Chapter 39: In the Family
Hermione leaned into the kiss, all thoughts of having a professor's tongue in her mouth long gone. Well, they did crop up on occasion, but Remus was far too good a kisser to let something as silly as that get in the way. Today, however, he did not seem quite as keen on the kissing. His lips and talented tongue were going through the motions but with almost none of the usual fervour.
She broke from him. "What's the matter?"
Remus pulled his eyebrows together and bit his lip, but even after a moment's consideration, he still shook his head. "Nothing."
"You're lying."
"No, I'm not. I'm fine."
She sighed and pushed away from him, setting herself down on the couch. His lap was a perfectly fine place to sit while snogging, but it hardly gave her the respectability she required in matters of serious discussion. "You weren't kissing like there's nothing wrong. There's something distracting you. Now, please, tell me what it is."
Again he paused, taking in a long breath. She thought for sure he would deny it again. "Sirius overheard something…"
"Okay," she said and waited for him to continue.
"Something Harry said," he said.
Hermione fought to keep herself looking normal even as she cursed and shouted in her head. How many times had they nearly been caught discussing their situation? She thought he had learned his lesson by now, but clearly not if he was flippantly saying things within earshot of Sirius Big-Mouth Black. "What did Harry say?" she inquired in a voice she knew sounded strained.
"Well, he was talking to Morven and mentioned a problem," Remus told her, his eyes moving slowly across her face as she struggled to keep from showing just how anxious he was making her. "He said he was doomed because someone fancied him. Sirius is understandably put-out."
"I'm so sorry!" she cried. "He figured it out over Christmas. I tried—"
"It's true?" the boy said, blanching instantly.
"Everyone knows," she frowned. "I thought you knew, too. He's not exactly been subtle about it."
"Yeah, he has!" Remus stood, shouting, "Nobody would have guessed! I live in the same room with him, and I had no idea!"
"What?" she practically laughed. "The way he goes on? Friendship must have made you blind."
"Don't you dare laugh at me," he warned, a hard and dangerous edge taking over his voice. "I may have been his friend, but this is unforgivable. And you helped him."
"No more than you," she shot up from her seat, poking him hard in the chest. "How dare you try to pin this on me? I've done nothing worse than you. If you're going to get angry at anyone, get angry at Sirius."
"Sirius? How is this his fault?"
"For being such a bloody coward he couldn't tell Harry how he felt to begin with!"
"Oh, so that makes it alright to swoop in and take advantage?"
"I did no such thing. I made one passing comment and he sorted the rest out on his own," she insisted. "Took him long enough if you ask me."
"'Took him long enough'? How bloody long have you been after him?" Remus gaped.
Hermione blinked. "After who?"
"Harry."
"After him to what?" she asked. "I'm always after him to do something, his homework, generally, but I swear I wasn't after him about Sirius at all. I was honestly curious how long it would take him to sort it out, and I only made one little comment. It wasn't even about Sirius, either, but it must have clicked because he just—"
"Wait," Remus interrupted, lopsided smile replacing his furious scowl. "So you don't fancy him?"
"Sirius? No!"
"No, Harry."
Her nose wrinkled in disgust. "He's like my brother! Wh—" Remus hurled himself at her, cutting off her words and taking over her mouth with a great deal more eagerness than he normally did and easily compensating for his earlier distractedness. She let him dominate her tongue until understanding struck her. Forcing him off, she stared at him. "You thought I fancied Harry? Is that what he said to Morven?"
"No, he didn't say who fancied him, just that it was family," Remus said, absentmindedly as he kept his eyes locked onto her lips. "Thought that meant you."
"Idiot."
"Wait," he muttered, breaking free of his preoccupation. "You're his only family. Who else could he thinks fancies him?"
"Oh, never mind," Hermione said lightly. "Misunderstanding solved." She took his mouth and hoped that she was forceful enough to keep his mind from continuing along his previous line of questioning. He was certainly working his tongue as if it was all he had thought of at the moment. If only she could kiss him thoroughly enough to remove all memory of their conversation. Oddly, she would rather he think that she liked Harry than have his clever brain at work sorting out who else the boy might consider family.
oOo
"It's a boy!" Tildy squealed gleefully, clapping her hands and hugging James and Lily in turn. "And quite the handsome boy, too. You must be so proud!"
"Oh, shut up, Tildy!" Lily hissed as she leapt up from her seat and gripped James by the arm, pulling him even farther from the bustle of the common room. "Where the hell did that question come from?"
James shrugged and ran through all the evidence they had managed to gather, taking particular care to mention her eyes. "It would explain why he always turned green when we thought he fancied you. I'd be sick, too, if someone thought I wanted to snog my mum."
The girl looked ill as she turned her eyes to focus exclusively on her shoes.
Realisation hit him and he cringed, his stomach turning. "Oh, you didn't."
"It's your fault!" she practically shouted. "You're the one who tricked me into that damned date! I never would have thought of him like that at all if it weren't for you! Now I can't even look at him without knowing what I almost did."
"You didn't 'almost do' anything," James insisted. "You almost kissed me."
"Thinking you were him!" she groaned and slumped against the wall, pulling at her hair. "I wanted to kiss my own son. Who does that? What the hell kind of person does that make me?"
"But you didn't know," he said. "If I'd known he is who he is, I wouldn't have pretended to be him. If anyone's to blame in all this, it's Harry. He never should have let me pretend to be him on a date with you. He was the only one who knew better the whole time." He glared across the common room, catching sight of Hermione and Remus arguing, and he finally understood why Harry had wanted her kept far away from them that Hogsmeade weekend. The girl probably knew about this entire convoluted family tree and would have hexed him for pretending to be Lily's son out on a date with his own mum.
As he watched Remus launch himself at the girl, taking over her mouth and sneaking a feel of her backside, James's frown deepened. If she knew, then that meant Hermione was from whatever time and place Harry was. In that place Remus was old enough to be her dad. That was not right. That was as not right as Lily wanting to snog her son, as not right as Sirius wanting to shag him. His eyes narrowed as his teeth began to grind.
"James?" Lily asked, waving a hand before his face. "Are you all right?"
"No, I have to go kill Sirius."
"Oh, that."
"Yes, that! I'll kill him, bring him back to life and kill him again," the boy seethed as his knuckles turned white and nails dug hard into his palms.
"Make sure it's painful," she advised and returned to her chair, pulling the parchment from her bag. "I'll not have my son being one of Black's cast-aside romances."
He nodded, too livid to notice how readily Lily accepted that she was Harry's mother, that James was his father, that they would become serious enough to have a child at all. No, killing Sirius in the most excruciating manner imaginable was far more important than all that. He stalked up the stairs, wondering whether manually plucking every hair from the bastard's head would be a severe enough start or if he ought to add some stinging hexes to disfigure his face first, but was forced to stop as Harry stole past him. He was running, face flushed from what James really hoped was the exertion of the action and not from Sirius making a move on him.
"Harry!" he shouted after him.
"Can't talk, I have to meet Dumbledore!" Harry called back, not even turning around.
James scowled. "That's no way to treat your father, git," he mumbled and continued contemplating Sirius's punishment.
He shoved the door wide, glaring his ire at the boy, his best mate, his near-brother and partner in crime; the only one of his friends he would ever consider making Godfather to his future children, and the only one that had been trying to shack up with his son from the future. Pervy bastard. Judging by his posture, Sirius had not been the cause of Harry's flushed face, though it did little to stem his wrath. James, more than any of the other Marauders, knew just what he had planned for Harry, and he didn't like it one bit.
"I think I know what was impossible," Sirius said, sounding as dejected as he looked.
"Yeah," James replied, quickly closing the distance between them, pulling his fist back and punching him hard on the jaw. It hurt like hell, but it was worth it when Sirius fell backward with a shout. "Dammit, Padfoot, you turned my son into a shirtlifter!"
Surprisingly, Sirius did not retaliate or protest. After the initial cry of shock and pain, he said nothing at all. It was enough to stop James's attack momentarily. He held his fist up to strike again but took a breath to look at his friend, properly look. He looked sick. "What are you looking so poorly over?"
"He's your kid, Prongs," Sirius said, the words tore from his throat, aching and ragged, as if it was the worst possible fate for the boy.
"Yeah, figured that out for myself."
"No, he's your son, my best mate's son. I've got to be nearly forty where –when—he's from; the uncle that always sneaks him dungbombs to take to school and gives him advice on picking up girls," he shook his head. "No wonder he never said anything about me throwing myself at him."
James just shook his head. "You, Mr Padfoot, are a drama queen."
"I mean it!" Sirius shouted. "He's never batted an eye or done anything to stop me laying my head down on his leg in the common room or walking the length of the castle with my arm around him. Even you would have said something if I did it… Oh, Merlin, I've turned into gropey old Uncle Ignats. What must he think of me?"
Despite his anger, he snorted.
"Shove off, Potter," the boy glared at him.
"Oh, Potter now, am I?" James smirked. "Well then, Black, let me tell you something. You are going to be that kid's Godfather." Sirius groaned at the news, but James persisted, "He is going to know you his whole life, see you fake-flirting with Moony every time you're over for a lager, taking advantage of when the idiot forgets not to sit on the couch and laying your head on his lap just like you do to Harry now. If he's not said anything to stop you, it's probably because he's used to it and doesn't care. It's just what you do. We've accepted it. So has he. We know it doesn't mean you want to shag us. He thinks the same... probably."
"Git," Sirius muttered.
James laughed at his obstinate self-loathing. "Sirius, I love you. If it was up to me, you'd have been a Potter since second year. As far as I'm concerned, it doesn't matter who you fancy; you can swing whatever way you please and carry anybody you like with you on the ride, but if you try picking up my kid again, I will hex your bollocks off and hand them to you in an unbreakable jar. Understand?"