Title:This is You and Me

Artwork Disclaimer: Done Forby by myprettycabinet ( myprettycabinet. / art/ Done-For-282688627)

Warnings: Muggle AU.

Rating: M

A/N:This is a three part series that is a little less light hearted than the ones I've been posting off late. It's already completely written out so updates will be quick. So sit tight and thanks for reading!

Part 1: How We Began

1.1: Meeting Your Past

Charlus Potter believed in neither miracles nor chance. He strongly believed that life was a nothing but a series of intertwined events of varying significances throughout a certain period. Nothing happened by chance and while it may seem so at that time, in hindsight, everything really did happen for a reason.

His faith was, however, shaken one sunny Tuesday, when he was returning from a rather unsuccessful meeting with whom he had hoped would be a future business partner. They had rejected Nimbus Industries, a pet project very close to Charlus's heart, because "their business goals simply did not align". It had been a polite way of telling Charlus to fuck off. To add insult to injury, Charlus had had his wallet stolen on his way back to his car. A group of teenagers had casually bumped into him, apologised, and then run faster than Charlus's old, middle aged legs could ever carry him. He had spent the next hour sitting in a café, sipping at the worst tea he had ever had the misfortune of tasting, while he repeatedly tried to convince an automated voice that he wanted to cancel his credit cards, not subscribe to more bogus promotional deals. Exhausted and emotionally drained, he had then walked back to his car only to turn the key to a failing engine and slivers of smoke slipping out of the hood of his car.

Despite being a man of extreme calm, Charlus had reached a point of utter dejection and expressed his frustration with something akin to a war cry. 'Aaaaarrrrggghhhhhhh!' He kicked the front tire angrily before pulling open the hood.

'For fifty quid, I'll fix that for you.'

Charlus was about to inform the boy exactly where he could shove that fifty quid, when he felt his breath catch.

The boy was leaning against his car, arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed the damage to Charlus's car. Long light brown hair ending in gentle curls, a thin, straight nose, and a small, pink mouth – they were features Charlus knew all too well. Yet, they did not seem to fit in the tall, lanky form that was now leaning over his car and inspecting the engine with scarred hands and bitten nails. They did not fit at all with the gruff yet low voice that informed him that the price might be hiked up to ten quid more if Charlus didn't answer quick enough. They definitely did not fit with the sly grin that spread across the boy's face, revealing intentions that were far from innocent.

Yet, Charlus dug into his socks, where he always kept emergency money for situations like this, and pulled out two fifty pound notes. 'I'll give you all of it if you can fix my car,' he replied in an almost challenging tone. He tried not to stare as a sarcastic brown eyebrow rose to his challenge, but he could not look past the eerie familiarity between his past and what stood before him.

He did not even know what he was doing; if Charlus were to be honest, there was no reason for him to pay anyone to fix his car. Charlus had run a one man garage for three years before finally expanding his business. He had worked himself to perfection, in order to both pay the bills and prove to his family that he did not need the Potter's old money to establish himself. Yet, he stood and watched as clever fingers worked expertly, inspecting and then making what Charlus knew was quite a simple task seem utterly phenomenal by theatrically huffing and sighing. The boy was putting on a show; how naïve.

Charlus knew even before he revved his engine that the boy had done a good job. What he did not know and only found out when he was about to pay the boy, was that he had spent the last half hour calling the bank for nothing.

'I'm against robbing the elderly,' the boy commented cheekily, nonchalantly taking out two crisp fifty pound notes from Charlus's wallet. 'Those chavs were amateur anyway; you were just an easy target.' He closed the wallet with a satisfactory snap and smirked in a way that Charlus absolutely detested as he handed Charlus's damn wallet back to him. Charlus could tell without even having glanced inside that everything was intact; from his now cancelled credit cards down to his national ID that confirmed that he was most certainly not a senior citizen. 'Glad to be of service to you and thank you for the most generous tip.'

Infuriating.

That cocky attitude. It was so unlike the person Charlus Potter remembered. So, so different; yet when the boy turned away, Charlus could not help but see the resemblance between this boy and the friend he once treasured. And it was that attachment to his past that made him reach out, almost desperately, 'Wait!' he called louder when the boy hadn't heard the first time. 'Oi, what's your name?' Charlus asked, suddenly feeling like that one name could solve everything. Just one name could tell him if this was all just an uncanny resemblance or a figment of his imagination. 'I'm not going to report you,' he assured when the boy looked at him suspiciously. 'Just tell me your name.'

'Mongrel,' the boy replied, 'Moony for short.'

'Your real name!' Charlus growled, losing patience with the child. 'Not some street name that you decided to give yourself to make you sound tough!'

The boy crossed his arms in front of him. 'This is the name the streets gave me; this is what I go by.'

Charlus felt his heart sink. No name. What now? He did not want to let the boy go; not when there was still possibility that he might be the only link Charlus would ever get to find a friend. 'My house; why don't you come to my house? You clearly don't go to school; I can give you a job.'

'Whoa, mate,' the boy moved back, brown eyes widening and arms flying out in front of him. His feet shuffled backwards in panic, clearly ready to run. 'I'm not that desperate.'

Charlus spluttered. 'No, no, no; you've got me completely wrong.' He fiddled around in his pockets desperately, determined to prove he was not a dirty old pervert trying to recruit sexual favours from teenagers. 'Here,' he shoved his business card into the boy's hand, hoping this would quell the suspicion off him a little bit. 'I have a garage; well, a company, but I can get you a job at the workshop easily. I'm not sure how good you are, but I can definitely teach you more than just the basics.' He fiddled with his hands, surprised by how nervous he was feeling. He hadn't felt like this in years. He wanted a yes.

Charlus needed the boy to say yes.

1.2: Black as Coal

Sirius always stayed over at the Potters when things got unbearable at home.

These days, it was often. So often that the Potters had given him a room of his own, though he reckoned it was less out of sympathy and more out of family loyalty. Dorea Potter, no matter how different, was still a Black after all, and blood always ran deep.

His parents' relationship had been dwindling for years. It was a marriage of convenience after all; a sham his bigoted, backward thinking grandparents had brought together in an effort to preserve their English heritage while keeping the money within the family. Misery always grows into anger, Sirius had seen this progression over the years especially in his mother who was trapped in the ancient House of Black with no one but silence to keep her company. Unlike his father, she had no outlet; no job to delve herself into and no whores to fuck in expensive brothels. Well, no outlet but Sirius. For a while, Sirius believed she had tried. She had tried to love Orion Black but had failed miserably, much as she had failed to ingrain every dogmatic teaching that had been passed through generations of Blacks into her eldest son. Sometimes Sirius wondered if she hated him for it; if she hated her own son because of his rebellion and his refusal to listen to her.

No one ever listened to her.

She screamed and screamed and screamed.

And sometimes she hit.

But no one listened.

Not Sirius. And certainly not Orion Black.

'Charlus, I said, NO!'

Sirius found any sort of yelling unbearable. He hated it. Hated the pitch, the anger and resentment, the banging and crashing of things – he hated it all. Most days, he ran away from it. Ran away to the Potter's house where he could live in his created plastic bubble of perfection; yet today he had nowhere to run to.

'Please, Dorea, you know how important this is to me! Of all people, you know what this means!'

'It's been sixteen years, Charlus! Sixteen! I thought you were over this! You promised me, you were over this! That we were done!'

He brought his knees to his chest and covered his ears with his hands, but Sirius already knew how useless it was. His room was connected to the study and no matter how hard Sirius tried to block out the sounds of the Potters arguing, it echoed across the walls of the room loudly and pierced through the miniscule gaps between his fingers.

'Tell me, Charlus, what are you going to do once you find out? Is it going to help the slightest? Have you even thought about it?'

'I-'

'Are you going to throw him out to the streets again? Or will you just tell him what your motives are now and have him figure out what to do that bit of useless information?'

'I don't know.'

'Charlus, I am begging you. Don't do this…'

'I need closure, Dorea.'

Something crashed loudly and Sirius leapt out of his bed, flinging open the bedroom door and running down the stairs. He didn't really know where he was going; trusting his instinct to 'get away, far, far, far!' He hated screaming. God, how he hated screaming and arguments and loud voices. He was about to run for the front door when he found himself stopping abruptly, digging his heels into the carpet to avoid bumping into the other person who seemed in just as much hurry to get out. 'Who?' Sirius started, his mouth in a surprised 'o' as he took in the boy in front of him. Who are you, Sirius had wanted to ask; only he noticed that the boy was in a considerable amount of alarm over Sirius's sudden appearance and had wrapped an arm around his suspiciously lumpy jacket protectively.

For a second their eyes met; alarmed amber and stormy grey.

And then Sirius snarled, pulling back his fist and letting it propel into the other boy's face.

1.3: Crushing Sympathy

She hated him.

This boy with his plain brown hair and thin, heart shaped face. His small pink mouth, his too long nose, and his slight form – they were all features Dorea Potter knew all too well. Even as someone who was not as well acquainted with Charlus' past could see the resemblances. She hated him because he reminded her of exactly what she could not be. He was an embodiment of her failures. And Charlus had brought him here, into her home and her family.

They had all gathered to watch as one by one, Charlus took out the stolen items wrapped within the boy's tatty jacket: a novel, a loaf of bread, a packet of biscuits, a box of leftover lasagna, and a single chocolate bar.

'Thief!' Sirius spat, lifting off his chair and only being held back from another attack by James, Dorea's only son. He shrugged James off, shooting venomous looks towards the young boy while cracking his knuckles. Sometimes, Sirius frightened Dorea. He was a sweet child most days, but his temper and strange affinity for violence disturbed her. It was his family, she knew this well from personal experience. The Blacks had a notorious history for prejudice and madness (it was the inbreeding, she reckoned). Dorea tried hard not to judge Sirius for it; especially when he often came to their house sporting bruises and suspicious handprints around his neck. She wanted to save him before it was too late; before the boy grew into a man just like his father. Sirius was different, her heart told her that. But her head knew that if Charlus had not interrupted the ruckus he had caused downstairs, this boy in front of them would be sporting more than just a black eye. 'Disgusting little thief!'

'People don't steal food out of greed, Sirius. They steal out of hunger,' Dorea found herself scolding harshly. She surprised herself by her tone but she knew she was not wrong. 'Charlus, is this really necessary? Please put those away.' She did not miss the boy's gaze as he watched the food being put away longingly. She felt a wave of sympathy wash over her. 'Leave it,' she instructed, when Charlus reached for the chocolate bar. 'Here,' she slid it towards the boy, letting the edge of the bar touch the side of his palm lightly. 'It's yours.'

The boy looked up at her and suddenly, Dorea found her breath catch. Charlus had been wrong; this boy was nothing like the pictures she'd seen. He was different. His eyes were the clearest amber; large and doleful in a way that transformed his face completely. He pushed the bar away yet she could see from the tremble of his fingers how much he truly wanted it. 'Please, can I just go? You have back everything I took.'

'You can go to the station, you little-'

'Sirius!' Dorea chastised him immediately. 'I'll have you go back to your room, please. James, you, too.'

It was at times like this that Dorea thanked God for a son with a good head on his shoulders. James Potter was far from an angel; he was constantly getting into trouble playing pranks, he was mischievous, loud and more than a bit of a womaniser. But he knew when to keep quiet and he was also probably the only person Sirius Black ever listened to. So she was eternally grateful when James nodded and escorted Sirius out of the room. Not one to take being rebuffed kindly, Sirius slammed the door behind him as he left, purposefully stomping his feet loudly up the stairs. Someday, she realised, she would need to talk to that boy…before his family broke him beyond repair.

Once the boys had left, she slowly tore open the wrapper, breaking off two pieces of chocolate – one for herself and the other for the boy. She was well aware of Charlus watching her but he did not interrupt and she was grateful for it. 'It's not poisoned, I promise,' she reassured by popping a piece into her mouth and handing over the other as a peace offering. He took it almost reluctantly. Hungry, she realised as she watched him swallow quickly as if it would disappear if he actually took the time to chew, he's just hungry. She broke off another piece. 'What's your name, sweetheart?'

He looked towards the door nervously.

'You're not in any kind of trouble,' she promised. 'We won't report you.'

'Mong-Moony,' he replied, swallowing and automatically taking another piece of chocolate from her. 'My name is Moony.' He glanced at Charlus momentarily before busying himself with another piece of chocolate. 'I should go home,' he said, making to get up almost casually, 'my mother is terribly sick and I-'

'You don't have a mother,' Charlus cut in and Dorea was surprised by how cruel his words sounded.

The boy seemed unperturbed. 'My father doesn't like it when I-'

'You don't have a father either,' Charlus said once again, holding the boy down with a hand on his shoulder. Dorea saw him flinch in pain; apparently Sirius had given the boy more than just a black eye. 'You don't have siblings either, so don't even try. You have no one to go back to. You're alone.'

'Charlus! I'll have you join James and Sirius, please.'

'But-'

'Just leave, Charlus!' She screamed uncharacteristically. It would seem she was screaming a lot today. 'Now!' He shot her a warning look; obviously assuming that her hatred for Charlus's past was going to somehow affect her behaviour with the boy. If she had been more focused, she would have been appalled at how little he thought of her after all these years. She had never been unjust and she saw no reason to hate this child on the basis of her husband's failures. .'Sorry,' she apologised, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. 'I'm sorry. You must be terrified right now. It wasn't right of us to corner you like this and certainly not right of the boys to be so rude.'

Moony shrugged.

'Does it hurt very much?' She asked, gently touching underneath his eye so as not to frighten him.

He shook his head. 'I've had worse.'

Dorea saw that well. Old scars peeked out from under his collar and the sleeves of his jumper. If she looked closely, the fingers of his left hand were slightly bent; as if they'd broken but not healed properly. 'Do you get into a lot of fights, Moony?' He didn't seem like the type who did, but what else could explain the lattice of scars he possessed. Again, she found herself feeling terribly sorry for him. He was so young; James's age, if Charlus' theory was correct.

'I fight when I have to.'

'You didn't think you had to today?' Dorea asked, curiously. 'Charlus tells me that you did not fight back when Sirius caught you. Surely you would have thought to defend yourself?'

The boy blinked. His eyes really were startling; something about them drew her to him. They made her trust him and to a certain extent, feel the very first bubbles of affection for him. What a strange woman she was; to embrace someone she'd hated for almost all her life so easily in a matter of seconds. 'I deserved it,' the boy replied after a long time. 'I was in the wrong.'

You were just hungry, she wanted to say but held her tongue. Words would not get her anywhere especially when she had already made her decision. Hesitantly, she reached out for him and petted his hair. He did not flinch and that made her only like him more. 'Would you like to stay for dinner, sweetheart?'

1.4: Nameless

'Remus Lupin.' The boy blinked up at Charlus Potter who simply smiled. 'I can't exactly file paperwork for someone called Mongrel, so I made some necessary amendments. It might take some getting used to…' He smiled. 'Don't you like it?'

'I've never had a proper name before,' the boy admitted truthfully.

There were many things Charlus wanted to say but it was still too early. 'I've always wanted to name my son Remus,' he confessed instead, putting an arm around Remus's shoulder as they started to walk.

The boy frowned. 'But your son's name is James.'

Charlus did not meet the boy's eyes. 'My best mate from school would talk for hours on mythology and magic. I barely listened to him half the time but I remember the story of Remus and Romulus were his favourite. I though he was a bit of a nutter really.' He laughed fondly at the memory. 'He was a good friend and a good man.'

'Was?'

'Was,' Charlus confirmed. He shook away the feelings of sorrow, guilt and regret that threatened to creep up his throat. 'Now, let me introduce you to the lads at the garage. They might look intimidating at first, but stick to the wheels and don't challenge what they say, and they may let you in to their circle of brotherhood.' Charlus winked as he pushed the shop door open.

1.5: Being Frank

'God, I wish I had women throwing themselves at my feet!' Frank Longbottom complained as he pushed his sorry excuse of a car across the Potter driveway. It had been stuttering for days now but he had hoped that ignoring the problem would save it. The car was barely a year old; a birthday present from his grandparents. Frank had fought tooth and nail to keep this car. Despite their considerable wealth, the Longbottoms were very strict with Frank's upbringing. According to his mother, a woman with particular affinity for furs and vulture hats, she did not want him to end up like the Black sons – self entitled, spoilt and with little disregard for money or people. He did not want to prove her right and admit to being irresponsible with his car.

He also did not want to tell his mother that she was very right about the Blacks – one of whom was sitting in the front seat of Frank's car while Frank and James Potter pushed from behind. 'Hurry up, you lot! This is taking absolutely forever! I've seen babies stronger than you wankers!'

Twat, thought Frank, but did not vocalise it. While Frank was not particularly fond of Sirius Black, he was very much so of James Potter, who adored Black like a brother. Everyone in school was aware that the two of them were joint at the hip and you could not be friends with one without having to tolerate the other.

'Don't see what you're complaining about,' James warned, grunting as he pushed harder than necessary, probably in an effort to impress Black. 'You've got Alice, haven't you?'

Frank sighed. 'Yes, but I wish she would aim a little higher than just my feet.'

James raised an eyebrow. 'Trouble in paradise?'

'Alice wants to wait,' Frank admitted, feeling his cheeks flame in shame. 'Till marriage, I mean. Doesn't even let me touch her below the neck. I've had more sessions with my right hand ever since I got together with her than when I was single.' James threw him a sympathetic glance. 'Honestly, I love her, but I am going to wank myself into an early grave at this rate.' Frank did not mention that in his weakest moments, he had also considered propositioning other girls behind Alice's back just to alleviate his frustration. But he knew well how situations like this played out; girls always squealed. There was no such thing as a secret with women; they would tell their friends who would tell more friends and eventually the truth would come out. Frank was not joking when he told James he loved his girlfriend. He loved Alice; and he was not ready to lose her because some dumb bitch could not control her tongue.

'Finally!' Black exclaimed as they made the final push into the Nimbus Auto-Parts: the Potter's own garage. James had promised that he would talk his father into giving Frank (who was running low of this month's pocket money) a good discount. Mr. Potter was also a very discrete man who understood the workings of old families like the Longbottoms (coming from one himself), and Frank knew that he could trust James's father to keep things hush from his overbearing mother. 'We've got a casualty here!' Black screamed loudly in an attempt to get the attention of one of the workers. Black thought he was probably being funny; it did not help that Potter was sniggering and generally encouraging Black's behaviour.

A boy no younger that Frank jogged up to them. 'I've called for Edgar; he'll be with you soon,' he informed them. Frank noticed that the boy avoided Black's eyes while talking to them, which was probably a good thing because he would only be met by an unkind scowl that had settled permanently on Black's face. Frank frowned wondering what this boy could have done to cause so much displeasure in the great and almighty Sirius Black. He looked harmless enough; tousled brown hair, brown eyes, high cheekbones, a small but permanent pout, and a tall lithe frame that was hidden behind large blue overalls. Frank's eyes moved to the tag pinned to his breast pocket – Remus Lupin, it read.

Frank hadn't realised he had been staring until Lupin caught him at it and smirked knowingly. 'Don't suppose you could have a look at it?' Frank asked, not breaking eye contact.

Lupin shook his head. 'Sorry, Mr. Potter has given me strict instructions. I'm not allowed to do anything more than cleaning until I finish my training.'

'Pity,' Frank replied, though it wasn't a pity at all. 'Guess I'll have to come back…'

Frank did not miss the appreciative once over that Lupin gave him, as Frank inched purposely closer. 'Guess so.'

Frank smirked, clapping both James and Black on the shoulder as he turned. 'All right guess we have no choice but to wait, eh?' He turned back to wink at Remus, not noticing Black shooting the both of them heated glares. Frank was too busy feeling extremely pleased with himself. It seemed, he had finally found a solution to his ever growing problem with Alice.

1.6 Hatred in Change

Sirius hated thieves.

He hated liars.

He hated people who used the kindness of others to their advantage.

He hated people that lacked moral values and basic ethical principles.

He hated them because they reminded him of his family; of the things he went back to every night when he forced his feet to walk home. It reminded him of his own short comings and his struggles to be the person he wanted to be and not what he was slowly becoming.

Sirius hated Remus Lupin because he hated himself.

'Sirius, are you even listening to me? I've been talking about motorbikes this entire time; something you happen to worship, and you haven't batted an eyelid.'

Sirius did not bother to turn around and humour James's incessant babble about the shade of Lily Evans' hair. He kept his eyes trained on the window, narrowing when he saw Lupin lean on Longbottom as he laughed loudly at something Frank said. Sirius couldn't hear their conversation, but it did not take a fool to realise the nature of Longbottom's and Lupin's relationship. Sirius was not blind; he saw through their discrete glances and their casual touches. There was a limit to how many times a man's car could break down, and Longbottom had well passed it a week ago. His excuses to visit James were also wearing thin. Even if James was too daft to see it, Sirius noticed the way Longbottom's eyes darkened with lust when Lupin bent over his car. He noticed the way Lupin's smile turned slyer, purposefully moving his body in a slow, almost rhythmic motion in order to entice and seduce.

It was disgusting.

Filthy.

Sirius wanted to tear them apart.

'Sirius!'

'What is it, James?' Sirius snapped back angrily.

'What is wrong with you?' James demanded. 'You've been acting like an absolute twat the entire day!'

There is nothing wrong with me, Sirius wanted to say. If anything, it's Frank. Frank who has a loving girlfriend and a respectable family; yet, is shagging Lupin. Lupin, whom your parents think the world of even though he is undeserving of their affection.

'If you glare any further, you might burn holes into the bloke.'

Sirius shifted his glare to James instead.

'Why are you so focused on him anyway? It's not as if he's ever done anything to you. Mum and dad like him well enough, and so do I, to be honest,' James tried to reason.

Sirius was not stupid. He knew there was a reason why Lupin was here, wheedling his way into the Potter family. Charlus Potter was a kind man, but not so kind as to bring random street rats into his house. He claimed it was Lupin's talent with mechanics, but Sirius saw no discernable gift that could single the other boy out. There was more hidden behind that innocent face and shy demeanour; and Sirius did not like secrets.

'If you're worried he's going to steal again, you really don't have to. He doesn't even step foot in the house without mum asking him in.'

It was not the stealing he was worried about, though Sirius had seen Lupin sneak some old parts to the back numerous times. It was the cracks. The cracks that were appearing in the normalcy of their world upon the appearance of this intruder. An ominous feeling brewed inside him as he watched Lupin wrap an arm around Frank's shoulders. Things were going to change and not necessarily for the better. Sirius desperately wanted Lupin gone.

So do let me know if you guys have enjoyed it so far and what you'd like to see. I'm experimenting with writing styles again. Also, if anyone can think of a better title for the story, I'm welcome to it. Also, please REVIEW as it lets me know if I'm doing things right! Cheers!