the marriage stone (Discontinued)

Chapter 13 - Understanding Werewolves

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.