Rating:
R
House:
Astronomy Tower
Characters:
Remus Lupin Sirius Black
Genres:
Action Romance
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Order of the Phoenix
Stats:
Published: 12/13/2004
Updated: 08/27/2007
Words: 171,251
Chapters: 13
Hits: 74,325

Accidentally In Love

LupinsLittleSister

Story Summary:
Sirius and Remus both had their own reasons for never falling in love. But since when does love listen to reason? (Slash, RL/SB, some original characters)

Chapter 13 - Washing of the Water

Chapter Summary:
Maybe there's hope after all...
Posted:
08/27/2007
Hits:
2,304
Author's Note:
Written pre-DH


The sun was still rather high when Remus Apparated to the location given in the message. He honestly wasn't sure what to expect, it was such an odd summons.

He didn't expect this.

The first sign of another human (being? beast?) that he happened across was a clothesline. A ragged pair of denims made the rope sag, and a plaid shirt of indeterminate colors fluttered in the breeze. Remus stared at it for a long moment, and then kept walking.

He heard voices and smelled smoke. The voices were peppered with different accents, and his ears even caught a trace of German. As he neared the source he stepped on a discarded boot, and spotted a parchment nailed to a tree. The writing was crude sloppy block letters that simply said "Keep Out." Very childish.

And when he saw the people, he understood why.

They were mostly young, as far as he could tell. It was hard to be sure because so many of them were filthy. They were far too thin and had wild, hungry eyes and were dressed in mismatched castoffs and rags ... and a couple in nothing at all.

A child of no more than ten walked across his path. He had dirt streaked across his face and ground into his skin, and his hair was knotted and unwashed. He turned to look at Remus, his blue eyes suspicious of the newcomer, and then ran off. Remus suspected that the child was going to be his herald.

There were several crude structures, made from wood and tarps and branches. There were also what looked like caves. Some were small, others appeared rather spacious. There were firepits in the center of the settlement, and several battered cooking implements were scattered about.

The child he'd spotted was talking to a man hunched by the fire. He looked up at Remus when the child pointed to him. The man looked to be in his thirties or forties, judging by the way he moved and the lines on his face. Gray stood out clearly in his dark hair, and his brown skin was weathered and rough. He stood up slowly and walked over. He carried himself very carefully, and as he approached, Remus noticed that his hands were long, elegant, and what might have once passed for cultured.

"Lupin?"

"Yes. You were expecting me."

"We've been expecting you for quite a long time."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Really. I'm Anupam Bhamra. Very pleased to meet you."

"Yeah." Remus took the proffered hand and gave it a quick shake, and then stuffed his hands back in his pockets. "What is this place?"

"Exactly what you think it is." Anupam waved a long, skinny arm at the clearing. "I'm only surprised you've taken this long to find us."

"Yes. Well." Remus stuffed his hands deeper into his robe pockets.

"I've heard you lived among the Wizards," Anupam said.

"I still do. I got this message," Remus said, digging for the rumpled paper.

Anupam didn't even glance at the paper. "Right. Well, let me show you around. Not that there's much to see," he admitted ruefully. "But we make do with what we have." He glanced back at his fire, and then took Remus by the arm. "Most of the pack lives in caves, but a few have made shelters," he explained, pointing at various spots in the woods. "When you finally decide to leave the wizarding world, you could easily make a home here. But in the meantime, you'd best find someone to stay with when you're here."

"Right," Remus said, because he couldn't think of anything more intelligent to say. A little boy was watching him, all shaggy hair and too-big eyes and bony joints. Remus felt like he should smile, but the muscles wouldn't work right.

"Our contacts expect that the Ministry of Magic will continue to tighten regulations on werewolves," Anupam continued. "The Dark Lord has promised that they wouldn't, but apparently not all of those working for the Ministry are working for him." He sighed heavily. "How much what the Dark Lord says matters to you is not my business. Me, I stopped believing in promises long ago."

"Then why are you here?" Remus asked.

"Because at least I have freedom." Anupam stretched his arms out. "You will see."

***

Sirius stepped out of the fireplace and topped spinning, but the room continued for a few more moments. Peter watched him with concern.

"You look like shit."

"Thanks ever so much." Sirius stumbled to the faded couch that was calling his name and collapsed. "How long do we have?"

"About an hour," Peter said. "I heard from James."

"Yeah." Even in his state of severe exhaustion, Sirius couldn't stifle his smile. "Great, isn't it?"

"Well, yes. At least the Harry part. James' face didn't look so great. What happened?"

Sirius blinked. "Would you believe I don't know?"

"No."

He scowled. "Well, I don't. There were more important things to talk about."

Peter nodded stiffly, and Sirius decided he didn't care if Peter didn't believe him. He was that exhausted. "Listen, Wormtail, do you mind if I just sleep here for the hour? It's been a long night."

"Yeah. That's fine," Peter said. "I'll be in the kitchen. I have some things to work out."

Sirius nodded and shucked off his shoes and folded his arms behind his head. He closed his eyes, but he couldn't relax. Every muscle in his body screamed exhaustion, but sleep wouldn't come.

The strong scent of tea drifted to his nose, mingled with lavender. It was a comforting smell, reminding him of the dorm after Peter returned from his Divination classes. He remembered teasing Peter about it, begging him to read their palms and their tea leaves. Sometimes, if Peter was in a good humor, he'd do it. Sirius remembered one time when Peter declared he'd end up in huge trouble, bigger trouble than he'd ever been in, and for something he didn't do. A year later, Sirius ran away from home.

Odd how Peter was often right, now that he thought of it.

"Hey, Peter," he mumbled.

"Yes?" Peter's voice was muted by distance and concentration.

"Remember when you told me not to pick up Chinese?"

"No," Peter said flatly. "I thought you were sleeping."

"Might still do," Sirius said. "Can't right now though. Don't you remember? You stopped by the office, you were picking up Tina. A christening or something."

"Oh. Right. Sirius, I was thinking --"

"You told me to get take out, but not Chinese. And when I got home, Remus was sitting in the dark. He was thinking about his mother -- or Caradoc-- they're all starting to blend together. Scary, isn't that? I guess it was his mother, though, cause I asked him about Chinese, and he said he and his mum used to eat it when Damien was out. Kind of a mother-son ... thing."

"Bitter at all?" Peter asked sarcastically.

"I'd be more so if she were still alive," Sirius admitted. "She was a pretty cool bird."

Peter shrugged. "She was a mother."

"Yeah." Sirius stared up at the ceiling. "Lily's a mother now. Can you believe that?"

"More than I can believe Prongs is a father," Peter chuckled, and then sighed. "Anyway, I don't know how I knew that, Sirius. It just came to me suddenly. Well, that, and Tina and I got some bad take-away the night before. When I'm right, it's not usually because I've read tea leaves."

"But you're reading tea leaves now," Sirius guessed, struggling to sit up.

Peter laughed dryly. "Not for real. I'm calming my nerves. We've been through how many full moons? It should be nothing. But tonight ... I'm nervous."

"Yeah," Sirius finally admitted. "I am too."

***

There was a tension in the encampment that was almost tangible. Remus found himself pacing around in a small area, part of him trying to be inconspicuous and part of him longing to stretch his legs as long as they would go and run and move.

Anupam had showed him around, but hadn't really introduced him to anyone. The others watched him with wary eyes. Animal eyes. Remus tried not to think that, but the furtive, wild glances brought the phrase forcibly to his mind. Standing in his plain robes and scuffed shoes and having showered this morning, Remus was acutely aware of his own humanity, and how he suddenly felt well-off instead of struggling.

"You have a wand."

Remus spun at the observation, laced with a tone of accusation. He found himself facing the 10-year-old boy who'd preceded him into the camp, and relaxed a little bit. "I do," he said.

"Can you do magic?" the boy asked him. "Like, tricks?"

Under the dirt, there was a wistful air to the boy, and a spark of mischief in his eyes. Remus found himself as drawn to it as he'd been drawn to Sirius ten years ago. "I can," he said. He sent several sparks into the air, shaping them until they formed a wolf that ran to the trunk of the tree in front of them. The boy lit up.

"Do some more!" he begged.

It was as good a release as any, Remus figured. He made pinecones dance, levitated boulders, and created small dust demons. He felt eyes on them, but he ignored it. The young boy was fascinated.

"How do you do that?"

"I've spent years studying," Remus said, although he'd learned almost all of the magic he'd just done in his first year. "Don't your parents do magic?" The boy's face hardened and he looked away sullenly. Remus tried to cover the awkwardness by twirling some leaves.

"What's your name?" he finally asked.

"Stefan. Stefan Wolfsblood." Remus blinked at the last name. "You're Remus," Stefan continued. "I heard Anupam say it."

"Yes. Your last name is really Wolfsblood?"

"It is now," the boy said, and again Remus picked up something angry in the flash of the boy's eyes. He decided to change the subject.

"Does anyone else do magic here?" he asked.

"I do."

The man who spoke was a tall man who had a very dignified posture when he stood up and huge muttonchop sideburns. Remus hadn't noticed him sitting against the trunk of the tree. Like Remus, he wore robes that had seen better days, although Remus noted that the robes were of finer quality and an older cut. The man extended his hand. "I'm Jakob Stern," he said.

"Remus Lupin."

"I know," Stern said with a bitter smile. "I've met your father." Remus's eyes widened, and Stern waved his hand. "In Austria and then in Turkey. He was with his young... well, I don't believe the Aurors call them their apprentices, and I'm not sure assistant is the right word. Shadow, perhaps? A very black shadow."

"Turkey," Remus said with a grimace. He remembered Sirius's trip to Turkey. Or more accurately, he remembered what had happened to him and Lily when Sirius was in Turkey. "They didn't mention it."

"I doubt they would. They're not on our side, are they?" Stern said. There was a large element of self-mockery in his voice. "Stefan, why don't you go see if Aramana needs any help with the supper?" he asked pointedly. Stefan nodded and ran off. "We don't eat heavy on the night of the full moon, naturally, but the transformation is easier if there's a little something in the stomach, don't you agree?"

"I ... I guess."

"We've been waiting for you for quite some time."

"So people keep telling me. Why, may I ask?"

Stern's eyes widened. "Look around, Remus. Why do you think? What do you think we are?"

"Werewolves," Remus said. "Werewolves who follow Voldemort."

Stern inclined his head, but pointed at Stefan helping a girl with a bloody haunch of venison. "Look closer."

"He's ten," Remus muttered. And then he did as he was bidden.

The girl Stefan was helping was young, dressed in rags, and had long matted hair. Suddenly, Remus realized she was about his own age, and yet, he'd never seen her before.

He spun. Over by the river he saw two boys in their teens laughing and splashing as they wrestled. A girl about Stefan's age was cheering them on. A woman was cheerfully shooing them away from her laundry, and a little girl of six was ostensibly helping the woman, but giggling at the boys.

There were children here. A lot of children.

"And tonight ..." Remus began, a sick feeling blossoming in his stomach and spreading through his body.

"They'll all turn into wolves," Stern finished. "Everyone here is a werewolf, Remus. And you've been expected here for years."

***

"It's about time to go," Peter said, pushing aside his empty bowl. "We'll get to the site Remus marked and transform immediately. Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll be without sleep," Sirius said. He managed to stuff one last bite of stew into his mouth. "'S'funny."

"What is?" Peter asked.

"Every time we've done this, it's been a blast, right?"

"Right."

"So why am I dreading it this time?"

"Gee, I don't know. Because instead of it being you, me, Prongs, and Moony, it's you, me, Moony, and a bunch of Death Eater werewolves?"

"Yeah," Sirius sighed. "I guess that explains it. Let's go."

***

As the sun set, Remus felt the atmosphere thicken. The noise among the werewolves increased, humming with a barely suppressed energy. His stomach twisted in nervous anticipation, and his blood thrummed in his veins, eager and on edge. He suddenly realized he felt more alive than he had before any other transformation.

The others felt it too. The promised meal was shared, and table manners were apparently an inconvenient rumor. They ate the almost-raw meat with hands, tearing it with their teeth, the air punctuated with whoops and hollers. At least two fights broke out -- bare fisted, bloody affairs that the others watched and cheered and wagered on instead of breaking up. Off a ways, Remus caught sight of a man and a woman hastily coupling, groaning and sensual. Watching them, his own body responded, much to his confusion. Sex and the full moon had never gone together before, and he wasn't sure he liked it at all.

Stern stayed near him, watching him through relatively calm eyes. There was a woman who joined him -- a tall, elegant woman with long gray hair. In another time and place, Remus would have liked her immediately, but right now, he couldn't focus. The children were running about, their games becoming increasingly feral.

His eyes were drawn to Anupam, standing off to one side, his muscles tense, watching the crowd eagerly. He was looking for someone, Remus realized. Before he could even wonder who, there was a rustling and a man came through the underbrush.

He was a big man -- wide shoulders and a barrel torso. He had wild gray hair and unkempt stubble, with cold amber eyes that swept the group. When they landed on Anupam, they brightened and he shoved his way through the crowd. The two embraced like brothers.

"Fenrir," Anupam said, stepping away and slapping the bigger man on the back. "You're safe."

"Of course," Fenrir said, his mouth curling into a smile. "Everyone ready?"

Anupam nodded, and then pointed to where Remus was watching them. "Look who joined us."

Remus did not like the smile on Fenrir's face at all.

He was distracted by a tickling on his foot. He looked down to see a plump gray rat sitting on his shoe, and he nearly cried out in relief. Peter wrinkled his nose and waggled his whiskers encouragingly, and suddenly Remus could breathe again.

And then the moon crested the horizon, and it began.

To say the transformation had never been pleasant would be an understatement. The pain was still the same, still the force of a Crucio, still the shattering and reforming of bone. But this time, it felt natural. Just a little. And nothing could scare Remus more.

The world came spinning back into focus, a black-and-white view that was not quite entirely primal. The wolves howled, and while his body was compelled to follow, he felt an awareness of what he was doing -- something not quite Remus but not quite wolf, either.

There were so many of them. A pack. Remus had never seen a pack of werewolves before. The colors, the textures of their fur, the smells ... the world spun again and he struggled to maintain his hold on it. But there was a scent, a scent that was almost right but not quite wolf, and a big black dog slunk in to take a place on the edge of the pack, and Remus took a stronger grip on his mind.

And the wolves began to run.

Remus had enough control to bend down long enough for the rat to scurry up on his shoulder, and then he joined the wolves. The night air rustled his fur and was hot against his face, alive with the scents of the forest and the sounds of animals. But animals were not what they were looking for... what they were hunting.

He'd never hunted before. Not like this. And it was thrilling.

The ground was like liquid beneath his feet, melting away as they ran, strong and sure. Then a new scent hit his nose, a scent that made his stomach cramp in hunger and his blood surge.

The black dog jumped in front of him, growling, hair on end.

The wolf wanted to follow his packmates as they began to slink into the village. Remus realized what was happening and rebelled. The two minds clashed, and the body went sprawling under the battle of instinct and intellect. The rat fell of, tumbling nose over tail.

The dog growled again. Sirius. Remus remembered. Sirius. I am Remus. That is Peter.

The rat shook his head and scurried back over, darting between the wolf's paws. Peter's proximity helped immensely, and Remus managed to sit on his haunches, watching. The dog settled next to him, whining softly in his throat.

Then they heard the scream.

It was a man's scream, long and anguished. Remus cringed away from it, but the wolf surged to his feet, running before he could be stopped. Down the hill and into the village, the scent of human flesh and fear rich and thick in his nostrils.

There was a tiny crack of Apparation and an outraged squeaking. A wolf wouldn't have paid any heed to it at all. But a human -- this human -- did. Peter's presence hit Remus in the face as if the wolf had hit a brick wall, and he struggled again against instinct. But this time he couldn't stop. He kept running, despite the pain of a set of tiny teeth digging into his tail.

You are human, a voice in his head said. You are human! It was Peter, it was Sirius, it was James, it was Dumbledore. It was Lily and his father and his mother and Alphard and Professor McGonagall. It was anyone that Remus had ever loved and anyone who had loved him, and he squeezed his eyes shut and dug in deep and stopped, and his hind end went tumbling over his front until he lay panting.

Beside him, Peter nuzzled his cheek and squeaked. And behind him, he heard the barking as Sirius caught up to them.

It was going to be a long night.

***

The dawn was finally breaking. Sirius wanted nothing more than to lie down and fall asleep, head in paws, but this was not the place to do it. The odds of someone figuring out that this big dog was a human were small, but the odds of someone thinking this dog was food seemed a lot higher, from the little he'd glimpsed of the werewolves.

The transformation back had been unnerving. Remus was largely unhurt, which was good. But what bothered Sirius was the smile on his face as he slept. Sure, he'd had that expression sometimes, after a particularly good night of exploring back at Hogwarts. But last night didn't qualify as a good night, not by Sirius' standards.

Peter nudged him. Sirius looked at Remus one more time, lying under a tree in this makeshift camp. He wanted to stick around and wake him up and make sure Remus was all right, but he knew they couldn't. Not without blowing Remus's cover ... and their own. He closed his eyes, transformed, and Apparated back to Peter's house.

"My arms and legs are killing me," Peter groaned, flopping down onto the couch. "And my head feels like I drank an entire bottle of whiskey. If I'm going to feel hungover, I should have had a lot more fun than that."

"I hear you." Sirius fell down on the couch beside him. "I think he got me good." There was a deep scratch on his shoulder. "What time is it?"

"Almost eight. I can't believe we have to go to work today."

Sirius groaned. "You can't believe it. You weren't up two nights ago delivering a bloody baby, for fuck's sake."

"Call in sick," Peter suggested. He struggled to his feet and went to retrieve his wand.

"Can't," Sirius murmured as his shoulder warmed under the gentle touch of Peter's wand. "Too much going on. I should tell Moody about this, too."

"And you're going to explain how?"

"Well, tell him that Remus told me, which means ..."

"Which means you'd have to tell him Remus is either helping the Death Eaters or spying on the Death Eaters, neither of which is good for Remus. At all."

"Shit."

"You're lucky you have me," Peter said.

"Yeah." Sirius flexed his shoulder. "Thanks for healing this, too."

"No problem. I'll go get an Invigorating Draught, and then we'd both better get moving."

Sirius sighed. Would he ever sleep again?"

***

Remus opened his eyes to see a canopy of green leaves muted against a blue sky. He blinked, quite sure this was not the view from the bed he and Sirius shared. He rolled over gingerly, body protesting.

No. Definitely not the bed.

There were people moving nearby. Not many, just a few early risers. He smelled smoke from a fire, heard the water splashing in the nearby river.

Oh, Merlin, he hurt. Sleeping on the ground was not a favorite. Whatever possessed Muggles to do it when they went camping? He got to his feet and stretched, which helped. Not a lot, but at least he could move.

He had vague, blurry memories of the night before, but clear enough to know that Sirius and Peter had been with him, and that it had been enough. He remembered the village, and hearing that scream, and his own animalistic response. He shuddered, and made a mental note that he owed Sirius a blowjob or two for preventing that one, and Peter ... well, he'd do something nice for Peter, too.

"How are you this morning, Remus?"

He turned to see Stern watching him. "All right," he said, swallowing. "Is that what it's always like?"

Stern shrugged. "Sometimes. Sometimes it's more ... focused. Sometimes Greyback asks one or two of us to hunt at a certain village or residence."

"Greyback asks? Or Voldemort?"

"Probably both." Stern held a hand up to his head, massaging the temple. "It's been happening more often than not of late, but usually it's more like this."

"You don't seem overly happy about either option," Remus observed.

Stern made a face. "Remus, why don't you step into my cave for a cup of tea? We'll talk there. No civilized person can have a conversation in the morning before a cup of tea." Remus nodded and followed him.

The cave was a surprise. To be fair, Remus wasn't sure what he was expecting, but not quite this. This was actually quite homey, with a rough-hewn table and chairs, a proper firepit, and a woman sleeping on a crude mattress. Stern unhooked a curtain made of animal hides sewn together and draped it down to allow the woman her rest as the two men talked. "My wife," Stern explained. "Isabelle."

"Ah."

"Do you have a wife, Remus?" Stern asked as he set about making tea from a battered tin kettle that sat near the fire.

"No."

"I suppose that's just as well."

"It is. I could never ... well, I'm ... I wouldn't ..." The explanation didn't come easily.

Stern nodded, however. "Yes. She would have to be another werewolf already, wouldn't she? Isabelle is, naturally. It's best that way. I don't ostracize her that way -- society does that on its own."

"Something like that," Remus said, although it was exactly like that. Plus some. "Can you answer a question for me?"

"I can try." Stern poured out two cups, and Remus took his before he asked.

"Why are there so many children here? I thought that female werewolves couldn't carry to term."

"They can't. Think about it, Remus. You know the reason."

"They were bitten young," Remus said softly.

Stern nodded.

Remus sat down slowly. All his life, he'd believed -- for some stupid, flimsy reason -- that he was the only child bitten that had survived. But was the reason stupid? The Healers at St. Mungo's always talked about how they'd never seen anything like him. He'd never seen a young werewolf at the Ministry. Diggory and even McKinnon had referred to his "unique situation." And Dumbledore ... Dumbledore surely would have told him if there was another werewolf at Hogwarts when he was there? As far as he knew, he was the first to attend.

"Remus?"

"I'm all right," Remus said distantly. "I'm ... no. I need to go."

"Remus --" Stern shook his head, but Remus stood up too quickly.

"No. I need to go. I need to get home. I need to see- I need to go." He pushed out of the cave ... and stumbled as he caught sight of Anupam and Fenrir, crouched by a fireside.

"Remus!" Anupam stood up gracefully.

"I need to go," Remus repeated dumbly. "I have ... I have orders."

Anupam and Fenrir exchanged glances, but neither of them contradicted him. "Well then," Anupam said. "We'll see you at the full moon, if not before."

"Right. I ... right."

Fenrir smiled. "And next time, you and me should have a talk. We have a lot to catch up on."

Remus nodded, then Apparated away.

***

Sirius and James and Peter were flying on their brooms, and Remus was flying the bike. Remus kept shouting to them about sandwiches, which Sirius knew was code for something very pleasurable. "I have salami," he kept insisting. "And mustard."

"No salami," Sirius kept saying. "I want peanut butter and banana."

"I don't have peanut butter and banana," Remus said, his voice much deeper. "I have salami. Sirius, wake up."

Sirius opened his eyes. "Your hair got longer," he said fuzzily, and then snapped awake as he realized it was not Remus in front of him, but Damien Lupin. "Hey! What the --"

"I brought you lunch," Damien said, putting the parcel down on Sirius's desk. "Salami sandwich."

"Oh." Sirius scrubbed his face with his hands. "Thanks."

Damien sat down in the spare chair in Sirius's cubicle. "You're lucky you don't snore."

"Remus says I do," Sirius said before thinking, and then turned red, and then swore, because even if he and Remus weren't sleeping together, Remus would know that from seven years of rooming together. "This is not my day."

"I see that," Damien said, paying especial attention to his own sandwich in an effort to ignore the fact that, yes, the man sitting in front of him had most certainly had some carnal knowledge of his son. "What's going on?"

"Just didn't sleep last night. Research."

"And James the night before. You have been busy."

"Mmm." Sirius took a large bite out of the sandwich. "War tends to keep one on their toes."

Damien made a face. "I guess. Anyway," he slid a file across the table. "Guess what? We have leads on Liechtenstein and Stern."

"You're kidding." Sirius flipped open the first file. "Are they together?"

"No. Apparently Liechtenstein is a low-level Death Eater. Not much worth bothering with --"

"Unless you have a personal vendetta." Sirius grinned around a mouth full of sandwich. "Not that you would ever hold a grudge, Damien."

Damien glared at him, which Sirius ignored. "He's apparently living in Ireland." He tapped the address in the file. "Stern had a residence outside of Manchester, but he closed it. He's joined a settlement of werewolves."

"So the Committee for the Capture of Dangerous Beasts is on him," Sirius said.

"Right."

"And we're going after Liechtenstein."

Damien grinned dangerously. "Right."

***

He had never been so glad to leave work. The flat was lit when he walked in, and the smell of lasagna tickled his nose.

"You look terrible," Remus said, guiding the hot dish to the table with his wand.

"Ta," Sirius said tiredly. "You actually don't."

Remus smiled grimly. "I know. Thank you."

"It wasn't because of us this time."

"Maybe not," Remus said. "But if you hadn't been there ..." he trailed off with a shrug that was nowhere near as casual as either of them pretended, and kissed Sirius on the cheek. "Thank you," he whispered again.

"You're welcome." Sirius settled down at the table. "Looks good."

"You deserved some special treatment. And afterwards ..." Sirius groaned, but Remus only grinned wider, "sleep. Dad called and said that you aren't leaving until noon, so I won't wake you until eleven."

The world suddenly looked much brighter. "You're the best," Sirius said with a smile, helping himself to a huge slice of lasagna. "I mean it, Moony. The absolute best."

Remus smiled smugly. "I know."

***

There were, Remus thought, things that probably should be said. It had been a long few days, and so much had happened. But Sirius needed sleep, and that may have been just as well. For some things, there were no words.

He slipped out of bed and padded into the kitchen. A few quiet movements and a little patience resulted in a cup of warm milk and he settled on the sofa with it, wrapping his naked body in a fraying coverlet as he looked out the dark window.

Children.

He'd known it, the minute he saw Stefan. It was all there -- children were rarely subtle. Stefan's insistence that his surname was now Wolfsblood ... and Fenrir Greyback ....

Remus began to wonder if his birth certificate really said Remus Lupin.

He shook his head, cradling his forehead in his fingers. He was on thin ice with these werewolves, and he could hear it cracking. He wondered if next month would be when he was swept under.

He might not die, but somehow or another, Remus was quite sure he'd be one of the casualties of this war.

***

"You look much better," Damien said as Sirius parked the bike.

"Sleep helps," Sirius admitted. His eyebrows rose as he saw Christine Kinns standing next to Damien. "Hi."

"It's been a while since we worked together, hasn't it?" Christine said with a grim smile.

"Since Turkey," Sirius said, surprised at how bitter he felt suddenly. "Should have known you'd want to get the bastard."

"Alice is furious," was Christine's acknowledgement. "But two days after a delivery-"

"No talk of placentas or episiotomies or Caesarians," Damien growled. "I've had enough of that for one lifetime."

Christine stuck her tongue out, but Sirius couldn't help but agree. Especially after the other night. "Let's go," he said. "We've got work to do."

***

They flew toward Manchester. It wasn't a long flight -- not compared to some -- but Sirius was grateful for the time it took. It gave him time to collect his thoughts, to compartmentalize.

He had to admit he was nervous. It was a feeling he hadn't had about an assignment in ages, but the past few months had shaken his confidence badly. If he was truly honest with himself, they'd shaken him far more than he'd like to admit. A flying motorcycle ride wasn't enough to regain his certainty, but it was enough time to gather his wits about him enough to fake it.

They landed several miles from Liechtenstein's hideout. Damien pulled out a carefully sketched diagram.

"Approaching slowly is going to be a death trap," he said. "Intelligence tells us that Liechtenstein has a Foe-Glass, so he'll see us coming. We need to catch him by surprise. But obviously, we can't just Apparate in and shout 'Happy Birthday!'"

"My fault. I didn't bring the cake," Christine sighed. Her words were meant to be light and joking, but they came out flat, like she said them because they were expected of her. Routine. Sirius bit his lip.

"Obviously Portkey and Floo are out as well," he said studying Damien's diagrams. "Kamikaze broom attack through the roof?"

"Not funny."

"Not meant to be. I'm just not seeing too many other ways. We Apparate on broomsticks to right above the roof, fly in as fast as we can, and blast it away. He lives alone, so no others are harmed, and while the building is damaged, we can easily make it look like a gas leak or explosion."

"I have an even better idea," Christine said. "Why don't we just make a gas leak and explosion?"

"We're Aurors, not executioners," Sirius said. He tried to snap the words out, but there was a very large part of him agreeing quite loudly with Christine. Liechtenstein's treachery would have killed four of them if they hadn't been quite so quick on their feet. "We're supposed to bring him in alive."

"If we can," Damien clarified. "Sirius's idea is sound, as long as we can pull out of the dive in time. I know I can."

"Quidditch goon," Christine grumbled. "I'm not sure..."

"I'll take your broom. You wait. We'll give you a signal and you can Apparate in. Two waves might be more effective anyway," Sirius suggested.

"All right," Christine agreed. She handed him the broom. "Go get him."

***

The plan went off perfectly, Sirius told himself. Absolutely perfectly.

They'd caught Liechtenstein by surprise. He'd been alone. Neither he nor Damien had killed themselves in the dramatic entrance, and Christine had appeared right on time. They'd surrounded Liechtenstein, and Sirius had gloried in the panicked expression on the man's face. They'd had him trapped.

And yet it had somehow ended in disaster.

Of course Liechtenstein resisted. There was no way he wouldn't. Sirius had been ready. He'd been determined. He knew that this time he could take the man in a fight. But he'd never had a chance, because as soon as Liechtenstein had trained his wand on Sirius, Damien had killed him.

Christine's wand had been raised, her face white and determined. Sirius suspected he looked the same. "What did you do?" they both asked him.

Damien's face was a hard, cold mask. "I just saved Sirius's life."

"It didn't need saving!" Sirius protested. "Not yet! I was ready!"

Damien said nothing, he just looked at Christine. Christine stared back, her lips pressed into a thin line. Sirius swore and stomped out, slamming the door hard enough to knock plaster from the wall.

***

"I was ready for him," Sirius told Damien sullenly that night. "Why did you do it?"

Damien took his glasses off and rubbed them on his robe. "Sirius, I ..." he shook his head. "I'm not going to justify it to you now."

"You mean you can't justify it."

"No, I mean I won't. There was something ... Sirius, you're just going to have to trust me."

Sirius swallowed hard. "It's getting harder to do."

Damien looked away. "It's your only option."

"I know. I guess that's why I do."

***

It was a sign of optimism that Sirius thought that maybe, just maybe, things would return to normal.

He got a few full nights of sleep, and a few nights with Remus that weren't very restful but were certainly very pleasant. There were still dark wizards to hunt and Death Eaters to chase, but there was a sense of normalcy about that. He saw James a few times, frazzled and sleep-deprived. There was a rhythm even to a war-torn life, and Sirius fell back into it, for all of two weeks.

Then James showed up at three o'clock in the morning again, face white and streaked with tears.

Sirius's first thought was that Lily was leaving. It didn't make sense, but not much that James or Lily had said in the past two weeks had made much sense. He eased out of bed, Remus only mumbling in his sleep and turning over to commandeer more of the sheet. "What's wrong?" he asked James as he poured two glasses of whiskey for them. "Is it Lily?"

"No. No, Lily's ... fine." James chuckled dryly, running his fingers through his already disordered hair. "Well, she's as fine as I am."

"Harry?"

"In a manner of speaking."

Sirius took a sip, the whiskey burning a path down his throat and waking him up more fully. "Somehow I doubt the problem is that he won't stop crying."

"No." James ran his hand through his hair again and then bolted his whiskey in one neat shot. Sirius raised his eyebrows. For all of James's blustering and bragging, he'd never cared all that much for drinking. Not like this. "I'm not supposed to be here," he said. "Dumbledore told me not to."

"Not again."

"I told Dumbledore to fuck off. Those were my exact words. Fuck off."

Sirius whistled. "Wow. How'd he take that?"

"You know the sad, 'I'm disappointed in you' eyes?"

"The ones that say, 'You'll come to see I'm right in time'?"

"That's them." James poured himself another glass. "I don't care. This time ... I know he's not right. And I'll tell you right now, I want you to tell Peter and Remus. I'd tell them myself, but saying it this once ... that's hard enough."

"What is it?" Sirius demanded.

"Dumbledore came to visit the other night. Well, not visit. But he ... oh fuck. Sirius, how much to you believe in prophecies?"

"Divination? I've always thought it was a bit wooly."

"Yes, but there's Divination and then there's prophecies. Seers. Not like what Peter does, but real, honest-to-God seers."

"I don't know. I never gave it much thought," Sirius admitted.

"Me either. But Dumbledore apparently believes there's some validity to it, and this seer made a prophecy. The kind that makes the Ministry sit up and take notice, the kind that even Dumbledore listens to. And it's about Harry."

"Harry?"

"Well, sort of." James drew out his wand and sketched a rectangle. Slowly, a piece of paper materialized and hung between them, shimmering. Sirius looked at the words written on it in Dumbledore's neat hand:

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...

"Oh," Sirius said, after he'd read it for the fifth time. "Oh, shit."

***

"So what are you going to do?" Peter asked.

The five of them were sitting in the Potter's kitchen, with Harry cradled in a bouncer seat and staring blearily at some dangling toys. The lights cast a warm glow over the table, where the remains of dinner still sat. Aside from the topic of conversation, it could have been a casual night of friendship, food, and booze, like so many nights they'd spent before.

"Nothing, quite yet," Lily sighed. She waved her wand and the toys shifted their order, dancing gently. Harry's eyes followed them. "There's a lot to consider."

"True. I guess the first question is, does Voldemort even know about the prophecy?"

"Yes," James growled, but Lily glared at him at the same time.

"We don't know that," she said.

The other three stared at them inquisitively.

James sighed heavily. "Snivellus," he said.

Sirius's face contorted into a sneer, and Peter groaned. Even Remus regarded Lily and James with worry.

"That's it," Sirius said. "Voldemort knows."

"We don't know that Severus is a Death Eater," Lily said.

James scowled. "Look, Lily. Just because the two of you were Potions buddies and all cozy --"

"Oh, James! Not this again! We were not that cozy!"

"It's relevant!"

"It's not the time or the place for this argument!" Lily snapped, gesturing at the other three, who were all trying not to notice their best friends fighting.

"Regardless," Peter said, recovering first, "someone besides you and Dumbledore knows."

"Who are we kidding?" Sirius demanded. "Snivellus is a Death Eater. He has it written all over him."

"See?" James said.

Lily sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Wait, we're getting way off the subject here," Peter said.

"Peter's right. So, Snape knows." Remus looked at Lily. "Can we acknowledge the fact that he might tell Voldemort?"

"I'm fine with that," Lily said, crossing her arms over her breasts. "It's just the automatic assumption that just because someone is greasy he must be a Death Eater."

"It's not just because he's greasy, Lily," James said. "It's because he's been involved in the Dark Arts as long as we've known him. It's because he's called you and half the rest of the school --" his voice dropped to a whisper as he cautiously glanced at Harry -- "Mudbloods."

"He does fit the profile," Peter agreed. "For Harry's sake, you have to consider it."

"Right. Fine."

"So, the possibility that Voldemort knows certainly exists," Remus said. "What else do you have to consider?"

"The fact that Harry's not the only one the prophecy could refer to," James said.

"No?" Peter asked, surprised.

Sirius's mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. "Neville Longbottom," he said.

"Exactly. And there might be others we don't know about."

"So?"

James sighed. "Let's say Snivellus told Voldemort about the prophecy, and that Voldemort took it seriously -- which he might not do. Then let's say he evaluates the candidates. There's always the possibility he'll forget about us, or decide it's not us. But if we went into hiding right now ...."

"It's like waving a red flag in front of a bull," Remus said.

James blinked at the Muggle reference, but got the point well enough. "Exactly. It draws his attention."

"So I guess right now your only option is to lay low?" Peter asked.

"Not our only option, but our best one. Going into hiding ..." Lily shuddered. "I don't want to do that. I don't want that for Harry. We'll do it if we have to, but let's be sure we really have to, first."

"Well, then," Sirius said, Transfiguring a dinner plate into a pad and a fork into a quill. James took them from him, replaced them with the real thing, and turned the dishes back to their original state. "Let's figure out how to keep you guys safe."

***

It was late when they were finally admitted that the planned defenses would do for now. Remus yawned and stretched. "I'd better get home. I've got to get to get to Ripspot's garden early tomorrow."

"I should go, too," Peter said. "I've got an early meeting with Honeydukes."

Sirius stood as well, but James shook his head. "Padfoot, would you mind staying for a bit?"

"Not at all," Sirius said. He glanced over at Remus, and Remus smiled before he and Peter Apparated away. "What's going on?"

"Well," James said, shifting and twirling his wand between his fingers, "we have something to ask you."

Sirius looked between James and Lily, who was looking equally nervous. "You two are not asking me to join in a threesome," he said, "are you?"

Lily kicked him in the shin in a friendly sort of way. "Of course not," she laughed. "It's something else."

Sirius already had a suspicion, of course. He'd be an idiot not to. But for once, he kept his mouth shut and leaned back, waiting.

"You see," James began, "it's like this. You know that I love Remus and Peter like brothers, but you, you're my best mate. You always have been." Sirius nodded, glad that he wasn't required to speak right now. "And we can really only ask one of you this."

"We knew it would be you," Lily picked up. "We always did. It's not just that we trust you so much, although we do. But you ... you're right for the job. We know how you feel about Harry, Sirius."

He's like my own son. It was the first time Sirius had put words to the sentiment, and it shocked him. It felt somehow disloyal to James, and yet, at the same time, it was the most profound and pure feeling he'd felt in ... well, not ever, but no. He'd never felt anything like this.

Lily reached for James's hand, and James squeezed it as he leaned forward. "We'd like you to be Harry's godfather, Sirius," James said, his eyes so serious behind his glasses. "I know to some people it's just a ceremonial thing, but to us ...."

"We want you to be more than a big part of Harry's life," Lily said. "I can't quite put the words to it, but it's more than just an honorary uncle. I mean, like James said, we both love Remus and Peter like brothers, too. But you," she wiped her eyes. "I mean, you gave us Harry."

Sirius smiled. "You did all the work," he said in a voice that was rusty and cracked. "I just caught him." They both laughed, and Sirius wiped at his own eyes. "Oh, hell. You both know what I'm going to say."

"We know," Lily said, laughing through her tears.

"But Sirius," James said, leaning forward, "the only thing is ... well, with this prophecy nonsense and all ... I just want to be sure that you know just how serious this could get. If something should happen to Lily and me, we want you to watch out for Harry."

Sirius nodded. "I know that. It won't happen, but I know that."

***

By mutual, unspoken agreement Remus and Peter both found that they had Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Damn principles," Peter sighed, after they'd ordered. "Fabian at least serves Guinness."

Remus smiled bitterly as he picked up his own mug of beer. "I don't know. Lugger's Lubricious Lager works well enough for me." They both laughed.

"So," Remus said, after they'd drank their mugs halfway down.

"Yeah, so," Peter sighed. "They're so screwed."

"I don't know. I still can't convince myself that there's anything to it."

The corners of Peter's mouth tightened. "There are such things as true prophecies, Remus."

"So you say. But doesn't that completely negate free will?"

"Not necessarily. A true prophecy isn't something like 'Remus will jump off a cliff on April 2nd' or 'Lily will finally agree to date James on September 23'. Those are lucky guesses. A true prophecy is far more subtle than that."

"I don't see how."

"Well, being purposely vague, look at the prophecy we're discussing. It never gives any real specifics --"

"Bullshit. It gives gender and a two week span of time."

"Yes, but how is that all that specific? And it never says what said prophecy subject will actually do. Or when. Or how. It just says that said prophecy subject has certain vague attributes that will be very necessary for certain acts that aren't even all that defined. I mean, 'vanquish' has so many different connotations."

"Not really," Remus said, rolling his eyes.

"Honestly," Peter snapped, "you have no subtlety at all. No imagination, no soul."

Remus stuck his tongue out.

"Besides," Peter continued, "there's several different ways that that stupid statement could be interpreted. I guess the real question is how will You-Know-Who --"

"Peter!" Remus said. "Don't you start in on this You-Know-Who He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named nonsense too!"

"Sorry. You just get into the habit of it."

"When do you get into the habit of it?" Remus demanded. "None of us do it."

"Everyone at work does. Everyone in Diagon Alley does. For Merlin's sake, even half the Order does!"

Remus relented. "You do have a point. Still. You've never been a sheep." He felt an odd ping as he said that, because he had to admit that wasn't totally true. Both he and Peter had so often followed Sirius and James's lead that he had to wonder about that statement as it applied to both of them.

Peter drained his drink and slapped a few Knuts down on the table. "Well, I should go," he said, standing up.

"I should too. Peter, I didn't mean to offend."

Peter shrugged. "You didn't. Have a good night, Remus."

"You too."

If Remus hadn't Apparated home so fast, he might have noticed that Peter didn't leave, but rather crept upstairs to a room above.

***

"Godfather," Sirius said over cornflakes and toast early the next morning. "Can you believe it? Godfather."

"You didn't eat the last of my Pygmy Puffs, did you?" Remus said, staring suspiciously into an empty box.

"Yuck, no. I don't know how you can eat those things anyway. Pure sugar."

"They're fortified," Remus argued. "Says right here on the box."

"You're really avoiding the subject," Sirius observed.

Remus sighed and sat down. "Not really, Pads. I always knew you'd be godfather."

Sirius leaned forward. "You know why, right? You know it has nothing to do with you being a werewolf or queer."

"Obviously on the second," Remus said. "I do. I know, I mean. It's because you and James are ... you and James."

There was something wistful in Remus's face. It was on the tip of Sirius's tongue to ask if Remus was jealous, but he realized just in time that he already knew the answer. He bit his lip.

Remus noticed. "That's not what I meant, Sirius. You know it. Saying you and James are like brothers isn't true, because we all are. You and James are just more than that. I've known it -- I knew it when I started sleeping with you and I know it now and I don't mind. What you and I have, as wonderful as it is, is different from what you and James have, and Sirius -- listen to me -- they are not in direct competition. Just like what you and James have is different from what you and Lily have."

That made sense, and Sirius brightened. "So why were you avoiding the subject?"

Remus shrugged. "I just wish ... well, I wish it could be both of us." He laughed and rushed on. "I mean, I know it makes sense. We haven't made any sort of commitment to spend our lives together forever, and if we were both godfathers and in the unlikely event one of us left the other then it would be like a custody battle or whatever. And we've never -- well, I've never -- really told James and Lily just how serious this is."

Sirius caught Remus's hand, and his breath. "How serious is it?" he asked.

Remus blushed. "You know the answer to that. You know I ... I ..."

"Yes?"

He had to lean in as Remus whispered the words all in one blur under his breath. "YouknowIloveyou."

He had known, of course. Sirius wasn't stupid. But to hear it, even in such a bashful admission, made today one of the best days ever.

***

That day, Remus kept turning everything the Potters had said over in his mind. He didn't believe Severus Snape was a Death Eater, but he didn't not believe it, either. However, for the sake of Lily and James, it was best to believe it. Remus sighed as he carefully dug around Ripspot's prize Flutterby bush. He never liked believing the worst about people, but he'd like it far, far less if something happened to James or Lily.

The sun was hot overhead by the time he sat back on his heels and wiped his forehead. He sighed again, not really wanting to stay and eat lunch out here in the hot sun. Even his normal secluded cove seemed too bright and humid today. And he knew better than to approach the goblins and ask to eat inside.

"Screw it," he muttered, and Apparated.

Remus knew where Peter worked, and Peter had extended the invitation for them to drop in at any time. Remus never did, just like he never dropped in on Sirius in the Ministry or James at practice. It just wasn't professional, and he had a not-so-secret fear that some idiot would realize exactly what he was and his friends would suffer for bringing a werewolf into their place of employment. But today it was worth it, especially as he appeared in the cool, dark building.

The Gobstopper Bucket Company was located in a large building outside of Cambridge. From the outside, it looked like a Muggle refinery of some sort, with pipes and cyclones and distillation towers. But after Remus entered and the front-desk worker buzzed Peter down, he found a long, pristine white hallway with the overly sweet smell of sugar syrup lingering, mixed with the smell of disinfectant.

It was surprisingly unappealing.

Peter was delighted to see Remus. "I've been begging and begging you guys to come see," Peter said. "You have to take a tour of the place."

How could anyone say no to a tour of a sweet factory? Remus might worries on his mind, but he wasn't dead. "The only thing I'd like more is a tour of a brewery," he told Peter, and Peter laughed.

"Come on."

As they walked down the hall, the sugar syrup smell got stronger until it completely overpowered the smell of cleaning products. "This is where they do the caramels," Peter said, opening a door. Remus peeked in. A witch was standing on a ladder, adjusting some dials and gauges. A huge covered pot about the size of an automobile was bubbling. As Remus watched, she twirled one of the dials and a vent opened, and a stream of golden goo oozed out and filled a long metal pan. A wizard watched intently, weaving charms into it as the caramel flowed. He also poured a jug of a white, creamy mixture that swirled with the caramel.

"Stop drooling," Peter told him.

Many of the rooms were more of the same. It was surprisingly clinical and stark, although Remus spotted touches of whimsy here and there. Until they hit the place where they made Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans.

It was a large room, with two rows of wizards seated at glove boxes and three huge wheels at one end. The wheels had little scoops on them, which were turning in a huge vat of plain white candy beans, scooping the beans out and placing them into little weigh boats. The boats flew to different glove boxes. Remus noticed that each wizard or witch had some substance in the box they were working in. As the beans were deposited, the bean maker performed a charm, and when Remus got closer, he could see that the beans changed color. As Peter led him through the room, he caught glimpses of carrots, coconuts, mud, fish, coffee, lemons, chocolate, some of the caramels he'd seen being made earlier, and roast beef. He also noticed one wizard industriously picking his nose.

"I'm really not sure if I wanted to see that or not," he told Peter as they left.

Peter laughed. "I know. Once, I saw Rabastan Lestrange picking between his toes."

Remus turned green. "That's disgusting!"

"I'm not arguing. Come on. I saved the best for last."

Peter paused by a door bearing the words "Ice Mice," and Remus noticed Peter's name prominently at the top of a very short list. Peter flung open the door, and a chaos of squeaks greeted them.

They weren't real mice, Remus soon discovered. The ice mice were quite animated, kept in licorice cages. "What the --"

"Well, part of the secret to getting the mice to make your teeth chatter and squeak is a Locomotor Charm, coupled with others I can't tell you because it's top secret," Peter explained. "Anyway, we find that the combination of spells makes the mice quite, well, lifelike for a bit. It wears off eventually, but until then, we have these little candy mice scurrying around over the benches and under our feet."

"How many other people work here?" Remus asked, walking around the room. The animated ice mice were a little disconcerting, especially since they didn't have their candy eyes or licorice whiskers yet.

"In this lab, you mean? Only two," Peter said with some pride. He went over to a cage where a real mouse was watching them intently and fed it a few Fudge Flies. "But I'm kind of in charge, since it is my creation."

Remus nodded, still distracted by the ice mice. "They're creepy," he said.

"And yet, you'll eat as many as I hand you."

Remus shrugged. "What can I say? I'm insatiable."

Peter chuckled. "Speaking of insatiable, my mother packed me an extra sandwich today, and I'm just not that hungry. Want it?"

He struggled with the guilt. He hadn't come here to purloin lunch -- just to find a cool place to eat it -- but all he'd brought with him was an apple and a piece of cheese. And now that he wasn't out in the scorching heat, his stomach was definitely rumbling. And Peter's chin was jutting out in that defiant sort of way. Remus sighed. "Sure. Thanks, Wormtail."

They ate companionably in Peter's office -- a small room built into the lab. The walls were covered with papers bearing complicated Potions notations and abbreviations that Remus didn't understand. On the desk was a framed picture of Tina and Peter, kissing and nuzzling noses. There was also a picture of Peter's two sisters and his mother, waving happily. The board behind Peter's desk had a ticket stub to a Hobgoblins concert, a picture of Harry, and several pictures Remus recognized from Hogwarts.

"I was thinking," Peter said, around sections of an orange. "About the christening."

"Yeah, I was too," Remus sighed. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Probably. James told me they asked Sirius to be godfather."

"Yeah. And I'm not sure how to say it without it sounding like sour grapes --"

"I am," Peter said. "We say, 'James, these are dangerous times and dangerous places, and You-Know- ... sorry, Voldemort -- could be looking for you and your son. You need to do this as quickly and with as little fanfare as possible, so you don't attract any attention. As much as we'd both like to be there, we think it's best for Harry if we're not.' "

"Simple, direct, and to the point," Remus admitted. "I was also thinking of offering to keep an eye out for them or keep an eye on their house."

"Maybe keeping an eye out for them," Peter said thoughtfully. "It's not like the christening will be in the Daily Prophet though. Their house should be safe enough."

"I guess." Remus crunched into his apple. "Although maybe we should run it by James anyway."

"I don't see why," Peter huffed.

Remus realized he'd offended. "Just for peace of mind," he pointed out.

No need to specify whose.

***

Harry's christening took place early in September, in a small Wizarding church in Glasgow. Sirius, Lily, and James flew on a carpet that Dumbledore had lent them, Harry wrapped in blankets and nestled tightly between Lily and James. Sirius kept reaching over to tickle his foot until Lily smacked his hand away and told him not to wake the baby -- naptime was sacred, damn it.

Sirius chuckled, but this time, James didn't join in. Oh.

Still, the flight was peaceful. Sirius watched the country pass beneath them. So many Muggle houses and factories and automobiles and people ... people who had no idea of what could befall Britain if Voldemort gained complete power.

The carpet spiraled down, and despite the hustle and bustle of the streets around them, Sirius didn't lose that peaceful feeling, especially as the church appeared between a jeweler's shop and a second hand book store. It was a tiny church, but the light streamed through the tiny stain glassed window and gave the little sanctuary an ethereal quality. Sirius thought it was oddly perfect.

"Mr. and Mrs. Potter?" A man in brown robes approached them. "I'm Jack Gunthrie. Very pleased to meet you. Dumbledore's told me a lot about you."

Lily smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Thank you. It's nice to meet you, too, Mr. Gunthrie. And thank you for doing this for us on short notice."

"My pleasure. Is this Harry?"

Lily arranged the blanket and beamed with pride. "This is Harry."

Mr. Gunthrie regarded the baby, who was starting to fidget, for a long moment. "It will take a while," he said. "Why don't you feed the boy and anything else he may need, and Daddy, the godfather, and I can have a little chat?"

Lily nodded and disappeared to a back pew to nurse Harry. Sirius and James looked expectantly at the priest, who sat down in a front pew.

"So you know Dumbledore?" James began, in his awkward yet straightforward sort of way.

"Aye. Good man, Dumbledore. He taught me Transfiguration more years ago than I care to count. He told me a bit of your troubles."

"What exactly did he tell you?"

"Just that You-Know-Who is looking for you. That was all. Relax, lad. He didn't say why."

James breathed out a sigh of relief. "It's not that I necessarily want to hide it," he began.

"Oh, aye. Lad, if there's one thing I know about God, it's that He understands humans. He understands why you're not telling me the whole story, and probably better than you do. God is infinitely wise; we priests are not. I wanted to talk about the ceremony, that's all."

James relaxed visibly, and settled in. Sirius listened to the rundown of the order of events with an odd feeling. When he looked down, he saw that his hands were actually shaking.

"Now, Mr. Black," Mr. Gunthie said, and Sirius suddenly felt like a spotlight had shifted on to him. "Am I correct that you've been christened yourself?"

"Yes, sir. The records were at St. Cedric's, before ..."

Mr. Gunthie clucked his tongue in a sympathetic sort of way. "I heard about that. Well, faith is what we need these days, so we'll ignore the paperwork formalities. You are aware of your duties?"

"To guide and protect Harry, and to help him in his spiritual upbringing," Sirius said.

"He serves as Harry's guardian as well, should something happen to Lily or me, right?" James asked, and Sirius had the superstitious urge to clamp a hand over James's mouth so nothing would ever hear that statement and get any ideas.

"Ah, no, actually," Mr. Guthrie said. "A godparent is different from a legal guardian. A godparent is sort of a Christian sponsor or shepherd, and has only moral responsibilities, no legal ones. A guardian must be designated through the Ministry of Magic."

"Oh." James looked very taken aback by this information. "Well then, we'll have to see about that, too," he told Sirius. "I thought this would do it, but ...."

"No problem, Prongs," Sirius reassured him. "Just tell me where to go, what to do, and don't die on me."

***

Sirius had not been to a church in years. He'd gone as a child, of course, because his parents did and they'd dragged him. The Potters didn't often go, and once he was on his own, sleeping late won out over religious devotion every single time. But today, standing in this tiny sanctuary with two people he loved as dearly as if they were flesh and blood, he wished his life were a bit different.

He watched, slightly detached, as Mr. Gunthrie said the words. Lily bowed her head to pray, and the light hit her hair, turning it a deep auburn. She looked untouchable, although not in the way Sirius wished he could mean it. James stood beside her, worried and protective.

Mr. Gunthrie placed Harry in Sirius's hands. He was awake, but he just gurgled as he was transferred, looking up at Sirius with trusting stone gray eyes. Sirius had been so delighted at that color until James explained that all babies started with blue or gray eyes, and the color changed later. But Harry just nestled into Sirius's hands as if he knew that Sirius would never drop him.

Sirius sniffled, just a little.

When the water touched Harry's head, Sirius felt like his own soul was being washed clean. War, death, destruction, mistrust... it all could be endured for the promise of the future. He looked up and smiled at James, who smiled back.

Sirius would never give up hope. There was far too much to live for.