses her skills to be a criminal, obviously.” Dora rolled her eyes. 

“Makes sense,” Sirius replied solemnly. “You know, I think I did catch a bit of your performance from-” his voice caught, and Remus’s lungs caught with it, “-from my cell. Through the lovely window. It was proper dramatic.” 

Dora nodded in satisfaction. “Remus said it was admirable.” 

“Then it must have been,” Sirius replied quietly. 

“It was,” Dora agreed, then abruptly turned and ran down the hall. “Your room is the one up the stairs and on the left! And don’t you dare go in my room, or-” she knocked over the umbrella stand again and barely paused to right it, “or a troll will eat you and feed your bones to my cat!” 

With that remarkably specific threat, she was gone, leaving Remus and Sirius alone. 

Remus. With Sirius. Alone. 

(For real this time). 

Sirius reached up to tuck a piece of hair out of his face. “So.” 

“So,” Remus replied. Even now, the inexplicable pull of him was still there, a little bit of gravity that always seemed to tug Remus closer. Like Sirius was a planet and Remus was a moon, forever circling and circling. Or a pair of stars, connected by the not-really-there strings of the sort of constellations wizards were named after. The wolf and his pack. 

“Dora is a character,” Sirius said, smiling slightly. “Reminds me a bit of Andy when she was younger.” 

“She yelled at Bellatrix,” Remus said, not sure where the words were coming from. “I was losing my shit, being in Azkaban like that, but she wasn’t. Bellatrix had gone on this rant, all about, well, just about every terrible thing that ever happened to her, and it was awful. The way her eyes were, it was like something inside had splintered. I could hardly watch it. But then at the end, Dora just glared at her and called her mean.” 

“Good for her,” Sirius said softly. “I saw a newspaper, on my way here, and they’re calling it the ‘Black’s Escape’. They said- she was the one who triggered the wards, so they wouldn’t catch me.” 

“Yeah,” Remus said, remembering the way Bellatrix had laughed through her window as she cast the spell. Had she known, even then, that it would never be enough?

Sirius closed his eyes. “She was always so- irresistible when we were kids. No one could ever say no to her. For a while, she was the rebellious one. I just followed her.” Remus stayed silent, watching Sirius’s face twist. “Then one day… she wasn’t anymore. I never knew why.” 

“Maybe she just couldn’t do it anymore. Fight back.” 

Sirius exhaled derisively. “No. She just gave up.” 

Remus thought of the woman he hated beyond belief, who killed and killed and killed and conjured Unforgivables like they were coiled and waiting in her chest, and tried to rectify it with the one who’d sobbed as she spoke of protecting her sisters through cold iron bars. 

Maybe Sirius didn’t know what it was like, to live your entire life knowing if you messed up it would end you. Knowing that whatever net your friends had waiting to catch them was ripped to shreds beneath you. 

(Sirius didn’t know, but Remus did.) 

Remus cleared his throat. They were edging around something, a ticking clock between them, and he’d rather it not go off yet (he wasn’t sure what would happen when it did). He'd been so caught up in the rush of saving Sirius, he'd nearly forgotten about the well of anger still bubbling within him. About how bloody angry he was about what had happened. “Well, do you reckon we ought to go-” 

“Remus, what are we going to do?” Sirius stepped forward, cutting him off. “What the fuck are we going to do?” 

“I was thinking a cup of tea,” Remus said, the anger that was never out of sight fizzing up again. “I’m afraid I haven't had a lot of time to formulate a life strategy, what with breaking you out of jail and everything.” 

“I'm innocent,” Sirius snapped. 

“Yes, I’m aware,” Remus said testily. “If you come up with a good plan, clue me in, though, won’t you?” 

“The first plan was to not get wrongfully imprisoned, but that backfired, didn’t it?” Sirius said loudly. “I’d thought that maybe my husband would tell the world that I didn’t do it, but silly me.” 

“That's the thing, isn’t it,” Remus said, close to shouting. So much for avoiding the clock. “I thought you did do it. You certainly didn’t give me any reason not to think it!” 

“No reasons, aside from spending every minute of my time working to make sure they were protected?” Sirius growled, stepping forward again. 

Remus balled his fists at his side. “No reasons aside from refusing to tell me anything and shutting me out! You didn’t tell me you weren’t the secret keeper, and wasn’t that so clever, didn’t it work out so well for you-” 

“There was a spy!” yelled Sirius. “We had to be careful, we had to-” 

“Assume it was ME!?” Remus shouted, grabbing Sirius and shoving him backward until he had him up against the wall. “Pull in closer to fucking Pettigrew, the rat, but make sure Remus the werewolf traitor was good and far away from anything that might actually help you?” 

“YOU THOUGHT I KILLED THEM!” Sirius roared. 

“YOU THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO!” Remus roared back. 

Remus stared at Sirius, their faces inches away from each other, hot breath mingling between them. How many arguments had started and ended like this, someone up against a wall, someone barely restraining a punch? 

(How many arguments had started and ended with them kissing, rage still swirling with love hot enough to bruise, to bite?) 

Sirius’s pupils dilated, and Remus was certain he was thinking of the same thing.

He took a breath. Then another. Then-

“Could you put me down?” Sirius said through clenched teeth, and Remus realized he’d been pining him to the wall a foot off the ground. He lessoned his grip, and Sirius slipped back onto his feet. 

Remus took a step back, putting cold air between them again. 

“That’s the crux of it, isn’t it?” Sirius said finally. “Either way we didn’t, and either way they’re still dead. Everyone’s still dead.” 

Remus took another breath, counting back the days in his head. It was November 13th. He realized dimly that Sirius had turned 21 in Azkaban. James and Lily had been killed on October 31. The war had ended on October 31. The world had ended on October 31. 14 days ago Remus had best friends, and a husband, and a war and a purpose and a family. 

(Now, he wasn’t sure he still had any of it). 

“I’m tired,” Sirius sighed when Remus failed to answer. “We can- well, we can try and talk about this again later. I just want to take a proper bath, I’m sure my lovely hair has been ruined by that awful water.” He ran his hands through it, coming up with a chunk of seaweed. He grimaced. “Then I want to see Harry. Is he napping right now?” 

“What?” Remus said, startled into speech. 

“I guess we’ll need to baby-proof the flat at some point, but for now-” 

“Wait. Sirius.” Remus looked at him. “Sirius, you were in jail.” 

“Yes, Remus, we’ve established that. But I’m still his godparent, and now I’m not in jail.” Sirius looked up the staircase as if baby Harry might suddenly toddle down it. 

“But he’s not your child-” Remus started again. 

“He might as well be!” Sirius cut him off. “James put it in the will, you and me are in charge of him if something- if something went wrong.” 

“No, you were in charge of him.” 

“Remus, look, I’m sorry you got stuck with the childcare, but that’s not a big deal. I just want to see my godson-” 

“Sirius, we are an illegally married barely twenty-one years old werewolf and convicted felon-”  

“Where is Harry?” Sirius said, still not catching on. “Does Andy-” 

“I don’t have him!” Remus finally burst out. “I’ve never had him!” 

Sirius’s eyes widened. “What the hell are you-” 

Remus threw his hands in the air. “Did you think the Ministry would just hand him over to us? To me? You were sent to Azkaban for supposedly murdering his parents, for god's sake!” 

“Then where. the living fuck. is Harry Potter?”

Chapter Text

“Okay. Remus, you make the bed, and Sirius, you're in charge of dusting the bookshelves.” Dora placed her hands on her hips, surveying her ‘helpers’ from her perch on the armchair. They were grouped in a small, musty room, with just enough space for the chair, a bed, and a bookshelf. Cold November sun streamed into the fogged windows behind Dora, silhouetting her I’m-in-charge pose. 

“What’s your job then?” Remus said, casting a glance at the huge pile of sheets waiting to be placed on the bed. 

“I’m the manager,” Dora said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t work, I make sure you do your work.” 

“Sounds harrowing,” Sirius muttered. 

“Oh, it will be.” Dora clapped her hands together, doing a little bounce on the cushion. “Now - let’s get to work!” She leaned back and sat on the top rim of the chair, crossing her arms over her striped dress. “Speed it up, boys!” 

Remus sighed and headed over to the sheets, determined not to look at Sirius. Their argument was still simmering, a thick cloud of anger and grief that twisted between his legs like a cat. 

Sirius had been in the middle of demanding to know where Harry was when Dora burst back into the entryway and informed them they were on “chore duty”. Apparently, Andromeda was determined to have them spend the night (no matter that their flat was perfectly fine, and more importantly, Dora-less) which meant fresh bedding in the guest room. It was unclear whether Dora was supposed to be doing this by herself, but neither Sirius nor Remus wanted to argue with her, and especially not after she’d just declared herself “Supreme Chore Master”. 

Remus picked up the sheet on the top of the pile, maroon with broomsticks embossed on plaid, and twisted it in the air. Below it, a quilt in bright shades of pink and green was heaped on a pillowcase covered in bejeweled owls. “Er- Dora-” 

“Ms. Tonks,” Dora corrected, somehow looking down her nose at Remus despite him still being taller even with her on the chair. 

“Ms. Tonks,” Remus repeated. “Are you sure these are the right sheets?” 

“Yes,” she answered shortly. 

“But… they don’t seem to match?” Remus waved the maroon-broomstick-plaid one for emphasis. From behind him, he heard Sirius snort (and it took all Remus’s willpower not to turn around and catch a smile on his face, just to be sure he still could smile like he used to, that Azkaban hadn’t taken that too). 

“I picked them out,” Dora said, lips pouting dangerously. “They match perfectly .” 

“O-kay, as long as you’re sure,” Remus said, digging through the pile to find a fitted sheet. He came up with one (blue and shimmering) and threw it onto the bed. 

Sirius walked past him, a feathered duster dangling from his hand and hitting Remus in the back of the knee. 

“Ow,” Remus muttered, rubbing his leg. 

“Where is he?” Sirius said under his breath, pretending to inspect the bookshelf. 

“Who?” Remus said, picking up the corner of the fitted sheet and pulling it onto the bottom of the mattress. 

“Who do you think,” Sirius said through his teeth. He swiped the duster over the bookshelf, kicking up a cloud of dirt. 

Remus coughed, moving to do the next corner. “I don’t know.” The sheet slipped off the other side, springing up in his face. Remus exhaled sharply. 

“You don’t know?” Sirius said to the bookshelf. “Didn’t anyone come to ask for your permission to take him?”  

“No, believe it or not,” Remus said, yanking the sheet back over the mattress. He heard his voice rising and brought it back down to a tight whisper. “I don’t think checking up on my thoughts on Lily and James’s son’s childcare was first priority for the Ministry, seeing as they thought I was the spy right up until they shipped you off to jail.” 

Sirius inhaled sharply. 

Remus felt his words swirling in the air between them, and he knew he could have phrased it differently, but what was the point? Choosing his words like they were ingredients in a finicky potion wouldn’t change anything. No need to measure out the proper amount of politeness when the cauldron was already upended and singing a hole in the floor. 

The damn sheet slipped off the corner again, and Remus lunged to grab it. 

“But the will,” Sirius said, a note of frustration in his tone. “The will said to give Harry to us, I know it did.” 

Remus scoffed, rounding the bed to reach the other side. “As if the Ministry gave a shit what the will said. They won their war, they could do whatever they wanted with the boy who won it for them.” 

Sirius sighed. “You didn’t trust them, right? You never did.” 

Remus didn’t have to ask to know who he was talking about. The Order, the Ministry, Dumbledore. They were all the same anyway. “No,” he said shortly. 

“I wish I hadn’t,” Sirius said, voice braided with regret sharp enough to slice. “Maybe then- then we would have found the spy sooner.” 

“Or maybe, you should have trusted me more,” Remus suggested, fighting to keep his whisper steady. He pulled on the sheet with both hands, trying to wrestle it onto the mattress. 

“Maybe you should have given me more reason to,” Sirius snapped back. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have been a werewolf, is that what you mean? Maybe I shouldn’t have been a monster?” 

“Godric, it must be exhausting, always blaming everything on something you can’t control,” Sirius muttered mockingly. “Never your own fault, is it?” 

“No, but it’s always yours, right?” Remus said, giving up on keeping his voice down. “Sirius Black, poor you, always wallowing in self-pity, always trying to meddle in everyone’s else business, always the hero ready to save, ready to step in and fix whatever’s broken-” 

“At least I care!” Sirius shouted. “At least I’m trying!” 

“He’s not-” Remus yanked as hard as he could on the last corner and the fabric snapped off the mattress “-god fucking dammit this bloody sheet-” the other corner pulled off as well, ripping out of Remus’s hand, “he’s not-” Remus pushed himself to his feet, “HE’S NOT YOUR FUCKING SON, SIRIUS!” 

“I KNOW THAT!” Sirius shouted back, whirling from the bookcase, his gray eyes glinting. Remus felt himself panting, taking quick sips of the musty air, and it was just like it had always been. Like he was born to fight with Sirius, they were meant to find the exact seams in each other and rip, to dig their fingers to the tiniest cracks and break. They were meant to ignite at the same time. To burn together. 

(And bloody hell, Remus was in love with him). 

“Excuse me,” Dora said from her chair, and they both jumped. “There is no shouting or swearing allowed during chores. Remus, that was the worst bed-making I have ever seen. Switch jobs, now.” 

Remus cast a glance at Sirius, trying to tame the urge to punch him, to grab his neck and swallow him down like wine. 

“I said now!” Dora commanded, clapping her hands. 

Remus let go of the bed and walked over to the bookcase, accepting the duster silently from Sirius. He started swiping it at the bookcase. Sirius picked up the elastic of the fitted sheet and deftly spread it over the bed, securing all four corners. Remus hated it. 

“I know he’s not my son,” Sirius whispered eventually, picking up the plaid sheet. “He’s James and Lily’s. He’s all that’s left of them.” 

Remus stayed quiet. 

“And I promised them,” Sirius continued, voice shaking. “I promised I would protect Harry.” 

Remus crouched to reach the bottom shelf, thinking of a boy with green eyes that matched his mother's, of a family that had been his first example of family. 

(A family he would have killed to have for himself). 

“I asked,” he said finally. “A few days later. I tracked down someone from the Order and made them tell me where Harry was. They said he was at Lily’s sister’s house.” 

“Petunia?” Sirius said. “But Lily hated her!” 

“They were still sisters.” Remus shrugged. “Something to do with blood, apparently.” 

“Blood’s not everything,” Sirius muttered. He shook out the quilt and threw it over the sheet, tucking in the bottom carefully. “We were supposed to keep Harry, that’s what James and Lily wanted.” 

“We could still find him,” Remus said, the words coming unbidden. He turned around to find Sirius staring at him, his dark hair falling in front of his face. 

“For what?” Sirius said. “Just to check?” 

“Er- yeah,” Remus said. “We’ll check on him, make sure he’s okay. Make sure that Petunia is taking care of him.” 

“And- if she’s not?” Sirius asked. “If the Dursleys are every bit as bad as Lily always said?” 

Remus looked at the carpet, already knowing the answer. If Harry was in trouble, there was no other answer. 

“Remus, I will not leave another child with a family that doesn’t love him,” Sirius said, cold as steel. “I can’t let Harry live through what happened to me. I can’t.” 

“Then…” Remus stood up, holding Sirius’s eyes. “If that’s how it is, if he's really not okay, then we’ll just have to take Harry back.”

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry, you’re doing what?” 

Remus cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. Across the table, Andromeda stared at them with her mouth agape. 

“Saving Harry,” Sirius said, raising his eyebrows. “We just told you, Andy.” 

“Checking on Harry,” Remus corrected through his teeth. “Just checking.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll see,” Sirius said, waving a hand in Remus’s direction like he was swatting a fly. 

“Er, okay.” Andromeda pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay. Can I ask why? And why the rush?” 

“Because we’re in charge of him,” Sirius said, leaning forward against the table. “Because it’s my responsibility, and James-” his voice snapped, just a bit, like a twig breaking under the weight of boots. “James wanted us to have him.” 

Remus felt the knife in his chest twist, just a bit. He was used to it now, how any little thought or mention could act like a strike, another hand reaching to shove the blade in deeper. Still, it was better this way, he knew not to try to take the knife out, not when perpetually being stabbed was better than letting the blood weep out of the hole it would leave behind. 

“We have to do it now,” Sirius said, almost pleading. “As fast as possible.” 

Andromeda’s eyes softened. “Alright. And do you know… who does have him?” 

“Lily’s sister,” Remus said, relieved to be to facts. “Petunia.” 

“Okay,” Andromeda said again. In the kitchen, the kettle whistled. She pushed herself up, rounding the table and heading for the stovetop. Remus and Sirius twisted in their seats to watch her. “So. What’s your problem?” 

“We can’t find him!” Sirius burst out. “We tried a location spell, a finding spell, a magic tracing spell, and nothing worked.” 

Andromeda turned around from the cabinet, setting down three mugs. “Sirius.” She raised her eyebrows, a mirror of her cousin’s frustrated expression. 

“Andy,” Sirius said in the same tone. 

Andromeda pushed a curl out of her face. “Do you know Lily’s sister’s last name?” 

“Yes,” Remus cut in before Sirius could retort. “Dursley.” 

Andromeda nodded, opening up a drawer and pulling out a tin container of tea bags. “And do you have a general idea of where they live?” 

“Surrey,” Remus said. 

“We already tried narrowing down the spell range,” Sirius said, exasperated. “We did everything short of brewing a Find Me potion, and that was because we don’t have enough time or enough pickled troll toenails.” 

“We think it’s warded,” Remus added. “Dumbledore probably put all sorts of charms against any wizards finding Harry, in case they were Death Eaters.” 

“That would make sense,” Andromeda said, closing the drawer with her hip. 

“Yes, we know, do you have any ideas?” Sirius asked.

“So, you’re looking for the Dursleys. In Surrey.” Andromeda plopped a tea bag in each mug. “Have you tried the phone book?” 

“Oh, goddamnit!” Sirius cried, standing up and smacking himself on the forehead. 

“Why didn’t we think of that?” Remus demanded, turning toward Sirius. “What kind of idiots are we?” 

“Absolute idiots!” Sirius agreed, shaking his fist. “Bloody idiots, Moony, that’s us!” 

Remus couldn’t help grinning, because just for a minute, it was only fourth year and they were back in their dorm room, planning a prank or doing homework and just laughing, and no one had died yet and no one ever would because everyone was safe at Hogwarts and they still had years and years to go before they had to leave it. And Sirius was calling him Moony, and it wasn’t a big deal because he always called him that, and it wasn’t the first time he’d said it since Azkaban because Sirius had never gone to Azkaban. 

(But it was, and he had). 

“Okay, a phone book,” Remus said, trying to dispel the ghosts in his head. They were in London, not Hogwarts, and Sirius probably hadn’t even meant to call him Moony. “Do you have one?” 

Andromeda poured the tea, doing her mum look that she must have perfected while raising Dora. The I’m-supposed-to-be-annoyed-at-you-but-really-I’m-trying-not-to-laugh look. “Yes, I have a phone book.” 

“Good, brilliant, where is it?” Sirius said, pushing back his seat and heading toward the stairs. 

“Next to the phone,” Andromeda said, pursing her lips. 

“Yes, that would make sense, wouldn’t it,” Sirius said, making a neat turn back into the kitchen where the bright blue phone rested next to the kettle. To the side, leaning against a stack of cookbooks, sat a thick, slightly yellow-tinted phonebook. Sirius grabbed it and thunked it down on the marble, flicking the heavy pages open. Remus stood up, leaning over the book from the other side of the counter. 

“Dursley, Dursley, Dur-” Sirius dragged his finger down the list of names. “Aha - Vernon Dursley, Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.” He looked up, meeting Remus’s eyes, and Remus realized they were close enough to almost bump heads. For a moment, they paused. Remus could lean forward, or Sirius could, and they would be kissing. 

(But that was a thing of the past too, a thing that only the Sirius and Remus before the war had claim to). 

“There he is,” Sirius said eventually, leaning back, both hands braced on the counter. (He was still wearing his ring.) “Harry Potter.” 

“Let’s go,” Remus said. 

* * * 

In the end, their rush to check on Harry was damped slightly by the fact that Andromeda demanded to drive them, like a mum taking her kids to football practice. Remus wanted to apparate, but Sirius didn’t have his wand, and Andromeda flat out refused to allow him to side-along (something about still recovering from Azkaban, which - fair), all of which led to a tight 58-minute car ride in Andromeda’s beat-up minivan. 

She refused to drop them off one street down, despite Sirius’s protests that this was an undercover stakeout, but agreed to park two houses off. They piled out of the car, taking the bag of carrots Andromeda foisted on them as a ‘snack’, before finally, finally walking up Privet Drive toward Number 4. 

Remus felt himself slow down, staring at the little brown house. He almost expected Lily to open the door, smiling and bouncing Harry on her hip, or for James to round the corner holding a tangle of weeds he’d pulled in the garden. But they wouldn't, of course, because Lily and James had never lived there, only Harry. And wasn’t it strange, that Harry existed in a place his parents never had? How could there be their blood without their ghosts?

How could Remus exist in a world that didn’t hold Lily and James?

(The knife buried itself a bit deeper.)

“Don’t stop,” Sirius hissed, determinedly walking past the house. “That’s suspicious!” 

“How else are we supposed to tell if Harry is safe?” Remus demanded, forcing his feet to move past the memories. 

“We have to find a spot that they won’t notice,” Sirius said. 

“Oh, my bad, let me just look for a nice stakeout trench, there’s sure to be a good one somewhere in this suburb-” 

“Look, here!” Sirius grabbed Remus’s arm and pulled him toward the house next door. 

“What are you doing-” Remus protested. 

“Shh!” Sirius said. “Give me your wand.” 

“No-” 

Sirius reached over and grabbed it out of Remus’s back pocket anyway. He pointed it at the house's side gate. “Alohomora!” 

“What in Merlin’s name-” Remus hissed, looking around for any Muggles.  

“C’mon,” Sirius said, pulling Remus through the now-unlocked gate and into the sideyard. He shut it behind them with a click, leaving them standing on a little path lined with bushes that wrapped around to the backyard.

“This is breaking and entering,” Remus said, rounding on Sirius. “Whoever lives here could come out any minute-” 

“Homenum Revelio,” Sirius said, pointing the wand lazily toward the house. Nothing happened. “There, see? No one’s home.” 

“Or the spell didn’t work, seeing as that’s not your wand,” Remus said. He grabbed the wand back from Sirius and did the spell again. Annoyingly, nothing happened. “Okay, fine, no one is home. That doesn’t change the fact that we are in a random Muggle’s sideyard-”

“Look!” Sirius said, clapping one hand over Remus’s mouth and the other behind his neck, forcibly turning his head toward the wall that separated the two houses. “What do you see?” 

Remus licked Sirius’s hand, who released him with a groan of disgust. “A solid brick wall,” Remus said. 

“No, a solid wall with a perfectly placed hole in it,” Sirius corrected. He pointed toward a gap of open air between the bricks, right at eye level. Through it, Remus could see straight through a large bay window into the Dursleys' sitting room and the hallway beyond. 

“Oh,” Remus said, crossing his arms. “I guess this is good.” 

“Yes, I am brilliant, thank you for noticing,” Sirius said, waving his hands like he was accepting an award. 

“Oh, shove it,” Remus muttered. They stood silently side by side, both focused on Privet Drive. 

* * * 

“Those curtains are so ugly, I want to set them on fire.” 

“Shut up, Sirius.” 

* * * 

Crunch. 

Crunch. 

Cru-

“Could you be quiet?” Remus demanded. 

Sirius tossed the last bit of the carrot in his mouth and held up the bag in Remus’s face. “Oh, I’m sorry, did you want one?” 

“No,” Remus said, turning back to the hole in the wall. It had been almost thirty minutes, and still no sign of the Dursleys. They were definitely home, based on the drab gray car parked in the driveway, but the house might have been deserted for all Remus and Sirius could tell. He was getting antsy, his body humming both from standing up for so long and from being so close to Sirius.  

Sirius took another loud bite of the carrot, and Remus, quite frankly, had enough. 

He whirled around and snatched the carrot right out of Sirius’s hand and tossed it over the wall into the Dursleys’ yard. 

Sirius stared at him. “What the hell, you prick, that was a good carrot!” 

“Sure, yeah,” Remus muttered. 

“What is with you?” Sirius demanded. 

“Nothing,” Remus snapped. 

“No, please, don’t spare me,” Sirius said, waving around the bag of carrots. “Clearly you’re mad about something, so out with it!” 

“Oh, hmm, let me see,” Remus said, letting his annoyance fizzle into something more like anger. “I’m cold, it’s getting dark, the people we’re supposed to be bloody spying on don’t seem to even exist-” 

“It’s for Harry, we have to save Harry-” Sirius said. 

“Oh, right, everything’s about Harry,” Remus said. “Funny how much effort you can put in when it comes to Harry, but you couldn't give a fuck about me three weeks ago.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sirius said, narrowing his eyes. 

“It’s just funny,” Remus said, in a tone that was anything but humorous, “how if you’d managed to direct all this energy toward telling your husband the truth a month ago, it might have ended up saving their lives.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Sirius said, his voice shaking. “You think I don’t see James everywhere I bloody look? He’s still there, every time I close my eyes, in between every word I think-” 

“Just because they’re dead,” Remus said harshly, forcing the words out even as he shoved the knife further between his own ribs, “doesn’t mean you get to ignore the living. I certainly didn’t have that luxury-” 

“Well, sorry if I’m not paying enough attention to you,” Sirius said through his teeth. “Can’t say I’m too fond of my ‘husband’ who left me in jail for a week because he thought I killed our best friends.” 

“For a week,” Remus bit out. “For one week, when I could barely bring myself to fucking turn on a light or eat a meal, and then as soon as I learned the truth, I dropped everything to come and get you! To save you!”  

“But you still believed it at first,” Sirius said coldly, shaking his head. 

Remus surged forward, both hands shoving Sirius into the wall. “You thought I was the spy for fucking months!”  

“What was I supposed to think?" Sirius struggled against him, but Remus pushed harder. "You could barely even stand to look at me!” 

“Right, because you were just bursting over with kind words for me!” Remus shouted. “I was really feeling the love, Sirius-” 

“It was a war-” 

“I know, I was there too!” 

“Merlin!” Sirius cried. “It’s just the same old argument, every time. Why do we even bother? You saved me, thanks, now you’re finally free from my terrible presence! Why are you even here-” 

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” Remus shouted, so close to Sirius he could feel his hot breath on his face. 

A second passed, then another. 

Someone started up a lawnmower.

(Remus and Sirius stayed frozen, eyes locked onto each other, caught in the same rhythm they'd been sucked into since the first time they boarded a train going to the same place, flies stuck in amber, both here and there and seven years ago, fighting to draw blood first and stitch each other's scars, and then-) 

“Bloody hell, Moony,” Sirius said, abruptly dropping the bag of carrots to the ground and surging upward, grabbing the back of Remus’s neck and pulling him down into a searing kiss. 

And, oh.  

Remus had missed this. 

Time splintered and came back together, focused on the point where their lips met, and it was everything and nothing. Remus Lupin was kissing Sirius Black, and he was angry at Sirius Black, and suddenly, he couldn’t find the energy to drag up the bones of their argument again. Who thought who was the spy and who thought who was the murderer as if any of that could fix the tragedy before it happened. As if anything could bring them back. 

Maybe it would have been different, if Sirius had been in Azkaban longer, or if Remus believed the lie for longer, but it was here , now, and it had only been a week. The worst week of his life, but still, just a week. And Remus was tired, already tired of dredging up the skeleton of his hate and setting it back on its feet just to swing at the only person left to fight. There were enough real skeletons, enough people who’d given their lives for a war that ripped them apart. Enough of Lily and James and Marlene and Dorcas and Gideon and Fabian and Alice and Frank, and even through all of it, somehow, impossibly, Remus still had Sirius. 

And that, just by itself, was fucking enough. 

Sirius pulled him closer, entwining both hands in his hair, and Remus let the knife in his chest fall to the ground. And it hurt, god it fucking hurt, but the warm rush of blood was better than the cold steel. A wound, finally allowed to heal. 

Enough. 

Remus felt the blood pooling at his feet but he held tighter to Sirius, kissing him like he was air, he was life, he was the moon and the stars and the sky, content to go on like this forever, and then-

A light flickered on in the Dursley house.

Chapter Text

Remus turned his head, staring toward the Dursely house, the light in the kitchen abruptly flicked on. He could see someone moving around in the room further down the hall-

Sirius’s hand came up and blocked the hole in the wall. “We waited that long, we can wait a bit longer,” he said, surging up for another kiss. 

Remus let himself get dragged down, back into the familiar slide of Sirius’s lips, a drug he was unable to quit, one that always made him come back for more. 

“Petunia?” a voice called, floating out the top of the cracked-open window. 

Remus twisted his head away, scrunching his face. “But, Harry , Sirius.” 

“Oh, fine,” Sirius groaned. He uncovered the hole in the wall and turned to look through it, his other hand still twisted into Remus’s hair at an awkward angle behind his neck, one leg in between Remus’s, entwined like the ribbons Mary used to braid into her hair. 

Sirius , Remus’s mind whispered. It’s Sirius.  

He felt Sirius shifting at his side, the familiar brush of his black silk curls, and he had to resist a grin from overtaking his face, because goddammit it had been him all the time, all along. Only one soulmate, and Remus had to go and get the one bastard untruthfully accused of murder. 

Through the window, a woman entered the kitchen and Remus sucked in a breath. It was Lily, but - somehow wrong. The woman was a bit too tall, her hair not red enough, her figure much too thin and just a bit off , like her bones had been put together at the wrong angle beneath her skin. 

“Petunia,” Remus said under his breath. 

“Worst timing in the world,” Sirius muttered. “Couldn't've waited a few more minutes, huh, Tuney?” 

The scratchy hum of his voice echoed through Remus, and he resisted the urge to lean down and get back to what they’d been doing before. The Dursleys could just fuck off for a while, couldn’t they?

“Dinner,” Petunia called. She pulled something in a pan out of the oven and slammed it shut. 

“Smells good,” a man’s voice called. “Have you got Dudley?” 

“He’s in the playpen,” Petunia said. A large man came up behind her, buttoned up in a terrible plaid shirt and sporting a pair of thick glasses hanging from his collar that Remus was certain were just for show. 

“That’s Vernon?” Sirius said, disgusted. “Let’s hope his fashion sense hasn’t already rubbed off on Harry.” 

The man headed over to the corner of the kitchen, reaching his arms out toward a plastic enclosure. “Let’s get you up, huh, Dudders?” He picked up a pudgy toddler, who immediately started bawling. 

“Oh, Dudley, Dudley, are you hungry?” Petunia crooned. “Mummy’s made dinner-” 

“NO! NO! NO!” Dudley screamed, kicking and squirming. Remus winced. 

“A good pair of lungs!” Vernon said over the ever-loudening screams. 

“I didn’t know they had a kid, too,” Sirius said. “Harry’s cousin, I suppose.” 

“I can see the family resemblance,” Remus said dryly, and Sirius stifled a laugh. 

Inside, Vernon sat Dudley down in a high chair and clicked the belt tight over him, clocked by his flailing fists in the process. Petunia brought over three plates, setting the one with a helping of brown mush in front of Dudley. 

“Darling, it’s dinner time,” Petunia said to the toddler, while Vernon sat down heavily at the table. 

“NO!” Dudley repeated, smashing a hand into his plate and sending food flying into the air. 

“He’s a strong one!” Vernon chortled, whipping splattered mush off his face. 

“Oh, darling, do you want something else?” Petunia said, immediately jumping up to the kitchen. “What about pudding, Dudley? Pudding?” She pulled a small container out of the fridge and held it up. 

Dudley immediately quieted, smiling happily. “Pudd-ng.” 

“Yes, yes, here it is,” Petunia said, busily spooning some onto another plate. 

“Healthy,” Sirius scoffed. 

“Where’s Harry?” Remus said. “Taking a nap?” 

“No, it’s too close to bedtime,” Sirius said, furrowing his brow. “James and Lily never let him sleep this late, said he would never go to bed later.” 

“Upstairs, then?” Remus suggested. 

“Alone?” Sirius said. “And… hey, there are only three plates. And just one high chair.” 

“Maybe… they haven’t had enough time to buy another one?” Remus said, not really believing it. 

“I told you, Moony,” Sirius said darkly. “Something’s not right.” 

Inside the house, a child began to wail, and Remus looked to Dudley to see what had set him off again, but the toddler was happily shoveling pudding into his face. 

Remus looked toward Sirius, a terrible idea settling into his chest. “Do you think-” 

The wailing resolved itself into words, a long drawn-out string of, “MAMA MAMA MA-” 

“Oh, go and shut him up,” Vernon said, casting a glare toward the hallway. 

“He just misses her,” Petunia said, not quite as shrill as before. 

“Not my problem, is it?” Vernon muttered. “The lunatics get themselves killed, dump the kid with us-” 

Sirius sucked in a breath, his jaw clenching into a sharp angle. “That’s not- they’re not-” 

“I’ll take him dinner,” Petunia said, grabbing the plate with the mush that Dudley had smashed and carrying it into the hallway. She bent down, unlatching a chain on the cupboard door. 

“What’s she doing?” Remus whispered, his lungs up behind his teeth. “Feeding the rats?” 

Petunia open the door, and the wailing got louder. “Here’s dinner, stop crying.” 

“Mama?” a child’s voice said, clogged with tears. 

“Your mama’s gone,” Petunia said, clenching her eyes shut. “She’s gone.” 

“And not coming back!” Vernon shouted from the table. Petunia flinched. 

“Mama, mama,” the child cried, pitching higher and higher. “Mama!” 

Petunia set the plate down in the cupboard and closed the door, latching it shut again. Sirius’s whole body tensed, his breath coming quick and fast next to Remus’s ear. 

“Ought to get some insulation,” Vernon said through a mouthful of food. “Keep the noise down.” 

“Couldn’t we let him out, just for dinner?” Petunia said. “He’s just a little thing, and-” she broke off. 

“He knocked over the lap from Marge,” Vernon said. “He’s got to learn the rules of this house, you see?” 

“It wasn’t on purpose-” Petunia began, clasping her hands in front of her. 

“He’s got to learn,” Vernon repeated. In the cupboard, the child dissolved into sobbing, occasionally punctured with ear-splitting shrieks. Dudley giggled in his high chair, pounding his fists on the table to add to the din. 

Remus felt his jaw slowly drop open, unable to fully comprehend what was going on. Was Harry, Harry Potter, Lily and James’s son, really locked up-

“This is a respectable house-” Vernon began, and suddenly Sirius was throwing himself up the wall, scrabbling for a foothold. Remus grabbed him around the waist, trying to pull him down. 

“Don’t treat him like that, you bastard!” Sirius shouted. “I’ll kill you-” 

“Sirius,” Remus grunted, “they can’t hear us, we’ll be caught-” 

“You fucker, you absolute piece of filth-” Sirius yelled, slinging one leg over the top of the wall. Remus pulled as hard as he could, and they tumbled back into the bushes. 

“Sirius!” Remus said, using all his strength to pin Sirius to the ground. His long hair fell in his face, snagged in the leaves of the rose bush next to them. 

“Lemme at him!” Sirius said, struggling to get out from under Remus. “I’m gonna kill him, I swear I am-” 

“Did you hear something?” Petunia’s voice asked, and Sirius abruptly stilled. 

“Just a neighbor’s television,” Vernon said. 

Remus glared into Sirius’s wild eyes. “You idiot, we can’t just waltz in there and murder a Muggle!” he hissed. 

“Did you hear that, Moony?” Sirius said, breathing heavily. “He’s locked up Harry, he’s treating him like-” he broke off, a thick rage creeping over his face. “All that stuff about being respectable, that’s just what my parents used to tell me.” 

Remus rolled off him, flat on his back in the dirt. “Sirius…” 

“I don’t know what sort of house those no-good slackers were running,” Vernon continued from the other side of the wall. “But we can’t let him bring those filthy habits in here. He’ll corrupt Dudley.” 

Remus felt his teeth clench. Suddenly killing Vernon didn’t seem like such a terrible idea. If he said one more thing about James and Lily-

“My sister,” Petunia began, just discernible over the wailing of Harry and the sound of Dudley pounding the table. “She-” 

“-went off and married that weirdo, then left you saddled with her brain-dead kid-” 

“She would have wanted-” 

“You don’t know what Lily wanted, the bitch-” 

“Don’t say her name!” Remus shouted, rage pouring through him like a waterfall. He leaped to his feet and immediately launched himself at the wall, trying to scale it.  “How dare you-”

Adrenaline zipped through him, pounding to the beat of his racing heart. All he could think about was bashing Dursely’s head in. Remus could do it, he’d done worse things to better people-

“Remus, are you mental?” Sirius said, grabbing both his legs. 

“She was worth ten of you!” Remus cried, determinedly trying to pull himself over, despite Sirius hanging on him like an anchor from the ground. “Lily Evans was the kindest, cleverest-” 

“Moony!” Sirius said, yanking hard. The wall slipped from under Remus’s hands, and he tumbled to the ground, landing hard on Sirius. 

“-the best witch I’ve ever known,” Remus finished, finding, unforgivably, that he was crying. 

“You ought to send a note to Arabella tomorrow, get her to turn down her television,” Vernon said. “It’s much too loud.”

“I’ll tell her,” Petunia said quietly. The sound of clinking silverware and Dudley’s giggling filled the silence once again. 

Sometime during Remus’s fight with the wall, Harry had stopped crying. 

“Now who’s trying to commit an ill-advised murder?” Sirius whispered, wiggling out from under Remus. “Bit hypocritical of you, isn’t it?” 

“I taught you that word,” Remus muttered, staring up at the stars. The sudden rush of anger was dissipating, leaving behind a cold, empty feeling, like a scooped-out pumpkin or a drained well. “It’s just - it’s not fair, Sirius!” 

“I know,” Sirius said. 

“It’s not fucking fair that Lily and James are dead and Harry has to live with those terrible people, it’s not fair that we have to rescue him, it’s not fair that you went to Azkaban, it’s not fucking fair that we had to fight a war in the first place! It shouldn’t have fucking been like this!” 

Remus kept his eyes on the moon, a tear slipping down the side of his face and onto the dirt. All he could see was Lily, her bright smile falling like a sniped thread when she realized what had happened. 

(What Remus had let happen). 

Sirius took a quivering breath. “Moony, we’ve got to-” 

“Good God!” a woman’s voice cried. A light flicked on above them, and Remus sprang to his feet. An old Muggle woman was standing at the edge of the path, holding a bag of garbage, her hair in rollers and wearing a pair of fuzzy slippers. “Who are you? How’d you get in here?” 

Without waiting for an answer, the woman charged forward, swinging the bag over her shoulder like a pitcher preparing to throw. Remus had a sudden vision of being brained with an empty milk cartoon. 

“Well, fuck,” Sirius said, still lying on the ground. 

Remus reached down and yanked Sirius to his feet, fumbling for the handle on the gate at the same time, then they were bursting out into the street. 

“Vagrants! Thieves!” the woman cried behind them. The garbage bag sailed over their heads and splattered on the sidewalk, trash rolling everywhere. Remus held tight to Sirius’s hand and leaped over it, taking off down the street. 

“What’s going on, Arabella?” Petunia’s voice said loudly. Remus picked up the pace, swerving around a trash bin. 

“Couple a criminals were lying around in my back garden!” the woman yelled back. 

“I thought we heard voices!” Vernon’s voice boomed. “Musta been casing the place! You better check nothing's been stolen!” 

Remus and Sirius turned the corner, breathing heavily. The next street was totally silent, one flickering streetlight casting a circle of yellow on the pavement. They stood under it, catching their breath. 

Remus looked at Sirius. 

Sirius looked at Remus. A few stray leaves were stuck in his hair, the curls tousled from their wrestling and the mad dash to escape the trash-bag-wielding muggle. 

“Well, that went well,” Sirius said. 

Remus burst out laughing, which set off Sirius, and it was all over. They bent double, practically crying with laughter.

“I thought- I was going- to die- by getting hit- with a- trash- bag-” Remus wheezed. Sirius grabbed his shoulders and ducked his head, laughing so hard he could barely stay upright. Somewhere behind them, a street cat yowled. 

“You- should have- seen- your- face!” Sirius gasped. 

Remus just laughed harder, because wasn’t it funny, after all this time, Sirius Black was still making him laugh? A few days ago, he thought he’d never have this feeling again, and now that it was back he wanted to hold tight and never let go, to seal it in a glass jar like a firefly and set it on a shelf high out of reach, to write it down on parchment and bury it in a rose garden. 

(To keep it safe). 

Eventually, they calmed down, and Sirius collapsed against Remus, arms wrapped around him. The terror of the Muggle-with-a-garbage-bag was fading, leaving behind the sheer horror of what they had witnessed before it. Remus wished, nonsensically, that he really had killed Vernon, or at least let Sirius do it. 

“We have to save him, Moony,” Sirius whispered into Remus’s chest. “We’ve got to get him out of there.” 

“Well, obviously,” Remus said. Sirius pushed back to look up at Remus, looking surprised. Remus scoffed. “You think we would leave Harry Potter in there with those fucking bastards? We’ll have to plan this out, though, we need to get ready, I mean, where are we going to live, the flat certainly won’t cut it if we have a toddler-” 

“Wait, Moony. You’re serious?” Sirius asked. Something about his expression seemed off, and Remus’s smile faded as he played back his words. Shit, shit shit shit. 

“No, you’re Sirius,” Remus said under his breath, trying to play it off. God, how could he have been so stupid, so naive-

“About, saving him and the flat and all of that?” Sirius said, his eyes wide. 

Remus internally kicked himself. “No, of course not, I just got caught up in it, obviously you don’t want to live together anymore, which makes sense. It’s not like we can go right back to the way it was before.”

“Moony,” Sirius said, but Remus pushed on, looking over his shoulder at the streetlight. 

“I didn’t mean that we’d, er, raise him together or buy a new place or anything, and obviously Harry’s yours to take care of-” 

“Remus-” 

“I’ll leave, I can find another place easily. Maybe I could come by and help out, but I couldn’t help on full moons, obviously, so maybe I would be that much help anyway, but I just figured you’d have to take Harry back somewhere, and the flat isn’t a good place to raise a kid, so maybe I can help you look for a better house-” 

“Remus!” Sirius said. “Look at me.” 

Remus did. Sirius stared up at him, his eyes bright. 

“I do want to,” he said. “To… do all those things. Buy a better house and raise Harry and all of it. With you.” 

“Really?” Remus said. A traitorous part of his heart felt like it had been filled with helium. “For real?” 

“For real,” Sirius repeated sarcastically, grinning that Sirius Black grin. 

“Oh, shut it,” Remus muttered. 

“No, we have to be sure it’s for real,” Sirius said. “Let me think on that one, maybe get back to you in a few days, in case it’s not for real-”  

“If you say one more thing, I’m rescinding the offer-” 

“No, no, really,” Sirius said. “I want to do it, and I want to do it with you. I want you, Remus Lupin.” 

Remus felt himself start to smile. For the first time since Mary had called the morning after Halloween, he felt… hopeful. Still sad, and still grieving, and still very fucking angry, but also… excited, like his future had gone and taken another turn and caught him unawares, suddenly staring down a path that wasn’t completely dark. 

“For real?” Remus said, letting his grin split wider, and then he was kissing Sirius again, Sirius, who tasted like earl gray tea and starlight, Sirius, the boy who’d smiled at him that first time on the train, Sirius, who laughed from the other side of the table and wore ugly sweaters for christmas and sung terrible rock songs in the shower, Sirius, who he’d loved since fourth year, and now, Sirius, who he was going to be fucking raising a child with, who he’d actually fucking married- 

A car horn honked, and headlights pointed right at them, almost blinding Remus. He wrenched his head back and prepared to run, thinking for a moment that the muggle with the trash bag had found them.

“Hello, boys!” a familiar voice called. “Need a getaway car?” 

Remus finally made out Andromeda, sticking her head out the window and sporting a shit-eating grin as she took in their very compromising position. 

“Well,” she said, winking suggestively. “Looks like a few things have changed since I last dropped you off.”

Chapter Text

“So… What happened?” 

Andromeda flicked her eyes up, catching Remus’s in the rearview mirror. They’d been driving for approximately five minutes, most of which had been filled with Andromeda giggling like she’d caught them naked or something. 

“Yes, Andy, we were snogging,” Sirius said. “Someone alert the constable.” 

“I’m just proud of you, you know,” Andromeda said, grinning widely. “It was touch and go there for a bit. I mean, not many men could have gotten accused of murder and sent off to prison and still wound up keeping their man.” 

“Maybe his man isn’t all that clever,” Remus suggested dryly. 

Sirius grinned, looking every bit as pleased as Andromeda. “Well, what can I say? I’m just charming like that.” 

“Shut it,” Remus muttered. 

Sirius laughed, leaning over to rest his head on Remus’s shoulder. Somehow, they’d gotten relegated to the backseat. It was totally dark outside, making the warm leather of Andromeda’s car feel safe and blurred.  

“And the rest of it?” Andromeda asked, flicking on her turn signal to change lanes on the motorway. 

“As nice as that streetlight was, we didn’t make it much past kissing, unfortunately,” Sirius said, tilting his head to wink at Remus. “But when we get home, however, it’s fair game.” 

Remus almost choked on his own spit. 

Andromeda, bless her, just burst out laughing. “I wish you all the best in that endeavor, I truly do, but I meant with the stakeout.” 

The mood dropped immediately. Sirius swallowed hard, pulling his knees up on the seat until he was curled up against Remus’s side like a cat. “It was… well, it was shit, honestly.” 

“I take it Harry does need rescuing, then?” Andromeda said quietly. 

Remus nodded. “He does. Unequivocally.” He related the events of the afternoon, everything from breaking into the muggle woman’s yard to watching Petunia close the door on a sobbing Harry in the cupboard. “It was awful, really. They were feeding him, and he wasn’t out on the streets, but that was about the extent of the Dursely’s care.” 

“Goddamn,” Andromeda bit out. Her fingers tightened on the wheel, and for a second she seemed about to turn around and speed back to the Dursleys. Remus could see it, Andromeda bursting into that sad kitchen and punching Vernon to the floor with a closed fist, demanding to be given Harry, wand out and her eyes blazing. She took a deep breath, and her shoulders relaxed. “Goddamn,” she said again. 

“Exactly,” Sirius said darkly. 

“What’s the plan, then? When are we going back? I’d say tomorrow, but Dora has a doctor's appointment, but I suppose I could reschedule-” Andromeda pressed down on the gas, as if she were already impatient to get started. 

“Wait - Andy,” Sirius said. “Do you want to help?” 

Andromeda scoffed, shooting him a look in the rearview mirror. “Yes, obviously.” 

“But…” Sirius blinked. “I love you, really, but I could see if you drew the line at kidnapping.” 

“I already broke you out of Azkaban,” Andromeda pointed out. “I think the line is long gone.” 

“You’ve done so much already,” Sirius protested, “and Dora, and I’ve just been putting you in danger this whole time. They might not have tracked me down yet, but there’s no going back if we save Harry. People are going to be out for blood, and I don’t want you to be hurt because of me.” 

“I got a letter, today,” Andromeda announced. “It was waiting on our stoop when I stopped by to get lunch before picking you up again. Do you know who it was from?” 

Sirius and Remus stayed silent, a thick sort of worry threading the empty air between the front and back seats. 

“Albus Dumbledore,” Andromeda said. “He was very polite, but he wished to inform me, in no certain terms, that to aid Sirius Black would be a very dangerous choice for me.” 

Sirius sucked in a breath, his body tensing where it was pressed against Remus’s. 

“He also warned me,” Andromeda continued, voice deadly cold, “that you were most likely working with Remus Lupin, who was laboring under the delusion that you were innocent. He told me something odd about this Lupin, in fact.” Remus’s breath froze, caught in his lungs. “He said he was a werewolf, and a dangerous one.” 

Remus bit down hard on his cheek, tasting blood. Sirius sat bolt upright, one hand clutching his wand. For a wild moment, Remus imagined pushing the car door open and making a break for it. Oh, he’d really fucking done it now. Andromeda would never help them, not with him being what he was, she’d probably report him and turn him in and he’d have to sign the register, and then, once they had their claws in him, once he was good and caught in those cold metal traps he’d been avoiding his entire miserable life, he’d never live another moment without the ministry breathing down his neck, watching to make sure he didn’t give in to his animalistic nature-

“I sent him a letter back, right then.” Andromeda took a breath, looking straight at Remus in the rearview mirror, pinning him in place. Remus felt himself start shaking, the old terror coursing through his veins. “I thanked him for the warning, but I assured him that I was not working to aid Sirius. And I told him, in no uncertain terms, that I had had the pleasure of meeting Remus Lupin, years ago, and I had never met a man more selfless or kind. I told him there was no one else I would trust with my daughter as much as I would trust Remus Lupin. I told him I didn’t give a fuck if Remus was a werewolf or not, and I told him that maybe he should spend less time making assumptions based on a person’s history and more time actually understanding the person they are.”  

Remus was aware, dimly, that he’d stopped shaking. 

“You can’t say anything about that, Andy, you can’t,” Sirius hissed. “If that got out, I swear to Godric-” 

“I have no intention of letting it slip,” Andromeda said sharply. “Do you really think-” 

“Even if that’s true, it’s just another reason to stop helping, isn’t it?” Sirius said. “If Dumbledore’s onto you, you’re in just as much danger as me or Remus. I can’t- You have to-” 

“Sirius,” Andromeda cried, turning fully around to look at him. The car swerved, sending Remus smacking into the side door, but her eyes stayed locked onto the backseat, her expression sharp and slightly wild, every inch the mother. “If you think I didn’t go into this knowing exactly what the consequences would be, you are sorely mistaken. I know exactly what might happen to me and to Dora and to Ted, but I did it anyway.” 

An oncoming car honked, and Andromeda whirled around, steering them back between the lines. 

“And I would do it a million times over, because it was you.” Andromeda used one hand to point aggressively over her shoulder at Sirius, keeping her eyes on the road. “And you’re family. So I’m going to do whatever I can to save Harry, not just because he’s a child in a house that doesn't love him, but because he’s family too. He is, and Remus, and blood helps blood.”  

She returned her hand to the steering wheel, breathing hard, and Remus suddenly remembered that Sirius wasn’t the only Black child to run away. 

Sirius looked at Remus, a question in his eyes, and Remus nodded. Sirius relaxed, setting his wand back on the seat and leaning back into Remus. 

“Alright then,” Sirius said eventually, a faint grin on his face. “That’s that. Please don’t get us in a car wreck first, though.” 

“Don’t count on it,” Andromeda threatened. The minivan lurched forward, pushing eighty miles an hour. 

“Thank you,” Remus said quietly. It was the only thing he could think to say, at the moment. Andromeda knew he was a werewolf, and she didn’t care, she didn’t care. She trusted him with Dora. She called him family without a trace of hesitation, as if it was already known and accepted. It was a different definition of family than he was used to, something that didn’t depend on bloodlines and marriages and last names, but on love. The ‘soft’ daughter, the one who cried when her sisters got in hurt, the one who sent letters to those same sisters that were returned unopened, determinedly folding people into her heart all the same. A flung open door in the face of locked gates. 

“Of course,” Andromeda said gently, and Remus got the feeling she knew exactly what he’d meant. She let out a sigh, their speedometer on the dusty dashboard slowly dipping back toward the limit. “We’re gonna need a plan, though.” 

“That’s for certain,” Remus agreed. He tilted his head against the cold window, staring out at the cars flying past in stripes of headlights. 

“We go back, we grab Harry, we beat Vernon senseless, we leave,” Sirius said. “Bam. Plan made.” 

“And when the Dursleys report that they saw a notorious mass murderer kidnapping their nephew? When Dumbledore eventually tracks us down?” Remus scoffed. 

Sirius mumbled something that sounded like “at least I got to punch Dursely”. 

“We’ll have to be very careful,” Andromeda said. “Disguises, spells, back-up plans upon back-up plans. I don’t doubt Dumbledore has wards stacked to high hell on that house.” 

“We can do it,” Sirius declared. 

Andromeda snorted. “Sirius, you’re working with the werewolf, exiled Black sister, and eight-year-old girl responsible for breaking you out of the most high-security prison in history. Of course we can fucking do it.” 

* * * 

“You know what we need?” 

“What,” Remus said flatly. They’d finally lapsed into a tired silence a few miles ago, after discussing the plan from every angle. Sirius was curled up against him again, Remus with one arm wrapped around his shoulders and resting on his heart. The silence wasn’t thick, or awkward, though. It was proud. 

They’d suggested things, shot down each other's suggestions, and re-suggested the same ideas all over again. They’d hashed their way through it, slicing down ideas until they littered the floor of the minivan like scraps of paper, but god dammit by the end of it they had a plan. 

A million ways it could go wrong were still swirling about in Remus’s mind, a thousand little slip-ups that would end at best with only Sirius back in Azkaban, at worst with Remus and Andromeda and Dora in the cells next door. But still- a plan nonetheless. 

“A name,” Sirius declared. 

“Have I really gone this long without introducing myself?” Remus muttered. “I’m Remus Lupin, pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

“No, not that name, a name for us,” Sirius said. “For our mission.” 

“Our mission?” Andromeda said, pausing from singing along under her breath to the radio. 

“Yes, to save Harry. The rescue mission.” Sirius raised his eyebrows, like duh. “We need a name. The Rescue Harry Mission?” 

“I’m not entertaining this,” Remus said, rolling his eyes. 

“Eh,” Andromeda said. “Not great.” 

“Yes, doesn’t really give a sense of the scope,” Sirius mused, ignoring Remus’s huff. “The Kick Dursely’s Arse Mission?” 

“I would like to do that,” Andromeda said solemnly. “But that’s not the main point, is it? A name should explain the main point.” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Sirius nodded. “The Absolutely Fabulous Rescue Mission?”

“We broke you out of jail too,” Remus said, breaking his vow to stay silent. 

“Oh, are you helping now?” Sirius asked, looking up at him innocently through his lashes.

“If you’re going to name our mission something idiotic like the Absolutely Fabulous Rescue Mission, then yes.” Remus shot a glance toward Sirius. “And it was bloody hard breaking you out, so that better be in the title.” 

“I agree,” Andromeda announced. “I smelled like Gillyweed for hours.”  

“Okay, the Super Cool Prison Break Rescue Mission?” 

“No,” Remus said. 

“The Fantastically Stellar Rescue Mission Prison Break?” 

“No.” 

“You know, I feel like you aren’t giving these great names enough consideration-” Sirius abruptly cut himself off. “I’ve got it. The Really Badass Marauders’ Prison Break Rescue Mission.” 

“There’s only two of us, now,” Remus said. He tried not to picture the other half of the Marauders, one dead and one the reason why. A friendship pact, broken in several places. 

“We’re still Marauders,” Sirius said definitively. “No matter what.” 

“I like it,” Andromeda said. “Especially the Badass part.” 

“The Really Badass Marauders’ Prison Break Rescue Mission,” Sirius repeated, his hands spread out like he was showcasing a banner. 

Remus looked down at him, almost smiling. “It has a nice ring to it.”

Chapter Text

As it turned out, Andromeda planned a heist much like she planned a prison break - with the same single-minded determination as a mum on the first day of kindergarten. Clothes, food, and the timing of everything down to the second were accounted for, a process that took up most of the next day. In the haze of preparation, Remus remembered it mostly in snapshots, like a sped-up film reel. 

At ten o’clock in the morning, everyone gathered in the sitting room:

“Fix your skirt,” Andromeda ordered Dora through a mouth of pins, reaching down to tug on the hem of the brown fabric. 

“How do I look?” Dora asked, twirling the skirt out of her mum’s reach. “Professional?” 

“I’d buy cookies from you,” Sirius said solemnly. 

“Your sash is crooked, let me fix it,” Andromeda said, catching her by the shoulder. 

“Mum,” Dora groaned. “It adds character, all the real actresses do it.” 

“All the real actresses listen to their costume designers,” Andromeda returned swiftly. 

“Fine…” 

* * * 

At noon, grouped around a tray of slightly green snickerdoodles: 

“Try one again,” Andromeda said. “Make sure to take a big bite.” 

“I’m sure the potion is fine,” Remus said, edging away. “I trust you-” 

“Eat it,” Andromeda insisted. “I’ll have the trash can right here, don’t worry.” 

Remus clenched his teeth together. “Where exactly I’ll be puking isn’t exactly the major issue, to be honest-” 

“Eat it.” 

* * * 

A few hours later, lying on the ground in the foyer:

“I’ve got it memorized,” Sirius declared, waving a piece of paper over his head. “I could recite this thing with my eyes closed.” 

“Great,” Andromeda said, snatching the paper out of his hand. “Do it.” 

“What, right now?” 

“Would you rather get inside the Dursely house and try to remember what your looking for then?” Andromeda asked, raising her eyebrows. 

“Alright, alright,” Sirius said. “ On the thirty-first day of July, 1981… ” 

* * * 

After dinner, grouped around a map of Privet Drive: 

“You entrance,” Andromeda prompted, pointing toward Sirius. Through a combo of spells and the badly designed record-keeping system of Little Whinging's town hall, she’d managed to secure the blueprints to the Dursley's house, which was now spread out on the kitchen table, the corners weighed down with Dora’s crayons. “Go.” 

“Sitting room window, three feet tall, behind the rose bush.” 

“Good.” She turned toward Remus. “Your entrance.” 

“Side door, back behind the garage.” 

“Hmm. And your exit?” 

“Back door,” Remus and Sirius said together. 

“Good,” Andromeda said again, finally smiling. 

* * * 

And eventually, parking the car across the street from Number 4, Privet Drive: 

“Okay, everyone.” Andromeda shifted the minivan into park. “Do we all know the plan?” 

“Yes, Mum, we’ve got it,” Dora said, slumping down lower in the front seat (she’d called shotgun fastest). “Rescue baby Harry from his terrible uncle. The end.” 

“Dora,” Andromeda warned, pointing her finger at her. “This isn’t just a playdate. If you can’t be serious, you can’t be involved.” 

“No, he’s Sirius, I’m Dora,” Dora muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Nymphadora,” Andromeda said icily, while Sirius burst out laughing. Dora glanced over at the back seat, clearly pleased with her joke but unwilling to drop her surly expression. Remus shot her a wink, and her frown cracked just a bit. 

“Yes, Mum,” Dora said, uncrossing her arms. “I’m a professional. Professionals are always serious.” 

“Good,” Andromeda said. “Don’t think I won’t kick you out of this crew, young lady.” 

“You need me,” Dora said dismissively, but she sat up straighter anyway. 

“Alright,” Andromeda said. “In approximately two minutes, Sirius and Remus need to get to their positions. You have exactly thirty-three seconds to get there, then I’ll begin breaking the wards.” 

Remus nodded, a twinge of worry creeping up his spine. The wards, the wards. The most important part, and also the part that was the most out of his control. If Andy couldn’t crack them, Harry wouldn’t be going anywhere. 

“Once they’re broken, I can keep them down for about six minutes. We send in Dora to distract the Dursleys, Remus gets Harry, and Sirius secures the papers. Rendezvous at the back door and get out of there. Dora finishes the distraction, then we pick you up down the block. Everyone understand?” 

“Got it,” Remus said. 

“Uh-huh,” Dora said. 

“Sir yes sir,” Sirius said, doing a little salute. 

Andromeda rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth ticked up. “Good. Remember - no magic when you’re inside. I can keep the wards down as long as you seem like Muggles, but one little spell and we’re all screwed.” 

Remus and Sirius nodded. The weight of what they were about to do finally settled over Remus, cloaking the jokes and pretend practice with a thick dread. If this went wrong, it wouldn’t just be Sirius going back to Azkaban. It would be all of them. 

(If this went wrong, that would hardly matter anyway).  

Remus sucked in a breath. Getting Sirius back, being with Dora and Andy - that was his second chance. If it was all taken away… well, he didn’t think he could survive that. Not again. 

The memory of Dumbledore’s letter came back to him in a rush of crimson wax and tidy handwriting. The old man was on to them, and it was clear he didn’t take kindly to anyone messing with his perfect little chess game. To him, Harry was just a pawn. And Dumbledore was going to do his best to keep him.  

Remus was just about ready to upend the chessboard. 

“Alright, Moony?” Sirius said, grabbing his hand. 

“Yeah, alright.” Remus squeezed his hand once, both of their rings glowing warmly. With one last deep breath, he pushed open the car door and stepped onto the street, Sirius behind him. It was night in Little Whinging, the stars shielded by a curtain of fog. Remus shivered. 

“On three, you go to your places,” Andromeda said. “Once I break the wards, it’s go time. I’ll send in Dora and we’re on the clock.” 

“How will we know you’ve broken the wards?” Remus asked. 

“You’ll know,” Andromeda promised. She looked at them, her eyes fierce. “If it somehow goes wrong, don’t do anything, just get yourselves out of there. The Really Badass Marauders Prison Break Rescue Mission, stage two, starts in three...” 

Remus cast a glance at Sirius and saw the unspoken truth in his expression. If this went wrong, they weren’t going to get themselves out of there. Once Dumbledore knew they were trying to save Harry, he’d double the wards and set up a guard, and the second chance would be gone. They were leaving that house with Lily and James’s son, or they weren’t leaving at all. 

“Two…” 

Remus pulled Sirius in for a quick kiss. 

(He tried to ignore that part of him that wondered if it would be their last). 

“Three!”

They broke apart, each of them dashing across the street to a different side of the house. Remus cast one look back, catching Andromeda with her wand raised and a look of concentration on her face, then pushed through the bushes that lined the neighbor’s front path. He waved his wand at the gate and unlocked it, slipping back into the muggle woman’s side yard. Once the wards broke, there could be no more magic, but damned if he wasn’t going to use as much of it as possible before that. 

He closed the gate as quietly as he could behind him and looked up at the brick wall dividing the two houses. His old enemy. 

This time, he found a proper foothold and successfully pushed himself over, vaulting the wall before landing hard behind a row of bushes. His palms stinging from where they’d scraped on the bricks, Remus dropped to his knees and crawled alongside the wall. He peeked through the gaps in the bushes, trying to remember how long it had been since he’d left the car. Andromeda said thirty seconds, hadn’t she? Shouldn’t the wards be down by now-

A gust of wind rustled the leaves in front of him, enveloping him in a rush of warm, almost sweet, air. It rippled out from the house in a soft exhale, leaving behind a sense of emptiness. Remus had the strange sensation that a constant noise had suddenly fallen silent, a bee hive empty of rustling wings. 

You’ll know, Andromeda had said. Well, he definitely knew. The wards were down. 

A burst of new energy shooting through him, Remus crawled faster, reaching the corner of the yard. He settled down to wait for the next stage, his knees folded under him and his chin on the cold ground. 

He waited. And waited. 

Remus pictured Sirius in the same spot on the other side of the house, hopefully concealed behind his own set of bushes. Unless something had already gone. Maybe Andromeda had set off some sort of trip wire when she broke the wards, and now she and Sirius and Dora were already captured. Maybe Remus was waiting for a sign that would never come. Maybe-

The muffled sound of a doorbell rang out from the Dursleys’ house. 

“Door,” Vernon shouted, his voice just within earshot from the cracked-open window of the garage. There was no answer. 

The doorbell rang again. 

“Oh fine, I’ll just get it then, won’t I…” Vernon muttered. “Not my bloody job, but I suppose someone needs to…” 

“Hello!” a bright voice said, talking a bit too loudly. “I’m from the Girl Scouts.” 

“Bit late to be selling something, isn’t it?” Vernon’s voice answered. 

“You’re at the end of my route,” Dora said sagely. “There was traffic.” 

“Eh,” Vernon grunted, like he understood the evils of traffic. 

Remus shifted impatiently. He knew they needed to wait until the whole Dursely family was distracted by Dora, but it was hard not to jump up now and burst into the house. “What’ve you got, then?” 

“Cinnamon Crunchies!” Dora said. There was shuffling, and Remus strained to hear. If Petunia didn’t show up in a minute, Remus decided, he was going in, distraction or no. “Ten quid a box.” 

“Ridiculous,” Vernon muttered. “Ten quid for a few cookies?” 

“Oh, I agree, but it’s policy,” Dora said. “Inflation and everything, you know.” 

There was another annoyed grunt. Clearly, Vernon was well-versed in the evils of inflation on girl scout cookie prices as well. 

“Who’s at the door, honey?” Another voice joined them, this time high and slightly nasally. Remus started to exhale in relief, but then promptly sucked all his air back in as he remembered the next steps. Part one was done, part two would be harder. 

“Girl scout selling something,” Vernon explained, as Remus jumped up out of the bushes and sprinted toward the back door. He yanked on the doorknob, and it swung open. Just as the blueprints had suggested, the lock didn’t work properly. 

He stepped into the back foyer, his pounding heart suddenly very loud in his ears.

Much closer, he heard Dora’s voice. “The Cinnamon Crunchies are our best seller. You’re lucky we’ve still got a box left.” 

“Oh, thank you, but we already bought plenty from the girl down the block,” Petunia said. There was a sound like the partial closing of a door, and Remus tensed up. 

“I understand,” Dora said placidly. “Well, at least have a few as a free sample.” 

“Free sample?” Vernon asked interestedly. “The other girl didn’t do that.” 

“It’s a new thing,” Dora explained. “To drive up our customer relations.” 

“Oh, alright,” Vernon said. The door creaked back fully open. 

Biting his tongue, Remus crept forward down the hallway. He stepped lightly through the den and towards the front hallway, where he could still hear Dora chirping happily about how good Cinnamon Crunchies were. He peeked his head around the doorframe.

Halfway down the hallway, there was a little alcove jutting out toward the street for the front door, where the Dursleys were grouped, their backs to him. Past it, there was the kitchen, and past that, one single door set in the tan wallpaper - Harry’s cupboard.

Meaning if Remus wanted to get to it, he’d have to walk directly behind the Dursleys without being noticed. Remus ducked his head back as far as he could and still see, his muscles tensing. He tried to hear the squeak of the office door opening, just to confirm Sirius had made it safely inside and was on his way to getting the other part of their package. But there was nothing. Either Sirius was being incredibly stealthy, or something had gone incredibly wrong. 

Remus sucked in a breath, a clock ticking away in his head. Dora needed to get moving on that distraction, or-

“Here you are,” Dora’s voice said, and then there was a sound like someone taking a bite of a rather stale cookie. 

“Not very good,” Vernon said brusquely. “You ought to step up your free sample quality, is all I’m-” he cut himself off with a strange grunt. 

“Are you alright?” Dora asked innocently. Vernon tried to speak once more, then doubled over and promptly vomited into the bushes. 

Petunia shrieked, nearly dropping Dudley. “Vernon!” 

“Are you allergic to cross-pollinated truffle cinnamon seeds?” Dora asked, one hand clapped to her cheek. “Not many people are, so we don’t check, but maybe-” 

Vernon vomited again, clutching his stomach. 

With Petunia feverishly pounding Vernon on the back and Vernon very much occupied, Remus launched himself off the balls of his feet and ran as fast and as silently as he could down the hallway. As he went, Dora shot him the smallest of smiles over Vernon’s back. 

Past the door alcove, he skidded to a stop in front of Harry’s cupboard. Bending down, he started to wiggle the lock on the door. The metal was slightly rusty and at a strange angle, like it had been hastily pried off something else and bolted to this door instead. 

“Don’t just stand there, help him!” Petunia cried as the sounds of retching continued. Remus yanked on the lock one last time, and it fell open with a squeal. He froze, his heart rate jumping up to marathon speeds, but no one seemed to have heard. 

“Sorry ma’am, but there’s nothing we can do until it’s all out of his system,” Dora said apologetically. “Maybe you could aim him toward the flower pot?” 

Petunia sputtered indignantly, and little Dudley started to giggle from her arms. 

Remus pulled open the door as quietly as he could and shut it behind him, leaving him hunched over in the dark. He strained to see, feeling about for a light switch. A sleepy sniffle came from the back corner, and Remus stretched out his arms blindly toward it. 

“Mama?” a little voice asked, and Remus’s heart almost broke. 

“No,” he whispered back, trying to keep his voice calm. How did you talk to babies, anyway? “Not mama.” 

“Aunt?” the voice asked sadly. 

“No, not your aunt either.” Remus felt along the wall, stumbling past what felt like a row of dusty boxes. “I’m your mama’s friend, I used to see you a lot when you were little.” 

Remus stepped forward, still trying to hear what was happening outside the door. The sounds of throwing up had become slower, Dora’s peppy voice still making things up about the allergic properties of cross-pollinated truffle cinnamon seeds.

Something whacked him in the face and Remus almost jumped out of his skin. Whatever it was swung back and he managed to grab it. He yanked once, and a tiny light bulb popped into existence, just enough to make out the shapes of the closet. 

Harry Potter was curled up on a pile of raggedy blankets, surrounded by old boxes and cobwebbed holiday decorations. He blinked up at Remus, clearly startled to see a different face. Remus tried to tame the urge to just grab him and run like hell. 

“Moony?” Harry said, screwing up his face. 

“Yes,” Remus said, utterly shocked to be recognized. Sure, there had been a time when Harry had known him by name and let Remus hold him, but he’d assumed that time was just as gone as the life that it had belonged to. “I’m here to, er- get you out of here.” 

Harry didn’t do anything, just looked up at him. 

“Away from your aunt and uncle,” Remus continued. “Is that alright?” 

“Home?” Harry asked, his face lighting up. 

“Well,” Remus hedged in a tight whisper. How did you tell a baby his home didn’t exist anymore? “Sort of like home. With Padfoot? Do you remember Padfoot?” 

Harry grinned, showing off his two crooked front teeth. “Pads!” 

“Yes, Pads and Moony,” Remus said, advancing on him. Outside, Petunia was sternly reprimanding Dora for poor girl scout practices. “But we have to be very very quiet, okay? Quiet.” 

However much of that Harry understood wasn’t clear, but he promptly shut his mouth and allowed Remus to pick him up. Remus propped him on one hip, his chin pressed to the top of his unruly nest of curls. All he could think of was how big he’d gotten. It didn’t make sense, but he felt as though Harry had done all this changing while at the Dursleys. A tiny baby, grown into a toddler while Remus wasn’t there. While nobody was there. 

But they were here now. And they needed to get the hell out of this bloody house. 

Remus stepped back over the boxes and towards the door, as fast but as silently as he could. Dora was doing her best to stall for time, extolling the many side effects Vernon might face later after his encounter with cross-pollinated truffle cinnamon seeds (severe diarrhea, apparently, was in the cards for him). Remus pulled the cord to turn the light switch off and reached out blindly for the doorknob. Listening to make sure he could still hear Dora talking, he slowly pushed it open and slipped out, darting down the hallway and around the corner, his lungs practically in his throat, only to crash promptly into someone. 

“Remus!” Sirius hissed, grabbing him by the shoulders. Remus’s chest seized with pure relief to find him alive and well. He was just coming out of the office, a thick folder in his hand. “I got the papers, let’s go!” 

“Pafoot!” Harry cried, stretching his arms out toward Sirius. Remus ‘shhh’ed him as quietly as he could. 

Sirius nodded vigorously, his eyes wet. “Hi, Harry.” Remus smiled, feeling suddenly as though he was watching a piece slide into place he’d never known he’d needed. 

It was then, right then, right when everything seemed to be going okay, that everything went so south. 

“Alright, well, goodbye,” Petunia said from the door. “No, no, we do not want to buy any of your cookies-” 

Remus pushed forward, ready to head for the backdoor and freedom, but his foot caught on a cord snaking across the hallway toward the living room and-

he fell forward against Sirius, Harry squished between them, and-

the cord came with him in a fast yank and-

across the room, the TV gave a dangerous jerk and-

the thick black box tettered forward, moments from tipping over and-

in a moment, it would smash to the ground and the Dursleys would come running in and they’d be caught.

So Remus did the only thing that came naturally. He cast a spell. 

As he watched his wand extend, the problem with the wards jumped to the front of his mind. One little spell and we’re all screwed, Andromeda had said. But by the time he tried to take the words back, the spell had already passed his lips. 

There was a blast of hot air, a thick summer wind, heavy and scorching. Instead of blasting outward, Remus felt as though it was sucking inward toward the house, rippling through him. The wards, undoubtedly triggered. 

(We’re all screwed).

Across the room, the TV miraculously righted itself just as every door in the house slammed shut, cutting off Dora mid-sentence and leaving Remus, Harry, and Sirius trapped in the house with the Dursleys. 

Chapter Text

For one second, then two, Remus and Sirius just stared at each other, eyes frozen wide, legs tangled, half-supported by the wall and Harry squished between them. 

Fucking. Shit.  

It was hard, in the moment, for Remus to even compute the sheer amount of fucking shit they were in, in fact, if ever there had been a level, a max-ed out point-of-no-return for fucking shit , they’d assuredly smashed right through it. 

“What in the world was that?” Petunia cried from around the corner. “Every door in the house, all of them just slamming shut!” 

Kickstarted back into motion, Remus used his free arm to grab Sirius by the shoulders and twist him around, both of them stumbling over each other in their haste to push inside the nearest room. Remus shoved Sirius backward while he grappled with the doorknob, sending them tripping through the door and into the room. Sirius seized ahold of Harry and pulled him out of his arms while Remus whirled around, pushing the door closed and leaning up against it, his breath coming fast and heavy. 

They were in a yellow-lit office, an under-used bookshelf crowding one side of the room and a huge desk taking up the other, a dusty globe resting atop a pile of papers. A filing cabinet was open, papers strew about wildly as evidence of Sirius’s search.

“What- did- you- do?” Sirius panted, clutching onto Harry with a wild look on his face. He stuck out the stolen folder of papers and Remus took it without thinking, tucking them into the waistband of his jeans. 

“A spell,” Remus hissed, pulling his shirt back down over the folder. “The TV was going to fall over, I tripped on the cord-” 

“You tripped on the bloody cord?” Sirius demanded. “Are you insane?” 

“I wasn’t trying to, it just happened-” 

“Worst bloody kidnapper in the entire world-” 

“Shh!” Remus whispered, surging forward to clap a hand over Sirius’s mouth. 

Outside the door, Vernon cleared his throat, muttering a few choice words about girl scouts and bad cookies. “It must have been a freak gust of wind, Petunia. Big fall storm, you know.” 

Just below his voice, Remus could hear Dora pounding on the door, yelling something about Vernon still being contagious. Both the Dursleys ignored her. 

“No, no,” Petunia said. “Do you remember what that man said in the letter-” 

“What man?” Vernon demanded. 

Sirius licked Remus’s hand and he released him with a glare. 

“You know, Vernon, the- the-” she lowered her voice. Remus strained to make it out. “The magic one, who dropped off Harry.” 

“Total madman, I say,” Vernon said angrily. 

“No, darling, I mean, yes, he was a madman, the whole lot of them are,” Petunia continued in a tight voice, “but he said there were wards, on our house-” 

“We don’t need no wards!” Vernon put in. 

“He said that if someone did a- a spell, in our house, all the doors would slam shut like that,” Petunia finished in a rush. “And lock whoever it was in.” 

“A spell?” Vernon’s voice was dangerously cold. “You mean to say-” 

“I think there’s someone in the house. Someone… magic.” 

Remus felt his heart collapse in on itself like a deflated balloon, and oh, wait, never mind, this was the worst amount of fucking shit possible. He exchanged a look with Sirius, both of them with wide, panicked eyes. How could they get out of this cursed house now, with both Dursleys on high alert and-

“Someone magic?” Vernon cried. “In our house?” 

“Yes, darling, that’s what the letter said-” 

“WHO’S IN HERE?” Vernon roared, his footsteps pounding closer down the hallway. 

“Wait, wait,” Petunia said, over a whimpering Dudley. “We have to be careful, they might be here for Harry-” 

“HARRY?” Vernon shouted. “What do they want with the little brat?” 

“He’s special, Vernon, remember the letter-” 

“Forget the letter! They’re here for our valuables, Petunia! The silver, your necklaces, the collectible plates!” 

Sirius snorted and silently repeated ‘collectible plates’ while twisting his face up mockingly. Harry giggled and Remus whacked Sirius on the arm. 

“No, really, they want Harry,” Petunia protested. Remus almost felt bad for her, living with such a dumb git. 

“Split up!” Vernon commanded, ignoring his wife’s protests. “I check upstairs, you check downstairs! Don’t let the thieving madman leave the house!” He coughed once, made a sound like he was trying to hold down another bout of vomit, then cleared his throat. “YOU HEAR THAT? YOU’VE BEEN CAUGHT, YOU BURGLARS!” His footsteps pounded away. 

Remus sank back against the door, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood. 

“Uncle’s mad,” Harry informed them helpfully. Sirius ‘shh’ed him gently, bouncing him up and down on his hip. 

“Harry, we need to be quiet,” Remus said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “It’s a game, alright? Like hide and seek.” 

“Hide from Uncle?” Harry said in a whisper, his little face scrunching up. 

“Yes, hide from your uncle,” Sirius whispered back. “Can you do that?” 

Harry nodded solemnly, pressing his lips together. 

His heart seizing, Remus turned and pressed his ear against the door, trying to hear anything going on in the sitting room. Vernon was still stomping around upstairs, his footfalls almost shaking the ceiling, but there was no telling where Petunia had gone. 

“Moony, what do we do?” Sirius hissed, coming up behind him. “We’ve got to get out of here.” 

“Really, and here I was thinking we’d just hang around a while and have some tea,” Remus said tightly. Sirius rolled his eyes. 

“They’ve already found us out,” Sirius said, pushing his hair behind one ear. “Why don’t we just toss it to the wind and blast our way through the door?” 

“I don’t know what else the wards will do,” Remus said, pulling back from the door. He felt dangerously close to exploding, fingers itching to grab his wand and blow something up. “More magic could make it worse, summon someone from the Order or the Ministry.” 

“Bollocks,” Sirius said. “I hate the Ministry.” 

“Don’t we all,” Remus said under his breath. Distantly, Dora abruptly stopped shouting and knocking on the door, giving way to complete silence. Remus sucked in a breath, hoping she was running far away and not caught by some fast-arriving Aurors. If she and Andromeda were implicated in this, if they went to jail- 

“Hello?” a voice said, very close by. Remus jumped backward into Sirius, almost knocking the three of them into the desk. The weathered globe teetered on its stand, and Remus barely caught it before it crashed to the ground. He froze, his lungs crawling up his throat. 

“Yes, is this the police?” Petunia continued, right outside the door. “This is Petunia Dursley at Number 4 Privet Drive, we have intruders in our house. Yes. No. Thank you. Please hurry.” Her heels click-clacked away, into the front hallway again. 

“She’s phoning the police!” Sirius whispered. 

“Yes, I noticed,” Remus snapped. 

“What about Andy? She’ll be waiting for us!” Sirius gestured wildly. “We have to warn her!” 

“How?” Remus demanded, his whole body feeling at least ten degrees too hot. “We’re trapped!” 

“We’ll make a run for it,” Sirius said. “It’s the only way. We wait until Petunia is out of the way, then we run like hell.” 

Remus nodded. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was better than nothing. If it didn’t work, he vowed, they would have to fight their way out, Ministry be damned. Harry Potter was not coming back to this house, no matter what. 

“Hang on tight, okay, Harry?” Sirius said, tipping his head down toward the toddler. Harry nodded his head, latching his little arms around Sirius’s neck. Sirius looked at him tenderly, and Remus was almost bowled over with a sudden vision of the three of them, together, a family, the way it should have been from the beginning, like he was slipping from one track of time to another, better one. 

That was, if they could make it out alive. 

Remus shook the thought out of his head, turning back to the door. The folder of papers dug into his skin, a reminder of what was at stake. “On my count,” he said, and Sirius stepped up next to him, both arms wrapped protectively around Harry. 

Remus listened as hard as he could. No sound came from the room outside. Either Petunia had moved to another area of the house, or she was the quietest person in the world. 

“One,” he said. 

Still nothing. Remus tensed his muscles, prepared to sprint for the front door. 

“Two.”

Sirius leaned in close, kissing Remus gently on the cheek. He looked down at him in surprise, meeting those familiar gray eyes, a whole conversation playing out in their gaze. It was the two of them against the world, the moon and the star, Remus-and-Sirius, the way it had been since Hogwarts, the way it would be long after, and Remus knew they were agreed - Harry Potter would make it out. 

(Even if they didn’t). 

Remus swallowed hard. “Sirius, I-” 

There was a massive crash from the other side of the house. Petunia shrieked. 

“WHAT WAS THAT?” Vernon roared from upstairs, and any fleeting moment was shattered. 

“Three!” Remus said, and he and Sirius burst out of the door. Remus felt as though his heart was on pause, every atom in his body focused on simply running like hell. He shoved past the end table, leaping over the stupid television cord and making a break for the hallway. Slipping on the hardwood floor, Remus grabbed the corner and used it to swing himself around, ready to blast out of the house, when everything froze. 

More. Fucking. Shit. 

Sirius crashed into him from behind, spitting curses, then he froze too. 

In front of them, one hand resting on the doorknob and still holding Dudley, was Petunia Dursley. 

Her mouth dropped open, taking in the two men. Remus locked eyes with her, somehow both utterly still and shaking like a booming radio speaker. Petunia’s eyes darted from Remus to Sirius, Sirius to Harry, then back to Remus again. A ghost of understanding flickered in her face.

The forgotten sister, smarter than anyone gave her credit for. 

“PETUNIA?” Vernon shouted from upstairs. “WHAT WAS THAT?” 

Remus waited for her to respond, to call out that she’d caught them, that it was over, but it never came.

“You knew my sister,” Petunia said quietly, no room left for a question. 

Remus nodded, his feet iced to the ground. 

“You took her,” she said, a wave of decades-old anger stoked to life. The left-behind sister, forever alone because of a war she could never understand. 

“No,” Sirius said, his voice stretched tight enough to fray like fabric. “She chose it.” 

Petunia clenched her jaw. “And you’ll take him, too.” 

Remus followed her look to Harry, who was clinging onto Sirius with his head tucked into his chest. 

“Yes,” he said, one hand reaching out to latch onto Sirius’s. He squeezed, both of their rings burning in unison. 

He’d wait one more moment, Remus decided, then that was it. He had enough of waiting for a lifetime.

Petunia took a tight breath, anger flashing once more in her eyes, then sadness, then something that reminded Remus of Lily - a carefully tucked away kindness, a soft heart made sharp by life.

The unlucky sister, just betting to win with the hand she’d been dealt. 

Then Petunia nodded sharply, shifting Dudley in her arms. 

“Take care of him,” she said, the ghost of a threat in her voice. “For her.”  

Then, while Remus still struggled to fully absorb her words, she twisted the doorknob aggressively and pulled it open.

The older sister, fixing the only thing left for her to fix.

Before he consciously thought to, Remus was dashing forward, Sirius at his heels, out the door, out into the bright sunlight, out out out of the horrible house and out into the world, a world missing Lily and James but still clutching tightly onto him and Sirius, the cold warm unfair burning burning wide-open world. 

Remus dashed down the driveway, wind whistling in his ears. Abruptly, Dora came sprinting around the corner of the house, almost slamming into Remus.

Remus grabbed her by the shoulders to stay upright. She was still dressed in her girl scout costume and clutching a box of fake cookies, mud on her skirt and leaves tangled in her hair. 

“I threw a rock through the window!” she cried. “For a distraction!” 

“That explains the noise-” 

“Run run RUN!” Sirius yelled, pushing through them and leaping over a bush with Harry in his arms. Remus stuttered back into motion, grabbing Dora and swinging her onto his back. She whooped as they took off down the street, one arm almost choking him and the other fist-pumping in the air.

A siren squealed behind them, and Remus turned to see a cop car skidding around the corner. The driver caught sight of the escaping men and sped up. Great. Just what this situation needed.

Dora bouncing around wildly on his back, Remus shoved over a trash can. Old cans and bottles spilled out in a wide arc, forcing the police car to swerve. 

“Take that!” Dora cheered. 

Remus ran harder, his feet slamming into the sidewalk in time with his pounding heartbeat. Out in front, Sirius catapulted himself off the curb and rounded the corner, his black hair streaming behind him. 

Adrenaline surging, Remus followed. Andromeda’s minivan came into view, parked neatly below a yellowing tree. She started upright in the driver's street, her mouth falling open. 

“Start driving!” Sirius yelled, hurdling a mailbox. Behind them, the sirens got louder. 

Sirius reached the car and yanked open the door, throwing himself inside. Andromeda gunned the engine, clutching onto the steering wheel so hard her fingers were white. Putting on a burst of speed, Remus finally caught up and pulled the passenger door open, sitting down with Dora still on his back. 

“Go go go!” Sirius yelled from the backseat, and Andromeda took off, swerving into the street and blowing past the cop car facing the other direction. 

“Did you get Harry?” she shouted, twisting the wheel hard to careen down another suburban street.

“Yes, now drive!” Remus yelled. The cops finally turned around and took off after them, red and blue lights bright in the rearview mirror. 

“They’re gaining!” Sirius announced, Harry clutched in his arms on his lap. 

Andromeda let out a high-pitched scream and turned another corner, jumping a curb and flattening a row of rose bushes. They shot out onto a busier street going the wrong direction, a car slamming on the brakes to avoid crashing into the out-of-control minivan. Andromeda yanked the wheel hard to the left, sending Remus and Dora falling into the door in a tangled mess of limbs. Sirius shouted a string of curses from the back, sliding down the entire row of seats. 

“Hang on!” Andromeda shouted, spinning out onto the other side of the road and gunning it, swerving in the right decision. Seconds behind, the cops barely avoided the stopped cars and followed, lights flashing. 

“Whoo-whoo car!” Harry helpfully informed them. 

“Yes, we know!” Sirius told him. “Brillant observation, Mr. Potter!” 

With a whoop, Dora rolled down the window and tossed the box of vomit cookies out the window, splattering on the police windshield like a crumby bomb and forcing them to hit the brakes. 

“Hell yeah!” Sirius shouted, and Dora grinned, her hair whipping into Remus’s face. 

“Eat that!” she cried. Harry giggled delightedly. 

The police car momentarily slowed, before turning on the windshield wipers and clearing the glass. The sirens blared louder.

“I’m gonna try and lose them,” Andromeda yelled over the wind, turning back onto a narrower street. Remus and Dora fell back against the door, Dora’s elbow digging into his stomach. Screaming like a banshee, Andromeda took another corner, sending them tumbling back the other way. Remus’s failing arms hit the volume button, and a song started blasting into the car. 

Gimmie Gimmie Gimmie! the radio blared. A man after midnight! 

“Fucking ABBA?” Andromeda yelled, casting a disgusted look at the stereo while twisting the wheel sharply to the left. 

Won’t somebody help me chase the shadows away?

When she looked back at the road, Andromeda let out an ungodly shriek. Remus pushed himself up just in time to see the street come to an abrupt dead end, a scrubby hillside dipping down in front of them. Without even braking, the minivan hopped the curb and skidded across the sidewalk. 

Gimmie gimmie gimmie! 

They careened down the steep hill, gaining speed as the minivan bumped up and down uncontrollably. Remus shouted every curse he could think of from the floor of the car, Andromeda and Dora screaming in unison. Sirius yelled something in French, Harry joining in with a joyful screech. 

A man after midnight! 

In the rearview, the cops skid to a halt at the top of the hill. 

The minivan hit a bump and twisted sideways, everyone tilting to the right. Andromeda whipped the steering wheel back and forth, slaloming down the hillside like a terrible skier on a black diamond slope. Below them, the highway loomed, packed with cars going fast enough to crush them into a tin can. 

Take me through the darkness to the brink of the day! 

This is it, Remus thought nonsensically. This was how he would go. Careening down a suburban cliff in a beat-up minivan, Sirius Black screaming his head off in the back seat. 

At least he’d had him, Remus decided. Even a few seconds were worth it, just to have had Sirius Black.

“Not yet!” Andromeda shouted to no one. “This is not how we go!” 

Her face twisted in concentration, she let loose another earsplitting shriek and yanked on the wheel. They crashed through the retaining wall and onto the highway, crushed concrete flying everywhere. 

Gimmie gimmie gimmie! 

The minivan’s wheels screeched against the road as Andromeda whipped them around miraculously into the fast lane. Her hair a mess, eyes blazing, everyone screaming loud enough to wake the dead, Andromeda punched one fist forward like a charging general, leaning all the way on the gas. 

A man after MIDNIGHT!

Wheels spinning, gravel flying up, the minivan took off down the highway, barely avoiding being rear-ended by the oncoming traffic. In the distance, the cops' sirens blared futility before disappearing behind a curve. 

Ever so calmly, Andromeda reached out and carefully rolled up the window, cutting off the blast of air. She turned down the volume, ABBA fading out, leaving the sound of everyone’s heavy breathing. 

“Is everyone okay?” Andromeda said, enunciating every syllable. 

“Yes,” Remus said, picking himself up from the passenger seat floor. Dora settled herself onto his lap, her hair bleached a brilliant red.

“We’re alright,” Sirius said, sounding shell-shocked. “Harry’s fine.” 

“We have Harry?” Andromeda confirmed. 

“Yes,” Remus said. 

“And everyone is safe?” she asked. 

“Yes,” Remus said again. 

Andromeda took a deep breath, putting on her turn signal to merge into the next lane. She reached up to tuck a curl behind her ear, then-

“FUCK YEAH!” she outright screamed, almost louder than she had before, and it finally hit Remus - they had done it. 

“SUCK ON THAT, DURSLEYS!” he yelled, pounding his fist on the console. 

“WHOO-HOO!” Dora cried. She thrust both her hands in the air, putting up two middle fingers (who knew where she had learned that, but hell if this wasn't the right moment to flip the bird). 

“THE REALLY BADASS MARAUDERS' PRISON BREAK RESCUE MISSION IS COMPLETE!!” Sirius whooped. All four of them let loose in a cacophony of pure, unadulterated joy to be alive. Harry burst into happy laughter, adding his baby shrieks to the din. Remus screamed louder than he ever had, unable to believe it. They’d actually done it. 

A memory flashed into his head - himself, just a few weeks ago, smashing everything in the flat. Lily and James dead, Sirius their murderer, Harry alone with the Durselys, Remus alone with no one. The present pasted itself over the memory - Sirius free and Harry saved and family found in Andromeda and Dora, a whole burst of color Remus had never thought he’d see again. An old age still dead but a new era began, one of glorious bright reality. 

One of magic.

Chapter Text

Surprise of the century, there were actually several problems that came with suddenly having custody of a small child, not the least of them being an actual place to sleep.  

Thankfully, Andromeda Black was on the case. 

“I set up Dora’s old crib in the other guest room,” Andy said in a low voice, finally pulling into their driveway. She put the poor beat-up minivan in park and sat back with a sigh, pressing her palms over her eyes. Outside the car, it was dark, the sun long having set and giving way to a foggy night sky.

Remus shifted in the passenger seat, trying to bring some feeling back into his left leg. Dora, justifiably exhausted from her turn as a kidnapping girl scout, had fallen asleep on his lap, one arm thrown around his neck and drooling on his chest. 

Which was sweet, but Remus could have done without the drool, to be honest. 

“Are you sure it’s alright-” Sirius started from the backseat, whispering to avoid waking up Harry, who had also conked out about ten minutes into the drive. 

“Sirius Orion Black,” Andromeda snapped, sitting back up, “we did not go through all of that just for you to go back to that god-awful flat. You and Remus are staying here, at least tonight, and that’s final.” 

Remus nodded quickly, not wanting to cross the woman he’d just seen pilot a minivan down a virtual cliff and out onto a speeding highway while being chased by police.

“Alright, alright, message received,” Sirius said, carefully maneuvering Harry so he could unclip his seatbelt. The toddler was peacefully sleeping in Sirius’s arms, one thumb stuck in his mouth. Apparently, all that giggling-during-life-and-death-moments tired out a two-year-old rather quickly. Sirius gently shifted him to his other side. 

A cold shiver ran down Remus’s spine as he tried not to imagine any other outcome that wouldn’t have resulted in Harry safe in Sirius’s arms. It had only been a week, really, but already the life Remus had lived in the days after Halloween seemed like the ultimate form of hell. 

(It had seemed like that even when he was living it, honestly). 

“Thank you for doing this,” Remus said, catching Andromeda’s eye. “I don’t know what I would have-” 

“Remus, we already covered this,” Andromeda sighed, opening her door. “Of course I helped you, you’re family. Although,” she continued, grinning tiredly, “that’s not to say you don’t owe me forever, because you totally do.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Remus said, holding back a smile. He gave a moment’s thought to attempting to wake up Dora but quickly abandoned the idea, resigning himself to heaving them both up. 

Remus summoned his meager energy and slid out of the car as gracefully as one could while holding an eight-year-old girl. Dora snorted in her sleep, her arms wrapping tighter around Remus’s neck. 

Kicking the door closed behind him, he carried her up the steps after Andromeda, who was busy unlocking the front door. Sirius followed, bearing the much-lighter burden of Harry with one arm. 

“We did it,” Sirius whispered, coming up next to Remus. He was smiling slightly manically down at Harry like he didn’t have the foggiest clue what he had done to end up with him.

“That we did,” Remus said.

Sirius sighed sleepily and leaned against him, his eyes fluttering closed. He slotted his head into place on Remus’s shoulder, and Remus hiked Dora up a bit higher with a grunt before tipping his head down to rest on Sirius’s. 

A perfect fit. 

“Love ya, Moons,” Sirius murmured. 

“Love you, too, Black,” Remus sighed. 

They swayed like that for a moment, just two rebellious Blacks, one Potter, and one Lupin. Their own little family, standing under the clouded stars. 

(That was the thing about stars, Remus thought - you didn’t have to see them to know they were there). 

“C’mon, lazies,” Andromeda said, pulling open the front door. “We’re home.” 

* * * 

“Aunt?” 

Remus squirmed deeper under the covers, wiggling into the warm pillow. He was so tired, and the bed was so nice-

“Mama? Aunt?” 

Why did that sound like a small child? Where was Remus, anyway? He didn’t want to get up, the bed was so warm and comfortable and the pillow was very soft and firm and-

Oh. Oh.  

Several things occurred to Remus - one: that the pillow was indeed not a pillow but was indeed Sirius Black’s chest, who was currently fast asleep and snoring, and two: that the small child calling for their aunt was indeed Harry Potter, whom Remus was now indeed very much in charge of. 

Remus bolted upright, realizing too late that his hand was tangled in Sirius’s hair and almost yanking it out. 

“Fucking Merlin!” Sirius yelped, jolting up with a flail. “What the hell, Moony?” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Remus said, untangling their legs and fighting to get out from under the covers. For Godric's sake, how many blankets had Dora given them when they made the bed? 

“What’s going on?” Sirius groaned, one hand rubbing at his eyes and the other absentmindedly scratching his chest. His bare chest. Because, oh god, he was naked. 

Which suddenly made more sense as Remus came to the realization that he, too, was totally naked.

Well. That had happened, then. 

“Aunt?” Harry called again from the other guest room, his voice muffled through the two sets of doors. 

“We’ve got to check on Harry!” Remus cried, finally freeing himself from the bed and trying to locate his pants. 

“Oh,” Sirius said, flopping back down. “Merlin, it’s early. I never wake up this early. Do babies really get up this early?” 

“I think you’ll find that being a parent rather upends some of your lifestyle choices,” Remus said tightly, still trying to find his pants. “Are you gonna help?” 

“No, I quite like the view,” Sirius drawled, one eye open like a cat. 

Remus whacked him over the head with a pillow. 

“Ow, alright!” Sirius said. “Blimey, Moony, has the stress of parenting already gotten to you?” 

“I’ll get to you,” Remus returned nonsensically, finally locating his jeans and a jumper, tossed behind the closet door. 

“Ooo, feisty,” Sirius said. At Remus’s glare he shrugged and sat back up. “Alright, your right, I’m coming.” 

“Mama?” said Harry’s voice, sounding scared. Sirius swore and got out of the heavily-blanketed bed, now severely rumpled from their, er, nighttime activities. 

Still straightening shirts, they both headed down the hall toward the other guest room. 

Remus pushed open the door and flicked on the light. Harry was standing up in his crib, his hair a total mess, both hands gripping the railing. “Aunt?” His face screwed up in confusion, blinking up at them. 

Remus froze, unsure what to do now that the initial panic of being in charge of a baby had faded. 

Luckily, Sirius pushed past him and came up next to the crib. “Hello, Harry. Do you remember us? Uncle Padfoot and Uncle Moony?” 

Harry’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Pa-foo!” he babbled, holding his arms out. Sirius happily picked him up, swinging him around. They hadn’t thought to steal any clothes, so Andromeda had scrounged up an old nightie of Dora’s that fit more or less, although it was bright pink with cartoon unicorns on it. 

“And here’s Moony,” Sirius said, bringing him back to where Remus was still standing. 

“Moo?” Harry said, staring at Remus suspiciously. “Cow? Moo-moo?” 

“No,” Remus said, affronted, as Sirius laughed. 

“Yeah, Moo-moo, that’s him,” Sirius said, bouncing Harry on his hip. “Ready for breakfast, are we?” Harry giggled happily, reaching up to tug on one of Sirius’s curls. 

“I’m not going by Moo-moo!” Remus protested, following them out the door. 

“Get used to it, Moo-moo!” Sirius called back, smirking. 

They headed to the kitchen, where Remus was once again hit with a parenting problem - this one, being that he had no idea what babies ate. 

Luckily, Andromeda came in at that moment, a fluffy blanket over her shoulders like a shawl. She promptly directed Sirius to sit down and deposited a plate of cut-up bananas in front of them.

“But- this is just mush?” Sirius said, looking in disgust at the plate.

“What if he chokes?” Remus asked wildly. He’d be damned if he let Harry survive Voldemort and the Durselys only to die thanks to a brown banana. 

“It’s mush,” Sirius repeated. “Mush.”  

“Oh, relax, Dora loved that when she was his age. He won’t choke, Remus, it’s in small pieces. Kids can eat grown-up food at that age, as long as it’s cut up,” Andromeda said with all the wisdom of a former first-time parent. “I’ll give him some bits of pancake later, once they’re done.”

Sirius gave a snort that said he was less than convinced, but Harry dug in happily, shoving the pieces into his mouth. Andromeda turned on the stove with a click and started mixing up batter for pancakes. 

“Good morning!” Dora cried, skidding into the kitchen on her socked feet. “Are we going to jail?” 

“No!” Andromeda cried, whirling around. “Nyphamadora Tonks, why would you-” 

“You said we might get caught,” Dora said, sticking out her tongue. “I’m just checking.” 

“We’re still free,” Sirius confirmed, taking his eyes off Harry to wink at her. “But on the run from the law.” 

“Don’t worry,” Remus sighed, finally giving up on hovering over Harry and sitting down at the table, “you’ve done one prison break, you’ve done them all.” 

“What’s this about a prison break?” a deep voice said. Remus whirled around, staring at the large man that was standing in the doorway and bent under the weight of an old-fashioned highchair. 

“Ted!” Andromeda cried, shooting him a brilliant smile. “Did you get the- oh, brilliant, just set it down there, thanks love!” 

“Dad!” Dora said, jumping up to hug him and almost knocking the two of them into the wall. “You’re back!” 

“Just got in late last night!” Ted said, shifting the highchair around so he could kiss his fingers and tap them jokingly on Dora’s nose. “Glad to see you, Dorry, even if you’ve gone and turned into a criminal while I’ve been away.” 

“Actress -criminal,” Dora corrected. “I’m a professional.” 

“Ah, my mistake,” Ted said, ambling over to set the highchair down next to them.  Looking at him, Remus was struck by how lucky it was that wizards didn’t do any sort of photo ID, otherwise they’d have been caught before they even got into Azkaban. Burly, dark-skinned, sporting a well-trimmed mustache, and at least several inches taller than Remus, this Ted was perhaps the furthest thing from the disguise Andromeda charmed onto Remus. 

“Ted,” the real Ted said brightly, sitting out his hand. “So you’re the two troublemakers who kidnapped the Boy Who Lived?”

“So you’re the man who Andy ran away with,” Sirius returned, shaking his hand. 

“That I am,” Ted agreed happily, his whole face shining. “And you must be Sirius and Remus. Glad to meet you!”

“Uh-huh,” Remus said, annoyingly intimidated even as Ted grinned like a schoolboy. “And, er- this is Harry Potter.” 

“Freshly liberated to his proper guardians, I hear,” Ted said, bopping Harry on the nose. “How are ya, little man?” 

“Pafoo and Moo-moo,” Harry informed him happily from Sirius’s lap, a chunk of banana improbably lodged in his wild hair. 

“Very true,” Ted said seriously. 

“Put Harry in the chair, Sirius, it’ll be better,” Andromeda said from the stove. The warm smell of cooking pancakes wafted up from the griddle. 

Sirius looked doubtfully at the chair but stood up. He started to try to wrangle Harry into his high chair, pulling at different velcros. “There we- oh, bollocks, that’s not the right strap-” 

“Here, mate, stick the little man’s legs there,” Ted said, reaching over to help.

“Wait, his hair’s caught-” Remus stood up too, all of them fighting with the highchair while Harry just laughed.

Andromeda snorted. “Men. Totally useless.” 

“Not useless!” Ted protested as the final snap was clicked. “Little man is in safe and sound, isn’t he?” 

“Safe and sound and backward,” Andromeda laughed, pointing to the mismatched leg straps.

“Bollocks,” Ted said, going back in to fix it. Once Harry was settled and his plate of bananas set up in front of him, all three sat back down with varying sighs of relief. 

“So,” Ted said, leaning forward. “You lot did it alright, did you? Pulled the heist off?” 

“Yes,” Andromeda said, pouring out batter with a sizzle. “Everything worked out alright, Ted, I swear.”

“Of course it did,” Ted said, looking at her happily. “You were in charge, weren’t you, love?” 

“Obviously,” Andromeda said, at the same time as Sirius said, “No, I was.” 

“A group effort, then,” Ted said, chuckling. Remus didn’t think he’d ever heard a person chuckle, actually chuckle, in real life, but that was certainly what Ted did. “What’s the plan, then? The Ministry'll be after you, huh?” 

“Not us, specifically, just Harry,” Andy clarified. “Hopefully, the Ministry doesn’t know who saved him, and they don’t have any way to track us-” 

“Er-” Remus said, wincing. “They probably do, actually. Dumbledore sent you that letter, didn’t he? And, well, as we were escaping…” 

“Petunia saw us,” Sirius finished for him. Harry looked up at the name, mushed banana smeared on his chin. 

“The aunt?” Andromeda cried. “But, if she saw you, how’d you get out?” 

“Aunt?” Harry asked. 

“No, Harry,” Remus said. “Your aunt's not here, you live with us now. No aunt, forever.” 

Whatever that meant to Harry, he smiled happily and went back to smushing bananas into his chin. 

“She sort of.. let us go?” Sirius said, shrugging. “I don’t know, something about keeping him safe for Lily. I guess she had second thoughts about being the worst aunt in history.” 

Andromeda breathed out, shaking her head and muttering something that sounded like, “goddamn sisters.”

“But she could have reported us,” Remus continued. “It seemed like she recognized us, at least enough to say we were friends of Lily’s. Seeing as we’re- we’re the only one left who fit that bill, it wouldn’t be hard to narrow it down.” 

Under the table, Sirius’s fingers reached out and tangled with Remus’s, a comforting warmth. 

“Hm,” Ted said, absorbing this with incredible cheerfulness. “We’ll have to find a place for you, and the little man, then. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, but it might be better to have a place with proper wards.” 

“The flat-” Sirius started. 

“You are not raising a child in that filthy flat,” Andromeda said sharply. Harry giggled, flinging a piece of banana onto the table.

“Why are you so mean to the flat?” Sirius grumbled, poking at the jettisoned banana in disgust before giving up trying to clean it. “It’s not filthy, it’s perfectly clean-” 

“It’s not for a baby,” Andromeda said, narrowing her eyes. Remus decided not to mention that he’d basically trashed the place in a fit of rage after, well, after Halloween. His whole life had basically been a fit of rage at that point, anyway. 

“We’ll get a house,” Remus heard himself say instead. “Somewhere secluded, and we’ll cover it with wards.” 

“Yeah,” Sirius said, abruptly switching tracks as his eyes lit up. “Me and Moony are gonna get a little cottage in the woods outside a tiny village.” 

“That’s… incredibly specific?” Remus said, giving him a look. Sirius just grinned, squeezing their enjoined hands. 

“Oh, you’re in love,” Ted said brightly from across the table, as though he finally understood what was going on. “Brilliant, carry on.” 

“Yes, Dad, they’re married,” Dora sighed, “just use your eyes.”  

Remus thought that was rather rich, coming from an eight-year-old who couldn’t properly match her socks.

“Uh-huh,” Sirius said, smirking in Remus’s direction. “Very in love.” 

“Yeah,” Remus begrudgingly confirmed. 

“He’s all mine,” Sirius continued, clearly holding back a laugh. “We’re so in love, so much love, in fact, we might just be making-”  

“ALRIGHT, back to the original topic,” Remus said loudly, glaring at him. Sirius, the bastard, was sat back smugly in his chair, looking supremely pleased with his joke. 

Dora laughed, the joke clearly going over her head, while Ted just nodded solemnly like he understood the feeling. 

“We’d have to do an Unplottable,” Andromeda started from the stove, launching into a monologue on the proper wards to keep ‘those Ministry idiots’ out. 

Remus let her voice wash over him, everything that had just happened hitting him with the force of a brick. The adrenaline of saving Harry and escaping the police and everything else had acted like a curtain keeping back the enormity of what they had done, but the curtain was gone and the sunlight was suddenly bright enough to burn his eyes. 

He and Sirius were in charge of a child. 

He and Sirius were in charge of a living, breathing child. 

He and Sirius were in charge of the living, breathing child that should have been raised by their dead best friends, but they weren’t here and only he and Sirius were. And they were in charge. 

Why had he signed up for this, again? 

“Alright,” Ted said, shocking Remus back into the moment. “So, you’ll find a house, and we’ll put all the wards on it. Will that really keep the Ministry from finding you?” 

“No,” Andromeda said quietly. “They’ll find you, eventually. That many powerful witches and wizards, no wards can totally keep them out.” 

“Then what’s the point?” Sirius demanded. “They can’t just take Harry back!” 

“The point is, we keep them out for just long enough to finish our plan. Long enough to ensure that Sirius is proven innocent and Harry stays with you, no matter what.” 

“And how, exactly, will we do that?” Remus asked, watching Harry happily toss a piece of banana onto the floor. 

“Do you happen to know any lawyers?” Andromeda said. “Preferably ones that don’t have an issue with convicted murders or kidnappers.”

Chapter Text

“So, on a scale of one to jaw-droppingly-gorgeous,” Sirius said conversationally, “how good do I look as a girl?” 

“I- what?” Remus sputtered. He whipped his head around to stare at Sirius, who was holding the overhead bar next to him. “What kind of a question is that?” 

“I’m just wondering,” Sirius said, waving his free hand at his ensemble. The tube rocked and shuddered underneath them, speeding into London proper. “The concealment spell doesn’t work when I look in the mirror, so you have to tell me.” 

“Fine,” Remus sighed, taking a moment to fully scan Sirius’s outfit. “It’s a bit strange, honestly. I keep seeing you out of the corner of my eye and thinking it’s Andy, or Dora grown up by ten years somehow.” 

“Hm,” Sirius said, scrunching up his face distastefully. “That is strange, you’re right.” He looked down at his borrowed dress and grinned, shaking his hips to swish the bright blue fabric around. “This is brilliant, though! Loads more comfortable than trousers.” 

“Glad you’re enjoying being on the run from the law,” Remus muttered dryly. “It’s just the disguise that needs to work to, quite literally, keep us out of jail, nothing serious.” 

“But Moony, I’m always-” Sirius started, smirking as he leaned forward. Remus elbowed him in the ribs. “Oi!” 

“You deserved it,” Remus said, rolling his eyes. Through the window, graffiti on the tunnel walls bled into a rush of faded color as they rocketed past. 

“I did not!” Sirius protested with a huff. “It’s a good joke, it’s not my fault you keep walking right into it!” 

“Yes, your dismal sense of humor is my fault, good logic, Pads. They should give you an award.” 

“Why bother, my picture’s already plastered all over town,” Sirius said in a low voice, his eyes flicking to the notice board behind Remus. Remus turned around to see another Sirius staring out at him, a wild, almost insane look in his eyes, mouth stretched open in either a scream or an unhinged laugh (Remus didn’t really want to know either way). 

“At least they got my good side,” Sirius added, batting his eyelashes with a forced lightness to his tone. 

That, of course, was why they were so disguised in the first place. Overnight, the muggle news outlets had suddenly become informed of the breakout of “notorious mass murderer” Sirius Black, his mugshot blaring out from every billboard and shop window. Making use of her talents for concealment once again, Andromeda had carefully spelled Sirius’s eyes a different color and his jawline pointier, making him look like a woodland fox. Most of the work, however, was being done by his already-long hair, left to flow freely in his face, and the poofy blue dress and purse Andromeda had dug up out of her closet. 

“But won’t people be able to notice it’s him?” Remus had protested, staring at Sirius’s disguise and trying to pick out the features of his husband. 

“First of all, I’ve showered and washed my hair since they took that horrendous mugshot,” Sirius said, tossing a shiny curl out of his face. “That’s like a transformation all on its own. And those bastards at the Ministry would never think to look for a woman instead of a man. They’re not nearly clever enough for that.” 

“It’ll work, Remus,” Andromeda said reassuringly. “I’ll disguise you too, in case they think you’ll be traveling together.” 

Biting back his remaining concerns, Remus had let her grow a beard on his face and switch his hair from brown to a red so red it was practically orange, another concealment spell temporarily erasing the worst of the scars that crisscrossed his face, just like she had for his world’s-worst-Ted-disguise at Azkaban. He knew it wasn’t safe, but they had to clear out the flat and make sure there wasn’t anything that would leave a trail for the Ministry, and Remus would be damned if he let Andromeda and (the real) Ted take on any more risk by going in their stead. Leaving Harry napping peacefully, one of Dora’s stuffed elephants clutched in his fists, they hopped a train toward London and the flat, toward their old life.

Oh, yeah, Remus was totally confident in this plan. No fucking worries. 

“C’mon, Moony, relax,” Sirius said, reaching over to wiggle Remus’s jaw until he was forced to unclench it. Remus batted him away. “It’ll be fine, I swear. No one’ll recognize us, Andy did a good job. And plus,” he added, lowering his voice until it was almost a whisper, “now we can do this.” Before Remus could react, Sirius had sidled up closer and tucked an arm around his waist, letting go of the pole entirely to cling onto him with his face tilted up toward Remus’s, a breath away. Remus froze, almost losing his grip on the pole as the tube careened around a curve. 

“Sirius…” he muttered, every muscle tensing. Every teasing press of Sirius’s fingertips burned through his thick jumper. “We’re- we’re in public?”  

“I’m well aware,” Sirius said, shifting closer so their hips were slotted next to each other. “And you can’t call me that, it’s a dead giveaway.” 

“What am I supposed to call you?” Remus hissed through his teeth. “Padfoot?”

“No, that’s a terrible code name,” Sirius scoffed. 

“It’s already your code name, idiot.” 

“You have to pick something like darling or honey or love,” Sirius continued, as if it were obvious. “No wait, I bagsy love. That one’s mine.”  

“You bagsy love? Are you seven years old?” 

“Yes, love, we’re almost there,” Sirius said loudly in a fake high voice. “You won’t miss the football match.”

“Sh!” Remus yelped, accidentally catching an old lady’s eye in the reflection of the window glass. He tensed, prepared to make a run for it (could they even jump off a moving tube car?) but she just smiled sympathetically at Sirius. 

“Men,” Sirius scoffed to her with a toss of his hair. “Everything’s about football, isn’t it?” 

The lady laughed. “Don’t I know it, honey.” She gave Sirius a wink. “You two sure are a mighty cute couple. Where’d you pick up him?” 

“Oh, at uni,” Sirius, tugging on a strand of Remus’s hair playfully. “Thought he was rather boring at the start, but he’s got hidden depths, if you know what I mean!” He and the lady burst into titters. 

Remus wished for the sweet release of death.

“Oh, my husband was just the same,” the lady said confidingly, leaning forward. “Never one for a laugh, but he sure made up for it later, didn’t he!” 

“Oh, you’re too right!” Sirius burst out, falling into giggles again. “Now I just can’t imagine my life without him, isn’t that right, love?” He smirked up at Remus, slyly using the hand that was wrapped around his waist to pinch him. 

Remus jumped about half a foot in the air. “Hey!” He immediately went to go pinch Sirius back before remembering himself just in time and turning it into a strange tap on his nose. “Oh, yeah, totally… babe.”  

Sirius eyes brightened with mirth while the lady made an aww sound, waving her hand at them. “You two! Just gorgeous, I say!”

“Oh, gosh, thanks,” Sirius said, as the intercom crackled on to announce the next stop. “That’s us!” The tube slowed down, the door whooshing open. “C’mon love, off we pop!” Taking Remus by the arm, he pulled him down onto the platform, blowing a kiss back at the lady. “Lovely to chat with you!” 

“Enjoy your day!” the lady called back brightly. 

Remus stumbled along after him, waiting until they ducked around a corner into an empty walkway in the station to pull himself free and whack Sirius on the arm. 

“Hey!” Sirius cried. “What was that for?” 

“He’s got hidden depths?” Remus repeated in a strangled voice. “Now that lady thinks I’m a- a- some kind of slag! I’m never gonna live that down!” 

“Oh, you’ll survive the embarrassment of that one,” Sirius said back, grinning, “but ‘babe’? I’m never gonna let you live that one down.” 

“It was the first thing I thought of!” Remus grumbled, throwing his hands in the air. “It’s not my fault you were climbing all over me and putting me on the spot and making weird jokes about bloody football! I don’t even know anything about football!”

“Whatever you say, babe,” Sirius said with a wink.

"Fuck off, love."

Sirius just grinned. “C’mon, we’ve got to get home and put that roast in the oven before Betty and George come over for book club!” 

“For god’s sake,” Remus muttered. “This was a terrible idea. We’re gonna get caught, no doubt.” 

“Moony, stop worrying,” Sirius said, tugging him down by the neck. Surprised, Remus reflexively closed his eyes for a kiss, but Sirius just pecked him on the cheek and danced away. 

“Hey!” Remus said. 

“We’ve got to be proper , love,” Sirius laughed, pressing a hand over his mouth like he was scandalized. “We’re in public, aren’t we?” 

Remus heaved a sigh, scratching at his uncomfortable beard. “Let’s just go.” 

“Well, of course,” Sirius said. “Betty and George are waiting!” 

* * *  

“...and we’ll need a proper crib, and baby clothes, and-” 

“Baby clothes?” Sirius asked incredulously. “That’s a thing?” 

“Yes, they’re a- What did you think babies wore?” Remus said, stopping his list of things for Harry to stare at Sirius. “They’re not just going starkers, you idiot-”

“I know, I meant specific clothes for babies,” Sirius protested, rolling his eyes. “Like, people make clothes for the sole purpose of putting on babies?” 

“Yes?” Remus said. They rounded a corner, his feet automatically turning toward the flat like they had so many times before. “Sirius, how did you think babies got clothes?” 

“A shrinking charm on normal clothes,” Sirius said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Taking a look at Remus’s expression, his mouth dropped open. “You mean that’s not how they make them?” 

“No?” Remus said.

“But how do they know it will fit?” 

“There are sizes,” Remus said, turning toward Sirius as they waited to cross the street. “You know, just like normal clothes.”  

“My mother always just bought adult versions and shrunk them until they fit,” Sirius said, looking like his entire world had been rocked. “I thought that’s how it worked!” 

“Merlin, your family really was bonkers,” Remus said, shaking his head. They resumed walking after an old truck had finally rattled past, coughing smoke. “Bloody old-money clothing mafia.” 

“Ah, don’t forget about the blood purists part-” Sirius suddenly broke off as he looked up, his smirk dropping off his face like melted wax. “Oh.” 

Remus followed his gaze and felt his feet stutter to a stop. Without really realizing it, they’d walked right to the front of the building they used to live in (and still did, technically). 

Sirius sucked in a shaky breath. 

The crooked windows, the scuffed door, even the mysterious orange graffiti on the mailbox that didn’t seem to spell out anything in particular - everything was the same. For a moment, Remus had the strange sense of standing in two timelines at once, another Remus-and-Sirius walking home through them like a double-exposed photograph. How many times had they made this exact trek, on the way back from James and Lily’s or a shitty pub or, later, another dead-end Order meeting? 

“I thought,” Sirius started quietly, “I don’t know, that it would look different? But it doesn’t, does it?” 

“No,” Remus managed, still watching past-Remus walk up the steps and through the door. “Just the same as always.” 

Last time he’d left this building, Sirius was in Azkaban and Remus had nothing but a mess of a plan to get him out. The time before that, Sirius was a killer and Remus didn’t have anything at all. 

(The time before that, Sirius was Sirius and Remus had everything). 

“Well, let’s go,” Sirius said, giving his head an aggressive shake that reminded Remus of Padfoot. “No use standing around out here, right?” 

“Yeah,” Remus said, forcing himself to walk up the stairs. It took a few moments of standing in front of the streaky glass of the door to realize that neither of them had a way to get in. “Er-” 

“You don’t have a key?” Sirius burst out. “What kind of a person leaves home without a key?” 

“A person going to break a high-security prisoner out of jail, that’s who-” 

“Excuse me!” a voice called, and they whirled around only to see a huge brown box bearing down on them. A pair of spindly legs stuck out from behind the box, beelining for the door. “Move, can’t ya?!”

Remus and Sirius jumped out of the way, letting the box-man hurriedly unlock the door and shove through the doors, sending them clanging against the wall inside. Remus barely recovered fast enough to stick a foot on the threshold before the doors could close again. 

Giving him an unimpressed look, Sirius sailed forward and through the door like he’d meant to do that the whole time. “Hurry up, you idiot.” 

“I’m the one who-” Remus protested, trailing off into grumbling as Sirius strutted off toward the lift. “Whatever.” 

A few creaky minutes later and the lift spit them off on floor seven, the floral-patterned carpet in the hallway looking even more beer-stained and linty after Remus’s time away. They padded down the hallway, Remus feeling curiously like he was approaching a taped-off crime scene, and then there was number 7c, still bearing the sign in Sirius’s spindly handwriting instructing passersby to ‘knock loudly, we’re shagging!’ with a far too chipper smiley face underneath it.  

“Heh,” Sirius said, looking fondly proud, like a parent looking at their child’s artwork. “I forgot about that one. Poor sign, lying all this time. You know, I reckon it’s just our duty to make it correct-” 

“Sirius-” Remus yelped, yanking the sign down to whack Sirius on the shoulder with it. “Shut it, you wanker. ” 

“Hey!” Sirius protested, snatching the crumpled sign from his hand. “We might need it!” 

“When?” Remus demanded. “When are you going to hang that sign up again?” 

“I don’t know yet,” Sirius said, shrugging. “It could just come in handy, alright?” 

“Great, while you mull over the circumstances in which we’ll next need a vulgar sign proclaiming to the world that we’re fucking, I’m going to try to open this door.” Remus jiggled the doorknob experimentally. 

“You don’t have a key?” Sirius said loudly. 

“No, I don’t have a key!” Remus cried. “We just had this conversation!” 

“Whyyy did you leave the flat without a key?” Sirius moaned. “Why, Moony?” 

“I told you, I was busy-” 

“Hey, you two!” 

Remus and Sirius cut off their discussion to twist around toward the new voice. 

“Oh, Mrs. Agribba!” Sirius cried. “How are you, darling?” 

The old woman glared at them, her many wrinkles folding over each other like crinkled tissue paper. She folded her arms in front of her pink pilling dressing gown, sniffing affrontedly. “And who are you, young lady?” 

“I’m- uh-” Sirius said, clearly just now remembering he was in disguise. 

“We’re the new renters,” Remus cut in, stiffening as her beedy eyes switched to scrutinize him instead. “The landlord said you’d be a helpful neighbor, so, er- Sissy here just assumed.” 

“Sissy?” Sirius hissed, then jumped as Mrs. Agribba’s glower turned on him. “Yes, just had a hunch it would be you!”

“Hm,” Mrs. Agribba said suspiciously. “Why are you two making such a commotion? I could hear it from inside my room.” And while she was halfway through her makeup, if the one shimmery blue eye and stray curlers were anything to go off of. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Sirius said, back in his fake falsetto. “Dick was the one who came to rent this place, but he forgot the dang key, can you believe it?” 

“Men,” Mrs. Agribba scoffed. “Always forgettin’ things.” 

That was it, Remus was officially done with this stupid disguise. First the babe incident, now he was Dick? No one was actually named Dick except sleazy politicians and grandfathers, for fuck’s sake.

“Yes, yes, my bad,” Remus said before Sirius could continue maligning his fictional character. “Well, since you’re here, would you be so kind as to fetch the spare key and let us in, just this once?”

“Well, fine,” Mrs. Agribba said. “I didn’t know they’d rented this place already. I’d watch out, the past folks who lived here were a filthy bunch.” 

“Is that so?” Sirius said. 

“Uh-huh,” Mrs. Abribba nodded grimly. “One of ‘em turned out to be a murderer, if you can believe it. That Sirius Black from the news, you know. Practically lost my head when I heard, knowing I’d been living in the same building as him.” 

“You know, I heard he was innocent,” Sirius said. “Didn’t really kill anyone, just got framed.” 

“No,” the old lady said decisively. “He was a bad sort, I could tell.” 

“You used to flirt like hell when you saw him!” Sirius burst out, looking offended. 

“What was that, young lady?” Mrs. Agribba said, peering up at him like a large pink bird. 

“Nothing,” Remus said, elbowing Sirius. “The key, then?” 

“Yeah, he was sneaky,” she continued, ignoring him as she smacked her lips. “And the other one, god, musta been in love with him the way he just about went off his rocker when he found out about the murders. Heard him smashin’ things and yellin’ and such all the way across the hall. You’ll need to do some good cleaning, I’d reckon.” 

“You- he what?” Sirius said, suddenly losing the tongue-in-cheek glint to his eyes.

“We’ll be sure to clean it up,” Remus said quickly. “The key?” 

“Yes, yes, I’m gettin’ it,” Mrs. Agribba said, turning and shuffling back into her flat. The moment she was out of sight, Sirius turned on Remus. 

“What did she mean?” 

“What do you think?” Remus said harshly. “Think I just carried on after Halloween? Just picked up my head and kept on going, grin-and-bear-it, no-harm-done? No, I fucking lost it, and you don’t get to tell me shit about it, seeing as you were in fucking jail at the time.” 

“What’d you do?” Sirius said through his teeth. “Go on a bloody rampage? Is the flat fucking destroyed?” 

“It’s not destroyed,” Remus said hotly. “A few things are broken-” 

“Got it,” Mrs. Agribba announced, her door swinging back open. “And don’t you think you can depend on me, comin’ knocking at all hours of night, this is only for the once. Better learn to remember your key, that’s all I’ll say.” She pushed through them toward the flat, a thick rusty key ring swinging from her hand. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Agribba,” Sirius said brightly, waiting as she unlocked 7c’s door. 

“You’re an odd one, young lady,” she sniffed, shuffling away and slamming her door, leaving them alone in the hallway. 

Remus and Sirius stood outside the flat, uncomfortable silence seeping out through the open doorway. 

“Oh, for bloody-” Remus grabbed Sirius by the arm, stepping forward and shoving the door all the way open, a rush of stale air hitting him in the face. “Just see for yourself.” He yanked them inside and shut the door, leaving them face-to-face with the ruined flat.  

Dimly, Remus felt his hands start to shake. Fuck. It hadn’t been this bad, had it?

“Moony…” Sirius said, his voice chipping and peeling like the paint on the doorframe. 

(Had it?)

Remus bit the inside of his cheek hard, the stench of sweat and uncirculated grief stinging the inside of his nose. And it was- it was hard to really take it in, wasn’t it, to take in how goddamn awful things really had been until Remus was standing in the doorway with Sirius next to him and lifetimes away from that one hazy week where the world had ended. 

And looking at it now - the tipped-over bookshelf, the shredded book pages littering the floor below it, the broken glittering glass from the picture frames, the cracked coffee table, the spilled tea, the shattered mug beside it, the domino fan-out of records no longer organized, the record player lying on its side, the bottles in the kitchen, the bottles on the carpet, the bottles leaking on the counter, the stain on the wall, the dripping of the tap, and the jacket, the leather jacket, ripped down the middle and thrown over the sticking-up legs of the capsized chair - Remus can’t believe he made it out at all. 

“Just broke a few things, eh?” Sirius said hollowly. “Remus, that’s everything I fucking own.”  

“Owned,” Remus corrects automatically. “It wasn’t yours anymore. Not after you’d left.” 

“Well, it’s sure as hell mine now,” Sirius said, anger rushing back into his voice as he whirled on him. “What the fuck, Remus?! I was shipped off to Azkaban and you smash all my stuff-” 

“Oh, yeah, and I’m sure you had a perfectly normal reaction to our best friends-” 

“My personal property-” 

“-getting fucking murdered by Voldemort-” 

“You had no right!” Sirius practically shouted, gesturing violently to the ruined flat. He stepped forward, forcing Remus to stumble further inside. “How do you think it feels, to come back from jail and find that your husband went and lost the bloody plot and destroyed all your stuff?” 

“I lost the plot, did I?” Remus demanded. “I think it’s a miracle I didn’t burn this place to the ground, seeing as I thought you had killed them! Based on that lovely mugshot, you weren’t acting too rationally either, Sirius-” 

“Why would I, I was being sent off the prison for something I didn’t do-”

“You never even tried to tell-” 

“I bloody left you the camcorder!” Sirius cried, jabbing a finger at where the bulky contraception sat on the table, the one piece of furniture that wasn’t splintered.

Remus bit out a harsh laugh. “Oh right, the worst fucking clue in the entire world, I forgot-”

“What was I supposed to do, leave you a polite letter?”

“Oh, god, I don’t know, maybe tell me in the first place?” 

“I couldn’t-”

“Of course, since I was the spy, wasn’t I-” 

“MY LEATHER JACKET, REMUS!” Sirius all-out shouted, one hand shooting out to snatch up his poor jacket from the chair leg. “MY JACKET!” 

“I wanted to fucking kill you, ripping your jacket was hardly-”

“MY LEATHER JACKET!” Sirius yelled, shaking it feverishly in Remus’s face. “MY JACKE-”

With a cry, Remus reached out and caught Sirius’s hand mid-shake, the two of them grappling with the jacket between them. “I’M SO FUCKING TIRED OF THIS BLOODY ARGUMENT!” 

“ME TOO!” Sirius roared back, doing his best to keep shaking the jacket as Remus clamped down harder on his hand. 

“So fucking stop it!” Remus yanked him in closer, their faces inches apart. It hit him all at once, like a light flicking on, how absolutely ridiculous this whole thing was. Practically a decade, and there was still no one who could rile him up like Sirius Black. Abruptly, he found himself fighting to keep from laughing, the heady mix of being both totally fed up and totally in love surging up in his veins like over-carbonated butterbeer.  

“You stop it!” Sirius said, screwing up his face.

“No, you stop it!”

“You stop-”

“I WANNA KISS YOU, YOU BASTARD!” Remus howled, so unbelievably annoyed with himself. 

“SO DO IT!” Sirius yelled back, just as loud. 

“BUT YOU LOOK LIKE ANDY!” 

“CLOSE YOUR FUCKING EYES, IDIOT!” 

“THAT’S NOT-” Except, actually, now that Remus thought about it, that made a lot of sense, didn’t it? 

(Oh, why the fuck not?)

With the same sort of air as someone tossing a stack of papers to the wind, he clamped his eyes shut and gave one final yank on Sirius’s hand, pulling him up into a searing kiss. 

Immediately, Remus fell right back into that perfect hazy state that being so close to Sirius always brought, the feeling of two candles burning at the same height, wax melting together into one taper. 

With a strangled noise, Sirius pushed Remus forward, the forgotten jacket falling to the floor. The two of them stumbled along, almost slipping on the jettisoned records, until Remus felt his back slam into the wall. He tried to shove aside the thick skirt of Sirius’s dress, desperate to feel his skin, and then Sirius was hoiking it up unceremoniously around his waist, and well- Remus had quite a bit more access then, most definitely.  

(Maybe there was something to this whole dress thing, after all). 

One hand twisting up into his thick curls, Remus used the other to hook under Sirius’s knee and hoist him up until he was fully off the ground, clinging to Remus with his legs wrapped around his waist, their hips pressed tight together. While Remus stifled a groan, Sirius angled his head and started sucking a line down his throat.

“I’m sorry-” Remus panted. “About- your jacket-” 

“It’s alright,” Sirius said into the side of his neck, both hands sliding up under Remus’s shirt. “We can- fix it-” 

“A sewing- charm-” Remus agreed, and then Sirius was reaching for his belt and things went very, very hazy, and… maybe the sign on the door might have been useful after all. 

* * *

Later, once they’d finally blown (literally) off some steam and straightened their clothes (Andromeda’s dress now sporting a few tears that might be hard to explain), Remus and Sirius set to work fixing up the flat. Together they spelled the most of it back together, tossing out the rubbish that littered the room and whatever else had been deemed unsalvageable. Remus had dug their battered old school trunks out of the closet, giving them each a few shakes to get the worst of the dust out of the stained lining before pilling everything they needed in. 

It wasn’t a lot, to be fair. The record player (thankfully relatively unscathed), the fixed records, Remus’s books, Sirius’s magazines, the mended leather jacket (of course), the rest of their clothes, the little amount of crockery and silverware they owned, the camcorder, a few photos, and that was it. All the trappings of an entire life, packed away like they were off to Hogwarts once more. 

Everything else they left, making sure to destroy anything to point the Ministry toward Andromeda. 

“What’s this?” Sirius said abruptly, lifting a scrap of paper out of the rubbish bin. “The Plan,” he read out. “Number one - the rings.”  

“Oh, that was just-” Remus said, trying to make a grab for the paper. 

“Number two - Andromeda, number three - padfoot,” Sirius finished, dancing away with the paper. “Moony, don’t tell me this was honestly your plan.” 

“And what if it was?” Remus said, his cheeks heating up. “It worked, didn’t it?” 

“Three things?” Sirius laughed. “This is the worst plan ever!”

“It was concise,” Remus protested. “It was taciturn.”  

“Whatever you say, babe,” Sirius said, ripping the paper down the middle, then down the middle again. “Don’t need this anymore, right?”

“Right,” Remus said, watching as Sirius tossed the scraps into the bin, suddenly overcome with relief that those silly three things had actually worked. 

“Brilliant,” Sirius said, putting his hands on his hips. “Reckon we’re done, then?” 

“Where are we gonna go?” Remus asked quietly, looking down at the two trunks. A pitiful amount of possessions to raise a whole child with. “We can’t stay with Andromeda forever, it’s not safe. We still have so much to do.” 

“I don’t know,” Sirius sighed. “We just need somewhere out of the way, where no one would ask us any questions and Harry would be safe and Circe’s tits I-own-a-house.” 

“What?”

“It was Uncle Alphard’s,” Sirius explained excitedly, his grey eyes glinting. “I forgot all about it, he didn’t live there, only mentioned it once, but I’m pretty sure he left it to me. It’s a cottage somewhere, chock-full of wards and protection charms.” 

“You’re sure you can access it?” Remus said. “Do you even know where it is?” 

“Somewhere,” Sirius said expansively. “We can figure it out, this is perfect, Moony! We can take Harry there!” 

“A whole house,” Remus said suspiciously. “That you just now remembered?” 

“I’ve been rather busy,” Sirius said, “getting arrested and breaking out of jail and all that, you know.” 

“Hm,” Remus said, trying to ignore the way it felt like a fan had finally kicked on after years of summer stifling heat. “We’ll need to check it out, make sure it’s safe for Harry.” 

“Yes!” Sirius said, doing a celebratory fist pump. Remus smiled, remembering watching teenage Sirius do the same thing so many times after a Quidditch match.  “We have a house, babe!” 

“We have a house,” Remus echoed quietly, a smile slowly spreading onto his face. “A house.”

Chapter Text

Remus’s feet hit the ground hard, his knees buckling from the force as Sirius’s hand slipped off his shoulder. The pile of boxes in his arms teetered dangerously, the top one almost sliding off as he wobbled underneath, trying to steady it. 

“This- had- better- be-” Remus panted, craning his neck to glare over the top of the boxes at Sirius, “the- right- bloody- house.” 

“It’s not my fault my uncle was rolling in it,” Sirius grumbled, struggling under his own load of cardboard boxes. “How am I supposed to know which out-of-the-way cottage in Europe is the out-of-the-way cottage in Europe he left to me?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Remus scoffed, “by paying one single wit of attention to your mail?”  

“I’m a busy man, Moons, I’ve got things to do,” Sirius said airily. “Break out of prison, steal a child, the usual 9-to-5.” 

“Yes, and apparate halfway around the bloody globe, apparently,” Remus said. Heaving a sigh, he crouched down and carefully set down the boxes on the dirt with a thump. “So this is it?” 

“Practically positive,” Sirius said, dropping his own boxes at his feet. They both stared up the dirt driveway at the squat house that sat on the top of a slight hill, the few spindly trees planted around surrounded in mounds of gold and yellow fallen leaves. Behind the brick cottage, a rolling field swept out towards the setting sun. It looked like a fairytale, like fucking Cinderella would pop out any minute and start singing to vermin. 

“It’s… not totally rotten,” Remus conceded eventually, the knot in his chest releasing slightly in a wave that swept out from his chest and warmed his palms. 

“It’s perfect,” Sirius declared. “As long as it actually belongs to me, of course.” 

“It had better,” Remus muttered darkly. “And if it doesn’t, you’ll just have to add house thievery to the list of crimes we’ve committed because I am not picking up those boxes again for the life of me.” 

“Be positive!” Sirius called over his shoulder as he strode up the driveway. 

“I was positive,” Remus protested. “For the first three wrong houses!” 

Despite Sirius’s claim that he would have ‘no problem at all’ finding the house that Uncle Alphard had left him, they’d been on a wild goose chase for the better part of the day. They apparated to house after house, everywhere Sirius could remember ever hearing about from the Blacks, and house after house booted them out soundly. The moving boxes, which had seemed like a good idea at the time (why make an extra trip to collect the rest of their stuff), had become a ridiculous annoyance as they apparated, tried the house, were expelled/cursed/stunned/thrown-out-on-their-arses by the wards, and apparated again to a new possibility. Remus’s whole body ached, he was hungry, and he was pretty certain a pair of his boots had gone flying out the top box somewhere in between houses four and five.

Sirius halted a few feet away from the front porch, hands on his hips. He was back in his typical leather jacket and jeans, speckled with green goop from house number ten’s defense ward. Gotta hand it to those Blacks, they took home security seriously. 

Remus watched from a safe distance away, his jaw clenching in anticipation of a triggered ward. Honestly, if one more house attacked them he was going to murder somebody. 

“I’m Sirius Black,” Sirius announced politely to the house. “I would like to, er, enter this house that belongs to me.” 

“Potentially,” Remus added under his breath. 

“Shut it,” Sirius hissed out of the side of his mouth before turning back to the cottage. He took another cautious step, up onto the porch. “Don’t worry, House, he didn’t mean it. You definitely belong to me.” 

“It’s not a sentient being,” Remus scoffed. “It can’t hear you.” 

“Don’t listen to him, House, he’s just jealous,” Sirius continued loudly. 

“Of a house?” Remus cried. “It’s a bloody house, for fuck’s sake!” 

“Anyway, I’m going to enter now,” Sirius told the house, reaching out toward the front door. “If, by unlikely chance, you don’t belong to me, please don’t stun us?” 

Oh, they were definitely getting stunned. 

Ever so slowly, Sirius reached out and grabbed onto the doorknob. As soon as his hand connected to the worn metal, a ripple of warm energy surged outward, sending the leaves in the yard scattering with a rustle. Sirius jumped back with a yelp, both fists up as if he might be called upon to fistfight at any moment. 

For a few seconds, they stayed frozen, waiting for the expelling/cursing/stunning/being-thrown-out-on-their-arses, but it never came. Grinning in shock, Sirius reached out and shoved the door open with a creak. When nothing came bursting out but a soft cloud of dust, he whirled around with a whoop, both hands thrust above his head in celebration. 

“Yes! We found it, Moony!” Sirius did an annoyingly coordinated high kick, almost taking out a beam in the porch. “Ha-ha! Suck on that , stupid family!”

“Yes, you found your own house, well done,” Remus said, rolling his eyes. “Let’s make sure it’s not filled with doxies and poltergeists before we start celebrating.”  

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Sirius said, leaping off the porch and running back past Remus. “I’m getting the boxes!” 

Remus blew out a breath, heading toward the house. He had to admit, it was a very nice looking house. Not too enormous, but not a tiny little shack either. If he was the kind of person who knew about such things, he might even say it was the perfect size for two on-the-run outlaws and a kidnapped toddler. 

“I sent a patronus to Andy!” Sirius yelled, blowing past Remus with a precariously-balanced stack of boxes. “She’s bringing the rest of the stuff and Harry!”

“What?” Remus called after his disappearing back. “Wait, Sirius, it could still be cursed!” 

“It’ll be fine,” Sirius said, popping back out the doorway. “Uncle Al wouldn’t have cursed my house, he liked me!” 

“Still-” Remus protested futilely. Sirius ran past him again, his tiredness seemingly forgotten as he skidded to a stop at the end of the driveway and hoisted the second stack of boxes above his head. 

“Look, Moony, I got your boxes too!” Sirius said, using one hand to blow Remus and kiss that almost sent all the boxes toppling to the ground. “Because that’s just the type of caring husband I am!” 

“You’re something, that’s for sure,” Remus muttered. Already fantasizing about a soft bed, he followed Sirius up to the porch, only for an electric current to slice through his body the moment his foot hit the top step. Before Remus could blink, he was flying backward and landing hard on his back in a pile of dead leaves. 

“SIRIUS!” he shouted to the bare branches of the tree above him. “I SWEAR TO GOD-” 

“Sorry, sorry!” Sirius said, apology ruined by his hysterical cackling as he plunked the boxes down near the front door. “It must only let me in, I’m not actually sure how to fix that-” 

“YOU’D BETTER FIGURE IT OUT FAST!” Remus roared. 

“Relax, Moons!” Sirius said, looming into view. He stretched out a hand to haul him up, still sporting an amused smirk. “I mean, maybe if you had treated the house with a bit more respect- Oi!” Remus yanked hard on his hand and Sirius let out a surprised shriek before crashing down on top of him, leaving flying everywhere in a spray of red and gold. “Hey!” 

“Doesn’t feel great, does it?” Remus said, making a mock sympathetic face. Yelping in outrage, Sirius dug an elbow into Remus’s side, so of course Remus had to shove him away, which meant Sirius had to roll right on top of him, and then they were off, wrestling like a couple of feral cats on the dewy ground. 

“This is- my-” Sirius grunted, trying to kick Remus off but only succeeding in getting a leaf in his mouth, “favourite- jacket! I only just- fixed it!” 

“I ripped it once, I can rip it again!” Remus declared, managing to wrap his hand around Sirius’s wrists and pin them over his head. “You dragged me to eleven houses, Sirius! ELEVEN HOUSES!” 

“Don’t blame me!” Sirius cried, bucking his hips. “It’s not my fault no one I’m related to actually likes me!” 

“Excuse me, I take offense to that,” a high voice called out. “I like you plenty. And I must say, this does not look a bit like house cleaning.”

“Hi Remus! Hi Sirius!” a different voice giggled. “You’re all covered in leaves!” 

Remus bolted upright, catching sight of Andromeda standing in the driveway, another pile of moving boxes balanced on one hand and the other holding onto a grinning Dora. 

“You’re here!” he said nonsensically, cheeks burning. “We didn’t- we weren’t-” 

“Hello, cousin-I-mildly-tolerate!” Sirius said into the ground, Remus still straddling his hips. “We were doing exactly what you think we were doing!” 

“No we weren’t!” Remus yelped. “Definitely not!” 

“Definitely yes!” Sirius insisted, wiggling around. 

“Fab-u-lous,” Andy drawled. “Well, get up off your arses and help with these boxes. Ted’ll be along shortly with Harry, he was trying some sort of shrinking charm on Dora’s old crib.” Andromeda gave them one more look, clearly pressing her lips together to keep from grinning, then turned and started up the steps toward the house with Dora. 

“Andy- Wait!” Remus cried, finally jumping up from the pile of leaves. “No, it’ll blast you-” He cut off his panicked warning as Andromeda’s shoe touched the top of the stairs. He tensed, ready to somehow catch her and Dora once the house blasted them backward (How? Like it was Quidditch? Remus was awful at Quidditch-) but nothing ever happened. 

Andy raised her eyebrow, mounting the rest of the steps, not a box out of place. “Yes? When will this blast be occurring?” 

“What the - no!” Remus sputtered. “It blasted me, it hates me-” He cut himself off, glaring down at a laughing Sirius. “Did you have something to do with this?” 

“It must be pre-set to allow the good Blacks?” Sirius suggested with a shrug. “Maybe the house can just tell who actually respects it, right, House?”

“I respect you, House,” Dora chirped, grinning at Remus. “See? It likes me!” Just to add salt to the wound, she did a little dance on the porch, sticking out her tongue. “Hey, Remus, come back over here, I wanna see you get blasted again!” 

“Excuse me, it hurt very badly!” Remus said hotly, jabbing a finger toward the house. “You should be thankful I tried to warn you before-” 

“Before nothing happened?” Andromeda filled in glibly, bending to set her boxes in front of the door. 

“No, before you were thrown two metres backward into a pile of leaves by a stupid house!” Remus whirled on Sirius, kicking up a pile of leaves into his face. “Sirius! I need to be able to GET INTO OUR HOUSE!” 

“Hey!” Sirius sputtered, shaking the twigs and dirt out of his hair. “Just for that, you can sleep with the trees!” 

“Maybe if you apologize to the house?” Dora suggested innocently. 

“Bake it a cake?” Sirius added, grabbing Remus’s knee from the ground and trying to pull himself up.

“Or give it a hug?” Andy joined in. 

“Write it a letter?” 

“Buy it a present?” 

“Perform it a speech about your sincere, heartfelt-” 

Remus shook off Sirius, who was trying to use his belt loop to claw himself to a standing position. “No! No, I will not being doing any of that bollocks! That bloody house can just go and-” He heaved a sigh, watching all three Blacks laugh at him. Honestly, why was he in this situation, again? “Fine. Laugh it up. See if I care.” 

“As long as Sirius announces you as a welcome guest, the wards should allow it,” Andromeda said, still giggling. “I studied this type of hereditary warding in my NEWTs, they’re more concerned about the stated owner than any bloodlines.” 

“I, Sirius Black,” Sirius started grandly, “do hereby allow one Remus Lupin, the tall, snarky, remarkably fit man I married, to enter and leave this house as he so pleases!” He flourished his arm, a gust of warm wind cutting through the crisp fall air. 

Remus stared warily at the house. “Are you sure it worked?” 

“Only one way to know for certain,” Andromeda said. 

Glowering, Remus slogged through the leaf piles and up toward the porch. He paused, staring up at the brick front wall. 

“Alright, House, blast me again and I swear I’ll donate you to a museum and let Muggle kids climb all over your precious antiques-” 

Andy cleared her throat pointedly from the porch. 

Remus bit back his next words. “Er- nope, never mind, I won’t do any of that, but-” He hovered one foot over the first step. “Do-not-fucking-blast-me-I-swear-to-Merlin-” he added in a rush, vaulting up the stairs two at a time past Andy and Dora and nearly crashing into the front door. When nothing happened, he pulled open the door triumphantly. “Aha! Up yours, House!” he shouted into the musty foyer. “I’m allowed!” 

“Mum, Remus said ‘up yours’,” Dora reported seriously to Andy. 

“Two galleons,” Andromeda said immediately, holding her hand out toward Dora. 

“What?” Dora protested, a blur of red streaking through her black hair. “I only said it cuz Remus did!” 

“Remus is a grown-up,” Andromeda said primly. “Now grab those boxes and bring them inside, I’m going to see about opening some curtains.” Remus made a ha-ha face at Dora, only to slip back into a grimace as Andy pushed him aside and sailed into the house. “You two, Remus. And Sirius.” 

This time Dora made a ha-ha face at Remus. Remus stuck out his tongue. Dora stuck out her tongue, and excuse him, but who did the little snitch think she was? Remus knelt down, grabbed the top box, and whispered very close to Dora’s ear, “Up yours.” 

“Mum!” she hollered immediately. “Remus said-” she cut herself off, finally catching on with a glare. “I can’t say it, but he said it!” 

“Remus, two galleons,” Dora’s voice floated out the door. 

“What, why?” Remus yelled, shifting the box around in his arms. “You don’t know what I said!” 

“You deserve it,” Andy yelled back. “Mum’s prerogative!” 

“You’re not my mum!” 

“Doesn’t matter!” 

“Oh, that’s just…” Remus grumbled under his breath. “Up yours, Andy.” At Dora’s thrilled face, he quickly pressed a finger to his lips. “I won’t tell if you don’t tell.” 

“Deal,” the eight-year-old said, looking remarkably like Sirius when he was up to something. 

Remus winced. That was a bad sign.

Grinning like she’d had dessert before dinner, Dora whispered, “Up yours,” with relish, before grabbing a box and running inside. 

(Perhaps the truce hadn’t been Remus’s best idea). 

“C’mon, Moony!” Sirius said, finally succeeding in brushing all the leaves sufficiently off his beloved leather jacket. “Let’s get a move on!” 

“Yeah, er- I’m gonna…” Remus trailed off, watching the doorway warily. Who knew what other nasty black magic was in there? 

“Don’t tell me you're still afraid of the house?” Sirius said. “Circe’s tits, you totally are. Moony, you big wimp.” 

“I’m not a wimp!” Remus protested. “I just have a healthy amount of self-preservation, unlike some people.” 

“Says the man who used to avoid detentions like it was an Olympic sport.” 

“Says the man who almost had to spend a night diving for trash in the Great Lake because he had so many detentions!” 

“Oh yeah,” Sirius laughed. “I forgot about that. Good thing I talked ol’ Minnie out of it, huh?” 

“I still maintain that McGonagall was just trying to get you to stop bothering her.” 

“Tomato, to-mah-to,” Sirius said with a wink. “Either way, I didn’t have to brave the giant squid or actually show up for my classes, so who’s the real winner here?” 

“The poor squid?” 

“Oh, shut it, you smart arse.” 

Shifting the box to flash him the bird, Remus backed up through the doorway. Might as well get it over with. The soft gold light of the dying sun had just been cut off by the doorframe when Sirius yelped and yanked him back onto the porch by the shoulder. 

“What the hell?” Remus said. Were there really more fucking dark magic curses?

“It’s our first real house!” Sirius said, looking scandalized. “We have to do the thing!”  

“What thing?” Remus demanded. 

“The thing!” Sirius insisted, holding his arms like he was carrying a baby. “The just married house thing!” 

“Technically, we’ve been married for several months,” Remus said, before it finally dawned on him. “No. Nope. No fucking way.” 

“Yes!” Sirius said, nodding vigorously. 

“You want to bridal-carry me over the threshold of this house your dead uncle left you?” 

“Obviously!” Sirius said. “It's the thing you do! Isn’t it?” He dropped his arms, smile fading. “The Blacks always did it, I just assumed that-” 

“Fine,” Remus said, hating how quickly that look made him give in. 

“I knew you’d agree,” Sirius said immediately, smirk back in full force. He held out his arms in a circle like a ballerina. “Well, c’mon on, in you hop!” 

“This is ridiculous,” Remus grumbled, casting his eyes around the porch for a way out. “I’m too tall, you can’t possibly manage to-” 

“Stand on a box,” Sirius suggested, his head tilted in that way that meant there would be no bloody backing out, not on his watch. “Then you can tip over and I’ll catch you.” 

“We’re both gonna end up concussed.” 

This was the worst idea Remus had ever heard (he was still gonna do it, or course, because Sirius asked, the bastard). Muttering under his breath, he set down his boxes with a thump and carefully moved the heaviest one to the side, by the door. As gingerly as if it contained priceless porcelain instead of all his old dingy books, Remus screwed up his face and stepped up onto it. 

“Alright, brilliant, now fall over!” Sirius said, standing below him with his hands outstretched. 

“Now fall over? That’s your perfect scheme?” 

“What, you got a better idea?” 

“Yeah, actually, how about not fucking doing this in the first place-” Remus cut himself off with a cry as one corner of the box caved in and he did, indeed, fall over backward into Sirius’s arms, who grunted in surprise and nearly fell over himself. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Sirius forced out, teetering wildly. One of his arms grappled to hold onto Remus’s knees, practically dumping him on the ground. “I wasn’t ready!” 

“Neither was I!” Remus protested as they stumbled into the wall, his elbow whacking on the bricks as he tried to hang onto Sirius’s shoulders. “It was your idea!” 

“Not for you to surprise trust-fall me!” Sirius said. “Merlin, why are your legs so long?”

“Why are your arms so short?” Remus shot back, his own arms wrapped around Sirius’s neck like a kid on a piggyback ride. “Just put me down, you maniac!” 

“No, no, we’ve almost-” Sirius heaved him upward, almost tossing Remus to the wind (which did not make Remus shriek very loudly, no, not at all) before managing to clasp his hands together, one arm around Remus’s shoulders and the other under his knees. “Got it! ah-HA! I told you!” 

“You did not tell me! I almost died!” 

“Yeah right, you wouldn’t have died-”  

“Oh!” Andromeda suddenly cried, reappearing in the doorway. She clasped her hands to her cheeks, practically swooning. “Oh, how sweet! You’re going to do the thing! You two look absolutely adorable! What a perfect idea!” Remus could almost see the hearts swimming in her eyes. 

“This is rather frightening,” Remus hissed to Sirius. “What happened to Andy?” 

“She really gets off on those cheesy romance novels,” Sirius stage-whispered back. 

“Oh, shut it, you,” Andromeda said, then clapped her hands, right back to giggly schoolgirl. “Wait right there, I’m going to get the camera! It’ll be a perfect photo to frame!” She dashed off, presumably to unearth a bloody camera from who-knew-where. 

“You hear that, Pads?” Remus said through his teeth, sarcasm so thick he almost strained a muscle in his cheek. “This is a perfect photo to frame!”  

“We’ll have to put it right above the fireplace, where everyone can see it, right babe?” Sirius said in his disguised Sissy voice. 

“Okay, now!” Andromeda cried, holding up a massive old camera that looked like it had been new when the house was built. “Step across the threshold into your new married life!” 

“We’ve been married!” Remus told the ceiling. “For a while!” 

“Do it now, I’m ready!” Andromeda said, ignoring him entirely as she ducked behind the camera. There was a flash of light and a loud pop, then Andromeda cursed. “Damn, I don’t think you were in frame. Let me try again. One- two-” 

“Wait, Andy, we’re not-” 

“Three!” she yelled, and Sirius took a panicked leap through the door, nearly taking Remus’s head off on the way. Almost comically quickly, they lost whatever balance had finally been gained and went careening straight into a nearby couch covered in a dropcloth, both tumbling down in a puff of dust. 

“Get off me!” Remus said, struggling to lift his head up from the musty fabric as Sirius flailed on top of him. 

“I’m trying!” Sirius said, somehow upside down over the side with his legs kicking wildly in the air. He dug an elbow into Remus’s shoulder blade. 

“Gorgeous!” Andromeda proclaimed, still looking through the camera aimed at the doorway. “Oh, hello, love!” 

“Hello!” a deep voice called. “What’s going on here, then?” Remus craned his neck to see Ted’s tall silhouette peering into the house, Harry tucked in one massive arm and the other holding an improbably small baby crib. He tilted his head slowly, taking in the scene. “What are you doing on that couch, mate?” 

“It’s a long story,” Remus sighed. As if on cue, Sirius managed to flip entirely over the side and thump to the floor. 

Harry burst out laughing, waving one little fist around in glee. “Again!” 

* * *

Remus hadn’t expected how much work it would be to make a house liveable again, especially a house that has been inhabited by Blacks. It had taken the better part of the next day just to get the kitchen, living room, nursery, and main bedroom to a reasonable state, forget about the other five billion rooms they hadn’t even ventured into (perhaps not five billion, but it seemed pretty close to Remus). Ted turned out to be a whiz with the anti-dust spells, Andromeda kicked the crap out of the poor ice-ant colony living in the silver drawer, Dora put her all into decorating the nursery (complete with a painting she claimed to be her and Remus saving Sirius in which she and Sirius looked perfectly normal but Remus looked more like a vaguely sinister tree man), Remus and Sirius unpacked their few belongings, and Harry alternated between napping and crawling around behind unsuspecting people moving couches. By the time the sun was dipping below the tree level, the six were tired and sweaty and dirty and hungry, but they stood in a house that was perfectly safe. 

Well, maybe not perfectly. 

“It’s not Unplottable,” Andromeda groused, her chin propped up on both hands at the kitchen table. It was a huge, dark wood monstrosity, featuring little pixies carved at every place setting. Remus sort of loathed it. “Which means a really strong tracking spell could find you, but that’d only be if they had one of the tracing artifacts like a lock of hair or a used tissue or-” 

“Then we’ll just make it Unplottable,” Sirius cut in, his head fully resting on the table. At everyone’s dumbstruck silence, he sat up straight, shaking his hair out of his eyes. “Is that hard?” 

“Is it hard??” Andy parrotted incredulously. “Making something completely vanish from every map and be invisible to the naked eye? Yes, Sirius, it’s fucking hard.” 

“Oh,” Sirius said, deflating. “So you can’t do it?” 

“Of course I can bloody do it,” Andromeda scoffed. “I just want you to properly appreciate my toil.” 

Remus tightened his hold on Harry, asleep in his arms, as he blinked back a rush of love for the ridiculous, bossy, clever-as-hell woman he’d somehow ended up counting as one of his friends. And her equally ridiculous, bossy, and clever daughter. They were a glittering sea stone buried in the silt, a flowering branch growing out of a shriveled tree. 

(Impossible. Inevitable). 

“Then that’s everything?” Ted’s voice rumbled from under the table, where he was busy trying to fix the wobbly leg. The entire surface gave a lurch, then repositioned without that weird tilt. “There we are.” He resurfaced, settling down heavily in the chair with a loud, concerning creak. “Huh. I’ll have to fix that too. But what d’you reckon, you’ll just stay safe here with Harry forever?” 

“If we have to,” Remus said, at the same time as Sirius said, “Hell no.” 

“I told you all,” Andromeda sighed, “this is only a preventative measure. Obviously, we want Sirius free and Harry safe without having to become recluses. Have you done any more about getting a lawyer?” 

Sirius made a noncommittal humming noise. Remus suddenly busied himself with readjusting Harry. 

“So, not a damn thing,” Andromeda said, glaring at them. 

“We’ve been busy!” Sirius protested.

“I think you’ll find being an escaped convict makes you a bit more busy than usual.” Andromeda sat up straighter, pressing her palms flat on the tabletop. “I tried to find someone for you, but I’m worried about reaching out to anyone associated with the Ministry. The wrong person talks, and we’re all fucked.” She twisted up her face. “It’ll have to be someone who knows you both, who knew James and Lily, would be quick to believe that Sirius is innocent, and quick to agree that Harry is better off with you.” 

“So, we’re all fucked,” Sirius said, plunking his head back down on the table. 

They all sat in silence for a minute. Ted tapped out a rhythm with his fingers, humming softly. A year ago, even a few months ago, this would have been an easy task, but the list of people who knew James, Lily, Remus, and Sirius had dwindled to a knife point. Take out the people who most definitely believed that Sirius killed them, and it was a miracle their knife had a point at all. 

Except, it did. There was a point, at it speared exactly one person. Remus tried to remember, pulling thick dark curls and glinting eyes and snarky remarks out from the back of his head. She might- maybe. Maybe.

“There is one,” Remus said. Sirius flicked his eyes up at him, furrowing his brow. “But I don’t know if she’d help.” 

“Worth a shot,” Andromeda said immediately. “Who is it?” 

Remus sucked in a breath. “Emmeline Vance.”

Chapter Text

“So, what do you reckon are the chances Andy’s already been shipped off to Azkaban?” 

“Shut it, Sirius,” Remus hissed. “She’s barely been gone half an hour.” 

“That’s plenty of time to get arrested,” Sirius insisted, making to get up from the couch next to Remus. “Maybe we should go after her-” 

“No,” Remus said, grabbing Sirius’s shoulder to yank him back down, the couch giving a great puff of dust. “You’re just bored. Andy’s fine, she hasn’t been attacked by Emmeline Vance, of all people. She’s probably still in the fucking waiting room or something.” 

Sirius groaned, tipping his head back against the spine of the couch. “I wanna do something…” he whined. “We’re just sitting here-” 

“Oh, give it a rest,” Remus said, but his own leg was bouncing up and down uncontrollably. Had Andy really only been gone for thirty minutes? “Just wait for her to come get us.” 

“Alright,” Sirius said, with an expression that clearly said the opposite. “But if we have to plan another jailbreak for Andy, I claim being the distraction.” 

“Sirius Black willingly returning to Azkaban would be quite the distraction,” Remus muttered, rolling his eyes. He shifted on the couch, his trousers itching uncomfortably against the old fabric. Andromeda had insisted they dress up, like it was a fucking job interview or something, which result in a slightly-nicer pair of pants for Remus and a ridiculous fancy suit for Sirius. He had his hair all slicked back and shiny, still somehow managing to look like a rockstar who had tripped and fallen sideways into politics. Annoying git. Remus had a suspicion he himself looked more like an underpaid substitute teacher. 

It had almost been one week of living in the new house, and things were finally starting to feel normal. Or, if not normal, at least not batshit insane. Remus had almost managed to figure out how to get Harry to go down for a nap without waiting until he literally fell over from exhaustion, which seemed like a parenting win. Now, the toddler was off at the Tonks’ for the afternoon with Ted and Dora while Andy went to their ‘meeting’, as she’d dubbed it (Sirius had been campaigning for ‘illegal rendezvous’). 

“Are you sure we shouldn’t go check on her?” Sirius said into the silence.

Remus heaved a sigh. “What, and go bursting into a ministry office and trigger every ward within a mile? We’re on the run, Pads, we can’t traipse into the headquarters of the people who are looking for us.”  

“Fine,” Sirius moaned. He threw his head back against the couch again, kicking both feet up on the old scuffed coffee table. “She better come get us soon.” 

“She will,” Remus said, swallowing down the sudden surge of nerves crawling up his throat. Andromeda had insisted on this plan, making contact with Emmeline herself a few days ago. At the moment, she was supposed to be off meeting with Emmeline under the pretense of needing a consultation to set new wards around her house. Supposedly, Andy would broach the topic of Sirius’s escape, test the waters, and then circle it around to his innocence depending on Emmeline’s reaction. If everything went well, Andy would then apparate over and pick them up so Sirius and Remus could plead their case in person. 

Of course, if it went wrong, Andy would be under heavy suspicion and likely face charges for suspected aid of a criminal. 

(Remus had some doubts about this plan).

Remus had wanted to just try and get a Ministry hearing themselves and argue the old Wizengamot fools into submission until they got Sirius a reasonable trial, but Andromeda insisted that they needed a proper lawyer to ever make it that far. 

“Got the stuff?” Sirius said unnecessarily, already looking at the camcorder lying next to Remus’s feet. The idea was to play the video for Emmeline, the one from that night so many nights ago, where Sirius took a shot of Veritaserum and changed the course of their lives. Remus hadn’t given a thought to what would happen if Emmeline reacted like Dumbledore had, but the possibility wormed its way into his chest and hooked onto the walls of his lungs. Merlin, what if she didn’t believe them. What if. The idea didn’t even come with a question mark, already dipping down flatly at the end as he thought it. No, that couldn’t happen, Emmeline would just have to believe them, she’d have to-

There was a loud crack, and Andromeda appeared in their living room. Sirius jumped up, nearly knocking over the coffee table in his haste. 

“What’d she say?” he demanded, face even paler than usual. 

The corner of Andy’s mouth crooked upwards, her hair carefully coiled in a bun at the nape of her neck. “She’ll hear you out.” 

“Yes!” Sirius cried, color rushing back into his face. “Yes, I knew she’d help us, I always liked her-” 

“She’ll hear you out,” Andromeda repeated sharply. “You’ll still have quite the job convincing her, she barely let me leave without a full inquisition.” 

“Well, fuck,” Remus said flatly from the couch. 

“Listen,” Andromeda said, glancing between the two of them. “Emmeline Vance is no fool, not as far as I can tell. If you fuck this up, she’s not going to let you walk out free.” 

“We won’t, Andy,” Sirius said, “you know we-” 

Andromeda cut him off with a particularly sharp look. “Oh, I know you won’t, because otherwise you will lose everything. We need Emmeline, but not as badly as we need to keep you two out of Azkaban and Harry away from the Dursleys. If you have any doubts about her, you need to voice them right fucking now.” 

Remus pushed himself up, the cassette tape clutched in one of his clammy hands. “I think…” he exchanged a glance with Sirius, relieved to find his own steel resolve echoed in those familiar grey eyes. “I think we have to try.” 

“I always liked Em,” Sirius said, a quiver barely discernable under his flippant tone. “Let’s hope she felt the same about me.” 

Andromeda grinned, more akin to bared teeth than a smile. “Then we do this.” She reached out, gripping each of their shoulders, then twisted on the spot and Apparated with a crack. 

The world folded in on itself, then Remus was stumbling into a severe-looking chair and a voice was saying, “Wands on the table.” 

Remus looked up to find himself being stared down by Emmeline Vance. She stood behind a wide oak desk, feet planted firmly on the worn carpet like she was about to duel. Remus was hit with a smoky memory of her from across one of the countless battles, firing off curse after curse with that sharp, textbook-perfect form she never dropped. It was a collision of worlds, to see her again, face not streaked with drying blood but carefully lipsticked in the same vivid red. Hair not yanked backward in a sweaty knot but falling in a shiny black sheath to her shoulders, face not set in a permanent howl but a sharp, professional frown. Dark eyes not burning from within but long-cold ashes.  

“Wands on the table, did you not hear me?” Emmeline folded her arms tightly against her chest, her own thin wand jutting out from one white fist the only indication of tension. “I assure you, I have no qualms about shouting and bringing every Auror in these offices running within a few seconds. Wands on the table.”  

Andromeda squeezed Remus’s shoulder, nails biting into his skin, and he shook himself back into movement. Oh fuck, what had they gotten themselves into? Carefully not to look away from Emmeline’s set jaw, he pulled his wand from his back pocket and set it on the pristine desk, Sirius following suit. 

“Yours as well,” Emmeline ordered, nodding toward Andy. 

Sirius bristled, making an aborted motion back toward the desk like he was going to snatch his wand back up. “What’s your problem with her? She’s not accused of anything, you can’t make her-” 

“Sirius!” Remus hissed, grabbing him by the elbow as if that would somehow prevent him from flying off the handle. 

“Certainly, Mrs. Tonks may keep her wand,” Emmeline said quietly. “But I fear we’d have to continue this conversation in a Ministry courtroom.” 

“No, no, it’s alright,” Andromeda said, glaring at Sirius. “You can have it, don’t listen to him.” As soon as her wand hit the desk, Emmeline was leaning forward and snatching them up, quicker than Remus would have thought possible. 

“Circe’s tits,” Sirius muttered, looking at her almost offendedly. “We’re not going to jump over there and brain you, Em, give it a rest.” 

“I think you’ll find I’m entirely within my rights to expect some foul play, seeing as I currently have an accused murderer, an unregistered werewolf, and a likely criminal standing in my office.” At the look on his face, Emmeline nodded grimly. “That’s right, Remus, I know what you are. No one let it slip, don’t worry, it’s just my job to keep tabs on everyone in the Order-” she broke off abruptly. “It was my job. And I’m not predisposed to believe that the foul reputation of your kind has extended to you, but recent events have put it in question.” 

Sirius twitched, and Remus realized he’d been clutching onto his arm so hard the black silk of his suit was wrinkling. The werewolf thing was not a point in their favor, for certain, and Remus found himself momentarily swamped with the sheer terror of someone finding out about him. He’d never managed to reel it back once someone knew, never managed to vanish the fangs once they’d burst from his gums. 

“Now,” Emmeline said, tucking all four wands into the lapel pocket on her neat pantsuit. “Sit.” 

Discombobulated by the sudden switch in conversation, Remus blindly felt around behind him before managed to sink into one of the spindly chairs, Sirius and Andromeda settling on either side of him. 

“So,” Andromeda said to Sirius, sitting down primly in her own high wingbacked chair. “You’re innocent, are you?” 

“Yes,” Sirius said immediately. “Em, please, you know I would have never killed- never joined Voldemort. I’d have rather died, would have died happily for James and Lily, for any of us, Em.” 

With every use of the easy nickname, Emmeline bit down harder on her lip, and Remus was reminded that Sirius and Emmeline had been close, once. Never the best of friends, but they’d gotten paired for a fair few missions together, witnessed a fair few friends' murders together. 

“Where’s the evidence,” she said flatly. 

“We have this video,” Remus jumped in, brandishing the tape from the camcorder. “Sirius made it right before Halloween night, he had Veritaserum and said he hadn’t been the spy, we could play it if you have a TV or something-” 

“That won’t be necessary.” Emmeline reached underneath her desk, eyes never leaving Sirius, and pulled out a small bottle of what looked like liquid metal. “I’ve always been good at brewing truth potions. In fact, I believe I was the one to supply Sirius with it in the first place.” Without waiting for a response, she slid the bottle across the desk. “If your story is true, you should have no problem repeating it under the effects of this.” 

“Dumbledore said that Veritaserum wasn’t enough to prove it,” Remus said. “Will this even hold up in the court? What if-” 

“Pure Veritaserum has been banned due to increased trained tolerance in certain circles,” Emmeline said. “However, as unlikely as it seems to me that Sirius has had enough supply to build up such a tolerance, this is my own brew containing a slight switch in ingredients that would counter the effects of tolerance in any case.” 

“I’ll drink it, I don’t care,” Sirius said quickly, grabbing the bottle and flicking the cork stopper off. With barely a glance at the softly shimmering potion, he took a giant swig. “There. Ask me anything.” 

“We’ll have to test it’s set in,” Emmeline said, leaning forward. “Apologies for any unnecessary secrets revealed, it’s all or nothing. Sirius Black, what happened to Remus’s brown sweater with the patches?” 

“What the-” Remus said, but Sirius was already speaking. 

“I threw up into it after that Christmas party,” he said without hesitation, then cast a worried glance at Remus. “Sorry, Moons, I wasn’t aiming for it, honestly-” 

“You lying git!” Remus cried. “You told me Moody had chucked it into the fire because he thought it was contaminated!” 

“Nope,” Sirius said. “I tried to wash it, I really did, but it was too far gone.” Remus scoffed, even rolling his eyes before remembering there was a purpose to this interrogation. He looked back at Emmeline, who was smirking slightly. She dropped it as soon as he met her eyes. 

“That’s true, I saw you do it,” Emmeline said. “And I knew you’d never tell Remus the full story.” 

“No, I love him,” Sirius said. “We’re married.” 

Remus winced. “Is this really necessary?” 

“You’re married?” Emmeline said quickly, her slight smile back again for a moment. “Congratulations, I’d always suspected you were more than mates.” 

“No, I don’t think they were very subtle,” Andromeda said wryly. 

“Indeed,” Emmeline said. Her shoulders tensed again, any trace of friendless gone. “Well, we’ve acknowledged the potion works. Moving on.” She folded her hands together atop the desk, a silver ring glinting from her knuckles. “Sirius, I’m going to ask you a series of questions. If you hesitate for any amount of time, if Remus or Mrs. Tonks attempts to stop you or change your answer in any way, or if the answer is not up to my specifications, I will immediately be calling for backup. As a side note, the wards against you have only been lifted on this office and they prevent outgoing Apparation, so any leaving of this room will also result in alarms. Do you understand?” 

“Yes,” Sirius said. “I understand, I’m going to tell the truth.” 

“You’ll be forced to,” Emmeline said. “Now. First off - were you passing information to the Death Eaters from within the Order in any capacity?” 

“No.” 

“Did you ever plot to have a member of the Order killed?”

“No.” 

“Did you have any contact at all with any Death Eaters during the war?” 

“Just my brother,” Sirius said, and for the first time he seemed to be fighting to keep in the words. “He wrote me a letter, right before- right before he died.” 

Remus stiffened. He hadn’t known that, Regulus had sent him a letter? 

“I- I didn’t respond,” Sirius said. “That was the last thing he ever sent me, and I didn’t ever reply. Please, I don’t really want to talk about it, but I can’t control it, so-” 

To her credit, Emmeline just nodded quickly. “I see. And did you ever attempt to sabotage any Order missions?” 

“No.” 

“Did you ever take orders from Voldemort himself?” 

“No.” 

Remus was starting to feel like she was repeating questions. Hadn’t they already established Sirius wasn’t the spy?

Perhaps sensing this, Emmeline shifted gears. “Good, back to the night of the 31st. Tell me what happened.” 

“I went to check on Lily and James and Harry,” Sirius said, his hands tightening on the arms of the chair. “Remus was out on a mission. I flew my motorbike over, and the house was destroyed. James and Lily were dead, Harry was crying from his crib. I didn’t know what had happened.” 

Merlin, it was awful, hearing the event repeated in Sirius’s glazed, emotionless voice while his eyes widened with rage. Emmeline gestured sharply for him to go on, biting her lip so hard the skin was bleached white. 

“I was going to get Harry and take him home, but Hagrid showed up and said he had orders from Dumbledore. I fought him, said Harry should go with me, but he refused. I loaned him my motorbike to take Harry, then I went to kill Peter.” 

“Excuse me?” Emmeline said quickly. “Why did you go to kill Pettigrew?” 

“Because he was the secret keeper for the Lily and James,” Sirius said. “Not me. It was Peter. He was the only one who could have told Voldemort where they were hiding, so he was the spy.” 

“So you did kill Pettigrew?” Emmeline asked. “Yes, the circumstances are abhorrent, but I can’t plead innocence for a murder you did commit.” 

“No, I didn’t,” Sirius said. “I confronted him, got out my wand, and then he blasted half the street apart. Turned into a rat and espaced in the explosion. I saw him go down a sewer.” 

“Pettigrew is an animagus?” Emmeline asked, shock flitting across her features. 

“Yeah, we all are. I’m a dog, James was a stag, and Peter’s a rat.” 

“I see.” Emmeline leaned forward. “And the twelve muggles? Pettigrew's blast killed them?” 

“Yes.” 

“So you didn’t do anything to harm Pettigrew or the Muggles?” 

“No- or, yes, I didn’t do anything.” 

“Then why, Sirius, did you not tell the truth immediately when Ministry officials got to the scene?” 

“Too busy laughing,” Sirius said flatly. “Peter the rat, and he really was a rat. Seemed fucking hilarious at the time.” 

“He was in shock,” Andromeda interjected. “Obviously, he’d just seen his best friend dead, there’s no way he was emotionally stable-” 

“I understand,” Emmeline said. “I actually remember the shock of death quite well, if you can imagine.” She tapped her fingers on the desk one at a time, up and down and up and down. “And then there wasn’t a trial. A Death Eater’s caught, chuck him in Azkaban, end of the story. Voldemort gone.” 

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “By the time I could think again, I was in a cell and my crazy cousin was singing next to me.” 

“And the child, Harry? Andromeda mentioned he was being abused, do you now have possession of him?” 

“Yes,” Sirius said, the haunted look in eyes fading away. “Yeah, we took him from his aunt and uncle, they were awful. Had him locked in a bloody closet. James and Lily would have wanted us to raise him, not them.” 

“Indeed,” Emmeline said, and then she was silent for a very long time, gazing at a spot over their heads. Remus shifted, turning around and following her line of sight to an old picture frame hanging on the back of the thick paneled door. He was surprised to see Emmeline herself waving out at him, squished between a grinning Benjy Fenwick and Caradoc Dearborn, Dorcas Meadows playfully glaring from over Emmeline’s head. 

It struck Remus that, of the people in the picture, Emmeline was the last one standing. A squad of cursebreakers, nearly all broken themselves. 

“It wasn’t true after all,” Emmeline said softly.

“What wasn’t?” Remus asked, but Emmeline didn’t reply. 

She sat there staring at the picture for another minute, biting her lip like it was the only thing keeping her alive. Remus fidgeted, trying to figure out the odds on making a run for it. 

“Er- Emmeline?” Andromeda said quietly. “Is that enough? Will you help us?” 

“For Merlin’s sake, Em, say yes,” Sirius blurted out. “We need you, we really do-” 

“Here,” Emmeline said abruptly, pulling out a new vial from under her desk and shoving it at Sirius. “Take this, it’s a counter potion.” 

“But will you help us?” Sirius asked, glancing warily at the vial of golden sludge.

“Sirius, I have something to say, and it’s not fair of me to do so while you’re under the influence of Veritaserum,” Emmeline said, her voice rougher than usual, like gravel pouring from her mouth.

Scrunching up his face, Sirius grabbed the vial and threw it back like a shot of Firewhiskey. “There,” he said, wiping his mouth. “Oh, Merlin, that’s better. Now can you tell us?” 

Emmeline stopped tapping her fingers, pressing her palms into the wood of her desk like she was about to launch herself upward. “Yes, I’ll help you.” 

“Yeah!” Sirius cried, punching his fist in the air. “I knew you would, I knew it-” 

“I’ll help in the attempt to clear your name, and should that succeed I’ll help in transferring the guardianship of Harry Potter,” Emmeline continued. “But I need you to listen to me first.” 

“Thank you,” Remus said, relief sweeping over him. “Really, thank-” 

“I said, I need you to listen,” Emmeline growled. “There’s something I need you to understand.” Her voice remained professional, but now there was an echo underneath of all those curses she used to scream like they were cracking her in half. “Imagine, for a moment, you are seventeen and you leave school and there’s a war going on.” 

“We don’t have to imagine,” Sirius said. “We were there, we lived it-” 

“Sirius Black, for once in your bloody life, let someone else speak.” 

Sirius winced, pressing himself back against his chair. Remus thought that was a bit dramatic of Emmeline, but then something in her face told him not to press the point. She was still sitting primly, spine-ramrod straight, but her mouth was twitching as she bit her lip like she was trying to keep from baring her teeth. 

“You leave school, and there’s a war going on,” Emmeline repeated. “And you’re seventeen, and you don’t even think before you’re signing your name to fight in it. And when you show up to your first meeting, you hear people talking, talking on and on about those four boys you knew from school. And you’re sitting there thinking, those boys? The ones who could barely go a week without dumping Dungbombs in a random corridor? Those fucking boys?” 

Remus felt himself leaning forward, unable to pull his eyes off Emmeline. The wolf could smell sparks in the air, the same sort of thick haze right before lightning hits the ground. 

“But then you go on one mission, and then another, and you learn that yes, those boys. That one of them is almost impossibly kind, one of them is stronger than anyone you know, and one of them could make you laugh while standing over a corpse. And the fourth, maybe he’s not as blindingly bright as the rest, but he’s always there, no matter what. And you start to agree with what everyone says. That those boys are going to win the war for us.” 

(And they did, didn’t they? Only not in the way anyone was expecting.)

Emmeline was slowly pushing herself up from the chair, inch by inch. “But then the war gets worse. And those people you used to see every day, used to get dinner with and make a cup of tea for and lean on as you wobbled back from the pub - those people are dead. And then someone else is dead, and someone else, and everyone stops acting like we’re going to make it out of this at all.” She shook her hair out of her eyes aggressively. “And you get used to it, get used to the way the adrenaline courses through your veins like it’s more than the blood you were born with, get used to the fighting, and just when you start to think that the fighting is all there is, that you lived for nineteen years purely to go down kicking and screaming in your twentieth- that’s when it’s over.” 

Emmeline stood tall over her desk, both fists clenched, the four wands still jutting out of her pocket.

“And that’s when you get a call in the middle of the night on Halloween, and you’re halfway out the door with your wand in your teeth before the words finally sink in. Before you learn that the laughing boy was the one who sold us out, the reason that two of the other boys are dead. And the voice on the other end of the line keeps telling you we’ve won, keeps talking nonsense about the baby and the boy and the other boy and Voldemort, and all you can do is stand there as the fighting finally stops.” She slammed her hand down on the desk, sending paperweights clattering. “It all stops, only you don’t. You can’t , because that can’t be how it ends, it just can’t- so you keep showing up to work, keep on reporting for duty day after day as if that’s going to change anything, and one day they open the windows, the windows that had never been open before. And then the next day they’ve taken down the picture, the one of all of us, and you hadn’t realized how comforting it was to see those twenty smiling faces, over half of them gone, because before, before you’d hated looking up and seeing your face between so many ghosts, only now they’re gone and there’s no one left to whisper to you. There’s. no. one. left,” Emmeline bit out, every word carefully measured and chopped off at each syllable like she was rationing her voice. “And so all you can do is keep working, keep tracking down people and taking assignments as if one more Unforgivable will fix anything, until one day someone in a suit and an idiotic hat shows up and informs you that there is such a thing as killing too many Death Eaters after all, even though that’s all they used to want, and they throw words like volatile and detached and concerning at you until you agree to take a fucking desk job instead.” 

Emmeline took in a shaky breath, and Remus could see the blood pooling in her mouth from where her teeth had finally punctured the skin of her bit lip, dark red-on-red against her lipstick. 

Next to him, Andromeda was crying silently, her eyes huge and pained. 

“So then you end up here,” Emmeline announced, waving an arm jerkily at her office. “In a different office, surrounded by idiots who think they can get a piece of the glory by begging like dogs under a table for scraps of an assignment. Surrounded by people who think Lily Evans and James Potter are just names in a newspaper, people who’ve never heard of Marlene McKinnon or Dorcas Meadows or Benjy Fenwick. And-” she pointed at the door, “No one out there remembers. And you don’t scream, anymore. Your voice used to ring out constantly, carving into the cold air with irrefutable proof that you’re alive, you’re needed, and now you’re not.” She leaned forward, her eyes wide and wild. “And you don’t kill, anymore. You used to worry your wand would splinter down the middle with the weight of every curse, and now it won’t. And you don’t whisper, anymore. Everything used to be so covered in miles of classified warnings you had to lower your voice to keep the pull of them from sinking the words into your chest, and now you don’t.” 

Emmeline shook her head violently, like she was trying to throw off the ghosts crowding every available space, stealing her spare air with greedy fingers and slipping themselves down into her throat. 

“And fuck , you wish you had that picture. You wish you could run your fingertips over their faces and prove it was real, because it’s all supposed to be better, now. And it is, everyone tells you, of course it fucking is. But every day you get up and go to work and you miss that fucking war, because at least then you knew who you were. You were comfortable fighting every moment for your life, comfortable firing off killing curse after killing curse because it was that or being struck by one yourself. You were fighting for your life, but it was YOUR FUCKING LIFE!”

Emmeline's chest was heaving, the blood from her bitten lip dripping down her chin. “And then one day a woman you’ve never met comes into your office and says it all wasn’t true. That the boy didn’t kill the other boys, only the other one did, and he’s innocent and the baby that saved everyone is locked in a closet and can you help? And maybe you want to say no, maybe you want them to fuck off and leave you out of it, but that would mean it wasn’t worth it after all. And for the love of god, you need it to be worth it.” She stood there, shaking, her eyes filled with the same fire that Remus remembers. “Something has to be fucking worth it."

There was a heavy pause.

"So, that’s it. Now you know," Emmeline said, licking the blood off her lips jerkily. "That’s how it was for the rest of us. The one you left behind.” 

“Em-” Sirius said in a strangled voice. “We didn’t try to-” 

But Andromeda was already up from her chair, striding across the room, rounding the wide desk and folding Emmeline into her arms like that was the obvious next course of action. Immediately, Emmeline collapsed into her, sobs wracking her body as clutched onto Andy. 

Remus froze, entirely at a loss. It hit him all of a sudden that he’d never seen Emmeline Vance cry before, not on a mission or at a funeral or in the middle of the night. 

“It’s alright, love,” Andromeda whispered softly, trailing her fingers through Emmeline’s hair as she cried. “It’s alright.” 

What do we do? Sirius mouthed desperately at Remus. His face looked the way Remus felt, caught off guard and grieving and struck once again by the sheer rage of what had happened to them. It wasn’t fair, the way they’d all been ground to pieces by the war. 

(It had never been fair). 

“I’m going to help,” Emmeline said suddenly, lifting her tear-streaked face from Andromeda’s shoulder to stare at Remus and Sirius. Despite the wreckage of her perfect expression, she still looked stronger than Remus had ever felt. “I’m going to help you, if you promise to make it worth it.”  

“We promise,” Sirius said immediately. 

“We’re going to make it worth it,” Andy vowed. “We’re going to make them pay.” 

Chapter Text

For fuck’s sake, Remus thought to himself, why in the world had anyone ever allowed Emmeline and Andromeda to be in the same room together? An absolute lapse in judgment, for certain. He’d only just started to warm to the old house, and now it was turned into their war headquarters. 

“Remus, bring back over the birth certificate, will you?” Andromeda said, her head bent over a thick book that looked like it belonged in the Middle Ages. Emmeline sat at the table next to her, where the two of them had spent the better part of an hour pouring over old wizarding property and guardianship laws and muttering to each other cryptically. 

“Why do I have to get it?” Remus grumbled under his breath, changing his path from the kitchen to back around into the foyer. It was his own fault for coming in here with them plotting like that. 

“Oh, sorry, would you like to switch? You can come up with the brilliant ideas and I’ll be the one to wander around attacking dust mites and listening to Harry babble?” 

“Hm, that might be too hard for you, Andy,” Emmeline said in fake concern. “Do you really think you could handle the sheer mental toil of popping in every five seconds to make sure the toddler hasn’t woken up from his nap yet?” 

See? A total lapse in judgment. 

“I’m only checking on him,” Remus called over his shoulder, rolling his eyes. He snatched up the pile of papers from the entryway table and turned back around. “I don’t want him to wander off and fall down the laundry shute or something-” He cut himself off with a groan as both women laughed at him. “Oh, shut it. Here’s your bloody papers.” 

“Cheers, love!” Andy said, blowing him a kiss as Emmeline pulled the certificate toward her and immediately began writing notes in the little notebook she’d brought from her office. 

And alright, yes, Remus could admit that hiring Emmeline was probably one of the best choices they could have made. He’d had his doubts, to be sure, especially after she’d promptly kicked them out of her office after her meltdown without only a vague promise that she’d ‘be in touch’, but being in touch turned out to mean she’d be knocking on Andromeda’s door at seven in the morning the next day, an enormous tea flask in one hand and a pile of books in the other. A groggy Andy had summarily dropped her off at Sirius and Remus’s house (which they really needed a name for, come to think of it) and she’d banged on their door instead. The wards had apparently taken no issue with her. After she’d identified herself and stopped Remus just short of blowing her up along with the entire porch while in his pajamas, she’d invited herself in and settled in at the table, occasionally loudly demanding different records or random information like Sirius’s birth date or his rising star sign. 

Giving up on his vague idea of getting a snack, Remus headed out of the war council/kitchen and down the hallway, kicking one of Sirius’s discarded shoes out of the way. They hadn’t bothered with the upper floors yet at all, but this section of the old house was quickly starting to feel like home. There was a little bathroom and two guest rooms, the nicer of which they’d deposited Harry. At the end of the hallway was a big door to the backyard, nestled next to a large window crisscrossed with white panes. Late afternoon sun was streaming in, casting little diamond-shaped pockets of light on the faded carpet. 

Resisting the urge to poke his head in Harry’s room (he wasn’t being ridiculous, he was just being cautious, alright?), Remus grabbed his coat from where it was hanging on the doorknob of their bedroom and pushed out the backdoor. 

“Ah-HA! TAKE THAT, YOU BASTA- oh, bugger…” Across the yard, Sirius was jumping backward as a huge thicket of branches in the trees above him crashed to the ground with a crunch. “Oh fuck, I didn’t want to take out that bit…” 

“What are you even doing?” Remus said, shrugging on the coat, which he realized with annoyance was actually Sirius’s, if the comically short arms were anything to go on. 

“Landscaping!” Sirius yelled over his shoulder, pointing his wand at a new tree branch. “Sectum sempra!”  

“Isn’t that a Death Eater spell?” Remus said, wincing at the hated syllables in Sirius’s mouth. He headed across the lawn, winding his way around the random bushes and tall weeds that sprouted up from the cold ground like a poorly trimmed beard. 

“Yeah, I s’pose, but it’s pretty good at pruning trees and stuff,” Sirius said. “And this definitely needs a trim if Harry’s going to be able to practice flying out here.” He waved his wand vaguely toward the looming thicket of trees. If the house had been left dusty yet undisturbed, the backyard was a different story. It was big enough, alright, practically the size of a Quidditch pitch, but the forest had crept in, pushing through the rotting fence in bulbous swells and drooping branches over the top. 

“Don’t you think it’s a bit early to be banking on Harry’s future Quidditch career?” Remus said skeptically. 

“It’s never to early to start training,” Sirius said fervently. “As soon as he can walk, I’ll get him on a broom, and then we can do drills-” 

“If by we , you mean, you and Harry, then knock yourself out,” Remus said. “I’ll keep my feet firmly on the ground, thanks.” 

“That’s what you say now,” Sirius said dismissively. Remus privately agreed- he already had a feeling that he’d do anything if it made Harry happy, and any son of James’s would surely be happy on a broom, as insanely dangerous as Remus thought the whole sport was. 

“Andy and Emmeline have nearly solved world hunger in the kitchen,” Remus reported, wrapping an arm around Sirius’s shoulder. There were twigs in his hair. 

“Sounds around right,” Sirius laughed. They stood there for a moment, staring up at the trees, and at the random hunks missing that Sirius’s attempts at landscaping had resulted in. Remus couldn’t quite believe that they were actually here. “Remus?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you have any idea where to buy nappies?” 

“Not a clue in the world.” 

“Bollocks,” Sirius said. “Andy brought over a new box, but I think we’ll run out sooner rather than later. Is there like… a baby supply store?” 

Remus gave some thought to this. “Probably? We can’t just pop over to the nearest one, in any case, not with your wanted poster on every streetlight pole from here to London.” 

“Hm,” Sirius said. “This is a conundrum.” 

“Remus?” a voice called from the back door. “Sirius?” 

“Yeah?” hollered Sirius without turning around. 

“You have a visitor!” 

Within a moment, both Remus and Sirius were sprinting for the door, wands raised. All Remus could think was getting to Harry, getting to Harry, gettingtoHarrygettingto-

“Whoa, whoa, Circe’s tits!” Andy cried, throwing her arms out to block them from charging into the house. “What the fuck?” 

“Where's the threat?” Remus demanded. “Have they got- did they take-” he couldn’t finish his sentence. 

“No, oh my god, there’s no threat,” Andy said, and Remus could practically feel the breath rushing out of him. No threat. They were safe. “What, did you think ‘you have a visitor’ was code for ‘fight for your lives’?” 

Remus made a face that he hoped looked like ‘yeah, exactly that’.  

“If we were in danger, I would have just screamed for help!” Andy said. “I’m sorry, my bad for not giving enough context. I swear, the visitor is just a visitor.” 

“Well, who the hell is visiting us?” Sirius cried, yanking the rubberband out of his hair so it fell in a mess to his shoulders. 

“I am,” a voice said, and Andromeda stepped aside to reveal a short, plump woman with a halo of red curls, standing with a tiny baby strapped to her chest and one arm clutching a squirming toddler. “I’m dying to chat it all out, of course, but ‘Dromeda, dear, is there anywhere I could stick Ginny and Ron? I had to tote them along, Arthur was already watching the older boys, but don’t worry, Gin’s asleep, I think, and Ron just wants to wander around for a bit, he’d be fine in any random room.” 

Well. That was certainly not what Remus had been expecting. 

“Molly?” Sirius said, looking caught between panic and confusion. Confusion won out, his face contorting further with every new glance at Molly Weasley and her two children. “What- how did you- why are you here?” 

“Oh, ‘Dromeda and I are mum mates, aren’t we, dear? She sent me a very sweet and cautious letter, just feeling my thoughts out about the whole situation, and naturally I saw right through her and decided that if Sirius was really innocent then you two idiots would have your hands full handling a little boy, let alone trying to fix the whole legal system.” 

Well, there was nothing to say to that. 

Andy nodded smugly, clearly pleased with her selection of the newest addition to the The Really Badass Marauders’ Prison Break Rescue Mission. Which, come to think of it, was starting to be entirely overwhelmed with headstrong women (Remus couldn’t say he was exactly annoyed). 

The toddler, Ron, squirmed in Molly’s arms. “Mum! Wanna go down!” He kicked his feet so aggressively that one shoe went flying off, smacking into the wall. 

“Ronnie, none of that,” Molly chided, withdrawing her wand from her overstuffed carpet bag and waving it wordlessly. Ron’s jettisoned shoe flew up from the floor and stuffed itself back on the giggling toddler’s foot. “Really, dears, if there was somewhere I could pop Ginny to sleep, an open drawer’d be just fine, she’s not picky, and it’d be perfect if Ron could go play with Harry, wherever he is, then we’d be able to sit down and have a proper chat. ‘Dromeda’s told me all about your work with the lawyers, and that sounds absolutely brilliant,” she nodded graciously toward Andy, “but forgive me for saying, dear, you’ve only got the one kid and I’ve had a fair few more, so I thought I could offer some advice.” She smiled brightly at Remus and Sirius. “Of course, if that’d be alright with you?” 

“I mean, yeah,” Remus said, when it became clear that Sirius was still too shocked for speech. “Yeah, that’d be- wow, yeah. We have a crib for Harry, Ginny could sleep there?” 

“Perfect,” Molly said with a nod. “Point me in that direction?” 

“Just down the hall,” Remus said, still unable to believe how quickly his afternoon had been derailed. He led the way to Harry’s room, the door right across from the other bedroom he and Sirius had claimed. He quickly shucked off the too-small jacket, tossing it back on the doorknob. 

“Harry?” Remus said quietly, creaking open the door. “You up?” 

“Moo-moo!” Harry yelled happily. He was clearly wide awake, standing up in the crib and bouncing on the plush mattress. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” Remus said, flicking on the lights. It seemed he’d never escape that unfortunate nickname (Harry took after his father when it came to ridiculous monikers). “We, er- we’ve got a friend for you?” 

Molly pushed past him, depositing Ron on the tufted rug with a sigh of relief. 

Harry stared at Ginny in the baby carrier, his eyes wide. “Baby?” 

“Oh, look at you, you’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you?” Molly laughed. “He’s adorable, Remus, looks just like James.” 

“I know,” Remus agreed. 

Harry reached his arms up over the edge of the crib. “Moo-moo! Up! Up!” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” Remus heaved Harry out of the crib, trying to settle him in a somewhat comfortable position. 

Molly clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “Well, first of all,” she adjusted Harry’s leg so it wasn’t pinched against Remus’s hip, “that’s how you pick up a little one, hey?” It was almost embarrassing, how much easier it suddenly became to hold onto the wiggling toddler. 

(Maybe having Molly around would prove to be even more helpful than Remus had thought). 

“‘Ello!” Ron suddenly hollered from the rug. He stared up at Harry from underneath his shock of bright red hair. “‘Ello?” 

“Ron, that’s Harry,” Molly said, busily unstrapping the still-sleeping Ginny. “You’re going to be friends.” 

“Mum?” Harry said, reaching out to snatch at one of Molly’s curls. 

“Oh, no, love,” Molly said, her expression dipping into grief. “No, I’m not your mum. She was a truly lovely lady, though, and you’ve got her eyes, don’t you? Lily’s eyes.” 

Harry just looked at her, enthralled. Remus watched her too, trying to remember what he'd known of the little woman who'd been at so many Order meetings, dark circles under her eyes but a determined smile always in place.

“‘Ello!” Ron yelled again, likely annoyed that the attention had shifted away from him. 

“Yes, Ronnie, hold your horses a moment,” Molly said. She set Ginny down in the middle of the crib. Remus, who’d never seen a baby so small, was worried she’d somehow fall right through the slats, but Molly seemed to trust the old crib. “C’mon, you’ll wake your sister.” 

Molly grabbed Ron’s hand and walked him out of the room, gesturing for Remus and Harry to follow. With the feeling that he’d suddenly become a visitor in his own home, Remus let her lead the way down back to the kitchen, where Emmeline was still sitting hunched over the mess of papers, unconcerned by the visitor. 

“Hello, dear, you must be Emmeline,” Molly said brightly. 

“Shhh,” Harry hissed to her. “Emmy no like talking.” 

Remus stifled a snort. Harry had clearly picked up on Emmeline’s strict work ethic, even if she’d been perfectly nice to the toddler (despite insisting on asking him questions like he was a forty-year-old man who understood words like ‘obtusely’). 

“She’s clear?” Emmeline said brusquely to Remus, not looking up. 

“Yes, Molly’s not a threat,” Remus said, nearly laughing at the idea of Emmeline springing up to deal with the woman currently pulling her child away from opening the empty china cabinet full of pottery shards that they’d yet to clean out. 

“‘Dromeda let me in the wards,” Molly added. “No, Ron, don’t touch that- And I’d be happy to swear whatever safety oath you think is appropriate, Emmeline dear, I understand you’re the expert on legal proceedings here.” 

“I am,” Emmeline said, finally looking up. “An oath’s not necessary, but we’ll likely need another testimony in court when it comes to that, meaning you’d have to swear in and provide reasonable evidence that Remus and Sirius are capable caregivers. Your experience as a mother would be helpful, depending on the jury, and then we’ll need-” 

“Of course,” Molly said, cutting in before Emmeline could spew any more legal jargon. “That’s why I’m here, to help these two make the better of what's happened.” 

“Good,” Emmeline said, returning to the papers. Her expression didn’t change, but Remus could tell she’d been won over by Molly’s disarming, flustered kindness. Remus had been won over, hit once again with the impossible-to-understand acceptance of mothers. He’d never forgotten the first time he’d met James’s mum, the older witch taking one look at him and immediately insisting that he eat something, right away, and did he like biscuits? It’d taken a war, but Remus thought he might finally be learning there was a different sort of strength beyond just curses and fighting and tearing things down. A lashed-together raft in a roiling sea, a freshly brewed cup of tea, a friendly hand squeeze. 

(The strength of reaching out, instead of pushing away). 

“Well, why don’t we get the kids set up and then hash it all out?” Molly said, clapping her hands. She headed over to the empty space where Remus figured there must have been another cabinet, long since removed and leaving only a discolored spot on the floor where it had been. Molly set her carpet bag down with an unlikely loud thunk. 

Andy and Sirius filed into the kitchen, Sirius immediately coming to stand next to Remus and lifting Harry out of his arms (he knew how to hold him correctly, Remus noted with annoyance). 

“Right, I figured you wouldn’t have any toys or things like that yet,” Molly continued. “So I did a round-up of some of the boys’ old ones, they have plenty as it is.” She reached into the bag, pulling out what looked like a miniature fence slat by slat, painted bright primary colors and definitely too big to have fit in that bag. “C’mon, Ronnie, over here.” She waved her wand and the fence set itself up in an oval, locking into place as a plush mat splashed out inside it over the rough floorboards. 

Remus exchanged an incredulous glance with Sirius. Childcare seemed to involve a lot more gadgets and gizmos than Remus had thought. 

“You can keep this playpen,” Molly continued, beginning to dump out an array of blocks and toys inside, “we had to get a bigger one now that Fred and George are older, they were starting to climb out, but don’t worry, at Harry’s age he’s safe as a birds nest, even Fred and George couldn’t break it when they were two, and they could find a way to break anything.” As she chattered, she lifted Ron inside and gestured to Sirius to hand over Harry. “They’ll be happy for hours in here, and I’m sure Ron’ll be excited for a playmate that isn’t always trying to blow things up like his brothers, love them to bits, of course.” 

Somehow, in the space of a few seconds, she’d set up a full-fledged little daycare center and gotten Harry and Ron inside, where they were already babbling to each other and building with the blocks. 

“So?” Molly said, standing up and dusting off her patchwork skirt. “Ready to chat business? Any burning questions about parenthood for me?” 

“Do you- do you have more stuff in that bag?” Remus asked. 

Molly smiled knowingly. “When you’re a mum, you’ve got everything in your bag.” She reached down, pulling out an honest-to-god chest of drawers from her bag and setting it down with a bang on the old floor. “Now, I know you Blacks are just rolling in it, but I assume that being wanted criminals makes it harder to nip down to the nearest corner store and buy the baby essentials, so I scrounged up the best of the boys’ hand-me-downs, nothing much, of course, but a few good pajamas and shirts and all that. Plus-” she pulled out another cardboard box from the magical bad, “some of those nice durable kid plates and silverware, and some books, and a cute little stuffed animal, and, most importantly,” she lifted out a final box, “some nappies.” 

Even Harry was watching the bag with his little mouth open. Remus was pretty sure the same expression was currently on his face. 

“You have no idea how many problems you just solved,” Sirius said finally, grinning. “I think we might owe you for life, Molly Weasley.” 

“Just a cup of tea would be fine, dears,” Molly laughed.

Chapter Text

At the end of the day, it was a combination of factors: the jailbreak, the rescue, the flat, the house. Hiring Emmeline and being fussed over by Molly. The sheer terror of knowing that the entire Ministry was on your tail, your only protection a few half-arsed disguises and wards on a home so old you can’t even understand them. It was all of these things, and yet somehow none of them at the same time, that made it several weeks since Remus first watched the video on the camcorder that anyone remembered Mary MacDonald. 

* * *

“Are you sure this is right?” Sirius hissed to Remus as they walked up a suburban street. On the other side of the sidewalk, a group of kids were busily drawing with chalk, the thin scratching sound digging into Remus’ teeth. It was late afternoon and the sun was already dipping lazily in the sky over the houses at the end of the cul-de-sac.

“I told you already, this is the address Mary sent me last,” Remus said. He pulled out the crumpled parchment again, scanning the few lines in Mary’s looping cursive. It was dated October 29th, two days before everything fell apart, only a few short sentences about Mary and her muggle boyfriend renting out a house from her aunt. Mary had always refused to be involved in the war, never let her feet trip sideways into an Order meeting no matter how many thinly veiled threats Dumbledore sent her way, but she’d known things were bad: the slight shake in her handwriting was clear evidence of the tension that had sat on everyone's shoulders in those days. 

(Remus had never written back). 

Instead, the last he’d heard from Mary was her shaking voice on the phone on November 1st, before everything went black with his eyes still open. After that, well, he hadn’t even spared a thought for her until yesterday, like he’d been running at a dead sprint for far longer than his legs could stand and had only now managed to slow down and look over his shoulder. 

Yesterday, Remus had jolted out of a tired doze, sat straight up on the still sheet-covered couch, and said, “Sirius. Mary.”

Sirius had jumped up right away like he could go sprinting out into the countryside and find her. 

Of course, that wasn’t possible, and with the Ministry likely searching all mail and no doubt endless wards laid in case Remus or Sirius did any magic outside of their Unplottable house, the only way to get back in touch with the girl they’d known so long was public transportation. Which meant a bus, then the train, then another bus, and now, walking. 

“Do you think she’ll recognize us?” Sirius asked. 

“Hopefully not,” Remus said pointedly, gesturing at their disguises. It was a dress and hair clips for Sirius, again, and Remus was sporting his terrible beard, along with every other minor change Andy could pull off with her half-remembered charms. Sirius, who clearly loved having the fabric swishing around his ankles, had definitely gotten the better end of the deal. Remus’ chin was already itching like hell. 

“Still,” Sirius said, and Remus knew what he meant. “Do you think she- do you think she believes I did it?” 

“I don’t know what she believes,” Remus said, which was true. He knew Mary, had known her since they were eleven, but he didn’t know the person she’d become after October 31st. 

They walked past another few houses, each one with a neat little lawn and a brightly painted door. Remus looked at the paper one more time, even though he had the address memorized, then stopped in front of the last house on the cul-de-sac, the street curving out from it like both halves of a rainbow. “Here.” 

Sirius sucked in a breath, staring up at the little house with the white trim and red shutters. A pair of old work shoes were kicked off on the porch, next to a pair of shiny pink welly boots. The house looked nothing but absolutely welcoming, and yet Remus couldn’t shake the terrible feeling of dread lurking just behind him. He somehow, horribly, knew that something inside that house was something he didn’t want to face. Something was wrong-wrong-wrong, and his bones were icing over with the knowledge. 

Down the street, a voice called the kids into dinner and all background noise abruptly cut off as they abandoned their chalk to the still twilight. Remus sucked in a breath, and he could nearly hear his lungs expanding and crumpling.  

“Well, come on,” Sirius said, and headed up the path. Remus forced himself to take another step, wishing on wishes that this was just another false premonition, another side effect of years of war. 

Sirius rang the bell, they heard it trill away in the house. 

“Coming!” a familiar voice hollered, and footsteps tip-tapped toward the door. Remus was biting his lip so hard he could no longer feel it. Something was wrong, something was wrong-

A woman pulled open the door, and Remus knew. 

That wasn’t Mary MacDonald. 

But it was, of course, it was Mary’s sparkling eyes and her carefully-tamed curls and her signature red lipstick, but Remus was completely and utterly certain that something was missing. There was the bleached-out line of the scar on her cheek she’d gotten after jumping off a table in the common room during a Halloween party, and the slight gap between her teeth she’d never let anyone magic away, and Remus could smell her signature perfume she’d worn since fourth year, roses and burnt sugar, and yet- she was only a picture, an etching on glass of what the real flesh-and-blood-and-bones Mary had been. An echo of a scream. 

“Hello?” Not-Mary said brightly. “Can I help you?” 

“Mary,” Remus said faintly, unable to get past her name. 

“Do I know you?” Mary said, tilting her head. “I’m sorry, we haven’t lived here very long, and I’m just terrible with remembering faces…” 

“Mary, for fucks sake, it’s us,” Sirius hissed. “Sirius and Remus. Please don’t freak out, I swear we’re not dangerous, we can tell you the whole story and explain it better, just let us in. We have to talk to you.” 

There was a long pause. Remus waited for her expression to morph into understanding, to prove that his intuition was wrong, but it stayed in a confused scrunch. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I recognise you,” Mary said. “What did you say your names were?” 

“Remus and Sirius,” Sirius repeated, leaning forward like he could shake the understanding into her. “C’mon, Mary, it’s us! I swear I’m innocent, if we could just explain things to you-” 

“Remus and Sirius?” Mary repeated, and for half a heartbeat Remus was convinced that everything was okay. “Oh my god, it’s you!” 

“Yes, yes, Mary, it’s us,” Sirius sighed in relief, but Mary was already turning away, bustling out of sight down the long hallway. 

“Sirius, I think we should leave-” Remus attempted, but Sirius cut him off with a sharp exhale. 

“It’s alright, she just didn’t know who we were,” Sirius said. “Do you think we should go inside?” 

“No,” Remus whispered. His throat felt like something was stuck in it, like that moment in dreams when you try to scream and can’t make a sound. 

“Mary?” Sirius called into the open door. It looked bright and homey, the walls glowing in red from the sunset shining through what must have been the back windows, but the air was still and cold. Like a tomb. 

“Here we are,” Mary said, and Remus and Sirius both lurched backward as she headed back down the hallway, waving two small envelopes in her hand. She reached the threshold and stuck them out decisively. 

Sirius was still looking at her like she’d figure it out. “Listen, MacDonald, it’s not safe for us to be out here very long-” 

“You must be the new neighbors down the block!” Mary said, blazing right over his words. “Thank god you came looking for these, or I’d have absolutely no idea how to find you! It was the strangest thing, the letters just popped up on our doorstep one day, and I assumed they’d been mis-delivered but I couldn’t for the life of me find the right address.” 

“The- what?” Sirius said softly, the hope in his face draining away. 

Mary just laughed, continuing brightly, “I was worried, actually, what with that murderer escaping and his name being Sirius, too, and you really don’t meet many Sirius’s, do you? But you’re a girl, and you don’t look a bit like that horrible man, so I suppose that’s just an unlucky coincidence.” 

Mary smiled at them quizzically, and Remus finally reached out to take the envelopes. Sure enough, there was one addressed to each of them in Mary’s handwriting. 

“Mary, these are from you,” Remus said. “Sirius and Remus. Don’t you- don’t you remember?” He hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t wanted to speak it into existence, but now that the thought had left his mouth it hung suspended between them like a waft of smoke.

“I think you’re confused,” Mary said slowly, resting her hand on the doorknob. “Like I just said, they showed up on our doorstep one day without any address. They’re for you, whoever sent them just mistook our house for yours. I almost thought they were in another language, y’know, Sirius and Remus are such strange names, but now you're here, so that’s that solved. Look, I’d love to chat more soon but I’m actually a bit tired right now, so…” she made to close the door, and Sirius grabbed the edge. 

“Mary, for fuck’s sake, stop this. It’s fine, I didn’t do it, you don’t have to pretend not to know us. I know you’re probably angry at me, and that’s fine, but stop doing this!” 

“Sirius,” Remus warned, but Mary was quicker. 

“Now that’s quite enough!” she burst out. “I’m sorry, I’m sure I’ve never seen you in my life, and a few misplaced letters don’t give you the right to come and yell at me in my own home. I don’t know how you know my name, and frankly, I’m a little concerned that you showed up here at all!” She yanked on the door, but Sirius held strong. 

“Fucking hell, it’s me, Mary! Sirius! Did Dumbledore get to you, did he tell you not to talk to us? Have you already called the Aurors?? We can keep you safe, you can live with us, we’ll fix everything-” Sirius’ voice broke. “Please, please, Mary, let me fix everything.” 

“Mary?” a new person called. “Who’s at the door?” 

“Our new neighbors,” Mary called back, glaring at Sirius. “They’re being rather rude, Darren, but I’m handling it!” 

“What do you mean-” a tall man wearing a pair of coveralls walked up behind Mary and took in the scene–Mary’s confused yet angry stance in the doorway, the letters clutched in Remus’ limp hand, the desperate sheen of tears in Sirius’ eyes–and blinked once. “Oh. It’s you.” 

“Who are you?” Sirius demanded. 

“Mary, love, I know them from work,” Darren said placadingly. “Probably just off a long shift, you know how it is, I bet it’s just a misunderstanding.” 

“You know them?” Mary said, looking up at him and already calmer. “Well, why the hell didn’t you say something, all these weeks of me going mental trying to figure out the deal with these letters!” 

“I- I wasn’t sure it was the same Remus and Sirius,” Darren said haltingly, casting a nervous look at them. “You go and sit down and take a rest, I’ll explain the letters.” 

 “I’ve been explaining it, they don’t seem to understand,” Mary muttered, finally letting go of the door. “And I’m perfectly fine, Darren, six weeks pregnant doesn’t mean I’ve lost all ability to stand.” 

Remus felt like he’d been suddenly plunged into a cold bath.

“You’re pregnant?” Sirius said quietly. “I didn’t know that.”

“I don’t know why you would,” Mary told him sharply, “I’m not showing at all yet.” 

 “Twins,” Darren announced, beaming down at Mary. “We’re having twins, isn’t that brilliant?” 

“Brilliant,” Remus breathed, everything gone numb. Whatever happiness he’d normally feel at the news was swamped by the terrible confusion of being told one of his best friends was pregnant like they’d never spoken before, leaving a strange, empty cavern in his chest. 

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Remus and Sirius,” Mary said pointedly. “I’ll leave you to talk to Darren, and I sincerely hope you keep better track of your letters in the future. You’ll have to come over sometime once you move in, maybe make up for trying to stick your foot in my door.” She glared at Sirius, then whipped around. 

“Wait, Mary-” Sirius tried one last time, but she was already down the hallway and out of sight. “You,” Sirius turned on Darren, “what the fuck is going on? What- what happened to her, did you curse her?” 

“I’m a muggle,” Darren said flatly. “You lot are wizards, though, right?” 

“Yeah,” Remus said. “We are-” 

“What did you do to her?” Sirius demanded loudly, lurching toward Darren. Remus snatched up his wrist, digging his nails into Sirius’ skin. “Why doesn’t she- why can’t she remember us?” 

“I didn’t do anything,” Darren said, a wave of sadness cresting in his brown eyes. “I couldn’t stop her. She did the spell that night, the day after Halloween.” 

Mary had always been the best at memory charms, Remus remembered dimly. 

“No, no no no,” Sirius repeated. “She couldn’t have, she’d never have- never have deserted us like that! Not Mary, she’s not a fucking coward-” 

“Don’t talk about Mary like that,” Darren boomed, looming over Sirius. “I might not have agreed with her choice, but I’ll never pretend it was anything but brave. She was exactly like everyone else, grieving and scared and about to fall apart, except she had the tools to feel better, so how can you fault her for taking advantage of it?” 

“You should have fucking stopped her,” Sirius spat, tears coursing down his face. Remus felt like his own tears were stuck in the bridge of his nose, radiating out in a dull headache. 

“She was drowning,” Darren said slowly. “I couldn’t take her only life preserver.” 

And god, that hit Remus like an uppercut to the jaw, the sudden image of Mary, clever, strong Mary, sinking to her knees in front of a telephone that didn’t ring all night long. He clung harder to Sirius’ wrist, his fingers prodding into the delicate bones. 

(How could she have done it?) 

(How had Remus managed not to do it?)

“What did she forget?” Sirius asked, angrily swiping at his eyes with his free hand. “Me? Remus? What about James and Lily, what about Hogwarts, what about magic and the war and Voldemort and Harry and Marlene? Who does she think she is, if she’s not Mary MacDonald?”  

“She thinks she went to a boarding school in Scotland,” Darren explained flatly. “She never had many friends, and she doesn’t keep in contact with any of them.” 

“Fuck,” Sirius bit out, crumpling inward. “FUCK!” 

“I think it’s best if you read those letters,” Darren told them sadly. “And it’s probably a good idea if you don’t come around here again. I don’t know much about this escaped murderer business, but I have to keep our family safe.” With that, he shut the door and Remus heard the click of the lock. 

Which left them standing on an empty porch, the last rays of sun limping over the crest of the roof, holding the last letters of a friend who’d never remember them again.

* * *

Dear Remus, 

I’m sorry. I can’t say anything except that, over and over, and I know it doesn’t mean anything. That’s all anyone has been saying to me today, and I can’t take it anymore. I don’t know if this letter makes any sense, but I hope you can understand. It’s not that I don’t want to remember, I want to remember everything, Lily and James and Peter and Marlene and Sirius- god, Sirius- and Hogwarts and all our years together. I’m absolutely terrified that once you're gone there won’t be anything left of me, just a shell. But I’d rather be a shell than have to live through this anymore. Do you understand? I CAN’T remember, it’s burning me alive. This whole war is burning me alive and it never mattered that I wasn’t even fighting in it like you. I’m not brave, if I could have hidden you all away in a house and kept us there safe for the rest of our lives I would have, fuck Voldemort. He could have cracked the whole world in half and I wouldn’t have cared, not if my family was safe. But I didn’t, and you weren’t, and now it’s all too much and too late. Every time I blink I see Lily’s eyes, except all glassy and dead and I’m going to explode if I can’t get away from them. I’m not trying to be metaphorical, I’m saying that there’s so much of something ricocheting around inside me I’m going to collapse from the inside out, in one great mess of blood and bones and useless magic, because why the fuck do we have magic if we have to feel like this? The wizarding world never did anything except take things from me, and now I’m going to take MYSELF from it. 

I’m pregnant, did you know that? I just found out a few days ago. Twins, isn’t that mental? That’s why I have to do this, I don’t know how much of me is going to be left after but at least what's left to raise my kids won’t be rotting from the core. I don’t know how to explain it- there’s a kumquat tree in our backyard, and it looks so lovely and nice in the sunlight, but I tried to eat one today and it was crawling with bugs, worm-eaten holes punching through the fruit until it was more rot than life. I just- I just can’t be that tree anymore, I CAN’T. 

I know the spell to use. I could do it in a heartbeat. It won’t even hurt, I don’t think. Darren knows everything, I’m giving him these letters just in case you come back to find me. But I don’t know if you will. You’re a kumquat tree too, Remus, and you’ve been infected for longer than I have. 

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.

Please keep going, Remus. The world deserves one of us left, to tell the story. It just can’t be me. 

All my love, 

Mary 

P.S. - I’ve already picked out the twin’s middle names. Lily and Marlene. I suppose that won’t mean anything to me after this, but Darren knows it’s important. At least now I know I’ll keep saying their names. 

Remus and Sirius were sitting on the front step of their own house, night long having fallen. The dusty old lantern hanging from the wall of the garage was valiantly casting them in a circle of yellow.

Remus wordlessly passed over his letter to Sirius, who flicked his own letter toward Remus with a strangled noise. There was only one line on it. 

Dear Sirius, 

I know you didn’t do it. But it still happened. 

It’s not your fault, 

Mary 

“Turn it over,” Sirius said tonelessly. Remus did so and found a shaky postscript, the ink dotted with tear splotches. 

If you’re reading this, I’m assuming you’ve gotten out. And if you’ve gotten out, then maybe there’s still some hope left. I don’t know if I can even manage the magic, but if there’s ever a world where Voldemort is gone, where nothing can hurt us anymore, then the memory charm should break. If you’re here, then maybe that’s happened already and I didn’t ever have to give you these letters. 

If it hasn’t, I hope you can make it happen. I want to remember you before I see you again.

“FUCK!” Sirius suddenly shouted, pounding his fist into the porch and breaking the quiet night. “FUCKING GODDAMN FUCK!” He collapsed into Remus’ side, shaking with sobs. Remus wrapped an arm around him. 

(Mary. Marymarymarymary). 

He tilted his head back, squeezing his stinging eyes shut. Remus swallowed thickly, the air like tar in his throat. The worst part was, he couldn’t even really be angry at Mary, because he knew how close he had been to her choice. He remembered sitting on the floor in his ruined flat, contemplating raising his wand and trying to wipe everything blank. The only reason he hadn’t (god, it was so fucking stupid), the only reason he hadn’t was because he couldn’t remember the spell. Half a dozen years of magic school, and Remus couldn’t remember how to do a memory charm, and by the time he was pulled together enough to able to get up and try to find a book or something, he was pulled together enough to watch the camcorder and then his memory became the most important weapon he had. 

Mary had remembered the spell. It was that simple. 

Remus and Sirius sat there watching the moon climb higher in the sky, crying for Mary but also crying for Lily and James and everyone else. It was like that now, nothing could ever be just about one thing. Everything ever was always about everything ever, no single drop isolated from the flood. 

“I should have sent her another letter,” Remus said, when there weren’t any tears left, just empty gasps. “I should have- I should have tried to reach her.” 

“You couldn’t have known,” Sirius said hollowly. “None of us knew what was happening in those days.” 

“Still,” Remus said. 

“Still,” Sirius agreed. 

From inside the house, they could hear Dora shouting with laughter, Harry’s baby voice shrieking along with her. Andy had been over all day, babysitting Harry and making a dent in cleaning out the second floor. 

Remus cleared his throat. “You know what this means?” 

Sirius looked at him flatly. 

“We have to try even harder to keep Harry. It’s not enough to get them to declare me innocent, it’s not enough to get justice, we have to take down the whole system.” He stood up, extending a hand to haul Sirius to his feet. “We have to capture Peter, prevent Voldemort from ever returning. We have to get our Mary back.” 

Sirius grabbed his hand. “Well, c’mon. Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

“No, no, no,” Sirius was saying in a highly pompous manner from inside the newly cleared-out drawing room. “Harry, Harry, your tempo is entirely off!”

Remus stopped short of opening the door, suddenly a lot less certain about what was going on in there. Sirius had said he would ‘entertain the children’, but Remus was increasingly aware that he hadn’t exactly specified what that would entail. 

From inside the room, there was a burst of loud clanging, then a similar-in-pitch burst of toddler giggles. 

“Honestly, it’s as if you’ve never played the drums before!” Sirius cried. 

“Hon -estly!” Dora echoed, mimicking Sirius’ silly voice. 

“Well, c’mon on then, Mr. Ronald, it’s up to you to save the band from disaster…”

Remus winced as a sharp screech of a whistle cut through the hallway. Alright, that was enough. He pushed open the door and found himself facing a scene that had likely never before occurred in the old drawing room. 

Sirius was standing precariously on top of the coffee table, outfitted with one of the extra pieces of pipe they’d torn out from the back bathroom, which he was waving about like a conductor's baton. Facing him on the couch sat Ron and Dora, the former perched on a pillow and puffing up his cheeks in preparation for another blow on a bright red whistle, while the latter was halfway kneeling on the arm of the couch in excitement. On the floor against the wall sat Harry, surrounded by an arrangement of pots and pans and clutching two old wooden spoons. 

“Oh Ron, it’s supposed to be a C-minor, not an A-flat!” Dora chided, pretending to shake her head in exasperation. 

“I do declare, Miss Tonks, we are in charge of the worst band in the kingdom!” Sirius said. “I do not know how we shall EVER be ready to perform for the KING himself–” he turned around and gasped dramatically at Remus. “Why, here he is now!” 

“Moo-moo!” Harry babbled, banging happily on his makeshift drums. 

“I didn’t realise I’d been promoted to royalty,” Remus said, utterly bemused. “My crown has yet to arrive.” 

“My liege, we have been preparing for many days and many nights to perfect this song for you,” Sirius continued, sweeping off an imaginary hat. Ron giggled mischievously, slowly bringing the whistle closer to his mouth.  

“Uh-huh,” Dora added poshly. “A long time.” 

Sirius stifled a laugh. “Please allow us to amaze you with our great range of gifts and talents.” 

“By all means,” Remus said. “Should I sit down, or…” 

“Ooo, over here!” Dora cried, jumping off the couch to sweep the dust cover off the last easy chair in the corner. A cloud of dirt and god-knew-what-else fluttered up in the air. Lovely. 

Remus walked over and took his proffered seat, already laughing a little to himself. Whatever this ‘performance’ was going to be, it was sure to be hilarious. 

“May I now present,” Sirius swept his arm out toward the kids, “the esteemed band of Marauders and Co: we have Miss Nyphmadora Tonks on interpretive dance and vocals, Mr. Ronald Weasley playing a mean toy whistle, Mr. Harry Potter well-installed behind the drum kit, and yours truly, Sirius Black, conducting and back-up vocals.” He pointed toward the corner, where an old record player sat perched on an end table. “Hit it, Miss Tonks!” 

Dora, with extreme solemnity, did a hop-skip-shuffle over to the record player and proceeded to do a lot of hand-waving and finger-wiggling that dramatically ended with her placing the needle on the record. 

“Oh, and this band is accompanied by ABBA,” Sirius said in a quick undertone as the record spun. “A-one, two, THREE FOUR!” 

Music burst into the room, but Remus had no chance to identify it before it was entirely drowned out by the clamour of two toddlers outfitted with loud instruments. Sirius, still on the coffee table, waved his pipe with abandon as Ron and Harry went to town on the whistle and pots.

“WHAT IS HAPPENING?” Remus shouted to be heard over the din. Dora, previously spinning around with random jerky knee movements, picked up another piece of pipe and began to scream into it like a microphone. 

“HALF PAST TWELVE and I’m watching the late show in my flat all alone!” 

Harry let out a shriek of joy, whaling away on the cast iron skillet. 

“How I hate to spend the evening on my own…” Dora pointed dramatically at Sirius. 

“AUTUMN WINDS!” he shouted with Dora, apparently fulfilling his backup singer duties. “Blowing outside the window as I look around the room! And it makes me so depressed to see the gloom!” 

Ron gave a particularly ear-splitting whistle, his cheeks as red as his hair from huffing and puffing. Remus could dimly hear the record, only enough to ascertain that it was in fact ABBA his ears were being assaulted with. 

Dora sunk to her knees, one arm up as if she were appealing to the heavens. “There's not a soul out there…” 

“Dun-da-dun-dun–dun-DUN!” Sirius yelled.

“No one to heAR MY PRAYERRRR!” Dora slowly collapsed to the ground, kicking her legs in time with the beat. 

“Why are we listening to this?” Remus yelled over the musical crescendo. “Did the king request it?” 

“GIMMIE GIMMIE GIMMIE–” Dora bellowed, leaping up again. “A MAN AFTER MIDNIGHTTT!”

“It’s our song, Moony!” Sirius hollered over the banging and whistling that was surely able to be heard from several acres away. “Our song!” 

Dora was locked in an admirable but unsuccessful attempt to breakdance. “WON’T somebody HELP me chase the SHAdows away?”

“In what godforsaken world is this our song?” Remus cried. 

“When we rescued Harry!” Sirius explained. “The start of our family! Everyone, quick- Reenactment!” 

Without missing a beat, Dora jumped on the couch and began to scream her head off, arms waving in the air. Sirius roared with her, pretending to steer a wildly careening car. Harry and Ron joined in, adding their baby voices to the chaos, even though Remus was pretty damn certain that the redhead had been nowhere near Andromeda’s minivan in that fateful moment. 

Remus threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “You weren’t even driving, you maniac!” 

Sirius did not let that stop him from his steering wheel pantomime. ABBA continued to blare just under the screaming. It was, Remus had to admit, very reminiscent of that terrifying moment. 

“WHAT IS GOING ON?” a new voice yelled from the doorway. Andy stood there, hands on hips. “Nyphadora Tonks, what are you doing?”  

Miracle of miracles, the screaming finally cut off. Regrettably, this allowed Harry and Ron to devote their full attention to whistle-blowing and drum-playing. 

“It’s our song!” Dora yelled back, amid a failed attempt at a headspin. “Remember?” 

“I bloody well remember!” Andy rolled her eyes. “We don’t need to relive it!” Molly appeared at her shoulder, Emmeline grimacing behind her. They had been having a war council, Remus remembered, though it probably hadn’t lasted long after this, er, performance had begun. 

“This is rather my fault for giving you that box of toys.” Molly winced, glancing at the offending red whistle. “I forgot why I was giving that away in the first place…” 

“Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight!” Sirius and Dora yelled tunelessly. Sirius stuck out his hand to Remus, his other one still waving the pipe baton. “C’mon, Moony, dance with me!” 

“This is not a dancing song,” Remus protested.

“Take me through the darkness–” Sirius grabbed Remus’ wrist and bodily yanked him out of the chair despite his protestations. “–to the break of the day!” 

Sirius scooped up Harry from behind the pots and pans, dragging Remus into a terrible approximation of a waltz with the laughing toddler squished between them. Without the drumming, the noise level was much more tolerable, especially once Molly had picked up Ron and relieved him of his precious whistle. Although that just meant they could hear ABBA all the more clearly, which wasn’t exactly a plus. 

“DO-DO-DADO DO-DA-DO-DO-DO!” Sirius sang along with the actual instruments on the record. Harry was grinning widely, and Remus swore that he was shaking his little fists to the beat. He really was Lily’s child, if this godforsaken song was doing it for him. 

“Gimmie gimmie gimmie a man after midnight!” 

Remus couldn’t help but laugh, watching Andy do an impressive swing-style jump and twist as Dora tried to mimic her, while Molly spun Ron in a haphazard circle, her long patchwork scarf streaming behind. Even Emmeline was tapping her foot, arms crossed as she leaned against the wall with the tiniest of smiles. 

It was, Remus realised, the sort of scene that should be mind-boggling in its existence, the very fact –that this collection of people was in the same room, still alive, together, after everything that had happened and still needed to happen– almost impossible. Their joy, nearly mythical. 

(But, against all odds, it did exist, and Remus was sizzling with with the knowledge). 

“Are we going to have to hear this shit for the rest of our lives?” Andy shouted over to Remus. 

“Highly likely!” 

“Why couldn’t the radio have been playing a better song?” she asked the ceiling with a groan. 

But as Remus made eye contact with Sirius, his hair a mess from the dancing and shirt half off his shoulder from where Harry was clutching onto it, mouth open and smiling, he was suddenly convinced that ABBA might have more to it than he’d thought. 

* * *

Their tenuous freedom had continued in this manner, hours and even days of pure happiness tucked in between planning session after planning session. After the Mary horror, they had almost entirely stopped leaving, not even to nip down to the nearest town for toilet paper. There were wanted posters in every corner shop, the few muggle news channels they managed to get at the house playing a warning clip every hour on the poor old miniature tv from their old flat. According to Emmeline, the Ministry was beside itself to locate them, every day that went by with no news making the Minister’s appearance grow more and more frazzled. 

And yet, despite the heart-in-mouth fear that Remus woke up with every morning pressing against his throat, the wards on the old house continued to hold. It was still unclear who exactly the wards guarded against, seeing as they had no problem getting the house to greenlight each new member of their team. 

Their new allies, the untested loyalties, was something that definitely would have sent Remus spiraling a year ago, but somehow now he just couldn’t bring himself to care. The worst had already happened, and no amount of his suspicions had stopped it then. Emmeline had confirmed that the house was already Unplottable through some Ministry record snooping; the adults of the Really Badass Marauders Prison Break Rescue Mission (Andy, Ted, Remus, Sirius, Molly, and Emmeline herself) had all been administered a version of a Unmentionable Vow, tailored by Em to ensure that anyone who attempted to reveal information regarding their plan would be prevented (by what, she hadn’t said, but Remus was perfectly willing to imagine); and that was, quite frankly enough for him. Either it worked or it didn’t, and he could only see a future in one of those options anyway. If it didn’t, there was only a great black empty space where next year was supposed to stretch out in front of him.

Still, with Emmeline and Molly now at risk and suspicion only growing, it was all systems go on trying to plan their grand innocence coup. 

“The Wizarding world's criminal procedure is notoriously riddled with loopholes,” Emmeline said, “but we’ll hopefully be able to make use of a few of them.” 

“Like what?” Molly fiddled absentmindedly with the hem of Ginny’s sleeper, the dozing baby tucked against her chest in a carrier. The five adults were settled around the table in the kitchen, papers tidied into a few neat stacks between them. Molly had popped over to bring more baby supplies, then gotten sucked into the debate as Andy and Emmeline rehashed their current ideas. 

Emmeline tapped her fingertips on the table. “Well, right now, if we were to turn ourselves over to the Ministry, they’d just seize Sirius and chuck him back in Azkaban and Harry back with his aunt and uncle.” 

“Which we don’t want,” Sirius added unnecessarily. Molly’s face whitened at the thought, and she looked nervously over at Ron and Harry, playing in the playpen she had brought over a few weeks ago. 

“Obviously,” Emmeline said briskly. “So the first hurdle will be proving Sirius’ innocence. I don’t have an angle on that yet, but I’ll find one. I’m very good at finding angles.” Her eyes flashed darkly, as if she were daring anyone to get in the way of her research.  

Remus had no idea how it’d happened, but he was pretty certain they’d managed to pick up the best lawyer in all of England. 

“Assuming we do that, and we will, the next and worse problem is the guardianship of Harry. That’s where the loopholes come in.” Emmeline picked up the first paper on the stack, handing it to Remus. “For starters, The Wizengamot is easily befuddled by Muggle documents, meaning it’s imperative that we have Harry’s birth certificate in order. Lily had it all sorted before she died,” Emmeline plowed forward, ignoring the winces that lept around the table, “but right now, only Sirius is listed as a legal guardian. He’s nullified for criminal activity, though, so if we show up to court with just this they’ll just throw Harry back with the Dursleys.” 

“That’s why we need to add Remus on as an alternative guardian,” Andromeda said. “Which Em can do, it’s just a simple shifting spell. We finally worked out how to do it with the least noticeable change, so that’ll be taken care of tonight, I reckon.” 

“And how would that help?” Remus asked. 

“Wizards don’t understand Muggle child laws,” Emmeline said. She tapped her fingers on the birth certificate. “And they don’t want to. Having your name on there means less headache for their Muggle Affairs officers, which goes a long way in the laziest government in the magical world.” She shook her head bitterly. “Japan does this so much better.” 

Remus had no idea about that, but he couldn’t doubt the premise that anything must have been better than the Ministry. 

“That part makes plenty sense,” Molly said slowly, “but I just don’t see how a bit of paper– no offense, Emmeline dear– is going to help if we can’t convince anyone that Sirius is innocent.” 

“I know,” Emmeline sighed. There were dark circles perched underneath her eyes, only growing as the days went by without a lead. She and Remus had become the chief researchers of the operation, knee-deep in whatever old records Emmeline could scrounge up from the Ministry about criminal trials. In a way, Remus found it calming, like being back at Hogwarts, except the paper he was cramming for wasn’t hinging on a professor’s grade but the verdict of a biased jury on his husband’s innocence. Which was so much more stressful, Remus had to block it out to get anything done at all.

Emmeline picked at a piece of paper, turning it over listlessly. “We’ve been trying, we’ll figure it out soon. The Wizengamot has never reversed a ruling, not in a century, but there has to be some precedent…” she trailed off. 

The five of them wore identical looks of concern. Ginny whimpered in her sleep, as if she could sense the dismal mood. 

“Well,” Molly said eventually. “I have no doubt you’ll crack it, dears. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better get Ron home in time for his nap. Chin up, loves!” 

“Be careful on the way,” Sirius said bleakly. “You never know when Aurors’ll be watching.” 

* * *

Remus leaned against the door, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m about to give up.” 

“This is the most tired I’ve ever been…” Sirius groaned. He was on his knees next to the crib, desperately trying to reason with a wide-awake Harry at eleven thirty pm. “Please, Harry, don’t you want to go to sleep? Aren’t you sleepy?” 

“No!” Harry cried, bouncing on the mattress. “Me play!” 

“I play,” Remus corrected exhaustedly. “First person pronouns, Harry.” 

“I don’t think grammar is the biggest problem right now,” Sirius bit out. 

“Well, I don’t know what the fuck else to do!” Remus heaved a sigh, sinking down until he was sitting against the wall. “Maybe he’s never going to sleep again.” 

“It’s nearly midnight,” Sirius protested. “Surely he’s gotta be tired by now?” 

“This is all your fault for letting him nap until dinner,” Remus said bitterly. “Molly said, you can’t let him sleep too long or it’ll fuck up the sleep schedule–” 

“You’re the one who gave him a sugar high at breakfast!” Sirius sat back on his heels to glare at Remus. “Molly also said too much sugar would make him crash, and then he did–” 

Remus scoffed incredulously. “It was goddamn strawberries! Strawberries don’t have sugar!”  

“Strawb-awy!” Harry lisped happily. His eyelids, which had finally been starting to droop, popped back open. “Yummy!” 

Sirius groaned, collapsing to the ground on his back. “This is impossible.” 

“Harry Potter!” Remus tried for a commanding tone. “It’s time for bed!” 

Horrifyingly, the toddler’s face screwed up in a way that boded impending tears. “NO!” 

“Now look what you’ve done,” Sirius hissed, sitting back up. “Harry, love, we’re all very tired…” 

“Want Mama!” Harry’s little face was turning red and blotchy. He let out a loud wail, meltdown now in full force. “Mama!” 

Remus squeezed his eyes shut. Breathe, breathe. “I know, Harry,” he said shakily. “But your mama’s not here right now.” 

“MAMA!” Harry screeched through a heaving sob. “MA-MA!” 

“What are we supposed to do?” Sirius asked, looking stricken. “I can’t– we can’t–” 

“Love, please, shhh,” Remus said in his best calming voice. He pushed himself off the wall and crawled over to where Sirius was crouched near the crib. “Shh, shh, shh…” 

Harry was no longer listening to either of them. His little feet were kicking wildly, threatening to bang against the slats of the wooden crib as he squalled. 

“Wait, lemme try–” Without further explanation, Sirius transformed into Padfoot and gave a loud bark. To Remus’ amazement, Harry stopped crying long enough to sit up and stare in confusion at the big black dog suddenly in the room. Padfoot barked again and shuffled backward, sizing up the distance over the crib’s rim. 

“Wait, Sirius, don’t–” 

Remus’ warning was cut short by a great bound from Padfoot that cleared the top of the crib. If Harry had been surprised before, it was nothing compared to look of delighted shock on his still tear-streaked face at the dog now sitting on his mattress. 

“Doggy!” Harry whispered reverently, reaching out to trail his chubby fingers against Padfoot’s ear. 

“Sirius, you don’t know what kind of dog germs you might have,” Remus hissed. “Don’t get too close to him, I don’t know if it’s safe for babies to be around dogs…” 

Padfoot looked over and huffed in a manner that could only translate to, ‘Moony, fucking relax’. 

Then he barked quietly and licked Harry’s face from chin to forehead. 

Harry giggled. “Moo-moo!” he said, looking excitedly at Remus as if to check that he was, indeed, seeing this. “My doggy!” 

“Sure, Harry,” Remus sighed, deciding he was too tired to be anything but happy the meltdown was over. “Your doggy.” 

With another lick, Padfoot circled around on the mattress until he was settled down, curled tightly around Harry. Harry, taking his cue from Padfoot’s sleepy snuffling, leaned back against the dog and closed his eyes, one hand fisted in thick black fur. Thank fucking god. 

(Or maybe, thank fucking dog, Remus thought dimly).

(Yeah, he was definitely veering from exhausted to delirious if the puns were coming out). 

When the sun came streaming in through the cracked window shade in the morning, Remus had a terrible crick in his neck from sleeping on the floor, but Padfoot and Harry were still curled up together, sleeping soundly. 

* * *

“I cracked it!” Emmeline shouted suddenly, jumping up from her chair. Remus dropped the thick book on wizard criminal laws he was trying to parse through and looked up at her across the kitchen table. 

“Cracked what?” he asked, taking in her slightly crazed expression. The entire table was covered in all manner of books and papers, the two of them pouring over endless dusty pages for at least a few hours. 

“How we get an in!” Emmeline explained, slightly nonsensically. She picked up a very old piece of parchment from her ample stack and shook it. “How we get the Ministry to hear us out!” 

“And how is that?” Remus said slowly. He felt like an owl blinking in the sun after a long night, struggling to pull his head back from the research. 

“A character reference,” she said. “I was looking back on old trials, times that the Ministry was persuaded against its original inclination, you know, times when the prior precedents were overturned, and of course there are barely any and those that did happen were nearly wiped from the records by shoddy documentation, but it happened in 1703 with Hector Lanziball, and then again in 1845 after the Unicorn Plague scare in Bridget Miller’s case, and,” she finished triumphantly, “in 1952, the case of John Allumbi, presided over by one Albus Dumbledore as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.” 

“Alright…” Remus was finding it hard to match her excitement. “What happened, exactly?” 

“A character reference,” Emmeline said, a bit more calmly. “Someone spoke to the court, someone trusted by the Chief Warlock, and convinced them to consider a different version of the truth based on their own experiences with the accused.” She flatted out the parchment on the table to scan it again. “If we can get someone to clear the way for us, to get the court to consider that Sirius is innocent, we can instigate a retrial. And once we’re in the trial, we have all the evidence, it should be perfectly natural to get Sirius free and Harry living with you.” 

“Well, that would be brilliant,” Remus said. “But Em, who could possibly do that?” 

“That’s the problem.” Emmeline deflated, plunking herself back in her chair. “You don’t happen to have any spur-of-the-moment ideas, do you?” 

“Someone trusted by Dumbledore, well respected by the Wizengamot, with enough influence to call for a retrial, and, oh yeah,” Remus scoffed, “willing to believe that the most famous murderer of the century is actually innocent?” 

Emmeline winced. 

“No, can’t say that anyone comes to mind,” Remus answered himself dryly. He braced his hands on the table. “Sounds well enough, but I can’t imagine us actually pulling it off.” 

“I know,” Emmeline said, pulling another stack of papers toward her. “Back to the books, I suppose.” 

“Back to the books,” Remus echoed, feeling even more dejected than he had before. 

* * *

A few days later, Remus and Sirius sat on the porch with Harry as the sky tiptoed toward sunset. The dusty lane stretched away from them into the scrubby fields, cutting a fuzzy path between the mess of tall grass and randomly sprouted wildflowers. The only movement was the swishing tail of a stray cat, perched on one of the pillars of the old gate that had long since fallen into disuse, swinging permanently open like a lolling mouth. Remus felt the thick grey clouds pressing in over them, a lowering roof.

It had been a dishearteningly quiet day: Andy was at home taking care of a flu-afflicted Dora, Molly wasn’t due to visit again for another half a week, and Emmeline had only come over for an hour of fruitless research before she was called away on business for another one of her clients. Remus hated how time seemed to be slipping away like a slick rope someone was pulling from his hands, but he couldn’t get it to slow down. It felt like standing still while the Ministry crept up on them, unable to do anything but watch their approach. The research wasn’t working, they were trapped in this dusty house, and the full moon was only a few days away and Remus could feel it itching at his bones. He didn’t know what they would do with Harry, how they could possibly find a place safe enough to transform without it also being a place the Ministry could track them. It was the same old frustration, the same old slow-boiling rage that had simmered under his ribs since the day he’d been bit. 

“Moony,” Sirius said gently, reaching over to place his palm gently on Remus’ bouncing knee. Remus stopped the fidgeting, only to begin tapping his fingers restlessly on the wooden boards of the porch. Sirius inhaled softly, like he was about to say something. 

 “Is he sleeping?” Remus asked instead. He nodded towards Harry, sitting peacefully on Sirius’ lap. They’d been playing fetch with Padfoot for a while, and Harry was still clutching onto the soft red ball unearthed from one of Molly’s toy deliveries. 

“Yeah, right conked out,” Sirius said. “Probably outta get him into bed, soon.” 

“Soon,” Remus agreed, but made no motion to get up. 

“It’ll be fine, you know,” Sirius said. “The moon.” 

Fuck him, for always knowing exactly what Remus was thinking. Remus tapped his fingers faster. 

“It always is,” Sirius continued. “How many times have we done this, huh? How many times has nothing gone wrong?” 

“How many times has everything gone wrong,” Remus asked flatly. Any happy moments of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs prancing about in the Forbidden Forest were entirely swept away by the dark, distinct horror of coming out of his last moon, of his ring burning on his finger and a silent dawn. “We don’t know what’ll happen with Harry, if I hurt him I’ll never forgive myself–” 

“You won’t,” Sirius said, reaching over to capture Remus’ shaking hand in his. “We can find somewhere safe, get Molly or Andy to stay over and watch Harry.” 

“We can’t ask them to do that!” Remus burst out. “What if something happens, if being the wolf somehow breaks the wards and the Aurors come down full force on this house–” 

“That’s not how the wards work,” Sirius said. 

“You don’t know!” Remus cried. “We know fuck all about the moons, how it affects magic, that’s why everyone else is always locked up in a cell somewhere while they try to tear themselves apart.” He took a tight breath, willing the scratch of the wolf against the inside of his chest to fade. 

The stray cat jumped lightly off the gate, disappearing into the tall grass. The sight was familiar in an infuriatingly vague way, tickling a memory that he’d blocked out. 

“I just wish,” Remus continued, a bit calmer, “that I didn’t have to deal with this. Stupid bloody wish, I know, but damn if it wouldn’t make things easier. Easier without the wolf, easier without me. Easier for Harry.” He glanced over at Sirius. “For you.” 

“Remus Lupin, if you think for one second being without you would be easier, you’re a fucking idiot,” Sirius said sharply. He gripped Remus’ hand, their rings burning together. “Besides the fact that very clearly without you, I would still be stuck in Azkaban listening to Bella sing gibberish, and Harry would still be locked in a closet at his aunt and uncle’s, without you none of that would matter anyway, because I wouldn’t have you.” Sirius leaned down and kissed the top of Harry's curly hair. “Look, Harry loves you because it’s easy.” 

“Harry barely knows my name,” Remus muttered. He pointedly focused on the trail of the cat, weaving its way in and out of the wildflowers. “Harry doesn’t know I could kill him in his sleep if it’s the wrong time of the month.”

“Harry knows you feed him strawberries and give him warm baths and stay with him until he falls asleep,” Sirius steadfastly continued. “Harry loves you like it’s breathing, because he can’t imagine anything else. I don’t love you because it’s easy.” He snorted. “It’s definitely not easy.” 

“Cheers, really heartwarming quote right there,” Remus said, trying to tug his hand away. Sirius didn’t let him. 

“I love you,” he said, “because it’s the only way I can survive. Because if I ever lost you I think I would stop functioning, permanently, just keel over and kick it because my heart doesn’t know how to work if yours isn’t beating along in tandem. Even when you’re the wolf, especially when you’re the wolf. It’s not easy, it’s life or death.” 

Well. That was quite sweet, really. Remus had needed to be reminded of that, that the wolf was also just part of his pack. 

“Oh, sod off,” Remus said, tipping his head onto Sirius’ shoulder. Sirius pressed a kiss against the side of his forehead. “You stupid poet.” 

“Thank you, thank you,” Sirius said. “That was some of my best work, I daresay.” 

 “Love you too,” Remus mumbled. Harry sighed peacefully in his sleep, and Remus reached over to skim his thumb over the ruddy red in his baby cheeks. “And you, Harry, even if you threw yogurt at the wall today.” 

Sirius laughed. “He really doesn’t like that yogurt, does he?” 

And that was the worst of it, the way that Remus’ smile was still on his face when the cat reappeared a mere few feet away and he finally realised why it had looked so familiar. But by then the cat with the glasses-shaped markings was already stretching out into the form of a woman with glasses, striding down the path toward them. Wands left inside, wards clearly nowhere to be found, Remus and Sirius could only sit there as the woman came to a stop in front of the porch. 

“Mr. Lupin,” Minerva McGonagall said. “Mr. Black. And the young Mr. Potter, I presume. I’ve been looking for you for quite a while.” She pulled out her own wand, pointing it squarely at them. “No sudden movements, if you please. I don’t want to act rashly, but there are several things that should need explaining if we are to proceed.” 

Chapter Text

Well, fuck. 

Remus, who had previously been frozen to the spot like someone confronted with a dangerous wild animal, jumped to his feet and instinctively, ridiculously, put his fists up like a boxer. Sirius followed suit, spinning Harry around protectively against his chest. 

“What is your current plan, Mr. Lupin?” McGonagall asked, raising her eyebrow at Remus. “To put me out of commission with a quick uppercut to the jaw?” 

Remus slowly lowered his hands, still curled into fists. Alright, he wasn’t likely to punch his old professor in the face, but at least it was something. Accio wand, he thought feverishly, ACCIO WAND, but he’d never been the greatest at wordless magic, and that was with his wand already safely in his hand. Their only shot, the best shot, was to somehow get inside safely, get their wands, and apparate away. 

“Take Harry and run,” Sirius hissed out of the side of his mouth. “I’ll hold her off–” 

“Mr. Black,” McGonagall said sternly. “Do not insult your intelligence further by attempting to engage in a fight you will not win. Have you not noticed that I am yet to make any sort of detaining movements against you, despite clearly having the advantage?” 

That was true, why hadn’t she arrested them already? Surely the Ministry would be perfectly fine with her doing the Aurors a favor and stunning them, or worse. But, then why wasn’t she– Remus’ heart was going too fast for him to properly think. 

“I don’t know,” Sirius said, in a strange parody of the very same insolent manner he used to talk to professors with at Hogwarts. “Maybe you wanted to lecture us first before calling in your good buddy the Minister?” 

“Sirius, shh!” Remus elbowed him. Egging on someone with a wand pointing in their faces was not advisable in the best of circumstances, and certainly not now. 

Remus took a cautious step back, up the porch steps. If he could get just his wand, maybe he could duel McGonagall and distract her while Sirius got his…

“Do not take another step, Mr. Lupin,” McGonagall said. She turned her sharp look on Remus, who froze again. “Fine, I shall say it plainer. I have been observing you two, and the young Mr. Potter, for the past several hours. In that time, had I seen anything that I would consider to be dangerous or harmful to Mr. Potter, the surrounding Muggle town, or the Wizarding world at large, I would have immediately stepped in.” 

“For hours? But we never saw you!” Sirius burst out. 

“Precisely,” McGonagall said. “I did not step in, did I?” She waited for an answer, and Remus was seized with a desire to put his hand in the air like a student. 

“No,” Remus said cautiously. The insane fight-or-die surge in his chest he remembered all too well from the war was starting to abate, giving way to a more uncertain apprehensiveness. McGonagall was right, she would have made a move a long time ago, she had never been one to dillydally when it came to laying down the law. 

“And what do you presume that means?” McGonagall said, tapping one of her oxford-clad feet sharply on the dirt path. 

“That you realized we’re not dangerous,” Sirius filled in angrily. “Because we aren’t, Professor, you don’t know the full story!”  

“Clearly,” McGonagall said. “In the current moment, I have no choice but to conclude that what I have witnessed are not the actions of a mass murderer, a supporter of You-Know-Who, or someone who wishes to hurt Mr. Potter.” She raised her free hand, cutting off Sirius’ next interjection. “Which is why I am requesting to be immediately told the ‘full story’, as you say, at which point I will then re-evaluate my decision on not turning you into the Ministry.” 

“Yes,” Remus said immediately before Sirius could say any else damning. “We agree, we’ll convince you.” 

McGonagall pursed her lips, and Remus got the impression she was quietly amused by him acting like it was a bloody business deal. “Shall we shake on it?” she asked with the lightest touch of sarcasm. Fine, she was definitely making fun of him, but Remus was fine with anything that involved her lowering her wand. He jumped the bottom step of the porch and grasped his old professor's cold palm. 

McGonagall directed her gaze over Remus’ shoulder. “And you, Mr. Black? Does Mr. Lupin speak for you as well?” 

“He always speaks for me,” Sirius said stubbornly. 

“Yes, I remember something like that from your school days,” McGonagall said. She dropped Remus’ hand and gestured toward the still-open front door. “Are we to spend this entire conversation outside, or might you invite me inside for a cup of tea?” 

“Hang on, first of all…” Sirius came up to stand at Remus’ side, Harry miraculously still asleep in his arms. “How’d you get past the wards? We can’t exactly have a nice chat if the magic has suddenly gone shot and half the Ministry is about to be knocking down our door.” 

“Not to worry, Mr. Black, you are still secure,” McGonagall tipped her chin toward the house. “This was your Uncle Alphard’s place, was it not?” Sirius nodded. “I thought as much. I knew Alphard in our youth and visited him at different residences. I suspect I was long ago added to the wards, and as such was able to find you here. The house remains Unplottable and inaccessible by those not already approved by Alphard or you, as the current owner.” 

“But then how’d you even know we were here?” Remus asked. “It took us forever to find the right house, and that was before–” he caught himself before saying Andromeda’s name– “before we upped the security.” 

“I used magic, Mr. Lupin,” McGonagall said with a slight smile. “If you recall, I am a rather gifted witch.” 

A shiver of unease ran down Remus’ spine at the reminder of exactly how formidable their foe was. Minerva McGonagall was far more than a mere professor, and thoroughly unpredictable, as their current situation proved. 

“Well, c’mon then,” Sirius said, turning to go inside. “Nothing like some tea to get the I’m-not-a-murderer gears grinding.” 

“Wait a moment, Mr. Black.” McGonagall abruptly waved her wand, and Remus heard a scuffle from inside the house before their two other wands soared out the door and into her waiting hand. “Can’t be too careful, as I’m certain you understand.” 

* * *

A few moments later, their old professor was sitting uncomfortably on the squashy sofa in the front room, legs crossed tightly at the ankles. She was wearing a perfectly passable muggle outfit, a starched blouse and a skirt, every line neatly ironed. Sirius sat on the opposite end, sleeping Harry settled on the ground next to him in one of the baby carrier/seat contraptions Molly had lent them. Sirius kept reaching out to grasp the handle with white knuckles, shooting looks at McGonagall. 

“Well, here it is,” Remus said, heaving the poor old camcorder up onto the little table they’d used to set up the miniature TV. After everything that had happened, it was back to this beat-up rectangular muggle thing to prove their point. “This is a camcorder, Professor, it’s like a muggle Pensieve, kinda, except it’s not a memory it’s just a video–” 

“I’m familiar,” McGonagall said, and thank god because Remus wasn’t sure he would have been able to explain any further than that. 

“Well, before Halloween,” Remus crouched down to fiddle with the wires to the VCR, “Sirius recorded himself… explaining a few things. I suppose the best way to show you… is just to show you. So, here it is.” He pressed play on the recording, immediately jabbing his thumb at the fast-forward button. Choppy, yellow-tinged images of their old flat shuttered past, James waving out of a half-second of a frame and Sirius grinning close-up to the camera. Lily’s voice skipped painfully through the speakers, caught on middle syllables. Remus winced, nearly screwing his eyes shut until the grainy film finally cut to the dark, sober room. The first few moments of the clip were devoid of sound, and Remus sat back on his heels to watch McGonagall. To his surprise, the professor was blinking away a sheen of tears and looking vaguely sick. 

“–Moony,” the sound cut back in, the Sirius of a month ago sounding beaten and exhausted. “I think I got this fucking thing to work, you never really know with muggle stuff. I’m trying- I have to record this, and see if it works. It’s a loophole, see? The Fidelius charm won’t let me tell anyone else, but I’m not talking to anyone else, I’m talking to myself.” 

Remus risked a glance at the TV, felt his heart rate spike atrociously at Sirius’ hollowed face, and returned to watching McGonagall. She had furrowed her brows, leaning closer. 

“Interesting…” she muttered. 

The tape carried on into the tense silence. “Bloody wizards. Never really give muggles enough credit. That’s why we’re having this fucking war, I guess.” The current Sirius had gone rigid, and Remus could see his hands shaking terribly. “Right, I should give this documentation thing a proper go. It’s Halloween, 1981, just after noon.” 

“Yeah, I can’t do this,” the present-day Sirius said too loudly, jumping up and grabbing Harry’s carrier. “I’ll just be- I’ll just go. Make dinner? Yeah, I’m going.” He strode off into the kitchen, and the wolf was close enough to the surface that Remus could tell by smell he was standing just around the corner, out of eyeshot. 

McGonagall watched him go, but kept her lips pressed together. 

The video played on, unaffected by the thick suspense in the sitting room. “My name is Sirius Orion Black III, and this message is intended for Moo- Remus John Lupin. Tonight, I’m going to visit Prongs and Lily and Harry, where I’ll tell them the same things I’m telling you, but it feels important that I get this done now.” 

“Right before the catastrophe,” McGonagall said softly, and Remus nodded. The tape went on as Sirius stammered his way through an explanation that explained nothing at all, but Remus found it all dissolving into white noise before he could process the words. Once had been enough, for this particular video, and with every second it went on he could feel himself slipping further back into the haze of rage that had surrounded him on those first, cursed days of November. 

There was a burst of warmth in his hand, his ring burning rhythmically in one of the few Morse code bits Remus could remember: Alright? Remus sucked in a breath, squeezing back the same code to Sirius. Alright .

“This is a valuable firsthand account, Mr. Lupin, but I am so far failing to see how it proves any sort of innocence,” McGonagall was saying, and Remus forcibly brought himself to the present. 

“Just wait, he’ll do something important soon,” Remus said.  

“Here’s the truth. Shit, I hope this works.” The Sirius on tape took a deep breath. “I’m not the secret keeper for Prongs and Lily. It’s Peter.” 

McGonagall gasped softly. “Mr. Pettigrew? But then…” It was as though a switch had been flicked behind her eyes, Remus could tell by the way her expression froze that she had worked out the truth. Lightyears faster than he had, to be sure. 

The recording skipped, Sirius blinking over and over. “We– we– we–” Remus shifted to give the TV a good whack on the side and it fixed itself. “We, well, Merlin, it really was just me, I’m the one who thought it would be a good idea to switch at the last minute. Not just because… you know, you-being-the-spy, but also– who would ever think Peter would be the secret keeper?” 

“No one,” McGonagall answered the tape softly, the three wands clutched tightly in her hand. “Not a one of us ever thought to confirm, to consider that Mr. Pettigrew might not have been innocent…” She looked directly at Remus, sitting back on his heels by the TV. “Is this your strongest piece of evidence, Mr. Lupin?” 

“Er, there’s a bit more,” said Remus slowly. He couldn’t tell if she was asking because it was perfectly sufficient, or because she had already discounted their entire story.

On the screen, Sirius was lifting the shot glass of potion into the frame. “It’s Veritaserum, I got Lily to give some to me for emergencies. I know this is just a muggle recording, but you know potions, don’t you?” 

“Realistic, but unprovable,” McGonagall muttered. Remus had no idea if she was talking to him or not, but he went back to watching the professor carefully, in case she made any sudden moves. Sirius was still in the kitchen, and Remus could just barely hear him whisper-singing the alphabet to Harry. 

Sirius did the shot of Veritaserum and repeated Peter’s guilt, all as McGonagall watched with an inscrutable expression. 

“I’m probably overreacting. Wouldn’t be the first time a Black was too dramatic. I’ll probably come back from Lily and James’s after the Halloween party and delete this. And you’ll come back from the mission, and we’ll talk. Really talk. Because… well, I don’t know for certain, but I hope you’re not the spy.” 

Remus abruptly sat up, remembering exactly how Sirius closed out the video. He’d already accidentally shown it to Dumbledore, the last thing he needed was to complicate things with McGonagall. 

“That’s it!” he said hurriedly, clicking the TV off before Sirius could say I still love you.  

“I see…” McGonagall sat back against the sagging couch. “I see.” 

And that was all she said for a frighteningly long time. Remus got up from next to the VCR, made an uncertain loop of the room, and eventually settled on leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. Which certainly might have been a bit hostile, but Remus couldn’t force himself to just sit down on the couch like nothing was wrong. His ring burned again, Sirius clearly wondering if the coast was clear, and all Remus could do was send, ‘I don’t know’ or ‘Waiting’ over and over. He had half a mind to tell Sirius to leg it out the back door with Harry and hide in the neighbouring thicket, if he didn’t assume that McGonagall would catch him before he was ten meters into the garden. 

“Mr. Black,” McGonagall called, and Remus nearly jumped out of his skin. “You may come back from the kitchen now.” 

Sirius did so, still lugging the baby carrier and with a pale, pinched look on his face. “Sorry– forgot exactly what I’d recorded, didn’t fancy hearing it all over again.” 

“Understandable,” McGonagall said. “Mr. Lupin, cease your hoovering and please take a seat like a civilized person.” 

Chastised, Remus stalked over and lowered himself into the easy chair diagonal from the couch. Sirius perched on the armrest, shooting Remus a questioning look. He had to admit, if McGonagall weren’t convinced, it was unlikely she’d be inviting a murderer and a kidnapping werewolf to sit down and have a chat.

“It is your contention, then,” McGonagall said, “that Peter Pettigrew was the Potters' secret keeper. Peter, as a spy, revealed the location to Voldemort, after which the events are well known that lead to Voldemort's defeat and young Harry’s orphan status.” She pushed her glasses further up her nose. “And you, Mr. Black, upon learning of this…” 

“Went to kill Peter,” Sirius said unflinchingly. 

Remus elbowed him sharply. 

“No point in pretending,” Sirius scoffed, “of course I was going to kill Peter, he’d just killed James and Lily! But I didn’t get the chance,” he added quickly with a glance at McGonagall. “I confronted him, and he blasted the street apart with his wand, yelling a load of rubbish about it being my fault.” 

“Mr. Pettigrew killed himself?” McGonagall asked. 

“No, he escaped,” Sirius said bitterly. “Slipped out of sight somehow, I don’t know. I wasn’t exactly in any state to pay attention.” Remus thought he was right not to mention the bit about being Animaguses, there was too high of a chance that she wouldn’t react well and shatter their tenuous truce. 

“And why was that?” McGonagall asked. 

“Too busy laughing.” Sirius shook his head ruefully. “Went a bit mental, didn’t I? All the shock… My memory’s a blur right up until they were chucking me in Azkaban without a trial, and then there was no one to explain the mistake to except for Dementors.” 

“Utter miscarriage of justice,” McGonagall muttered.  

Remus tapped his foot compulsively on the carpet. “So, does that mean you believe us?” 

“I have several more questions that need answering first, Mr. Lupin.” McGonagall pointed back toward the black-screened TV. “Has the experiment with Veritaserum been repeated since?” 

“Yeah, we did it later with some of the potion that we got–” Sirius broke off, about to reveal Emmeline’s association. “That we got,” he repeated, as if that had been the end of his sentence all along. 

“Hm,” McGonagall said. “And you, Mr. Lupin, after seeing this recording, why did you not report it to the authorities?” 

“I tried,” Remus fisted his hands against the chair cushion. “I went straight to Dumbledore, but he said it wasn’t enough, that the video wouldn’t convince a jury and was probably just a fraud.” 

“He would have thought that,” McGonagall muttered. “But yes, muggle technology like this would never have stood up in court… and with the matter already so nicely wrapped up…” She tapped the bundle of wands against her knee absentmindedly, and a burst of gold sparks shot out the ends. Harry, apparently awake, giggled and reached up to touch one of the stars (oh, bollocks, Remus thought vaguely, now he’ll never get to sleep at the right time).  

“Well?” Sirius said. “Do you believe us, or are you still going to turn us in?” 

Rather than answer, their old professor simply unfisted her hand and offered each of their wands back to them. Remus grabbed his immediately, exhaling in relief when the worn wood touched his palm. 

“I will not turn you over to the Ministry,” McGonagall said. “However, I am not the sole voice of the law. I, as someone with above-average powers of deduction and critical thinking, have combined my knowledge of you in Hogwarts, the relative personalities of each of the four of you, and my own observations of today with the recording made on Halloween to conclude that you are innocent of all murder charges. The Wizengamot, having neither my experiences nor my brain, will not conclude as such.” 

“We’ve got a plan, professor,” Sirius said quickly. “We’re going to go for a retrial–” 

“Which I look forward to discussing,” McGonagall cut him off. “Yet before I lend my full support, I require more information on the subject of Mr. Potter’s guardianship. I should like to hear the full story of your prison break and obtainment of Harry, Mr. Lupin, from the beginning.”

Accepting that there was no other way, Remus told her all about sending messages through the rings, visiting Azkaban, the gillyweed in the takeaway container, checking on Harry and deciding he needed rescuing, and then the rescue itself while McGonagall fired question after question at them. 

“And young Mr. Potter was being mistreated?” 

“They were starving him, locking him in a bloody cupboard all day–” 

“And Mrs. Dursley allowed you to escape?” 

“Seemed like it, definitely let us out the door, probably a last favor for Lily–” 

“And then you moved here?” 

“Alphard’s house, like you said–” 

“And the wards have kept you secure?” 

“Haven’t seen anyone but you–” 

“The Ministry remains unaware?” 

“Obviously, or they’ve reported it, everyone’s out looking for us–” 

“And Mr. Potter is happy living with you?” 

“God, I bloody well think so,” Remus burst out. “Seeing as we love him, and don’t lock him in closets, and feed him real meals!” 

McGonagall absorbed all this for a long moment, and then, much to Remus’ surprise, she got up and knelt very carefully next to the baby carrier. Harry, who had been babbling to himself (for once miraculously content in what he usually considered to be a prison), stopped and stared up at her with wide eyes. 

“Lily’s eyes,” McGonagall said, looking like she was fighting back tears.

“‘Lo,” Harry said quizzically up at her. “Who you?” 

 “Harry,” she started, and Harry perked up at his name, “I owe you an apology. I allowed you to be left with your aunt and uncle because I had been convinced that it was the safest place for you. I’m very glad that Mr. Black and Mr. Lupin saw what I had not.” 

“Moo-moo,” Harry called distractedly, squirming around in the seat to look for Remus. “Moo-moo, me out! No more sleep!” 

“Well, he seems to accept your apology,” Sirius said, with an admirable amount of dignity for such a proclamation. Remus reached down and unstrapped Harry from the baby carrier, pulling him onto his lap. 

“And you, Mr. Lupin, I owe you an apology as well,” McGonagall got back up and returned to the couch. Through the window behind her, it had gone completely dark, no stars managing to wink past the cloud cover. “We should have given Harry over to your care immediately, since Sirius was no longer an option. You were unfairly discounted, and I’m ashamed to say that it never crossed my mind that Harry might have people better suited to care for him than his regrettable aunt and uncle.” 

Better suited to care for him? Remus scrunched up his face, ready to protest that he was surely the most poorly suited person of all to care for a young child, but stopped himself. Hadn’t he rescued Harry? Wasn’t he doing a good job keeping him alive so far? Hadn’t he been the one to figure out that Harry liked sliced grapes but not sliced blueberries? Maybe it was time that he accepted that he was just as good as anyone else at the parenting thing, and probably better than a fair few as well. 

“Thanks, Professor,” Remus said eventually. Harry, not sensing the solemn mood, wiggled out of his grasp and slid to the floor. 

“Food?” he asked the room at large, unconcerned by another stranger in his house. “Food?” 

“Yeah, Harry, we can have supper now,” Sirius said, standing up. “Er, Professor, do you wanna stay for–” 

“Yes,” McGonagall answered immediately. “In fact, I believe you should invite the others as well.” 

“The others?” Remus echoed. 

“Am I to believe you did this entirely by yourselves?” McGonagall said dryly. “You just wandered onto a boat to Azkaban, did you? On the exact same day that Mrs. Andromeda Tonks and her family decided to visit her sister in the neighboring cell, according to the Azkaban records? Just happened to know exactly where the Dursley’s house was located? Took a muggle taxi over there and escaped with Mr. Potter on foot, then? Walked to this house, did you, seeing as Side-along Apparation can only be attempted with children five years or older? Picked up a new wand for Sirius out of some bushes along the way? Found some more Veritaserum just hanging around in the supermarket? Bought all of Mr. Potter’s new things at the local shop, without anyone noticing you, including this carrier that very clearly has ‘Weasley’ written on the top of it in ink?” 

“We– we used disguises!” Sirius insisted. “And a rental car!” 

Remus sighed. “C’mon, we might as well tell her. In for a penny, in for a pound, y’know.” 

Sirius deflated. “Yeah, alright. I’ll go send a patronus to everyone. Supper at ours.” 

McGonagall just smiled more brightly than Remus had seen her smile this whole time. “I must say, I’m rather excited to meet your team of criminals. I have a feeling I’m already acquainted with most of them.” 

* * *

It was a full house for supper that night: all three Tonks; Molly with Ron and her twins that immediately took to racing around the bottom floor at breakneck speed (“FRED, GEORGE! DO NOT KNOCK ANYTHING OVER I SWEAR TO GODRIC– sorry, sorry, they were driving the rest insane at our place, I had to get them some fresh air!”); and Emmeline wearing a very distrustful expression as she sat across from McGonagall. 

The old dining room table was laden with an odd mishmash of food. The Tonks had been halfway through a meatloaf and brought over the rest, Molly had showed up with a platter of pumpkin soup and slightly burned cheese toasties, and Remus and Sirius contributed a scattering of Thai takeaway containers from the night before (ordered from the nearest town to the neighboring house a few acres away, which was abandoned).

After some slightly strained introductions, the rest of the crew relaxed about the presence of their old school teacher. The lion’s share of the meal was taken up by a mess of loud conversations punctuated by occasional yelling at children. Remus watched McGonagall carefully, but she seemed perfectly content to discuss the inner workings of Hogwarts with Ted, who had apparently been harboring many burning questions since his own school days about exactly how the stairs moved and what the castle did for sewage containment. It was a relief for Remus, who thought kind, mild-mannered Ted Tonks to be a human form of a Calming Drought in stressful situations. 

“And you know me, of course I had to go and check, and do you know what I found?” Molly said to Andy, in the midst of one of several wild parenting tales that made Remus feel a lot more apprehensive about Harry as an eight-year-old. “Charlie had stolen one of the eggs from the garden before I threw them out! He was trying to incubate it in a pile of his quilts!” 

“Dora did the same thing with a nest of Pixies, thought she could train them–” 

Meanwhile, the kids were positively bolting down their food. Dora, already finished, had been sitting back in her chair with her face screwed up in extreme concentration for several minutes, eyes shut. 

“Is she perfectly well?” McGonagall asked Ted.

“Ah, she’s fine, just trying to change something, I reckon!” Ted explained jovially. “Metamorphagus, y’know! Course, she’s still quite young and needs loads more practice before she can do it quickly on command. Right now, it’s mainly her hair she’s been working on.” 

“That will be very useful later in life,” McGonagall said approvingly. At the same time, Dora’s hair abruptly stained a vivid orangey-red, exactly like Fred and George. The twins, mindboggled by this display, promptly appointed her leader of their antics and they all absconded to the drawing room, where they played some sort of game that involved much shouting and loud thumps. 

Emmeline, however, continued to eat in silence. She kept looking at McGonagall and doing tense little grimaces of dislike. Remus didn’t know what to make of it: here was the perfect character witness, the exact thing they’d been needing for the trial, he would have thought Emmeline would jump all over the opportunity to start planning immediately. Instead, she appeared thoroughly suspicious of their old professor. 

“Em, don’t you think that McGona–” Remus attempted in an undertone. 

“No,” Emmeline said shortly, and refused to look at him. Her stubborn face even reminded him of McGonagall, it was uncanny how similar they were. 

“...wanna get him a training broom, do your boys have anything like that?” Sirius was asking Molly on Remus’ other side. 

“Oh, they’ve got one of those Childsize Cleansweeps, but it’s hell, I’m always running outside to cast cushioning charms because Bill falls off…” 

Finally, with Dora and the twins safe enough in the drawing room and Harry and Ron tucked off into bed in the nursery, utterly exhausted, the adults were left to get down to business. 

“Your work on the wards is admirable,” McGonagall said to Andy. “Strong protection, and quite seamless with the local magical flow, if I hadn’t known the rough whereabouts of this house already I doubt I would have been able to spot the disturbance.” 

This was straight nonsense to Remus, but Andy smiled graciously. “Cheers, Professor, I did a combination of a trip sensor and Wand Repell charm–” 

“Oh, c’mon,” Emmeline cut in loudly. “Enough with the inane chitchat, what’s the point when we’ve got something else to discuss?” She cut her gaze toward McGonagall. “Why is she here?” 

“Because she’s on our side, now,” Sirius said reproachfully. “We showed her the old video, and now she believes us.” 

“Does she?” Emmeline said, with a nasty quirk on her lips. “I suppose you think she’s going to help us, going to be the character witness?” 

“Well, yeah,” Remus said. “You were the one who was just saying that we need someone to plead our case to the jury, and–” he quickly nodded at McGonagall “–sorry, Professor, I know you haven’t agreed to anything yet, but we thought that with your connections to Dumbledore and everything you’d be able to–” 

Emmeline scoffed. “Her connections to Dumbledore? I hate to break it to you, Remus, but Minerva doesn’t exactly care what Dumbledore wants.” It was a shock to hear McGonagall’s first name from Emmeline’s lips, it somehow seemed perverse. 

“Em,” Andy hissed. “Why are you acting like this–” 

“Ask her,” Emmeline said sharply, crossing her arms. 

“Why don’t we all take a break for pudding?” Ted said loudly, clearly trying to cut the tension, but McGonagall ignored him. 

“It is clear that Miss Vance has an issue to discuss with me,” she said, every syllable highly controlled. “Very well, I am perfectly willing to explain my prior actions.” 

“Didn’t any of you ever wonder why she wasn’t a part of the Order?” Emmeline said. She looked around at her audience, and Remus got the impression she was slipping into her prosecutor persona. “Dumbledore’s trusted friend, one of the most talented teachers at Hogwarts, yet she never formally assisted us against the Death Eaters.” 

The table was silent. 

“Do you know what Dumbledore sent me to do, every single week?” Emmeline jabbed her finger at the table to punctuate each word. “I had to Apparate to Hogsmeade, walk up to Hogwarts, find her office, and sit there on an uncomfortable chair and beg her to help us.” 

McGonagall had gone pale and still. 

“We needed backup on our missions, we needed a strong witch to help us with breaking curses and she refused. Every single time. Do you know what that was like, having to go back over and over for the same cold, unfeeling answer? Even when Dumbledore had me reporting which of us had died most recently, even when Benjy and Caradoc and Dorcas were all gone and it was just me alone contending with all the dark jinxes on every Death Eater stronghold.” Emmeline, who had slowly been rising up from her seat, sat back down with a thunk. “Even when we needed her. She didn’t care about the war, and she didn’t care about us, so I don’t see why she’d stick her neck out for us now.” 

Remus had always wondered why it was that McGonagall had never shown up to any Order meetings, but he had just assumed she was doing work behind the scenes. Not this, not the vision he had of Emmeline with tears in her eyes begging for help while their old professor looked on unflinchingly. And to refuse a request directly from Dumbledore? It didn’t seem to line up at all. 

“Miss Vance’s story is correct,” said McGonagall measuredly. “I refused to help Dumbledore in his endeavors.” 

“But… why?” Sirius asked. “You didn’t want… to help us?” 

“On the contrary,” McGonagall said. “I wished to help you, but I did not wish to help Dumbledore. I did not wish to add fuel to his fire, to allow him to continue to use children barely out of school as pawns played solely to be taken in sacrifice for his larger plan.” 

“But we wanted to fight–” Emmeline cut in. 

“But you should not have had to,” McGonagall returned quickly. “The Order had been presented to you as the only option. Dumbledore was always skilled in convincing people of his ideas– I expect he filled your heads with calls-to-action and dire predictions about the future.” She shook her head angrily. “He should have been recruiting from adults, from people who truly understood the risk they were undertaking. I told him this, many times, and yet my career advice meetings with students continued to yield only one answer: fight.” 

“If you knew we were in so much danger, then why didn’t you help us?” Emmeline bit out. Her hands, pressed flat on the table, were shaking slightly. 

“I should have,” McGonagall said. Her shoulders slumped, like a weight was pressing down upon her. “I chose to focus on Hogwarts, to attempt to protect the students I could most easily protect. I told myself it was for the better, that I was doing my duty to the school, and yet– with children I had known since they were eleven being sent off on impossible missions and losing their lives for mere pittances in the grand scheme of the war– I knew it would end in ruin.” She took a shaky breath. “And it did. I knew it had when I watched Dumbledore leave an orphaned Harry in a basket on the porch of a family that didn’t want him. And I knew… that I should have tried harder.” Her voice broke, and she blinked away the tears in her eyes briskly. 

“Yeah, you should have,” Emmeline said, but the fight appeared to have gone out of her. 

Remus grabbed Sirius’ hand under the table, needing something physical to ground him. There was truth in McGonagall’s criticisms of Dumbledore, a truth he had been slowly recognizing since he had been dismissed out of hand from the Headmaster’s office only a few weeks ago. Dumbledore didn’t care if Sirius was innocent, or if Harry was safe– fuck, he only cared if his grand plan was still in place. Remus doubted it would even matter if he’d known that Harry was going to be nearly starved. He’d probably be pleased to hear of the Dursley’s treatment of Harry, it probably fit in with the hero narrative he was desperate to cultivate for the toddler.

The rest of the table was still, Andy with a vaguely sick expression on her face. 

“I agree with Minerva,” Molly said suddenly. “We shouldn’t have– no one should have let the younger ones fight. It wasn’t worth it.” 

Sirius opened his mouth, as if to dispute this point, but shut it again without saying anything. 

McGonagall regained her iron composure, sitting up straighter in her chair. “To answer Mr. Lupin’s uncompleted question, I would be happy to act as a character witness. I daresay Miss Vance has researched the manner thoroughly,” McGonagall nodded at Emmeline, “and I have no doubt that should I follow her instructions we will be able to force a proper retrial for Mr. Black. She is certainly a formidable lawyer, if her cross-examination of myself is anything to go by.” 

Emmeline stiffly tipped her chin in recognition. It wasn’t much of a concession, but some of the sharp edginess seemed to leave the dining room (Remus thought he saw Ted breathe a sigh of relief). 

“Didn’t you just say you hated Dumbledore, though?” Andy asked. “Do you think he will really let you approach the court?” 

McGonagall laughed under her breath. “Oh, I may not approve of his actions, but he still considers me a trusted advisor. I have not been so close to the surface with my emotions as that.”  

“Well, lovely,” Molly said brightly, which seemed far out of line for such a statement. “We’re all quite pleased to have you join the team, Minerva.” There was a chorus of agreement from the table, and McGonagall smiled. 

“I am pleased as well,” she said. “Right then, Mr. Lupin, I’d like to be brought up to speed on everything you have researched thus far…”

Chapter Text

Even with one of the most talented witches at Hogwarts on their side, nothing could change the calendar from ticking away, and it was soon the morning of the first full moon since everything had changed. 

Remus awoke with the usual stiffness in his back, bad knee already forcing him into a limp as he got dressed. With many a stifled grunt, he headed into the kitchen and sat down heavily at the table. 

“Feelin’ alright?” Sirius asked as he struggled to set up the high chair. 

“No,” Remus said shortly. 

Sirius snapped the food tray into the seat with a click. “Well, fine, feeling like you usually do on full moons?” 

“Yeah,” Remus said, doing his best to wipe the glower off his face. It wasn’t Sirius’ fault that his body was out to get him, and this moon would certainly be better than his last by a far cry. Sirius safe, none of the creeping distrust between them, a home that backed up on acres and acres of uninterrupted forest. (And better than the other alternative, if Remus hadn’t rescued Sirius, which was so awful he couldn’t even contemplate it). 

Sirius gave him a look like he wanted to talk more about it, but then Harry returned from ‘getting his blue plate from the cabinet’ with an entire ceramic pitcher clutched precariously in his hands and the subject was abandoned. 

The day passed in fits and starts, with hours either whipping past like the clock was on double time or crawling by at about the speed of Harry when he was told he needed to go to the bathroom and wash his hands before lunch. Finally, around five o’clock, there was a sharp knock at the door and McGonagall swept inside, followed closely by (Remus did a double take) Madam Pomfrey. 

“Remus, love! Good to see you, good to see you!” the mediwitch cried, throwing her arms around Remus and pulling him into a spontaneous hug. “I was so pleased when Minnie told me, thank goodness you’re safe!” She caught sight of Sirius standing in the doorway and bustled over to hug him as well. “And Sirius, you too! I could never have believed you a murderer, when it all came out I was just heartbroken for weeks. Not Sirius, I thought, not that sweet boy who would sneak our Remus chocolates in the hospital wing after a bad moon!” 

Sirius, looking surprised but gratified by this display, patted her awkwardly on the back. 

“Is she– she knows not to tell anyone we’re here, right?” Remus asked McGonagall in a whisper as Pomfrey looked around the room curiously. 

“I assure you, Poppy is sworn to secrecy,” McGonagall said. “She’s here to help with the moon, as we discussed, and to give the young Mr. Potter a check-up.” 

Remus was still suffering from the whiplash of this change of plans. Quite abruptly, it had gone from Andy or Molly coming around to watch Harry during the moon to Remus’ two solidly middle-aged school teachers spending the night in their guest rooms. Two of which Remus had been forced to painstakingly clean yesterday, not to mention. Of course, someone had needed to stay with Harry, and it was deemed unsafe for him to go over to the Weasley's or Tonks' for the night and risk the lack of protections, but… really? McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey? 

As if she could sense his less-than-thrilled thoughts, McGonagall cast an evaluating glare out the window at the sinking sun. “You’ve got about an hour, then, Mr. Lupin. As you well understand, I am considering this to be an extension of my evaluation. It is imperative that no danger is imposed on Harry, Sirius, yourself, or the surrounding muggle towns, not just because your future depends on our being able to prove to the court you are not a threat but because I know you would be highly disappointed in yourself if you did cause harm to anyone.” She pursed her lips, looking at him over the top of her spectacles. 

After a few awkward conversations, Remus and Sirius had finally come clean about the animagus business. It took a very strongly worded lecture and many huffy, indignant sighs (“Your entire school in danger! Your classmates! Your teachers, for Godric’s sake! Not to mention the many many laws you were breaking!”) before McGonagall had been convinced that having Padfoot around was the best way to keep the wolf from harming anyone. 

“Well, where’s the little one?” Madam Pomfrey said brightly into the silence. “Lily and James’ son, can hardly believe I’ve seen the day!” 

With a shrug at Remus, Sirius led the way into the kitchen, where Harry was happily banging two wooden blocks together and singing something to himself that sounded suspiciously like ABBA. 

“Hey, Harry, this is Madam Pomfrey–” Sirius was cut off as the mediwitch hurried over to the toddler and waved her wand wordlessly. Harry, with a squeak of surprise, floated into the air and began to revolve slowly. 

“He’s one, nearly one and half?” Pomfrey asked, peering at Harry, who was flapping his arms as though under the impression he was the one making himself fly. She waved her wand again and a yellow clipboard appeared out of nowhere, on which she immediately started checking things off. “Yes, right on the mark for height, needs a bit of feeding up, I’d make sure to feed him three meals a day and at least two snacks in between… He’s sleeping 12 to 14 hours a day, including naps?” 

“Erm, yeah, I’d say so,” Remus said, caught off guard by the sudden influx of information. He reached down to rub at his twinging knee. 

“Saying three or more words, besides ‘dada’ and such?” 

Sirius shrugged. “Well, he’s got our names down, and he definitely talks enough… the trouble is figuring out what he’s trying to say most of the time…” 

“He can say ‘Sirius’ and ‘Remus’?” Poppy said in astonishment. “The double s-sound, and the similarity, I’d be very impressed–” 

Remus scrunched up his face. “No, not exactly…” 

Thankfully, Harry himself did away with this notion by giggling and waving at the adults. “Moo-moo! Pa-foo! Me fly!” 

“Moony and Padfoot, is that?” Pomfrey said with a smile, scratching out a line on her clipboard. “Oh, yes, I remember those particular nicknames from your school days. Well, the o-sound is much easier, that checks out rather better.” She let Harry down and crouched next to him in a poof of her white skirts. “Now, Harry, love, can you clap your hands?” She clapped, and the toddler mimicked her with gusto. “Good, good…” She looked up at Remus. “One of you, call him over?”

“Harry!” Sirius said loudly, and Harry ran over and crashed into his shins. Sirius scooped him up and Harry began to tug on the stray curls that hung in Sirius’ face. 

“Lovely, lovely…” Pomfrey popped back up to her feet. “Now, he can hold and use a fork or spoon? Climb up on the couch or a chair? Scribble with a crayon? Point to show you something? Recognise most faces after a few introductions?” 

Remus nodded at each of these. Fine, he wasn’t exactly positive on any, but Harry spent all his waking hours running around and getting into some mischief or another so it felt like a safe bet that he could also find a spare moment to hold a fork. 

“Right then.” Pomfrey referred to her checklist again. “Any signs of magical ability? With his parents, I’d be heartily astonished if he wasn’t a very strong wizard in his own time, though it is early for any concrete evidence of magic.” 

“Well, there was that haircut a few days ago…” Sirius laughed, retelling the story of Remus’ disastrous attempt to be a barber. Remus had only thought that Harry’s hair was getting rather too long and messy, he’d kept getting food in it, for god’s sake! But after he’d chopped off a clear inch, the next morning they’d woken up to find Harry with a wide grin and just as wild of a mop as before. “And we think he might be making his blocks zoom around, but we can’t catch him at it, they just mysteriously end up all over the room.” 

“Well, that’s a good sign!” Pomfrey ticked the last box and Vanished her clipboard. “I look forward to telling the Wizengamot that Harry is being well-cared for and meeting all the necessary benchmarks. No one could suspect you two of any mistreatment.” She shook her head decisively. 

“Er, Madam Pomfrey,” Remus started out. 

“Oh, no, love, you can call me Poppy now!” the mediwitch scoffed. “You’re not in school anymore, there’s no need for this Madam business. And you can call her Minerva–” she abruptly hooked her thumb at McGonagall, “I’m sure she’d be perfectly happy with Professor but you can disregard that, you’re no longer a pair of teenagers getting told off for talking in class.” 

McGonagall (or Minerva?) curled her lips in distaste but remained silent. 

“Alright, Minerva?” Sirius said, immediately. “Sure you’re fine with that, Minerva?” 

Predictably, ‘Minerva’ was not fine with that. “Mr. Black, need I remind you that using my first name name does not imply a lack of respect–” 

“What were you going to ask, Remus?” Poppy cut in quickly, shooting a satisfied grin at Minerva’s annoyed contenance. 

“Oh, we were just wondering, with Harry’s scar and, er, all that happened with Voldemort and then his aunt and uncle…” He explained as quickly as he could about the Dursely’s mistreatment of Harry. 

“Yes, Minerva told me of such,” Poppy said, looking suddenly furious. “Absolutely appalling, treating any child like that after such an ordeal, ought to be locked up, teach them a bloody lesson. Now, you two!” She fixed them with a fierce glare. “As for his scar, you need to understand that this child has already undergone an incredibly traumatic past month without the addition of being the catalyst for the fall of You-Know-Who. Losing both parents, being first removed to his aunt and uncle’s custody and then yours… it would be quite enough to contend with aside from his completely unprecedented survival of the Killing Curse. No one knows how he will be affected by that failed curse, whether it will manifest as a deadly disease in a few years or harm his development or, simply, be nothing more than a scar.” She folded her arms tightly. “What you need to remember is that he is only a child, only another child who needs love and care. If I ever get word that he is not being treated well, I assure you, I will have no hesitation to remove him from this household, proper guardianship be damned.” Poppy glared into the distance like she was about ready to throw a punch for Harry’s sake.

There was a pause as Remus and Sirius stood silently after that remarkably effective threat, then Minerva cleared her throat pointedly. 

“But, of course, I don’t believe that will ever be the case!” Poppy added brightly, the ominous look fading from her eyes. “There are plenty of those who have babies but don’t care for them, right along with plenty of those who never have babies but would be infinitely better parents, and I can firmly say that you are in the second camp.” She dusted her hands together, as if putting the subject to rest. 

Remus, who had never imagined being considered a ‘parent’, felt that thought settle gently in his chest like a stone sinking into a pond. Oddly, it didn’t make him want to shout in horror. The wolf, rising up in his blood to just beneath his skin, wanted to howl appreciatively. Pack. Packpackpack. 

(Sure, he could never be Lily or James, but he might be able to be pretty alright anyway).

* * *

After Poppy had further inspected the nursery, their cans of baby food, and the back garden (“Only curious if it was just as nice out here, it’s such a big property, what a lovely home!”), they reassembled in the entryway as the sun began to sink below the horizon. Poppy was sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing blocks with Harry like a typical muggle babysitter, minus the mediwitch robes and wand poking out of her pocket. 

“I can’t say I’m entirely confident in the animagus side of matters,” Minerva said tightly, standing in front of the door. “Of course, Poppy and I will be here the entire night if anything does go wrong…” She glared as though personally daring anything to go even remotely wrong on her watch. “I still can’t believe you never told anyone, entirely outside the law…” 

“Oh, Min, give them a break,” Poppy said contemptuously from the floor. “Became an animagus entirely by the book, did you? Exactly as the Ministry wanted it?” 

“That’s beside the point–” Minerva said hotly. 

“Is it?” Poppy asked with a shifty grin that Remus had never before seen on her face. It was quite off-putting.

Minerva scoffed. “I told them eventually, didn’t I? I’m registered perfectly legally now!” 

“I seem to remember a few years of exploits before you were registered…” Poppy said, tapping her chin in faux thoughtfulness. “Or maybe that was just a different one of the school rules we were breaking, there were quite a lot of them…” 

“Our time at Hogwarts was many years ago,” Minerva said in an attempt at solemnity. 

“Oh, maybe I’m thinking of that time with the Venetian Sea-Grass seeds and the portraits… or that crate of Stingering Whizzers…” Poppy mused. “Or, hmm, maybe that switch with the romance novel and the transfiguration textbook…” 

“Shut it, you.” Minerva nudged Poppy none too gently with her foot, who cut off with a giggle. 

Remus and Sirius, who had been watching this exchange like it was a highly interesting tennis match, exchanged an incredulous glance. It was as if the Minister had just shown up and declared them national heroes, or Vernon Dursley had sent them an apology card and flowers. Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were reformed troublemakers? Cheerfully bickering like teenagers? The world had gone mad. 

The wolf twisted his chest, and Remus winced. “Professor– er, Minerva, it’s time to go.” 

“Very well, off you go,” she said, immediately opening up the door. “Deep in the woods, you hear? I’ve set the protections around the forest to start when it's fully dark, and I’ll be patrolling the perimeter for a few hours regardless. If anything happens– if Mr. Black is to become injured– Poppy will be at hand to help.” 

“Nothing like that has ever happened,” Sirius assured her quickly. Remus grabbed his arm and tugged him down the front steps. 

“Gotta go, c’mon,” he muttered. 

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” Sirius said. “We’ve got time, haven’t we?” 

“I don’t want to risk it,” Remus said. They headed around the side of the house and beelined for the woods. At the edge of the trees, Remus turned around to watch Minerva start to patrol the house, her profile turned nervously toward the setting sun. Then, with a stuttering breath, they plunged into the woods. 

* * *

The wolf had never been here before. Last time it was the old place, now this was new. New trees, new smells, new wind. 

The wolf sniffed. What was that? The new scent? Not the tree or the grass or the bushes… something new. Was it danger? Was it friend? The wolf sniffed again. There was a loud bark, and the wolf turned– a big black dog!– and lunged– wait. That was friend, that was friend for certain. 

The wolf and the dog nipped at each other. Friend! Pack! The wolf howled happily, then chased the dog around and around until they were both panting. 

Wait– there was that scent again. The new one. The wolf put its snout to the ground and sniffed. Yes, humans! Two witches, one of them… safe and familiar, like lemon and something sharper that stung the wolf’s nose. The other one smelled like blackboards and iron and a knife’s tip. The wolf didn’t like it so much. But, that was okay, he could still go and bite–

The big black dog was there, snarling in front. Don’t go that way? But the wolf wanted to smell more, wanted to find the witches and make them part of the pack too. More friends! 

The dog barked again, but the wolf swatted him away. More pack, more friends… he ran towards the house, the little house he could smell at the end of the trees. He saw the sparkling lights, yellow and red like blood, calling him forward–

No. Stop. Stop-stop-stop. There was the scent again, a different one, less strong. The wolf had never never smelled that one before. What was it? Not another witch, it smelled like friend. Like the stag, like pack. Where was the stag? And the rat? 

The wolf growled at the big dog blocking the way. They had to go find the stag, why wasn’t he out here instead of in the house? The wind shifted again, and the wolf smelled the strange scent. No? It wasn’t the stag, no… yes! It was a pup! A pup! 

The wolf howled joyfully. A pup, a new pup in the pack! The black dog looked toward the house again, and the wolf swiped at him. No, didn’t the black dog know they had a new pup, they couldn’t go that way, not at all. The wolf turned tail and ran towards the edge of trees. He had to protect the pup from the woods.

The wolf would wait until it was older, then the pup could come and play with them. Once the stag was back, and the rat, then they would all be a pack together. 

The wolf howled again. A pup! 

* * *

Remus woke up curled into a ball in a mess of tangled sheets. He was in one of the downstairs guest rooms, thick afternoon sunlight streaming through the crack in the curtains. He supposed Sirius must have dropped him here, but he could only recall a very fuzzy flash of walking out of the woods and back to the house. 

“Remus, love, are you awake?” Poppy stuck her head into the room. “Oh, perfect, you are. Good night, was it? I checked you over when you first got back and there was hardly a scratch on you. Just a little bruise on your shoulder, but nothing to worry about!” 

“How’s Harry?” Remus asked, sitting up too quickly and clutching his head as the room swam. “And Sirius? And you and McGonagall?” 

“All fine, all fine,” Poppy said, pulling a little blue bottle out of her robes and shaking it. “We all just woke up too, late night for everyone! Well, Harry fell asleep straight away, he’s napping now, but Min and I were up till dawn regardless. Your guest room is very comfortable!” 

“Er, thanks,” Remus said. 

“Now, drink up.” Poppy handed him the blue bottle and watched carefully as Remus swallowed the contents, which tasted oddly like liquified glass. Immediately, Remus felt more grounded in his limbs, his thoughts no longer spinning about aimlessly. 

“Cheers, Poppy.” Remus coughed, clearing his throat. “What was that?” 

“New potion I’ve been developing,” she said airily. “Go and eat something, you must be starving…” She yanked back the covers and chided him from the room like a farmer trying to corral a stray chicken. 

 Remus limped vaguely toward the kitchen, finding to his surprise a piping hot plate of pancakes sitting on the table waiting for him, Sirius halfway through a similar plate, and Minerva waving her wand toward the stovetop with an extremely focused look upon her face. 

“Good morning, Mr. Lupin,” she said stiffly. “I would sit down to chat, but Poppy has placed me in charge of the flipping and I would be loath to leave such an important task unattended.” She jabbed her wand particularly vigorously and a pancake did several spins in the air before smacking back down again. “She seems set on preparing enough breakfast to serve you for an entire week.” 

“The recipe just makes a lot!” Poppy defended herself, following Remus into the kitchen. “And they both could use some extra pancakes, being on the run from the law and all.” 

“I wasn’t aware this was a common meal for innocent-yet-accused criminals,” Minerva said with another aggressive flip of a pancake. Poppy headed to the stove and started stirring something red that was bubbling. 

“Well, thanks,” Remus said, trying not to look at Sirius, who was clearly fending off giggles at the sight of their Transfiguration teacher flipping pancakes. Remus sat down and happily tucked into the breakfast, despite the fact that it must have been around 2 pm. 

“The night went well, then, I presume,” Minerva continued, facing the stove. “Seeing as none of us are newly minted werewolves.” 

“Yeah, pretty well,” Remus said. “I don’t always remember things when I’m the wolf, though…” He raised his eyebrows at Sirius like ‘you say something now’.  

“Yup!” Sirius added hastily. “There was a moment where it kinda seemed like you wanted to go toward the house, but then you smelled something else and turned around.” 

“It was Harry,” Remus said suddenly, a sepia-tinted memory hitting him. “I could smell Harry, but I didn’t want to attack him… I think I thought he was a pup,” he finished somewhat sheepishly. It felt ridiculous to be discussing the werewolf pack structure in broad daylight in the kitchen. 

“There’s no research on werewolves ever having children,” Poppy mused, half to herself. “It’s interesting that you recognise him as your pup despite the lack of blood relation…” 

“Er, uh-huh,” Remus said, more uncomfortable by the minute. He took another hasty bite of pancake and mumbled, “Bathroom!” before fleeing the room. 

He wandered down the hall, stepping back into the guest room and sitting down heavily on the bed. The room was quiet and still, exactly what he’d been craving. 

“Sorry ‘bout the guest room thing,” Sirius said, edging around the open door. “I figured it might be a bit suspicious if we shared a bed, even if you had just spent the night as a dark creature.” 

“Makes sense,” Remus sighed. So much for quiet. “It’s a good thing we even had another room to spare, after I had to clean two for our ‘babysitters’.” 

Sirius laughed, sitting down beside him and making the old bed creak. “Out of all of the twists in the past month, I think the me-at-Hogwarts would be the most shocked by this one. Good ol’ Professor McGonagall, flipping pancakes in our own house.” 

Remus smiled tiredly, leaning up against Sirius’ shoulder. Sirius wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in closer. 

“Good moon?” 

“Good moon,” Remus agreed. “I was just… missing James. The wolf kept wondering where the stag was.” 

“It’s not the same.” Sirius rested his head on top of Remus’. They both breathed in and out.

“No, it’s not.” Remus missed James, but the ache wasn’t as steel-sharp as it had been. “But it’s something, y’know.” 

“Something,” Sirius echoed. They sat in comfortable silence for a while longer, and Remus could hear the distant sounds of Poppy and Minerva arguing over flipping technique. He was still tired, but not sleepy. It was just nice to feel Sirius’ heart beating steadily away, unshakeable, and then Sirius was tilting his face downward and they were kissing languidly. 

“What about–” Remus mumbled halfheartedly after they broke apart. 

“Still flipping pancakes,” Sirius said, and leaned in again. 

The aftermath of the moon was still coating Remus’ thoughts, trailing like a film of gauze over everything. He had a brief flash of himself, this moment, from the outside: how the stubborn November sunlight was gilding the tips of Sirius’ hair and the edge of Remus’ jaw; the brown sheets bunched up artfully near the edge of the bed; how the slight brush of wind was twirling fallen leaves up and out of view through the whitewashed frame of the window. Just Remus Lupin kissing Sirius Black, yesterday and today and tomorrow. 

And then, a polite cough from the open door. 

Remus jumped halfway up, scooting so far away from Sirius that his back hit the headboard. 

“Poppy would like to know if you’d like more pancakes,” Minerva said, as though she hadn’t witnessed a single thing out of the ordinary. The only sign was the slight flush high on her cheeks. It was Remus’ worst nightmare from school, only misshapen and weirdly involving pancakes. 

“Professor!” Sirius said, while Remus sat frozen in horror. “We weren’t– We’re not–” 

“I’ll tell her you’d like a few more,” Minerva said, ignoring him. She turned to go back down the hallway. 

Sirius jumped up, following her down the hallway. “Wait- McGonagall! Minerva! We just…” The older witch paused, looking over her shoulder. “You aren’t going to tell anyone? Because it would only make things harder, and it doesn’t mean that we can’t raise Harry or that– that he won’t be just as safe–” 

Remus caught up to them, and the three of them stood still in the hallway. 

“It doesn’t change anything!” Sirius insisted desperately. “I swear!” 

“Am I going to tell anyone?” Minerva repeated. She closed her eyes, apparently struggling to come to a decision, and Remus’ heart sunk. “Oh, fine. Poppy!” 

“I’m flipping!” came the response from the kitchen. 

“Cast a pausing charm or something! It’s important!” 

“Fine, fine, what is it?” Poppy hurried into the hallway. “Is everyone okay? Do we need more pancakes?” 

In response, Minerva grabbed the back of the other witch's neck and kissed her lightly. 

(What the hell was happening now?)

Remus wasn’t sure his nerves could take any more extreme reversals in emotions. 

“Hi, love,” Poppy said to Minerva, looking utterly bemused. “What was that for?” 

“You see, Mr. Black, I am not predisposed to tell anyone anything,” Minerva said, with an air of someone who was glad to have an unpleasant task done with. 

“Oh!” Poppy cried. She looked excitedly between Remus and Sirius. “Oh! I always thought– wasn’t certain– Ha!” She turned to Minerva and grinned. “You owe me ten galleons!” 

“No, I don’t,” Minerva said immediately. 

“Yes, you do!” Poppy bounced on her toes. “In 1972 we wagered that there’d be two star-crossed couples in that year’s new Gryffindors, and then James and Lily were one and here’s two!” 

“I remember no such wager.” Minerva rolled her eyes, but dug through her pockets anyway. “Here, you can have two galleons and a knut, that’s what I’ve got.” 

“I’ll take it!” Poppy giggled happily, beaming at Remus and Sirius. “Oh, this is so lovely, I thought you two had something going on in school but I never had any proof! And here’s proof! And of course,” she added as an afterthought, “you’ve both got wedding rings and the room that is supposed to be Remus’ hasn’t got a single thing in it, but it’s always nice to be sure about these things.” 

“Er,” was all Remus could manage to say. He wanted to object to being ‘star-crossed’ but could muster no convincing argument. He glanced at Sirius, who looked just as shell-shocked. 

“Well, c’mon, there’s more flipping to be done,” Poppy said, grabbing Minerva’s arm and pulling her away. 

Which left Remus and Sirius standing alone in the corridor. 

“Did you–?” Sirius asked incredulously. 

“No!” Remus cried. “McGonagall and Pomfrey? Never!” 

“I thought she was going to run right out of here,” Sirius said in a marveling voice. “But instead she snogged another teacher!”  

Remus pressed his hand to his chest, trying to slow down the pounding. “So, what I’m taking away from this is that I didn’t have to clean two guest rooms.” 

“And,” Sirius said, “we’re going to need to eat a lot of pancakes.”

Chapter Text

Remus knew he was shivering: he was dimly aware of the tremor in his shoulders and the slight clacking noise his teeth were making as they chattered, but he was simultaneously unable to do anything to stop. It was cold, too fucking cold, in this corridor outside the courtroom, and he wanted to hold Sirius’ hand but Sirius was just a little bit too far away to hide the handholding in the folds of their robes. 

Somehow, the day of the trial had arrived. 

It had been announced in the Daily Prophet, one of those bold headlines that only have very small articles attached to them. CONVICTED KILLER SIRIUS BLACK TURNS HIMSELF IN, REQUESTS A NEW TRIAL. And then a few meager sentences about who Sirius was and that he had been hiding ‘in the company of other suspected criminals’ who would be ‘prosecuted to the full extent of the law’. It appeared the Ministry was still trying to keep the news of Harry’s kidnapping on lock, he wasn’t mentioned at all. No mention of anyone by name, not even Minerva, who had managed to secure the retrial by appealing to Dumbledore. 

Minerva was also waiting in the corridor, of course, standing stiffly a few inches from the opposite wall with her hands clasped. She stared directly at the thick iron doors in front of her, as though she could somehow see through to where the Wizengamot was busy trialing a different case. 

Remus looked away, her sharp glower making him even more nervous. It felt like a nest of snakes had been hatching in his stomach, twisting and squirming ever since they had gotten off the elevator in the very bowels of the Ministry and proceeded down the narrow, high-ceilinged corridor cased entirely in black brick. There were several large doors set into the wall at intervals, the sign outside theirs reading simply Courtroom Ten. 

“Feelin’ alright?” Andy hissed from Remus’ other side. They were the only people as far along the corridor as Remus could see, but it still felt necessary to whisper. 

Sirius gave a noncommittal grunt. Remus just kept shivering. 

Next to silent-statue Minerva across the corridor, Emmeline was moving her lips very fast, apparently rehearsing her arguments. She was dressed in professional robes of dark blue, her black hair pulled back in a tight bun and gleaming slightly with gel. On the other side of Sirius, Poppy was doing the same thing, with many feverish hand gestures to go with her script as a witness. As Remus watched, she raised one finger and pointed it threateningly at a nonexistent judge. 

They hadn’t had enough time to prepare, Remus kept thinking. It just hadn’t been enough! Only a few weeks, really, in the grand scheme of things. Minerva had sent a Patronus only four days after the moon, the spectacle-marked cat telling them that she had officially appealed to Dumbledore and the court date was set for tomorrow. 

Emmeline, who had been at the kitchen table at the time, let out a squeak and immediately began rifling through her papers even faster. Remus had just felt a dull sort of dread, watching the oblivious Sirius play with Harry out the window in the back garden. Tomorrow? It couldn’t be… 

A loud creak echoed down the corridor and Remus was brought jarringly back to the present moment. The doors swung open and a small group of people filed out, shooting Sirius and the others curious looks as they passed. This must have been the defendants of the previous case, Remus realised. He tried to tell from their expressions whether it had gone as they’d hoped, but everyone appeared quite pale and silent. A colder gust of air issued from the doors, then they swung shut again. 

“Hem, hem!” a voice said. Remus looked down with a jolt to find that not all of the crowd had dispersed. A short, rather stuffy-looking woman, dressed in blindingly pink robes, blinked up at him. “If you would present your badges…” 

“Who’re you?” Remus said, startled into rudeness. 

The woman coughed affectedly again. She had a squashed look about her, as if someone had pressed both hands on her head and compacted her a few inches. “I am Delores Umbridge, Attending Official from the Criminal Magic Department. I will be assisting with the court proceedings for this case. Now, your badges?” 

She stretched out a small hand, and Remus unwillingly unclipped the metal badge from his robes and passed it over. They’d apparated in with Emmeline and Minerva, who were acting as Ministry-approved chaperones, but they’d still had to check in at the desk while a crowd of ministry workers openly gawked at them, or pointedly skirted wide berths around their group. A very suspicious witch had produced the badges, it was clear by her choice of wordage that she was not on their side. Remus’ read Remus Lupin: Suspected Accomplice in Criminal Prison Break and Harboring of A Known Fugitive. Sirius’ was worse, it proclaimed him as Sirius Black: Convicted Mass Murderer. Andy’s read the same as Remus, while Minerva and Poppy were simply Witness to the Defense.  

The stuffy witch tapped the badge suspiciously, as if she suspected it would be a fake, then passed it back over. “Hm. I see. Mr. Lupin, it is the Ministry’s policy to inform you that any unauthorized magic performed in the courtroom will result in your immediate expulsion from the proceedings. If you are removed in such a manner, any testimony you have given will be stricken from the record.” She smiled poisonously, and Remus got the feeling she would quite like to be the one to throw him from the room. 

“Got it?” Remus said, when it became clear she was waiting for an answer. 

“Quite,” she said with a little nod, and Remus shuddered. 

The Ministry witch went down the line, checking each badge in turn. “Mrs. Tonks née Black, it is the Ministry's policy to inform you…” and she repeated the entire speech word for word. 

Sirius was staring at her in undisguised confusion, while Remus was surprised to see Minerva glaring at her with extreme annoyance. When the witch reached her, she did her silly little cough again and slowly looked Minerva up and down. 

“Minerva,” she said. “I’m quite surprised to see you in such a setting.” 

“And I, you,” Minerva said sharply. “Been a few years, hasn’t it, Delores? I’d have assumed you’d have moved up a bit further in the ranks by now. But promotions can be so hard to come by, can’t they?” 

Delores’ sickly smile stiffened. “We can’t all have a tenured position, Minerva.” 

“Of course,” Minerva agreed politely. As Umbridge rattled off her practised speech with particular venom, Remus felt a swell of hatred rising up and up in his chest. It was a feeling echoed by Poppy, who was outwardly glaring at Umbridge and refused to say a single word when it was her turn to present her badge. 

Emmeline handed hers over reluctantly, and Umbridge made a meal of reading the inscription aloud in a pondering tone. “Defense Attorney? I wish you luck, Miss Vance, you’re such a new lawyer… and to start off with a failure on a high profile case like this… wouldn’t look good, wouldn’t look good…” 

Sirius pushed himself off the wall. “Who says it’ll be a failure?” 

“Only a thought,” Umbridge said silkily. “Don’t lose your temper, Mr. Black, I fear that wouldn’t look good given your history. I’d rather like to keep my fingers attached to my body, I must say. But then, they say you are mentally unstable, perhaps you can’t control it…” 

Sirius was nearly shaking with anger, and Remus grabbed his shoulder to potentially hold him back. Sirius shook him off, snarling at Umbridge, who just hummed happily to herself as she inspected Emmeline’s badge. 

Finally, Umbridge minced back over to the door and pulled it open, aiming a fake smile over her shoulder at them. “The Wizengamot will see you soon,” she informed them, then slammed the door shut. 

“Odious woman,” Minerva muttered immediately. 

“She was at Hogwarts with us,” Poppy explained to the rest of the corridor. “A few years younger, but she was Slytherin through and through, and even the upper years had bones to pick with her. Never afraid to offend, that Delores. ”  

“She did seem awful,” Andy groaned, looking toward the thick doors Umbridge had disappeared behind. “Like a giant toad.” 

“Worse,” Sirius added. “I wish I was ‘mentally unstable’, then I’d have an excuse to curse her into a real toad.” 

They lapsed into silence again, the surge of rage in Remus’ chest fading away into shivers again. It was so cold in the hallway, terribly terribly cold. He tried to remember some of the practised remarks that Em had written up for him, things to say if he got bogged down in the questioning, but nothing was coming to mind. Well, Poppy had said he’d be better off ‘speaking from the heart’, but Remus was more than a bit concerned he’d end up speaking from his arse instead. 

He wondered what Harry was doing at that very minute. Ted and Dora were waiting for the verdict with Harry at home, Molly on call if there were any problems. They’d agreed it was best to stay safe inside the house’s wards, in case the trial went so poorly they were all implicated. Remus’s stomach twisted at the thought of condemning so many people who had helped them to life on the run. 

After what could have been a few minutes or nearly an hour, the doors swung open of their own accord with a heavy scratch along the stone floor. After a moment of silence, a proper voice said, “Enter!” from within the courtroom. Remus looked just once at Sirius, saw the pale determination in his face, and then the six of them filed through the gaping doors. 

Remus caught a glimpse of rows and rows of seats climbing up and away from them, before he heard Sirius make a sharp gasping noise and turned to finally find out what the source of the deep coldness had been. 

Dementors (Lily’s voice, screaming and screaming. Marlene’s neck at an impossible angle). At least five of them, stationed silently at either edge of the doors and scattered around the rim of the lowest section of the floor. A few patronuses patrolled among them, keeping the foul creatures at their posts, but Remus could almost feel their hunger. They wanted Sirius, leaning forward with the strain of it, and ice started slowly creeping up the backs of Remus’ legs. They were fools for coming here, absolute fools. Why couldn’t they have stayed at home, where it was safe, even if the wizarding world thought they were outlaws? 

“C’mon,” a voice hissed, and Emmeline hooked a hand around his elbow and pulled him forward, closer to the Patronuses that protected the wizengamot. She had Sirius by the other hand, who was breathing shallowly like someone trying not to be noticed. 

“I hereby call to order the Wizengamot for the retrial of the case of Sirius Black vs. The Wizengamot, originally heard on November the sixth of 1981, now returned to court on December the first of the same year,” the authoritative voice said, and Remus looked up to see a man holding a gavel from a raised desk at the edge of the seats. “This case is heard in tandem with the cases of Remus Lupin and Andromeda Tonks vs the Azkaban Authorities, tried for the first time on this date. Overseeing these proceedings, I am Bartimus Crouch Sr., Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Interrogators are Millicent Bagnold, Minister for Magic; Cornelius Fudge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister; Delores Umbridge, Attending Official from the Criminal Magic Department; and myself.” This was all said in a very dramatic, foreboding tone of voice. 

Their group had finally reached the chairs in the middle of the courtroom, where the bubble of patronus shimmer at least penetrated enough for Remus to regain control of his thoughts. 

“Sit down,” Crouch ordered. Remus felt a hand at his back, and Emmeline physically shoved them into the right formation. Remus and Andy on a pair of stone chairs a little removed from the center, Minerva and Poppy on a bench against the wall of the lowest ring of seats, Emmeline standing at a stone lectern close to Crouch’s desk, and Sirius, last of all, in the chair at the direct center draped in iron chains. As soon as he sat down, the chains sprang to life and bound him tightly to the chipping stone. Sirius stiffened, his face pale as bone, but he didn’t struggle. 

“Witnesses for the prosecution are Albus Dumbledore, usually Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot but removing himself temporarily from his role and vote in this case to act as a witness; Severus Snape, Hogwarts Professor; Petunia Dursley, muggle; and George Johnston, employee of the ministry,” Crouch continued, and Remus felt himself recoil. A patronus that looked like a cow patrolled close enough to the opposite side of the circle and the faces of Dumbledore, Snape, and Petunia were thrown into sharp relief. They were sitting at identical stone benches; Dumbledore looking serenely into space, Snape with the typical expression of utmost loathing, and Petunia in a starched housedress staring nervously at the Dementors across from her. She didn’t seem to have noticed the slight in being referred to as simply ‘muggle’. The other man Remus didn’t recognise, he sat hunched over boredly on the edge of the bench. 

Snape looked over at Remus, and Remus felt a shiver of anger splice through him like a lightning bolt. He couldn’t figure out why Snape was here, what did he possibly have to do with Sirius’ innocence? Perhaps Dumbledore had just been trying to find the most prejudiced witness he could, the fucking ghoul. 

Crouch flipped a sheet of parchment on his desk decisively. “Witnesses for the defense are Poppy Pomfrey, Head Mediwitch at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; and Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress at the same school. Professor McGonagall is also serving as Advisor to the Court in the calling of this retrial.” 

There was some surprised muttering from the crown of the assorted Wizengamot, a few craning their necks to ascertain that Minerva was really there. 

“Attorney for the defense is Emmeline Vance,” Crouch continued. “Now, the charges are as follows: That Mr. Sirius Orion Black did knowingly, deliberately, and in full knowledge of the illegality of his actions use a Reductor curse on Mr. Peter Pettigrew and 12 muggle bystanders, all of which were pronounced deceased at the scene. The prior court ruling on this charge was Guilty, the court now suspends that decision and tries the accused on the previous and these additional charges: that he did knowingly, deliberately, and in full knowledge of the illegality of his actions conspire to escape from Azkaban, evade the capture of the law, and kidnap the young Mr. Harry Potter from his legal guardians.” 

More shocked whispers broke out in the crowd. One witch hissed, “Harry Potter? Surely not?” very loudly to her seatmate, and the name ricocheted around the courtroom.   

“The charges against Mr. Lupin and Mrs. Tonks are assistance to Mr. Black in the additional charges,” Crouch finished over the murmurs of confusion. “Ms. Vance, how do your clients plead?” 

Emmeline pressed her hands carefully against the stone lectern, voice calm and sure as she declared, “Not Guilty,” in a ringing voice. 

At this, the whispers devolved into full-blown outbursts. 

“Of all charges,” Emmeline finished, her head still high as she looked straight at Crouch. 

“Very well,” Crouch said. “As typical of Criminal cases, the Interrogators will question the accused as they deem necessary. At any point, the prosecution and defense may interject to call upon a witness or lodge an objection. Let it be known that in stepping into this courtroom, you have agreed to speak only the whole truth, or may the full might of the law come down upon you. The case will now proceed.” 

“The court calls Mr. Black to the stand,” Bagnold said immediately. 

Sirius tilted his head insolently. “I’d stand up, but I’m a bit tied up over here.” 

Andy made a furious ‘cut it out’ gesture toward Sirius, but Remus was almost relieved to hear the attitude in Sirius’ voice. He wasn’t all the way gone, not yet. 

“The stand is metaphorical,” the man Remus presumed must be Fudge said tersely. Sirius shrugged. “You may merely acknowledge the Wizengamot.” 

“Hello,” Sirius said flatly. Andy sighed in exasperation, and there were a few titters from the crowd before the unlucky laughers remembered they were watching a trial for murder. 

“Mr. Black, many eyewitnesses testify that you murdered 13 people with one curse in the events of November the first 1981,” Bagnold jumped back in, leaning forward from Crouch’s left side. “What is your explanation?” 

“Pettigrew set off the curse,” Sirius said promptly. Remus remembered hearing him say the same words over and over at their kitchen table, Andy with a fake glare as their practice integrator. “He murdered the muggles and chopped off his own finger, then transformed into his animagus form, a rat, and escaped through the sewers.”

There was a thrilled gasp from the lowest ring of seats, and Remus looked over to see a young witch with icy blonde hair grinning in melodramatic excitement, an acid green quill dancing in the air beside her as it scribbled line after line. 

Bagnold was also visibly shocked by this information. “You claim Mr. Pettigrew was an animagus?” 

“Is,” Sirius corrected. “A rat. We learned in school, me and– James Potter and Pettigrew.” 

“You are not on the register,” Fudge announced right away. 

“Have you any evidence of this skill?” Bagnold asked. “The Court authorises this specific act of magic and nothing else.”

“Well, if it’s authorised…” Sirius transformed into Padfoot, the iron chains morphing into a leash and collar. He barked once, then transformed back with a slight smirk. 

“Is that enough evidence for you, Minister?” 

More whispers hissed through the courtroom. Bagnold adjusted her thick glasses, momentarily stymied. 

Crouch was taking furious notes on his parchment. “That only serves to prove that you yourself are an animagus, not the other two. As Mr. Potter is obviously deceased, and Mr. Pettigrew presumed dead, I can’t see how you expect us to corroborate your statement.” Crouch let out a tight fake laugh. “Unless, of course, you plan to reveal that Mr. Potter isn’t dead either!” 

Sirius’ cocky expression vanished. Remus might have been imagining it, but it seemed like the Dementors floating just at the edge of his vision leaned forward hungrily. 

“There are other witnesses to the fact,” Emmeline said quickly. “The men used their abilities in several missions for the order of the phoenix. I can corroborate Sirius’ statement, as can Dumbledore.” 

The attention shifted toward Dumbledore, who remained silent but nodded hello to several people in the stands (it was easy to see the symbolism– he was trusted, he was known, and Remus and Sirius decidedly weren’t). 

“The defense calls Albus Dumbledore to the stand,” Fudge said promptly. 

Remus half expected Dumbledore to deny it, but he stood up, wet his lips calmly, and said, “Yes, Pettigrew could turn into a rat.” 

“I see,” Bagnold said. “However, that fact alone does not account for his actions. The court is under the impression that, Mr. Black, you had been serving as a spy for He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, and the information you passed resulted in the deaths of Lily and James Potter, after which Mr. Pettigrew confronted you. What reason have you for your actions?” 

“I wasn’t the spy,” Sirius said, his voice dipping in and out of strength. “Peter was. He was the one to– to–” 

“To pass information to You-Know-Who,” Emmeline finished smoothly. “As the court is aware, the Fidelious charm was protecting the Potters. Mr. Pettigrew, unknown to all, was the Secret Keeper. He then used this information to lead to the Potters’ deaths, and faked his own death as Sirius confronted him.” 

“Hem-hem,” Umbridge coughed. “I’m sorry, but isn’t it painfully obvious that none of that actually happened? This is the most far-fetched story, I can’t understand how any of us would be expected to believe it. Mr. Dumbeldore, you were aware of the Fidelius Charm?” 

“I was,” Dumbledore said. 

“And you believed that Black was the secret keeper?” 

“I did.” 

“The court calls Severus Snape to the stand,” Umbridge said quickly. “And Mr. Snape, you did as well?”

“Yes,” Snape said slimily. “I was the one to inform Dumbledore of the danger to Lily… and Potter. I was acting at great personal risk as a spy within the Death Eaters, and I certainly never saw Peter at any meetings, nor heard so much as a whisper of his involvement.” 

“Did you see Sirius at these meetings?” Emmeline demanded. 

“No,” Snape admitted. 

“And did you ‘hear any whispers’ of Sirius’ involvement?” 

“No,” Snape said again, looking physically pained at not being able to say something incriminating. There was always plenty of lying in the courtroom, after Veritaserum had been banned, but Remus supposed that Snape was simply aware that being caught in a lie would be more trouble than it was worth. Always saving his own skin first, Snape. 

“Indeed,” Emmeline said, tapping her fingers satisfiedly on the podium. Dumbledore and Snape sat back down. 

“I fear that is little evidence as well,” Umbridge sniffed angrily. “You say this whole affair was a complete secret, and yet Mr. Lupin and Mrs. Tonks somehow knew enough of the situation to attempt to break Mr. Black out of Azkaban barely a week later.” 

“The court calls Mr. Remus Lupin and Mrs. Andromeda Tonks to the stand,” Fudge said. 

Remus and Andy stood up. His kneecap cracked audibly, and Remus shook it out to ward off the ache of sitting still for so long. 

“Remus, how did you know that Sirius was innocent?” Emmeline asked with a sharp smile. 

“He left me a message before Halloween night,” Remus responded promptly. He was uncomfortably aware of hundreds of eyes upon him, like children peering down into the depths of a well. “On a muggle video device, so that the Fidelius Charm wouldn’t be triggered. He said he was innocent, had some Veritaserum, and I believed him.” 

“The court is unable to utilize Truth Serum in trial proceedings due to Court Statute number 467,” Bagnold cited, flipping through a stack of her parchment on the desk. “You will have to prove your case with other methods, Mr. Lupin.” 

“I know, I was just saying that Sirius had drunk some of it in the video–” Remus broke off, giving up on explaining. “Well, the point is, I saw the video and that was how I knew the truth.” 

Umbridge twisted up her face in scorn. “And why didn’t you do anything with this evidence? Or are you so morally depraved your first thought was to stage a prison break?” 

“I took it to Dumbledore,” Remus said. 

“The prosecution calls Dumbledore to the stand,” Emmeline said. Dumbledore nodded politely at her, standing up again. “Did Remus show you this evidence?” 

“Yes.” 

“And why didn’t you report it? Was it not convincing?” 

“I believed that the court wouldn’t consider that variety of evidence,” Dumbledore said smoothly. Remus got the impression that he was skimming along the top of the tension, constantly shifting his weight like a tightrope walker, never too much in one direction at a time. Dumbledore would come out of this on the winning side, no matter which fucking side that was. “It was only a few days after the events of October 31, you see, and I was rather caught up with still dealing with all the implications of that night. Mr. Lupin appeared somewhat agitated, and I believed him to be a young man very saddened with grief and clutching at straws.” 

“Clutching at straws,” Fudge echoed. “Quite! I must say, I don’t understand this muggle videomagrapher theory–” 

“That wasn’t my question, Albus,” Emmeline broke in. “I asked, did you find the evidence convincing?” 

“It was certainly a new interpretation,” Dumbledore said easily. “I advised Mr. Lupin to give it a few months so that the wizarding community had a chance to fully understand everything that happened with the downfall of Voldemort.” A collective shudder went around the Wizengamot at the hated name. “I fully intended to look into the matter, but I confess I had higher priorities at the time.” 

“Perfectly sensible,” Fudge said with an approving nod. He turned back towards Emmeline. “I don’t suppose you can produce this so-called muggle video that you claim serves as evidence.” 

“We were under the impression that muggle technology can’t be used in court,” Emmeline said. “Or were we mistaken? I am willing to produce it.” 

“Anything muggle-manufactured isn’t going to function in the courtroom,” Bagnold said with a glance at Fudge. “You know this rule, certainly, Cornelius.” 

“Oh, yes, yes,” Fudge said. “I was only suggesting– seems a bit farfetched–” 

“Let us proceed to the events of November the eleventh,” Bagnold said, cutting off her blustering colleague. Remus and Andy sat down, his knee giving another twinge. “The court is aware of the following facts: Mrs. Tonks, her husband, and their daughter signed into the premises to visit her sister in Cell 846, Mrs. Bellatrix Lestrange. While they were on the island, at approximately 10:03 in the morning, Mrs. Bellatrix performed a wordless, wandless Lumos charm which triggered the wards. During this disruption, Sirius Black escaped from his cell and somehow made his way to the mainland. The court now calls George Johnston to the stand.”  

The man Remus didn’t recognise cleared his throat as he stood up, which gave way to a hacking cough. When he had recovered, he messily whiped his mouth with his sleeve and looked up at Bagnold. “Yeah?” 

“Mr. Johnston, you are a guard at Azkaban Prison Facility,” Bagnold said without pausing for an answer, and Remus finally realized where he had seen him before. “You were on duty on November the 11th, and you led the Tonks’ to the Lestrange Cell.” 

“Aye,” the Johnston said. “They were a lot of crazies, the whole bunch.” 

“Can you describe what happened?” 

Johnston rearranged his arms importantly. “O’course. I cast my Patronus and took ‘em up to the cell, same as usual. The little girl had a fainting turn, and the lady seemed rather panicked, so I let the girl and the mister out on the cleaning platform for a moment or two. It’s a little ledge out over the water, y’know, for washing the windows or checking the bars and whatnot. When I was letting them back in, the wards went off, so I grabbed the lady and the mister and girl and I took ‘em straight back to the boat. That’s it.” 

“Were you aware that Mr. Black’s cell was located directly next to Mrs. Lestranges?” 

“Sure I knew, it says all the names on the doors, doesn’t it,” Johnston said. 

“And you didn’t witness any of the Tonks attempting to reach Mr. Black’s cell, or aid him in any attempt to escape from the premises?” 

“No, ma’am, I did not.” Johnston nodded self-satisfiedly, seeming to miss the glares coming his way from Crouch and Umbridge. 

“Well, now, this is just silly,” Umbridge broke in with a simpering smile at the guard. “Surely they must have done something! You, Mr. Johnston, why did you let them out on the cleaning platform? Is that not quite dangerous?” 

“Sure is,” Johnston agreed. “But the little miss was going crazy, and I didn’t want any sorta problem on my record. So I figured fresh air for her is worth the other dangers, y’know.” 

“I can tell you, that type of lax attitude towards security is most definitely going to be on your record,” Umbridge started with an air of outrage, but Bagnold cleared her throat. 

“I find that Mr. Johnston behaved entirely in line with his good judgement,” she said. “Now, Mr. Johnston, can you comment on whether it appeared Mrs. Tonks was communicating a plan to her sister?” 

“Lestrange?” Johnston said incredulously. “No ma’am, she’s a crazy, there ain't nothing she says that makes a lick of sense. No way to make a plan with her, not at all.” 

“I see,” Bagnold said. “Then why do you suppose Mrs. Lestrange chose that moment to set off the wards?” 

“She’s a crazy,” the old guard repeated. “No tellin’, there’s just no tellin’.”

“Very well,” Bagnold said. “Then, can you ascertain that the woman sitting before you is the same woman you believed to be Mrs. Tonks?” 

“Aye, she is,” Johnston said. Remus stiffened slightly in the hard stone chair. He had the feeling he was watching everything unfold from several degrees removed: he was in the chair, and he was also watching from the very back row as the man in the chains affixed a blank expression on his face and the tall woman at the podium took in a highly measured breath. This was the first hurdle. 

“And does the man in front of you now resemble the man you believed to be Mr. Tonks?” 

Johnston hesitated. “Well, no, not really ma’am. He had a beard, y’see…” 

“Oh, imagine he had shaved,” Umbridge snapped, leaning forward in her chair like a frog spotting a particularly juicy fly. “Then, do you think it could be this man right here?” 

“He was also a ginger…” Johnston said unconvincedly. 

“Hair color can be changed!” Umbridge said dissmissivly. “Could it be him?” 

“I guess so,” Johnston said. 

“Well, that ressembalce would be rather pecululair,” Bagnold said, consluting her papers again. “Seeing as the Hogwarts records have Ted Tonks as a muggleborn whose parents hail from North Africa.” 

“Oh,” Johnston said, scratching his head. “I see what you’re getting at.” 

“So, Miss Vance,” Bagnold said. “What, may I ask, was a man who looks quite like Remus Lupin and none at all like Ted Tonks, doing with Andromeda Tonks on Azkaban on the morning of November 11th?” 

“Breaking out Sirius Black,” Emmeline answered, and the courtroom erupted. Remus bit down hard on his lower lip. Trust Emmeline, trust Emmeline.  

“Aha! You admit it!” Fudge shouted. Most of the jury was talking excitedly to their neighbors, cloaks slipping sideways in their fervour. 

“I beseech the court to allow me to do my duty as defendor,” Emmeline said calmly over the clamour. “If you would permit me to question my clients…?” 

“The defense calls Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Andromeda Tonks back to the stand,” Bagnold said loudly, and the whispers ceased. The two unchained members of their party stood up shakily, Sirius just nodded his head again. 

“Right then,” Emmeline said. “Mr. Lupin, explain how it was that you came to be at Azkaban.” 

With a prayer for Emmeline’s skills as a lawyer, Remus steeled himself and did so. He and Andy explained everything, the disguises and the gillyweed and the plot to get on the outside of the building, prompted by Emmeline’s careful questions. Sirius relayed how he’d squeezed between the bars as a dog and swum for land as a man with gills. Whenever the intergoators attempted to interrupt, Emmeline would ever so politely request that she be allowed to question her clients, and wasn’t that a protected right in section 87 of the Court Handbook? 

“And then I went to find Re– Lupin and Andromeda,” Sirius finished, looking toward Emmeline for another question. She remained silent, and the Wizengamot started to boil with unrest again. 

Bagnold was squinting at Emmeline behind her glasses. “So you admit to the charges that your clients did knowingly, deliberately, and in full knowledge of the illegality of your actions conspire to assist Sirius Black in his escape from Azkaban and later evasions of the capture of the law?” 

“Yes,” Emmeline said. 

“And you plead Guilty to the typical sentence of ten years in Azkaban?” 

“No,” Emmeline said. “We request that the charges be waived.” 

Once again, the jury was shocked from whispers into loud speech. Remus winced. The wizengamot might have been on their side up until now, or at least open to the idea that Sirius was innocent, but now the faces that had been sympathetic were now appearing confused and a little betrayed by the turn the trial had taken. 

Remus glanced over at Emmeline, who was staying still under the onslaught. Trust me, she mouthed toward Remus. 

Umbridge was whispering feverishly to Fudge, who was nodding along sycophantically. Crouch’s eyes were bugging out slightly, and he banged the gavel several times. “Order! Order in the court!” 

“Please elaborate, Miss Vance,” Bagnold said, the only one not to be visibly relishing their defeat. 

“As we have told the court thus far,” Emmeline began, facing Bagnold directly, “Mr. Lupin knew that Mr. Black was innocent. He went directly to Dumbledore, his trusted advisor, and was met with inaction. Dumbledore advised him to ‘wait a few months’.” She inclined her head toward Dumbledore, who as always appeared perfectly calm. 

“But Mr. Lupin did not want to wait a few months,” Emmeline continued, now turning to address the rows of witches and wizards. She held out one pale hand, empathising her words with pointed flicks of her black-nail-polished fingers. “A couple months was nothing to Dumbledore, but it was everything to Mr. Lupin– why was that, Mr. Lupin?” She looked toward Remus. 

“Because Sirius was in Azkaban,” Remus said dutifully. 

“Because he knew an innocent man was locked in the worst prison we as a society have ever dreamed up!” Emmeline said loudly. “You all felt a taste of that horror, walking past the Dementors this very morning. You’ve all experienced the deep cold, the sudden realisation that nothing could ever be warm or welcoming again. You’ve all had the very worst of your memories swim to the surface of your thoughts and stick there like thick spiderwebs.” Every sentance, every pause, was intent, the lines Remus had heard her practice now sharp and precise like an actress on a spotlighted stage. The wizengamot was enthralled, more than a few with their mouths frozen open in intrigue. “Now, I implore you, imagine you had found out your best friend, your brother, your sister, your child, had been locked away in that feeling forever for a crime they are entirely innocent of. Would you sit idly by? Would you be able to ‘wait a few months’?” 

There was head-shaking in the crowd, even a few winces. 

“No!” one over-enthused wizard shouted. 

“Now, you can’t possibly mean to assume that Black is innocent?” Fudge cried. “He’s a murderer!” 

Bagnold adjusted her spectacles again. “I’ll remind you, Cornelius, the court has not yet reached a verdict on any of the counts.” 

Emmeline smiled pointedly at Fudge. “Yes, quite, Madam Minister. I request that the court consider the case in 1703 of Hector Lanziball, who was subjected to a false trial under the Gambit insurrection and sentanced to a lifetime of work digging tunnels for Gringotts. His wife, Katherine Lanziball, helped him escape. When the Ministry conquered the insurrection, the decision was reversed and both Hector and Katherine were released from all charges.” 

“We are familiar with the case,” Bagnold said evenly. 

Emmeline carried on, a dramatic, storytelling lint now in her voice. “And I invite the Wizengamot to also consider the case of Bridget Miller in 1845, who was ordered by the court into seventeen years of isolation for having contracted the Unicorn Plague. Her sister, a mediwitch who alone knew that the symptoms of Unicorn Plauge were really an early onset case of Inner-Ear Decay, after failing to convince the ministry of her sister's true ailment, used an extremely strong Accio charm to transport her sister from the locked-down quarantine clinic to an island in the South Pacific. In 1847, when research had confirmed that the Unicorn Plague outbreak hadn’t actually occurred, both of the Miller sisters were pardoned.” 

The room was silent, even Crouch hanging on to Emmeline’s every word. 

“And finally, the case of John Allumbi, who was trialed for robbery, broken out of the West Wales Wizarding Prison by his son, and then released from the charges when it was revealed that his twin brother had actually committed the crime.” Emmeline paused, allowing her speech to settle into the silent room like silt stirred up from the bottom of a pond. “My clients request the same amnesty. They merely acted as Katherine Lanziball, Maria Miller, and Chris Allumbi did, as all of us would had we the conviction that our loved one was being wronged. Remus Lupin and Andromeda Tonks were shouting into the void, the void of justice that refused to hear them. They made the only choice a person of conviction could truly make. I argue that in the wake of the horrors of You-Know-Who, horrors that Remus Lupin understands most out of all in this room, an undoubtable miscarriage of justice took place. A miscarriage you have the chance to now rectify, and let three innocent people live their lives in peace.” 

There was a slow, steady silence that moved through the courtroom like molasses dripping viscously down each row of seats. 

“Well now,” cried Crouch, looking about wildly for support. “It’s surely all a conspiracy! It was Bellatrix Lestrange who triggered the wards, and she’s a known Death Eater! A Black! She’s insane, to be sure, and I don’t doubt that her cousin is just as depraved! That whole family is rotten to the core, dark witches and wizards every last one, and Death Eaters of the highest order! Why else,” he said, narrowing in on Sirius, “why else would he have kidnapped Harry Potter? If not to finish what He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named started?”  

The Wizengamot shifted nervously with each accusation Crouch shouted, the tension winding tight again like a spring coiled to the tall ceiling.  Remus had thought that maybe the court had been swayed to their side again, but now he couldn’t be sure he hadn’t just been imagining it.

“The court will now turn to the final charge,” Bagnold announced. “The kidnapping of Harry Potter. The court calls Petunia Dursley and Albus Dumbledore to the stand.” 

Dumbledore and Petunia stood up from the bench, the first with an inscrutable expression and the second with a pinched grimace of stress. Petunia compulsively smoothed down the fabric of her dress, eyes darting around the room. 

“Dumbledore, you took the child to his aunt and uncle's house on November 1st?” 

“Indeed,” Dumbledore said. “I thought it was best that he live with his closest blood relatives.” 

“And Mrs. Dursely, you willingly took the child in?” 

“Yes,” Petunia said in a thin voice. “Yes, we agreed to raise him.” 

“And were you aware that you had been listed as the chosen guardian should your sister and brother-in-law perish?” 

“No,” Emmeline jumped in, before Petunia could open her mouth. “Objection. She wasn’t listed at all. Dumbledore acted contrary to what the Potter’s last will and testament stated.” 

“No will had been uncovered by that point,” Dumbledore said. “I acted as I saw fit, to place Harry with family.” 

“Both their will and Harry’s birth certificate list Mr. Lupin and Mr. Black as the perferred gaurdians of Harry Potter,” Emmeline announced, “and both documents have already been confirmed with the Office of Muggle Affairs.” 

“Stimway, can we get a fact check on that?” Bagnold asked the young wizard sitting a few rows behind her. He jumped in fright at being addressed, then waved his wand and conjured what looked like a handheld gas lantern, flame burning green. Without further ado, he plunged his head inside the lantern. The courtroom sat boredly, as if this were a regular occurrence. 

Remus tried to catch Emmeline’s eye, but she was only looking at Bagnold. Then he tried for Sirius, but Sirius was watching himself compulsively tap the fingers of one hand on the arms of the stone chair, still chained tightly down. 

Abruptly, the man pulled his head out of the lantern. “Yes, Minister,” he said, Vanishing the lantern. “The Office has copies of the muggle birth certificate and the wizarding will, and they both have Mr. Lupin and Mr. Black listed.” 

“Isn’t it the usual policy that orphaned children go to those listed on their documents?” Emmeline asked the room innocently. “I find it curious that Dumbledore chose to circumvent this process entirely.” 

“Well, Albus, can you explain?” Bagnold asked. 

“I believed it to be best for the child,” Dumbledore said. “There were– and continue to be– extraordinary circumstances around Harry Potter’s survival. We’d recently received the news of Mr. Black’s betrayal, I thought it best to remove him entirely from the magical world. For his safety, of course. It was likely that supporters of Voldemort would soon be coming after him, trying to avenge their master.” 

“And they did!” Crouch said loudly, his toothbrush mustache sticking up wildly. “The first thing Black did was kidnap Harry Potter! He’s likely already murdered the boy and finished what his master started!” 

“The defense calls Poppy Pomfrey to the stand,” Emmeline said in a steady voice. 

“Ready!” Poppy cried, jumping up with a bit too much energy. 

“Madam Pomfrey is the resident Head Mediwitch at Hogwarts School,” Emmeline informed the Wizengamot, most of whom already appeared to recognise her. “Madam Pomfrey, have you recently seen Harry Potter?” 

“Yes, I have,” Poppy replied satisfiedly, which was met with another burst of whispers. 

“And where was the child?” 

“Living safely in a nice, cozy house with Mr. Black and Mr. Lupin.” 

“And did he seem well-cared for?” 

“Yes, most definitely.” 

“And was the house well-equipped for the raising of a child?” 

“Oh, indeed, plenty of the usual nappies and such, and proper food and toys and a crib.” 

“How often did you observe Mr. Potter?” 

“Several times over the past two weeks, and once overnight.” 

“And did he seem to enjoy living with Mr. Black and Mr. Lupin?” 

“Of course, of course, the child clearly loved being there, always clinging onto one of them, simply the cutest little baby–” 

“Just to confirm,” Emmeline said, as Poppy showed signs of wanting to keep on explaining precisely how adorable Harry was, “at any point in the multiple weeks you observed Harry Potter under the care of Mr. Black and Mr. Lupin, did either of them appear inclined to murder him or harm him in any way?” 

“Not at all,” Poppy said decisively, sitting back down in a poof of her skirts. 

This was met with some more muttering from the Wizengamot. One of the witches appeared to be arguing with her seatmate, pointing animatedly down at the middle of the courtroom. 

“Well, that seems rather cut-and-dry,” Emmeline said with an ironic twist to her lips. “Any more concerns about the child’s safety, Mr. Crouch?” 

“They still kidnapped him!” Crouch cried angrily. “Those are not the actions of innocent men!” 

“Yes, I believe we should discuss why Harry is no longer living with his aunt and uncle,” Emmeline said. She swept her arm widely toward Petunia. “Mrs. Dursely, can you explain how you were treating the child?” 

Petunia shifted guilty. “We were feeding him, giving him a place to sleep, if that’s what you mean.” 

“It’s not,” Emmeline said bluntly. “Were you or were you not routinely locking him up in the cupboard under the stairs as punishment?” 

Petunia stared unseeingly into the distance. For half a blink, Remus was struck by her resemblance to Lily, the way her nose turned upward in just the same way. Then the image shuddered and collapsed, and it was just Petunia standing there. She gave herself a tiny shake and shut her eyes tightly, then seemed to come to a decision. 

“Yes, we were,” she said with her eyes closed. 

“And was the cupboard where he was forced to sleep?” 

“Yes.” 

“Did you attempt to purchase any sort of new baby supplies upon gaining custody of Harry?” 

“No, we just gave him Dudley’s old things.” 

“Did you in any way attempt to treat Harry in the same manner as you treated your other son?” 

“No,” Petunia said, eyes still closed. “No, we didn’t. Because he wasn’t our’s, he was one of her’s.” 

“Magical, you mean?” Emmeline said, unsympathetic to the tremors running through Petunia. 

“...Yes.” 

“And, finally, had anyone in your house at any point physically hurt or attempted to hurt Harry?” 

Petunia choked on her inhale. “Y-yes. My husband. To get him to stop crying. Just the once.” 

Emmeline paused, letting that statement sink in. 

“You horrible, nasty woman!” Poppy cried, jumping back up to shout at Petunia. “That’s no way to treat a child, no way at all, I can’t understand how you could possibly do it–” 

Minerva grabbed her hand and dragged her down. 

“The court requests silence from all witnesses not currently called to the stand,” Bagnold said. “I confess I am appalled, Mrs. Dursley. I must ask you– do you desire to have custody of Harry again?” 

“No,” Petunia said. She turned around slowly, to make eye contact with Sirius, then Remus. “No, I think it would be better for him to stay with them. It’s what– It’s what Lily would have wanted. Did want.” Her words sped up, tripping over each other on their way out of her mouth. “And I want to say– I want to say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have– I should have stopped it. He was still Lily’s. But he wasn’t mine. So I didn’t. But– I’m sorry.” 

Remus held her gaze, not accepting the apology so much as acknowledging it. Letting her mistakes hold space in the room, allowing them to be witnessed, like a dark corner of a closet suddenly illuminated.  

“I’m afraid that none of that matters,” Dumbledore said abruptly. 

For once, Emmeline looked surprised. She looked around, voice suddenly unsure as she asked, “And why is that, Professor?” 

“There was another reason that I sent Harry to live with his blood family,” Dumbledore said in a low voice, stepping forward. Remus had to admit that the man could command an audience: the Wizengamot was on the edge of their seats to hear what he said next, the secret he was going to unveil. “After many days of study, I have concluded that what protected Harry on Halloween night, that is, what saved his life, was the sacrifice of his mother. This protection lives on in her blood, in Mrs. Dursley. For as long as Harry calls the house of his aunt home, he will have a degree of protection from Voldemort. Therefore, it is imperative that he must continue to live with the Dursleys.”  

“Live with the family that abused him?” Poppy said hotly from the bench. 

“Once again, the court requests silence,” Bagnold boomed. “Albus, I’m afraid I don’t see how that is relevant. He-who-must-not-be-named is finished, dead! There is no need for Harry to be protected from him, only from the remaining Death Eaters who yet walk free.” 

“If you think Voldemort is gone, you are a fool!” roared Dumbledore. He began to pace, robes billowing about behind him like the wings of a bat. “He will return, and when he does, Harry must be ready! Even if he is to grow up under,” he paused delicately, “ strict discipline, all the better, for then he will be humble and strong of character. Harry must stay under the protection of his mother’s sacrifice, he must be kept safe until the moment arises!” 

As Dumbledore spoke, Minerva had been shifting in her seat. Remus watched nervously as she finally caught Emmeline’s eye and cut her gaze meaningfully toward Dumbledore. 

“The defense calls Minerva McGonagall to the stand,” Emmeline said uncertainly. “Er, Minerva, do you have a response?” 

“Yes,” Minerva said. “Albus, you are not the only scholar of magical sacrifices. I would remind you that much of my own research centers around life-for-life curses. Tell me, do you know what it is that saved Harry?” 

“His mother’s love,” Dumbledore said. “As I have explained–” 

“And does it seem to you that Mrs. Dursely was treating Harry with much love?”  

“That does not matter, it is about her blood–” 

“It very well does matter!” Minerva snapped. “Magic leaves traces, especially magic cast with love, and I think it doesn’t take much to discern that Mr. Lupin and Mr. Black certainly were exposed to more of Lily’s magic than her sister. Lily’s magic is buried deep in the threads of theirs, built around each other, filling in each other's gaps after years of close contact. Her protection is as alive in the friends that she cherished as it is alive in her sister.” 

“So, Harry would be just as safe with Remus and Sirius?” Emmeline said, catching on and regaining her confidence.

“Yes,” Minerva declared. “Even more so. Just as her magic left marks on theirs, their magic, their love, left its traces on Lily, traces that were present in every breath she took. Including her last.” 

“It’s not about magical traces!” Dumbledore said, his cold blue eyes blazing. “It’s about circumstances! Harry must grow up under the right circumstances, he must be molded into a man who can defeat Voldemort!” 

“He’s a child, not a war weapon,” Remus said, his voice shaking. He didn’t remember standing up, but somehow he was a few feet from Dumbledore, his fists clenched at his sides. “I won’t let you do to him what you did to us! You’ve already had your war, you already got to take kids and make them into killers.” 

Crouch gave a few half-hearted bangs on the gavel, but Remus plowed right past him. 

“That’s what got us here in the first place, because you decided a couple of seventeen-year-olds should be soldiers, and then you turned us on each other, and for what?” 

Dumbledore only looked cooly back at him. “Careful, Mr. Lupin.” 

“Look how it turned out!” Remus growled. “All your best soldiers are dead! And you–” his fingernails bit into his palms– “you won’t even say their names. They weren’t just Harry’s parents, they were Lily and James! And now, now we have a chance to fix it, to keep Harry safe, and all you want to do is raise another generation of soldiers to command and kill.” 

“Silence, Mr. Lupin!” Bagnold said, but Remus had already said his piece. He sat down heavily, never looking away from Dumbledore. 

“As the court must have noticed, Mr. Lupin has always been known for his dangerous temper,” Dumbledore said into the silent courtroom. “He is dangerous in other respects as well.” 

Remus had one blank moment where he had no idea what the old man was going on about, and then it clicked. And there it was all over again, the immediate terror at being found out for something that he could never control. The world bleached white at the edges, his hearing going thick and foggy. 

“Elaborate, Albus,” Bagnold commanded. 

“It’s Mr. Lupin’s best-kept secret…” Dumbledore continued slowly.

Remus felt the room boring down on him, collapsing like he was a spider trapped under a teacup. He wasn’t sure if it would be better to run for it now, to push through those doors and disappear into Muggle London before Dumbledore could ruin his life. 

(But then, of course, he already had once before.)

“I can’t imagine what you could possibly be insinuating,” Emmeline said before Dumbledore could carry on, a dark current of anger underneath her calm words. “But… if I were to hazard a guess… I might think that the situation would incriminate you as well, Albus. We all knew what you were doing when you sent Mr. Lupin out on those secret missions…” she let her voice trail off ponderingly. What was she talking about? “Was the ministry aware of your plots, Albus? Did you inform anyone of the danger you were putting the wizarding world in with every day of inaction?” 

Remus, through a haze of horror, finally understood what she was getting at. It was Dumbledore who sent him off to meet with the werewolf packs every full moon, Dumbledore who heard every warning Remus brought back of an impending attack and chose to do nothing lest his spy’s cover be blown. Trading information for lives, time after time. 

Dumbledore opened his mouth, then shut it silently. 

“I would also remind you,” Minerva said suddenly, “that I as well can’t understand what you could be referring to… but nonetheless would be very quick to assure you I have spent over a month in the company of Remus Lupin and found not one shred of evidence that he is a dangerous man.” She cleared her throat meaningfully. “And, should you continue to press this issue, I’d be happy to repeat exactly which warnings I gave you over the course of the war. I’d think the court would be rather interested to hear exactly why it was that I never saw fit to endorse your Order.” 

“Yes, we would be,” Bagnold said. “Albus, what is this?” 

“Yes, Albus, what do we mean?” Emmeline repeated innocently. 

The message was clear: tell our secret, and we’ll tell yours. Remus felt a surge of the bright feeling in his chest that he knew would have the wolf howling at the moon. Pack.  

“I fear you have misunderstood me,” Dumbledore said after a long pause, face impassive but blue eyes seething. “I was referring to Mr. Lupin’s clear lack of anger management, that is all. I pray that we don’t let outside matters cloud the judgment of this heavy case.” 

“Very well,” Bagnold said suspiciously, “if you have nothing to say on the record.” 

“Nothing at all,” Dumbledore said. 

“You mean you’re not going to tell them?” Snape hissed, breaking his simmering silence. “You said that Harry had to be kept safe, he can’t possibly be fucking safe in the company of a–” 

“Silence, Severus,” Dumbledore said. “You have given your testimony.” 

Snape gaped at him, greasy hair falling in his face.

“Mr. Snape, do you have anything to say on the record?” Umbridge prompted, leaning forward. “It certainly seems that some sort of coverup is going on, you’d be doing the Ministry a service if you shared the true facts…”