Chapter 13 - Understanding Werewolves
Remus left Harry's bedside shortly after Ron arrived, giving the two friends some time alone. Harry listened in silence while Ron told him all about the restless night he and Hermione had spent in Gryffindor Tower. The story of the attack had spread through the school like wild fire. A dozen students had seen Severus Snape carrying Harry's bloodied body into The Three Broomsticks. The descriptions of the arrows that had been protruding from Harry's body had been detailed and lurid. Half of Gryffindor had been panicked with the belief that Harry was dead, and Ron and Hermione had spent the better part of an hour assuring them it was untrue.
"They wanted to hear the whole story over and over again," Ron confessed to Harry. "I had no idea how exhausting it was." The redhead looked flushed, and vaguely sick. "They wanted to know how much blood there was, if you screamed, if. . ." He broke off and shook his head.
"It's alright, Ron," Harry said quietly.
Ron looked up at him in worry. "Harry, did I ever do that? Did I ever bug you like that?"
Harry floundered for a moment too long, looking for an appropriate lie. Ron knew him too well, and sighed. "Merlin! I'm sorry, Harry! I had no idea."
"Don't worry about," Harry assured him. "Believe it or not, you get used to it."
Ron just shook his head. "Maybe," he replied. "In any event, we talked late into the night. Lots of people are scared that this means You-Know-Who is going to attack again. And you should hear what they are saying about Snape."
Harry looked up at that in surprise. "What about Snape?" His voice sounded defensive even to himself.
Ron apparently thought so too, but the redhead just gave him an amused look and rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Nothing bad," he assured him. "It's just that for the first time ever Snape is being hailed as a hero by Gryffindors. He and Dumbledore were like the bloody cavalry, weren't they?"
"They saved our lives," Harry agreed. He'd be the first to admit that. "I'll have to tell Snape. He'll laugh himself sick."
"Snape laughs?" Ron asked incredulously.
"Sometimes," Harry admitted. "Usually when I've done something stupid."
"Figures," Ron rolled his eyes again. "Don't tell him, anyway. He's insufferable enough as it is. He'd hold this over our heads for the rest of our lives - and probably find someway of taking points from Gryffindor for it too."
"Probably," Harry agreed. Snape did love taking points from Gryffindor.
"Anyway lots of people wanted to know if. . ." he broke off hesitantly, looking at Harry uncertainly. Harry just nodded to him, encouraging him to say what ever it was. "If you had killed anyone," Ron finished. "And what curses you had used. But Hermione and I figured it wasn't anyone's business, and we told them so."
"Thanks, Ron," Harry said gratefully. He knew the questions were inevitable, given their age group. But it was nice to know that Ron and Hermione at least understood.
"You okay, Harry?" Ron asked softly, and Harry knew what he was really asking.
"No," Harry admitted. "But I'll manage. It's nice to know I can count on you two."
Ron nodded fiercely, fighting back some emotion. He reached out to pat Harry on the shoulder and then thought better of it, perhaps remembering the arrow that had been there yesterday. He squeezed Harry's hand instead, the gesture as unfamiliar as it was welcomed. Harry was not demonstrative with anyone. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd been hugged - something only Hermione, Molly Weasley and Sirius had ever dared do.
And Snape.
Harry frowned. Snape had picked him up and carried him in his arms yesterday. That counted he guessed. It was close enough. It surprised him that for some reason he wanted it to count.
Hermione interrupted the two of them a moment later, entering the room carrying a tray of food for Harry. "Madam Pomfrey sent this for you Harry," she explained as she approached the bed. Ron helped Harry sit up, propping pillows behind his back to settle him. Hermione set the tray on Harry's lap.
"What did Snape want?" Ron asked Hermione as she sat down in the chair opposite him.
Harry shot him a questioning look as he took a bite of the eggs on the plate.
"Snape stopped us in the hallway on the way here," Ron explained. "Said he wanted to talk to 'Mione."
They both looked questioningly at Hermione. She frowned. "He wanted to know about the spell King's Voice," she explained. "Wanted to know about our extra study sessions."
Harry stiffened at her words, old mistrust flaring in him. "Is he going to stop us?" He had counted on those study sessions continuing. God knew they weren't going to learn anything useful from Professor Dubloise this year. If it hadn't been for Hermione and her study sessions Harry doubted he'd be alive now.
"No," Hermione said quickly before Ron could launch into a tirade condemning Snape before hearing the outcome of their conversation. "No, he's not. In fact he implied that he approved. Actually, he sort of . . .complimented us."
"What?" Ron and Harry stared at her in shock.
Hermione just shrugged. "It was kind of odd really," she admitted. "He actually seemed impressed. By all three of us."
Harry had become gradually used to the lessening of hostilities between himself and the Potions Master and was only mildly shocked by her words. But Ron, he just stared at her like a gaping fish, mouth opening and closing as he floundered for words.
"I'm serious," she insisted.
"Snape?" Ron asked for clarification, disbelief coloring his words.
Hermione nodded.
"Did he. . ." Ron shook his head. "Give points to Gryffindor?"
"Well, no," Hermione admitted. "But then this wasn't really about being Gryffindors, was it? It was about being friends, the three of us."
Friends. Harry, Ron and Hermione. And for some reason Snape understood that it mattered. It mattered a lot. The thought flooded Harry with a strange sense of warmth.
"Well, damn," Ron laughed. "When did Hell freeze over, and why didn't I get a memo?"
That set the three of them off, and for a moment they forgot about Death Eaters and wars and dying, and lost themselves in just being teenagers.
Eventually, at Madam Pomfrey's insistence, Ron and Hermione left, giving Harry a chance to sleep once again. He slept through the rest of the day, his body exhausted from the ordeal he'd been through.
He woke that evening to a feeling of warmth pressed up against his side, and for one disoriented moment he thought it was Snape. But Snape had never touched him, not in all the weeks they had slept beside each other. Prying open his eyes, he realized it was Padfoot, snoring softly beside him, the shaggy dog stretched comfortably on top of the bed's duvet. Sitting again in the chair at his bedside, an amused smile on his face as he stared at the two of them, was Remus Lupin.
"How long has he been there?" Harry asked softly, motioning to the sleeping dog.
"Hours I imagine," Remus mused. "He missed lunch."
Harry smiled and reached out to scratch Padfoot's shaggy head. The dog twitched but didn't wake. "I always wanted a dog," he admitted almost wistfully.
Remus laughed softly at that. "Well, they're usually more trouble than they're worth. Particularly this one."
Harry grinned. "Still, would have been nice to have someone who could bite Dudley."
Remus' eyes softened, and though Harry didn't notice, Padfoot grew unnaturally still beneath his fingers. "Dudley is your cousin, isn't he?" Remus asked. "Not very nice, I take it?"
"A complete prat," Harry admitted.
"You want to talk about it?" Remus asked gently. Harry looked up at the man in surprise, understanding belatedly the direction this conversation had taken. He hadn't intended it; hadn't thought about it really. But of course Dumbledore had told Sirius about what they had learned about the Dursleys. And of course Remus would know as well.
He flashed the werewolf a quick grin. "I'm alright, Remus," he assured the man. He felt the fur shifting under his hand and yelped in surprise when he realized that Padfoot had become Sirius again. His godfather sat up quickly, flashing him a bright grin even as he reached out to ruffle Harry's hair, returning his unintentional caress. And then just to be annoying, as Sirius moved to the chair beside Remus, he reached out and ruffled Remus' hair as well.
Remus smiled indulgently but shoved Sirius' hand away from him. Sirius grinned, but for the first time Harry noticed something deeper in his godfather's eyes, something warmer and brighter burning there when he looked at Remus. He found himself stifling back a giggle, a blush spreading over his face as he realized what that look was. Ron looked at Hermione that way when he thought no one else was watching. The thought that Sirius might be less alone than he seemed warmed Harry clear through his bones.
Sirius turned his attention back toward him, and the look in his eyes was replaced by a different gleam, one of concern, and affection, and worry. "You sure you don't want to talk about it, Harry?" Sirius asked him, repeating Remus' question.
Realizing now that Sirius had heard his comment about Dudley, Harry sighed. "Don't know what I'm suppose to say," he admitted. He had never been good at talking about things, especially not feelings. He rarely opened up to anyone. Oddly enough, Snape had gotten more out of him than anyone else.
"Maybe you could tell me why you never said anything," Sirius suggested. There was nothing accusing in his tone, and his eyes held simple understanding and the faintest look of hope that Harry might relent. Harry wasn't entirely certain how to refuse that look. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Sirius, but he didn't want the man feeling guilty either for something he had no control over.
"I guess. . ." Harry sighed, searching for some explanation. "I guess before I came to Hogwarts I didn't know there was anything wrong with the way they treated me. It's just the way things were, and always had been. I had nothing to compare it to."
He saw the flicker of shock in both their eyes at that; he recognized the protest that sprang to both their lips only to be just as quickly stifled as they fought whatever first impulse they both had felt. Harry could imagine what it was; he supposed from their perspective things had been different. They could both remember the year he'd lived with his parents before he'd entered the Dursleys' lives. The only thing he could remember from that time was their deaths, courtesy of the Dementors.
"I don't remember them," he said softly, regretfully, and both men just nodded in understanding, knowing exactly who he meant and why his words made sense from his point of view. He supposed that admission probably hurt the two of them more than it did him.
"And after you came to Hogwarts, Harry?" Sirius prompted, urging Harry to continue.
"Things were too new the first year," he admitted. "It wasn't until I went to the Burrow and saw what Ron's family was like that I figured out something was wrong. Then I didn't know what to do, or who to tell. I thought about it briefly, but it seemed that anyone who could do anything about it knew already. I figured Dumbledore and McGonagall had to know. Next thing I know I'm being accused of being the Heir of Slytherin and it seemed kind of a stupid thing to be worrying about. With all the people trying to kill me, it just continued to seem stupid. Dumbledore said I had to stay with the Dursleys because it was the only place I was safe. And I just figured it beat being dead, no point in making a fuss over it. Wasn't going to last forever."
He'd looked away at some point during his little speech, and at the silence that greeted it, he glanced hesitantly back toward the two men. Both were looking at him thoughtfully, as if trying to take in his words, or trying to reconcile them with what they knew about him. Apprehension washed through him, too many years of having his feelings count for nothing making him dread what they might say to him. "It doesn't matter. . ." he started to say, ready to dismiss it all. Ready to protect himself against whatever hurt might be sent toward him.
Both men startled him by reaching out simultaneously and grabbing his hand, holding it in a tight three way grasp. "Harry, it does matter," Sirius told him. "And it isn't stupid. And we want you to make a fuss over it."
"Harry," Remus added. "We can't change what happened. We can't go back and make it right. We would if we could. But if you need to talk about it, or if you just. . .need us, we're here for you."
His words were soft and soothing, and the look in Sirius' eyes brought a lump to Harry's throat that made him feel good even while it hurt. "Thank you," he whispered softly to them, suddenly shy under the attention, and not really able to find any more words than that.
Both men seemed to understand and they smiled at him, squeezing his hand again before releasing him.
"And Harry," Sirius added. "If anyone tries to hurt you again, you tell me. I promise I'll bite whoever it is."
Harry twisted his mouth into a rueful smile, guessing what Sirius meant this time, though the man was obviously attempting at least to be polite. "I know you don't like him, but Snape's been pretty decent to me."
Remus accepted his statement at face value, having the benefit of their earlier conversation to go on. Sirius, however, just bit his lip in a stubborn pout. "Well, he better stay that way," he groused. "Or else." He let the threat hang.
Feeling suddenly mischievous and wanting to lighten the mood, Harry grinned impishly at his godfather. "You know, Padfoot, Moony tells me you're not all that crazy about marriage."
Remus rolled his eyes upward in what Harry assumed was amused embarrassment.
Sirius on the other hand looked genuinely startled. "Did he?" he glanced at Remus in surprise. "I suppose I never thought about it much when I was younger, but I don't have anything against it. Settling down sounds rather nice."
It was Remus' turn to look startled. He stared at his friend in disbelief. "You? Settle down?" It was obvious from the tone of his voice that he found the idea ridiculous. "Your idea of settling down was dating the same person for longer than a week." Remus turned conspiratorially toward Harry. "Your father used to say that Sirius thought dating was like Quidditch. Once you caught the snitch the game was over and it was time to start a new match."
Harry let out a shocked laugh, not believing he'd just heard Remus Lupin make a sexual double entendre in front of him.
"Moony!" Sirius exclaimed in disbelief. "Don't go telling Harry things like that! He's too young for. . ."
Harry interrupted him with a snicker of hilarity. "I'm not too young, Padfoot," he grinned. "And trust me, I've heard just about every snitch catching and broom polishing joke there is."
"Broom polishing!" Sirius sputtered, his face growing red. "Besides, it's not true anyway. I wasn't that bad. And, just because I dated a lot back then doesn't mean anything now. I was young. People change." He glanced somewhat curiously over at Remus, and Harry sensed a sudden tension between the two men. "I'm not like that now," Sirius added, watching Remus' expression.
But the werewolf just snorted in disbelief. "I'll believe that when I see it," he said with a dismissive laugh, but Harry had the impression that the man wasn't nearly as disinterested as he appeared to be.
"Moony," Sirius began only to be interrupted as Remus stood abruptly.
"Why don't I go get you some dinner, Harry," Remus suggested. "You missed lunch. You're bound to be hungry."
He didn't wait for a response, but rather headed out the door in search of the promised meal. Sirius watched him go with an odd look on his face.
"What do you suppose that was all about?" his godfather finally asked him, looking genuinely perplexed.
Harry took a shot at answering. "It's probably just because the concept of dating a lot of people is most likely foreign to him."
Sirius thought about that a moment, nodding in grudging agreement. "I guess he is a bit shy. Come to think of it, I don't remember him ever dating when we were in school."
Harry's eyes widened, wondering why that would surprise Sirius. "Of course not," he laughed. "Remus is a werewolf."
"There's nothing wrong with being a werewolf," Sirius said defensively. "Lots of people would have been happy to date Remus."
"Of course there's nothing wrong with being a werewolf!" Harry agreed, wondering if Sirius was missing the bigger picture here. "But that's not the point now is it? Werewolves only get the one shot at it."
Sirius frowned in confusion. "One shot at what?"
"At dating. At love."
"What are you talking about?"
Harry stared at his godfather incredulously. The man honestly didn't know? He couldn't believe it. "Werewolves mate for life. Hermione can probably explain it better to you; I never understood the theory behind it. Had something to do with scent markers, and animal instincts, and magical resonances. But they get one shot at it, and then that's it for them. They're bonded, or mated, or whatever it is you want to call it."
Sirius looked completely stunned, struck speechless by Harry's revelation. He slumped back in his chair with a look of profound amazement on his face.
"How could you have spent all that time with a werewolf and not known?" Harry asked him curiously.
Sirius just shook his head. "We never talked about it. I never thought about it," he admitted sheepishly. "It just never occurred to me. How do you know so much about werewolves?"
"Snape made us write an essay on them in third year. Hermione's was very detailed." He studied Sirius's face, noting the thoughtfully gleam in the man's eye. "You probably ought to read it if you're planning on falling in love with a werewolf."
That brought Sirius' attention right back to him, and he blinked at Harry in shock. "Fall in love. . ." he sputtered, but the protest died on his lips as Harry just laughed at him. "How did you know?" he asked.
Harry shrugged. "It's sort of written all over your face every time you look at him."
"Does that bother you?"
Harry just shook his head. "No," he assured him. "I kind of like the idea that the two of you have each other."
"Well, I don't exactly have Remus," Sirius admitted somewhat dejectedly. "I've tried to bring the subject up, hinted at it, but he just sort of shoots me down before I can get started. He doesn't seem to be interested."
Harry thought about that, remembering something Remus had said earlier about Padfoot having him but not knowing what to do with him. "No, I don't suppose he would be interested," Harry agreed. "Not if he didn't think you were serious about him."
And despite the topic, Sirius could resist the joke. "I'm always SERIOUS."
Harry rolled his eyes at the man.
"Do you think that's it?" Sirius asked then, looking suddenly hopeful, his eyes lighting up with the thought. "Do you think I might have a chance with him?"
"He's not going to leave you," Harry told him, believing that with all his heart. "No matter what happens, I don't think he'd leave you. And if anyone in the whole world had a chance, it would be you."
"So all I've got to do is convince him that I'm worth taking a risk on," Sirius decided, a wicked grin twisting his mouth. "I can do that."
"Not that I know anything about love," Harry told him. "But that might not be as easy as it sounds. Good luck." He'd been watching Ron and Hermione dancing around one another long enough to know that nothing about love was as easy as it seemed. He didn't figure it was a problem he'd ever have to worry about - not much chance of him ever falling in love after all. Assuming he lived long enough to care about such things.
"A challenge!" Sirius laughed. "I'm good at challenges!"
Harry smiled up at his godfather. He wasn't going to say anything, but he had a feeling that treating this like a game was precisely the reason he didn't have Remus in the first place. But he supposed the man would figure that out himself. Eventually.