A Life More Ordinary

Grimmauld Place--August 1990

"Did you know a werewolf lives in the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade?"

Remus' fork hit his plate with a clatter.

Sirius' eyebrows pulled together. "Who told you that?"

Harry looked between them before answering, "Fred and George said so. And Charlie said it was true; he's going to be a seventh year..." Harry closed his mouth; his parents were staring at him, both of them pale.

"It's ... an old story," Sirius finally said. "One that's been around since we were children," he added with a faint smile.

"Charlie said kids used to hear the wolf howling sometimes when they went to Hogsmeade, but no one's heard it for a really long time. The twins haven't been yet but they said they want to explore it when they do."

Remus' hands had fallen into his lap, and he was breathing strangely, staring at Harry as if he'd never seen him before. Sirius took one of Remus' hands.

"You don't need to be concerned about it," he said, using the voice that Harry easily recognized; Sirius didn't want to be argued with. And since Harry wasn't concerned, he didn't argue.

"Bill was at the Weasleys today, too," he said. "And he told us all sorts of stories about working at Gringotts with the goblins. Don't you think that sounds like a brilliant job?"

"Yes, it does," Sirius answered with a small smile. Remus didn't seem to notice that Harry had spoken.

"He's training to be a curse-breaker, Remus," Harry said, leaning forward to try to capture Remus' attention. "Isn't that wicked?"

Remus nodded. "That sounds lovely, Harry," he said quietly. "Finish your vegetables," he added, glancing at Harry's plate.

Harry scooped up a forkful of carrots, chewing them before continuing, "And Charlie's going to work on a dragon reservation when he graduates. Ollivander told me that even he would like that job--if he wasn't a wand maker."

"It certainly would be exciting," Sirius agreed.

"Yeah," Harry said with a smile. "Maybe we can go visit the dragon reservation once Charlie starts his app--what's it called again, Sirius?"

"Apprenticeship," Sirius murmured. "And if Charlie invites us, we might be able to visit."

"Cool! Draco's been to the one in Romania. More than once, I think."

Sirius nodded. He glanced at Remus, who was staring at his uneaten chicken. "If you're finished," he said when he turned round again, "you may go wash up."

Harry pushed back from the table slowly, his eyes on Remus. Neither of his parents reminded him to put his dishes in the sink, but he did it anyway, taking extra care to put them in quietly. Sirius smiled at him on his way out, and with furrowed eyebrows, Harry went upstairs.

--

"Remus, we knew we'd have to tell him eventually," Sirius said quietly as soon as Harry was up the stairs. Remus stood up abruptly.

"He's too young."

"I know that. And I don't mean that we're going to tell him now, but you needn't be upset-"

"Oh no?" Remus demanded softly as he shoved the chair back under the table. "I've been scaring children for years, and even when I no longer spend full moons there, I still scare them."

"Harry isn't going to be frightened of you," Sirius said, as calmly as he could; he recognized the self-loathing in his husband's eyes.

Remus stared at the back of the chair. "I knew this was a mistake."

"Remus," Sirius said, his voice barely above a whisper, but before he could continue, Harry's trainers squeaked on the stairs. Harry paused in the doorway, looking between Remus and Sirius with uncertainty. Remus straightened up, pulling his hands away from the chair.

"That was a rather quick wash," he remarked as he collected dishes from the table. Harry shrugged and Remus didn't press the issue.

"Can I help?" Harry asked, coming up to the sink where Remus was filling it with soapy water. Giving no sign that he found the request unusual--which it was--Remus simply nodded.

Sirius cleared the remainder of the dishes and didn't comment on the fact that Remus wasn't using magic to do the washing up.

"Will you help me finish my essay, Remus?" Harry asked, glancing up from the plate he was drying. "It's the last bit of my summer project."

Remus glanced down at him, his eyes faraway. "I have a lot of work to do tonight," he murmured after a moment.

Harry settled the plate on the stack in the cupboard, his eyes fixed on the tea towel in his other hand. "Oh."

"I'll help, Harry," Sirius offered. Harry threw him a glance over his shoulder; Sirius smiled gently. "Why don't you go get everything together and I'll be up in a minute."

Harry pivoted slowly as he wadded the towel in his fist. He glanced up at Sirius through his fringe. Sirius gestured with his head toward the stairs, and with a sigh, Harry plunked his fabric wad on the counter and obeyed the silent command.

Sirius watched Remus as he drained the water from the sink and spelled the last dishes clean and sent them to the cupboard. Then he picked up Harry's abandoned towel and began wiping the countertops in tight circles.

"Harry isn't going to care," Sirius finally said as he put a hand on the other man's shoulder and squeezed lightly. The muscles in Remus' back stretched his shirt taut as he scrubbed viciously at the spotless surface. "I know it's painful to even talk about-"

Remus spun around; Sirius' dislodged hand fell back to his side. "Then let's not, shall we?"

Sirius tried not to take offense at the curt tone. "We need to, Remus, if-"

"We agreed that Harry doesn't need to be burdened with this secret," Remus cut him off again. "And since I haven't agreed otherwise, we don't need to."

"We also agreed that eventually we'll have to tell him."

"Eventually," Remus echoed tightly. "Which is not right now."

"All right," Sirius conceded softly. "Do you want to help Harry with his essay? I think he'd like that."

But Remus was already turning away. "I ... have work to do," he said, his voice gruff. "You can help him just as well as I can."

Sirius stared after him until he disappeared into the library. He closed his eyes and massaged his temples, only looking up again when he heard a thud from upstairs, followed by a loud oath. He took the stairs two at a time, halting just inside Harry's room, a slow smile taking over his worry.

"What are you doing, you nutter?"

A nearly upside down Harry swiveled his head around and nearly lost his precarious perch across the desk. Sirius lunged forward and caught a leg before Harry could slide over the edge--headfirst onto the floor. He grasped his godson's arm in his other hand as Harry used his palm to scrabble backward; his shirt front had ridden up and his stomach squeaked along the polished surface.

"All right?" Sirius asked once Harry was on solid ground; Harry nodded, scrubbing a hand over his pink cheeks. "What were you doing?"

"I was trying to reach my notes; they fell behind the desk," Harry puffed as he straightened his shirt.

"Why didn't you just move the desk?" Sirius asked, trying to hide his laughter and failing. Harry shrugged, looking sheepish. "Barmy," Sirius muttered with a smirk as he shook his head. "And blasphemous," he added with a raised eyebrow when his godson smiled.

"I was about to crack my skull!" Harry protested, still smiling a little.

"Well, next time, wait until you actually do." Harry let out a breath of laughter as Sirius poked his ribs. He nodded though when Sirius raised his eyebrows, a bit more seriously this time. His lips still quirked in amusement, Sirius moved the desk and plucked the scrambled sheets of parchment from the floor.

Once they had them straightened and the desk back in order, Sirius asked, "Did you decide which questions you want to include from Ollivander's interview?"

"I think so," Harry answered, his nose and forehead wrinkling in thought. "There were an awful lot though; not sure I should put them all in the essay."

Sirius steadied himself with a hand on Harry's shoulder as he leaned over to peer at the interview which was scrawled in Harry's untidy script. "Which answers were the most interesting?" he asked, glancing down at his godson, who was peering at the parchment along with him.

"Dragons," Harry answered immediately and Sirius grinned. Harry's interest in the fearsome creatures hadn't diminished at all over the years. "Ollivander said that unicorn hairs are easier to put into the wands than the heartstrings are."

"Why is that?"

"The unicorns are gentler, he says. And that dragons are stubborn by nature."

"Does using different sorts of wood make it any easier?"

Harry nodded eagerly, using his finger to point out that very same question. "I asked Ollivander that. He said Bowtruckles only let you take the best spec-speci-"

"Specimen," Sirius supplied.

"Yeah, they let you have the best specimens from wand-trees. But even so, the woods that are more bendy-"

"Pliable."

Harry nodded. "Pliable wood makes it easier to put the core inside."

"Like my mahogany, then?"

"Yeah. Ollivander says wands made from mahogany are easiest. Ash as well. It takes loads of magic for a wizard to put the core inside the wood, no matter what sort of wood it is."

Sirius nodded thoughtfully. "And does the type of core make a difference in how well a wand works?"

"Sure," Harry answered. He pointed to his own drawing of a phoenix feather. "Ollivander says phoenix feathers usually make the most powerful wands. And he won't use veela hair, because he says those wands are inferior."

"Your wand has a phoenix feather," Sirius said casually. Harry nodded.

"Ollivander said I'd have to work really hard to be as cape-capable as my wand thinks I should be."

Sirius straightened and twisted so that he was sitting on the edge of the desk. "Did he?" he asked, making his tone casual. "Did he explain what he meant by that?"

"Not really," Harry said with a shrug. "Just that the wizard who killed my parents had a feather from the same phoenix in his wand's core."

Sirius silently cursed the old wand maker for sharing that bit of knowledge, though he wasn't entirely certain why he preferred his godson not know of the twin cores. He wished now that he had insisted on sitting in on the interview instead of remaining at the front of the shop, only within eyesight of the two.

"He wouldn't tell me the wizard's name," Harry said, a line creasing his forehead. "He just kept saying You-Know-Who."

Sirius ran a hand over his face as he sighed. "His name was Voldemort," he said quietly, wishing as he did that Remus was a part of this conversation. "And most people don't use his name because they are so frightened of him."

"But he's dead, isn't he?"

"Yes. But people are still afraid, and with good reason."

Harry angled his head to the side as he studied Sirius. "But you aren't afraid?"

"Oh, I wouldn't properly claim that," Sirius said calmly. "It would be silly not to be afraid of someone who's killed so many people."

"But you called him by his name."

Sirius nodded solemnly. "Professor Dumbledore told me once that being frightened of a name only makes you more fearful."

Harry considered that, his green eyes intent. "Do you think that's true?"

"Yes, I do."

"Do you think Mum and Dad were afraid?" Harry didn't look away from Sirius, even as his lips trembled a little. "When Voldemort killed them?"

Sirius swallowed. He squeezed Harry's shoulder, keeping his fingers against his godson's neck as he explained, "Both of your parents were very brave. And it's normal for people who are to be frightened. I think though that they were more frightened for you than for themselves." He had no idea if he should elaborate. By and large, he and Remus had avoided this subject with Harry; it was easy to do since he hadn't had the 'green light' nightmare for years.

"Ollivander said I have this scar-" Harry's finger trailed the faded lightning bolt, "-because Voldemort couldn't kill me."

Sirius managed not to clench his fists; he would have strong words for the wand maker the next time they met.

"That's true," he finally said quietly.

"But if Voldemort killed so many people, why couldn't he hurt me?"

Sirius quickly sorted through Albus' muddled explanation--he had seemed not to understand it very well. "Your dad held Voldemort off for as long as he could, and your mum gave you her magic so that Voldemort couldn't hurt you. Her magic made you more powerful than Voldemort. She loved you very much."

Harry smiled a little and Sirius bent down to kiss the top of his godson's head. "Let's get this essay sorted," he said with a gentle smile; his voice was a bit gruff, but Harry only nodded.

Sirius, with a bit of concentration, transfigured one of Harry's books into a suitable chair, and the two of them bent over the parchments.

An hour and a half later, Harry's yawn signaled an end to the evening's work. He grumbled of course when Sirius announced it was time for a bath. "Do I have to?"

Sirius gave him a nudge toward the lav, not even bothering to answer. Harry rolled his eyes as he went across the corridor; he paused before he disappeared inside, his thumb running over the knob's edge as he asked quietly, "Is Remus going to come up to say good night?"

"I'll go tell him you're ready for bed. Go on," he urged, and with a small smile, Harry did. Sirius sighed as he treaded down the stairs. He knocked lightly on the library door, opening it at Remus' quiet invitation.

Remus was bent over the oak desk, his quill hovering in the air, waiting for him to continue speaking.

"Harry's in the bath," Sirius said, frowning as Remus stayed hunched over his work.

"Did he finish his essay?" he asked; his voice was hoarse and Sirius hoped it was from whatever he was dictating to his quill and not from emotions that still had not settled.

"Barely started," Sirius murmured. "We got all his notes in order though ... and a theme."

Remus nodded; still staring at the inked words in front of him.

"He'd like you to say goodnight," Sirius said, coming forward; he ran his fingers through Remus' sandy hair.

"I haven't quite finished..."

Sirius' fingers stilled. "Harry asked for you."

Remus stood, his steps agitated as he went to stand in front of the glowing hearth, but his voice was very soft when he spoke again, "I heard you, Sirius. Please tell him I'm-"

"How long are you planning on hiding from him?" Sirius demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

Remus' head came up and Sirius saw with a pang how haggard his features were. "I'm not hiding," Remus said quietly. "I haven't thought about how this will affect Harry in quite some time. I wasn't prepared-"

"It won't affect him," Sirius said. He kept his voice calm as he continued, "You didn't think James and I would be your friends once we found out; do you remember?"

Remus didn't answer.

"It didn't change anything," Sirius went on. "And it won't with Harry either."

"Harry's a child-"

"A child who loves you. A full moon doesn't change that."

But Remus shook his head. Though Sirius never considered the man stubborn, in his own feelings of self-worth, Remus was immoveable.

"Harry's waiting for you to come say goodnight," Sirius said, his tone sharper than he intended when Remus went back to staring at the fire. "Remus," he tried, softening the edge, but even that didn't encourage the other man to move. Finally, too frustrated to cajole any longer, Sirius went back up the stairs.

Harry was lying sideways on top of his quilt, his head dangling over the edge of the mattress, his feet propped against the wall; he turned his head when Sirius came in.

"Bare feet," he declared, wiggling his toes against the wall, heading off Sirius' off-repeated refrain that he was leaving tracks against the paint. Sirius swatted the dangling head, eliciting an "Oy!" from his godson as he plopped on the bed.

"Can't leave tracks," Harry told him with a grin when Sirius simply shook his head.

"They can if your feet are filthy," Sirius retorted.

"They're not!"

"No?"

"I took a bath!"

"Did you use soap?"

"You only tell me to every other breath," Harry sniffed. "And Remus the rest of the time."

"Cheeky tonight, aren't we?"

"You say that every night."

Sirius rumpled his godson's damp hair. "So I do. Hint, perhaps?"

Harry smiled as he rolled away from the wall and straightened up. "Not a very good one, I guess."

Sirius chuckled. "Just get under the covers."

Harry did, scooting along the mattress and worming his way underneath the quilt a second later. "Where's Remus?"

"Downstairs. He wasn't quite finished with his work," Sirius answered, trying with an effort to keep his tone light. Harry twisted a corner of his quilt. "You can show him your essay in the morning though. He'll want to see how much you accomplished tonight."

"All right," Harry said. "Do you think Ollivander will like my essay too?"

"I'm certain he will; he was rather excited that you asked to interview him, remember?"

"Yeah. He has the best stories and I think he really likes to tell them to me."

"He does like to talk," Sirius agreed with a smile as he sifted through the stack of books on Harry's bedside table. "We'll make a copy-"

"With your wand?"

Sirius nodded. "We'll bring it to him next time we visit Diagon Alley. How does that sound?"

"Brill," Harry said with a grin.

"Do you want to read before you sleep?" Sirius asked, jiggling the book Harry was in the middle of.

Harry wriggled until his head was nestled in the middle of his pillow. "Will you?" he asked through a yawn.

Sirius nodded, and then a movement out of the corner of his eye shifted his focus. Remus was standing in the doorway, his shoulder supporting him against the frame. Harry turned his head as well, grinning as soon as he spied Remus.

"Did you finish your work?" he asked, pushing himself up to sit again. "Will you read the chapter?"

Remus' uncertain smile eased as he nodded. "If you'd like."

Sirius caught his husband's eye as he passed the book over; he smiled, and the rest of the tension drained from Remus' face.

"We're on chapter seven," Harry reminded them as he repositioned his head on the pillow. Remus' hand settled on Harry's head as he sat in the chair beside the bed, his fingers combing absently through the tangles as he read.