Author's note: The original version of this chapter had a sex scene in it, but in order to follow the rules for this site I've edited that section out (I know that probably makes me seem paranoid because lots of people ignore that rule with no consequences…but I've been on this site long enough to remember past incidents were epic numbers of fics got reported and deleted for that sort of thing. I don't think that happens so much anymore but I usually prefer to avoid the risk.)

If you'd prefer to read the uncensored version of this chapter (which I recommend, it was a rather lengthy chunk I cut out,) you can look it up on Archive of Our Own. My user name is skyrat there (one word instead of two like it is here.)

Anyway, sorry this last update took so long! I got very sick when I was on my trip so I had a bigger set-back than I expected in wrapping this up. Thanks so much to everyone who has been following and commenting. Thanks in particular to Bottlebrush for leaving such lovely long and insightful reviews! They were extremely helpful. :-)

Sirius woke up to a splitting headache and the smell of frying sausages. For a moment he was confused to where he was. Had he somehow woken up at the Burrow? Since when was 12 Grimmauld Place filled with the smell of cooking? And good cooking at that? He and Remus usually lived on take-away and things that were no-fuss to cook. Like toast.

Maybe Molly had bullied her way back over to continue torturing them, he thought unhappily. He considered just staying in his room all day in protest, but with a hangover to deal with the allure of solid food was a bit too much to pass up. He hesitantly ventured downstairs.

Molly was not in the kitchen. There was only Remus. Remus and two plates filled with what looked like a full English breakfast. Sirius gaped.

"What's—what's all this?" he asked.

"Thought you might benefit from something substantial," said Remus with smile. "You had a lot of firewhisky last night."

"You can cook?" asked Sirius in surprise.

Remus shrugged. "I've lived mostly on my own for the last 15 years. Had to learn to feed myself."

You don't look like you feed yourself, thought Sirius. "Yeah…but. I've never seen you actually do anything like this before."

"I'm rarely in the mood to bother," admitted Remus. "Doesn't usually feel worth the effort. Simple stuff is good enough. And," he coughed, looking embarrassed, "cheaper."

Ah, thought Sirius regretfully. It's the money.

"We didn't have any of these ingredients," he commented, hungrily taking in the spread of eggs, meat, beans, tomatoes and mushrooms. "I hope you used my money to get it all."

Remus shrugged and didn't answer. "Tea or coffee?" he asked instead.

"Both?" asked Sirius after a minute of indecision.

Remus chuckled. "As you wish," he said, heading back to the kitchen.

The 'as you wish' did funny twisting things to Sirius's insides as he tried not to dwell on how much he wanted to read into it but shouldn't.

"Wow," said Sirius, trailing after his unusually chipper mate, "you must have had a really good date last night."

Remus turned as he filled up the kettle, his cheerful smile faltering a little. "It was alright," he said. "Can't remember last night, eh?"

Sirius scanned his memory, which was definitely running on the hazy side.

"Erm," he stalled. "I think you came back a bit sooner than I expected? And there was…drinking. And…I dunno. Did something else happen?"

"No," said Remus, dropping a tea bag into an empty mug. "Nothing happened. We just talked briefly."

"Am I forgetting anything important?" asked Sirius, feeling a bit uneasy suddenly.

"Don't worry about it," said Remus, shooing him back to the table. "You should eat. I'll have the drinks ready in a moment."

Sirius sat down, the uneasy feeling definitely lingering. But the enticing smells of breakfast quickly distracted him.

"Galloping griffins," groaned Sirius as he eagerly shoveled fried eggs into his mouth. "You've been holding out on me."

"You never asked me to cook," said Remus smugly. He sat two mugs down in front of Sirius, and returned to his own place with a third mug of tea in hand.

"I regret my life choices," affirmed Sirius. "You should have said."

"Well, then I would have been stuck cooking," said Remus. "I never said I actually enjoy it. Always felt like a waste of time to me. All that work for something you finish off in a matter of minutes with nothing to show for it afterwards." He shrugged.

"Just my undying adoration," said Sirius around a forkful of sausage.

"Well." Remus took a sip of his tea. His own food was still untouched. "That might be a persuasive arrangement."

Sirius felt Remus's foot brush against his under the table but in a second it was gone again. The sudden flurry of butterflies it sparked made him sorry that he had been guzzling his food so voraciously. He now felt a bit queasy.

Had that been an accident?

They were sitting at an awfully large table.

Sirius peered at Remus, but Remus's face was completely mild and gave no indication that anything had happened. He was calmly buttering a piece of toast.

"So…um…." Sirius searched for something to talk about to distract himself from the way his heart had unexpectedly geared into overdrive. "How'd you learn to cook so well?" he asked. "Did you take lessons?"

"Worked in a few Muggle restaurants when trying to scrape by with jobs," said Remus. "Picked things up here and there."

"Oh." Sirius frowned. He really hated these reminders that he hadn't been around to help Remus out while he was struggling. "I didn't know you'd taken work like that. What other sorts of jobs did you do?"

"Oh, bit of everything, really," said Remus with a shrug. "Worked in quite a few shops, both Muggle and Wizard. It tended to be easier to hold down the Muggle ones because they didn't get as suspicious about the time missed. Did some freelance editing. Some tutoring. A couple of research positions. A few construction jobs. Courier work…if you can think of it, I probably tried it."

"You don't have to do any of that anymore, you know," said Sirius. "My money is yours."

"I'm not here to be a drain on you Padfoot," said Remus easily. "You're doing quite enough by giving me a place to stay."

"That's not enough," Sirius insisted. "You shouldn't have to do all that."

"I actually liked some of those jobs you know," said Remus. "Tutoring quite suits me."

"Yes, I suppose it would," agreed Sirius. "But if you're having trouble finding work—"

"Dumbledore has been giving me a stipend for my Order of the Phoenix missions," said Remus. "You don't need to worry."

"Good man," said Sirius, feeling a bit better.

"The finest," agreed Remus.

"I don't approve of some of the missions he sent you on though," added Sirius.

"They were necessary."

"Not more necessary than your safety," objected Sirius.

"Winning the war is more important than anyone's individual safety."

Not yours, thought Sirius. Not yours or Harry's.

"You would have done the same," added Remus.

"Yeah, but…" I don't matter, thought Sirius.

"You're not more dispensable," said Remus sharply before Sirius could finish.

"Debatable," Sirius disagreed. "So…got any more exciting dates planned?" he asked masochistically to change to subject.

"Not in the immediate future," replied Remus.

"Tonks would probably love it if you cooked something like this for her," Sirius muttered.

"I imagine that would send her the wrong message."

Sirius abruptly looked up. Remus was staring at him.

"How so?" he asked.

"I don't think it would be very kind to jerk her around," said Remus. "Or rather, she made that rather clear and I wholeheartedly agree with her."

"Wait. You're not together?" asked Sirius in shock.

"We already discussed this last night," said Remus with a pained smile.

"We…we did?"

"You were rather indignant," informed Remus.

"I was?"

"Quite defensive of my honor in fact," said Remus.

"I—uh…" Sirius felt somewhat mortified. What exactly had he said while he was drunk? What had he given away? Did Remus know? Was he…he wasn't pranking him right now…was he?

Remus didn't do things like that anymore…did he?

Sirius examined his friend carefully and concluded that he wouldn't put it past him. They were both Marauders. It didn't matter that Remus had grown up to be a bit more responsibly minded than he had, you don't just go losing your inner nature completely.

Uh oh.

"Um, what else did I say?" Sirius braced himself for a humiliating answer.

"Oh, just a bit about drunk hippogriffs getting tied to taffrails," replied Remus. "It was quite illuminating."

"Hm, yeah. I suppose that sounds like me," muttered Sirius. "…Anything else?"

Remus took a sip of tea and then a bite of baked beans. "Oh, a few other things possibly," he said elusively.

Oh shite, thought Sirius. I definitely said something. He knows, he knows, he knows.

Remus's face gave away nothing. But Sirius knew him too well. He was siting on something major, and totally enjoying it.

What should he do? He could press a confrontation or he could fail to take the bait and let everything drop.

It was tempting to take the cowardly way out and change the topic. But he was a Gryffindor, dammit, and this was Moony and he would probably lose his mind wondering if he didn't find out.

He took a fortifying gulp of coffee, letting the warm porcelain in his hands steady his nerves.

"Elaborate, please."

"Oh, you just postulated on my amazing werewolf stamina," said Remus calmly. "Seemed to think I could keep my ah, recreational activities, going all night."

"Oh," said Sirius. He said a silent prayer that the stove might spontaneously burst into flames and burn the house down so he could abandon their conversation after all.

"I clarified of course that my date hadn't required that as such," continued Remus, carefully slicing his sausage and tomato up into ridiculously neat bite sized pieces.

"Good," said Sirius weakly.

"Which of course lead to my disclosure that Dora and I are finished," announced Remus.

"I'm sorry about that," muttered Sirius. He wasn't of course—it just seemed like the expected thing to say.

"I'm not," said Remus brightly. "Especially considering that you offered your services to be her immediate replacement."

"I—I did?" Sirius set his mug down and leaned back in his chair, hoping that maybe it would gain him an improved perspective on this complete and utter mess that was his social skills. "I propositioned you?"

Remus nodded. "Your confession was incredibly heart wrenching. I was very touched."

"I…uh…." Sirius tried desperately to remember. How could he do something that monumental and then completely forget it?!

Well. At least Remus wasn't freaking out.

Unless he actually was, and was doing a good job covering it up. Remus was terribly good at covering things up.

Shite!

"I am never drinking again," he muttered to himself in consternation. "So…" he said, picking up his fork and anxiously fiddling with it. "What did, uh, what did you say to all these, um, revelations?"

"Nothing," said Remus calmly.

"Nothing?"

"Well," said Remus, taking another sip of tea. "It's hard to reply considering you didn't actually do any of that. Terribly disappointing, really."

Sirius found himself gaping again. "What? You…" he started. "You mean I…."

"I left myself wide open for it too," sighed Remus regretfully. "Practically handed you an engraved invitation. You didn't say a word."

"Wait," Sirius continued to garble. "Wait, wait. You…."

"Sure hope I wasn't reading you wrong," said Remus with a wry smile. "I expect that would make things a bit awkward."

"You're telling me that you set me up to make a move on you," Sirius clarified, "and you're disappointed that I didn't follow through? That's what you're telling me, right?"

"Well, I can't really blame you, you were drunk," said Remus. "But you're not drunk right now, are you?"

Sirius gulped. Was that a hint of nervousness he detected in Remus's voice? Was this even real? Remus wouldn't be harsh enough to carry a joke on this far, would he?

Surely not.

Right?

Right?

"Quite sober," Sirius confirmed. "Quite, quite, sober."

"Good," said Remus. He got up and walked around to Sirius's side of the table, leaning over him. "Feel free to contradict me any time," he murmured a few inches away from Sirius's face.

"Why the bloody hell would I want to do that?"

Remus's face cracked into a grin and his eyes lit up with hope. "Good answer, Padfoot," he whispered before leaning in to kiss him.

Sirius immediately reached out and grabbed Remus's shoulders, afraid that if he didn't anchor himself the moment would evaporate and he'd find that the whole thing had been a drunken hallucination.

It was definitely not a hallucination.

Remus's shoulders were solid and warm beneath his fingers. His cheeks were slightly rough with just the slightest hint of stubble. His lips were soft and not in the least bit hesitant. He tasted like milky tea and tomato and Sirius was gone.

Sirius let out a totally undignified needy whine and tried to pull them closer together. Which probably wasn't the best idea since Remus was somewhat unsteadily hovering over him. Remus wobbled a bit but didn't lose his balance. He yanked Sirius up so that they could properly meld together.

Remus's arms slid down his back and wrapped around his waist. Sirius pressed into him, fiercely grabbing him back.

He hadn't been with anyone since before getting sent to Azkaban. But even back then it had never been like this. Remus felt perfect, every inch of him radiating a comforting familiarity and sense of belonging. Sirius had known he wanted this, but still, the overwhelming sense of rightness caught him off-guard.

How the bloody hell did I survive for 37 years without kissing Moony, he thought in a daze.

Remus was apparently having a similar thought, going by how urgently he was kissing him. Sirius eagerly reciprocated; letting his hands rise up to tangle in Remus's hair while he sucked on his bottom lip, exploring his best friend's mouth with his teeth and tongue.

"Bloody brilliant," he gasped when they finally broke apart.

"Well put," agreed Remus breathlessly.

"We should have done that sooner."

"I've wanted to since we were fourteen," admitted Remus.

"What—that long?" asked Sirius in surprise.

"Maybe longer," said Remus.

"Blimey Moony, I wish I'd known."

"Didn't think you'd be interested," said Remus matter-of-factly. He dragged a hand down Sirius's side and traced along the jut of his hipbone. "Would you have been?"

"I—I honestly don't know," confessed Sirius. "If I'd known it would feel like this you bet I would have. But who knows. I was a bit of an idiot back then."

"Still are," snorted Remus. "But I happen to like that about you."

"Lucky me," said Sirius before getting cut off by another kiss.

"So," he added, after Remus reluctantly pulled away again. "I seem to recall you saying something about having amazing werewolf stamina? I'm very interested in further exploring that concept."

Remus broke into laughter. "That was strictly your assumption, for the record."

"Well, we should probably test it out to see if I was right."

"Not in the kitchen though," said Remus with a smile.

"No," agreed Sirius. "Not this time, anyway." He laced his fingers with Remus's and tugged him towards the door.

They never did get around to finishing their breakfast that morning, but neither of them minded.

"Oh! You haven't been introduced to Camellia yet!" Molly Weasley grabbed Sirius's arm and dragged him over to a young woman with honey brown hair.

"Hello," the young woman said amicably.

"Well Hello," said Sirius enthusiastically. He swooped down and lifted Camellia's hand to his lips. "You're as lovely as the flower you were named for."

Camellia blushed and giggled.

Behind them Remus rolled his eyes but neither Molly nor Camellia noticed.

"Molly tells me that you're very into motorbikes," said Camellia conversationally.

"Oh yes." Sirius nodded. "Positively mad for them. I had to give mine up when I got arrested though. Haven't gotten around to replacing it yet. I really ought to do something about that."

"Arrested?" Camellia's friendly smile faded a little. "Molly didn't mention that."

"Really? I wonder why not. Well you've certainly missed out on a fascinating story then. We'll have lots to talk about!"

Camellia took a very subtle step backwards.

"He was arrested for murder," added Remus helpfully. "A whole bunch of people, completely incinerated. Ghastly business. One minute they were just standing there, the next: poof." He mimed an explosion with his hands. "You probably read about it in the papers."

"Oh," she said, looking back and forth between Remus and Sirius with a frown. "You're that Sirius."

"The one and only." Sirius grinned and winked at her. "So, tell me, do you have any knitting patterns with motorbikes in them? That would make a splendid Christmas Jumper."

"I—ah—no, I don't think so. I would have to check though—why don't I do that. I'll just, be going now. To, ah. Check my patterns."

Camellia scurried off and disappeared into the crowd of ladies socializing in Molly's living room.

"Sirius," said Molly disapprovingly. "Stop doing that!"

"What, asking about knitting patterns?" asked Sirius innocently. "But I thought this was a knitting club mixer."

"You're deliberately chasing away every girl I introduce to you."

"I most certainly am not," insisted Sirius. "I'm just being upfront with them, and honestly disclosing my authentic self."

"There's a time and place," reproached Molly. "You should work on disclosing your less controversial traits first and saving the rest for after they've gotten to know you."

"But where's the fun in that?" asked Sirius cheerfully. "Hey I don't think we've talked to that one yet."

Molly sighed and led them over to another woman; this one had emerald green eyes and a dirty blonde bob.

"This is Maureen," said Molly resignedly. "Maureen, this is Sirius."

"Hello Sirius," said Maureen brightly.

"Hello Maureen, darling," replied Sirius. "So, you've been knitting for a long time?"

"Oh yes!" said Maureen. "I've been doing it since I was little. I knitted this dress!" She pointed to her outfit.

"Stunning!" praised Sirius. "You're bloody fantastic. I bet you're just the person who can give me advice."

"I'm sure I can." Maureen smiled broadly. "What do you need help with?"

"Well, I was just wondering, do you have any spells that will help keep your hands coordinated?" asked Sirius. "I'd love to learn but my motor skills just haven't been up to snuff ever since I died."

Maureen's smile evaporated. "What?" she asked in confusion.

"I died," Sirius repeated. He held up his hand to demonstrate the faint tremble to it. "See? I've been kind of messed up since it happened—don't think I could hold a pair of knitting needles steady to save my life—er, my second life, so to speak. Dying was murder on my coordination. Get it? Murder? Ha. I actually was murdered, you know—by my cousin. It was dreadful, I definitely don't recommend it."

"Oh," said Maureen. "Um. No. I don't know any spells like that. Perhaps you should try a different hobby. Macramé perhaps? Yes, that might suit you better, you should try that. I don't know anything about it though, so I can't help you. I'll just—I have to go over there now. Bye."

Maureen excused herself and disappeared out of the room completely.

"Well, congratulations," complained Molly. "You have now succeeded in alienating every single one of my friends. There's no one left to introduce you to."

"It shouldn't have been that easy," said Sirius.

"You made an effort." Molly frowned. "You acted like you didn't want to meet a potential girlfriend!"

"Well, I didn't particularly," Sirius admitted.

"I don't understand why not!" fretted Molly. "Aren't you lonely?"

"Not in the slightest," said Sirius with a grin. "Remus is really excellent company."

He turned and yanked Remus closer, pulling him in to give a lengthy and passionate kiss.

"I suspect he wouldn't especially appreciate it if I went and got a girlfriend," he added happily as they broke away. "I'm already taken."

"Extremely taken," agreed Remus, possessively slinging his arm around Sirius's shoulders.

Molly's eyes had doubled in size and she was apparently having difficulty closing her mouth.

"Ah," said Molly. She opened and closed her mouth again. "Well. Ah. Er, well then."

She crossed her arms and huffed. "Well. Well, fine then! I see! Why did you even come to my party?"

"Oh, that's easy," said Sirius, pulling a stack of parchment out of his pocket. "I promised Hermione I'd hand out these flyers for her. She wants to recruit more knitters to make clothes for her house elf liberation front. I sort of owe her a couple of favors, considering it's thanks to her I'm even standing here."

He held up a flyer and waved it around in the air. "Oi!" he shouted over the din of people chatting. "Who here's good at making tiny hats?"

Harry poked his head out of the fireplace and nervously glanced around.

"Sirius?" he ventured.

He received no answer and gingerly crawled out of the hearth, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. He hadn't heard from his godfather since he'd last visited several days ago—which normally wouldn't have been noteworthy, but considering that the last thing he'd said directly to Sirius had resulted (as calculated) in an expression of pure betrayal—well, he couldn't help suspecting that Sirius's silence was deliberate.

He'd felt pretty bad saying what he had in the first place. But Sirius was stubborn, and Harry knew a thing or two about being stubborn himself. And it was easy to guess what sort of push Sirius would need to galvanize him into actually doing something. Harry had only said exactly the sort of thing that would have motivated himself.

But had it worked? Or had he only hurt Sirius for no end? Surely if Sirius had actually taken some sort of action Harry would have heard about it by now?

Or was Sirius too mad to even tell him if he'd actually taken Harry's advice?

"Sirius?" he called out again, climbing down the stairs.

"In the kitchen." Harry detected Lupin's voice calling up from the house's lowest level.

Well, whatever Sirius did or didn't do, at least Lupin wasn't scared off, thought Harry encouragingly. I knew he wouldn't be.

He felt so relieved by that revelation that Harry had almost completely let his guard down by the time he walked through the kitchen door, and as a result didn't notice the plate flying right at his head.

"Gah!" yelped Harry as antique porcelain exploded against the plaster a few inches from his ear.

"Look sharp!" muttered Sirius, tossing another plate at the wall.

"What the devil?" said Harry, staggering to the side.

"You don't need to break them first," said Lupin with a tired sigh. "We can transfigure them intact."

"It is absolutely essential that I break them first," announced Sirius, aiming his next toss dangerously close to Lupin's head this time. "I need the therapeutic benefit."

Lupin ducked and brushed bits of shattered pottery off the counter.

"Would you like some pumpkin juice?" he asked Harry good naturedly, turning a glass upside down to shake debris out if it.

"Er, no thanks," said Harry, eyeing the broken shards that fell out of the glass. "Um, why are you breaking dishes?"

"We decided to transfigure them so that we wouldn't have to stare at the Black family motto every time we had dinner," explained Lupin. He pointed his wand at one of the piles of pottery fragments and caused them to knit back together. The repaired plate was missing the gilt coat of arms, which had been replaced by a Delft Blue design featuring a dog. "Much better," he mumbled, adding the plate to a stack on the counter.

"The old ones ruined my appetite," said Sirius, chucking a soup bowl at the ceiling.

"Well, I'm glad you're making yourself more comfortable," said Harry, trying to ease into a conversation. Sirius had barely acknowledged his presence since he arrived, which wasn't a good sign.

"Trying to make this place comfortable is like the burden of Sisyphus," groused Sirius.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" asked Harry.

"Oh, I think you've done quite enough." Sirius leveled Harry with a dark look.

Harry's face fell. "Look, Sirius," he said uneasily. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," replied Sirius sharply. "If you believe in something you should stick to your guns. You did mean it, didn't you?"

Harry squirmed a bit under Sirius's intense gaze. "Yeah," he sighed. "But I was unnecessarily mean about it. So I'm sorry about that."

"You were a prat about it," Sirius agreed.

Harry guiltily nodded.

"But," added Sirius, "I'm certainly not sorry you were." His grim expression cracked into a wide grin and he reached over and caught Lupin's hand in his. Lupin smiled affectionately back at him. "You were right, after all."

Harry glanced back and forth between Sirius and Lupin and began to smile himself.

"Wait," he asked. "Are you two…?"

Both Sirius and Lupin nodded.

"That's brilliant!" exclaimed Harry sincerely.

"I certainly think so," agreed Lupin.

"Extremely brilliant," confirmed Sirius.

"Hermione will be glad," Harry added.

"Yes, I'm quite sure she'll have an opinion on it," agreed Sirius. "And I think perhaps I might need to have a conversation with her about discretion, because I rather suspect that you did not deduce the current state of things entirely on your own, did you?"

Harry's guilty expression was answer enough. "She just wanted to help."

"Which I have to admit she did," said Sirius with a sigh. "So I guess I can't complain to much."

"He'll complain anyway," commented Lupin in a loud stage whisper to Harry.

Harry laughed in agreement.

"You bet I will," confirmed Sirius. He pushed a stack of salad plates towards his godson with a grin. "So," he said cheerfully. "Want to help break some dishes?"

"Wow," said Harry, looking around the transformed row house. "You've really done a lot of work here. It's barely recognizable."

Sirius beamed as he walked Harry, Ron, and Hermione through the newly renovated rooms of 12 Grimmauld Place.

"It's still only temporary," Sirius explained. "We're going to bail as soon as the war is over and this place isn't needed."

"Find a nice cottage outside of the city," Remus added brightly.

"Very far out. With lots of grounds for running around," Sirius agreed. "But so long as we're slogging it out here a bit longer we figured we'd do a bit more than just clean things up."

"Is there even anything original still left?" asked Hermione in wonder as she took in the clean modern décor and bright colors.

"Oh, most of it is still original," Sirius laughed. "We just transfigured everything to look less depressing."

"Threw out anything cursed though," commented Remus. "Or silver." He rubbed at a recent scar on his arm where he'd had an unfortunate incident with a silver candelabra overbalancing when he'd opened a jammed armoire.

"You haven't seen the best part though," added Sirius, herding everyone to a closed bedroom door.

"Isn't this Remus's room?" asked Harry as they swung the door open.

The stacks of academic books that had previously filled the room were gone though. In their place was a much smaller stack of Quidditch magazines and a rather ornate albeit empty birdcage.

"I moved my things," explained Remus. "We thought you'd get better use out of this room than I would, considering…" he trailed off and coughed somewhat embarrassedly.

"Assuming you want to stay around a bit," Sirius added hastily. "I know that you still need to live with your aunt and uncle of course. But perhaps for part of your holidays…."

"Yes!" Exclaimed Harry, before Sirius could even finish. "Yes, absolutely yes, when can I move in?" He grinned and grabbed his godfather in a hug. His grin began to falter though as he broke away.

"What's wrong?" asked Sirius, immediately picking up on Harry's troubled expression. "It's not to your liking? You're welcome to pick a different room…I mean technically the whole house is yours, isn't it? You could have any of them…."

"No," said Harry quickly. "This one is brilliant. It's just…" he shot a sideways glance at Hermione and Ron, who mirrored his look of discomfort.

"Just what?" asked Sirius, watching as the three teenagers apparently exchanged some sort of silent discussion with their eyes.

"Well…" said Harry shiftily. "It's just…." He trailed off again, clearly hesitant to actually tell Sirius what he was thinking, which did not sit terribly well with him.

"What's wrong?" Sirius asked more urgently.

"I just don't want to get your hopes up that I'll be able to be here a lot," Harry finally admitted.

"Well, I know that school takes up most of your year," responded Sirius, trying to sound light although he suspected that Harry wasn't alluding to school at all. "And you have other family obligations…."

"That's not it," Harry admitted. "I've got…" he glanced again at Hermione, as if searching for a cue as to whether he should continue. She nodded faintly. "I've got a sort of project to work on. From Dumbledore. And I'm not really sure yet, but I sort of suspect it might start interfering with school and stuff. And I'm just not sure how much I'm going to be around in the near future."

Sirius stiffened. "A project? From Dumbledore?" he asked in a strained voice.

"Yeah," conceded Harry. "You know, to stop Voldemort."

"I know. I can imagine exactly the sort of project that Dumbledore would ask of you," said Sirius darkly. "And I say no way! Tell him to have someone else do it."

"I can't!" exclaimed Harry. "It has to be me."

"Of course it doesn't!" objected Sirius. "Look, I know that Dumbledore is quite excellent at convincing people that the fate of the world rests in their hands. He pulls that sort of thing all the time. He did it to Moony with his horrible missions to the werewolves." Sirius grimaced and jerked a thumb towards Remus. "But the truth is it doesn't. Someone else could have dealt with Greyback, and whatever it is that he's expecting of you most certainly can be done by someone who's already out of school and not throwing their future away."

"Sirius," said Harry in a voice that very clearly conveyed 'this is exactly why I wasn't going to tell you.' "It really does have to be me. It's not just Dumbledore who said so. There's also the prophecy…."

"Complete rubbish," dismissed Sirius. "There are thousands of prophecies that never come true. It's dangerous to put too much stock in the damn things."

"It doesn't matter if it's true or not. Voldemort thinks it is, that's all that counts. He's going to come after me, so I have to go after him first. I don't really have a choice in the matter, Sirius. It's going to be me or him."

"Well then. It doesn't have to be you alone though, does it?"

"It won't be me alone," Harry assured him. "I have Ron and Hermione."

"And me and Remus," said Sirius forcefully.

"Absolutely," agreed Remus immediately. "We'll come with you. We can help."

"I don't think I should tell you about it though," argued Harry. "It's secret."

"So don't tell us the details," said Remus immediately. "Just let us come and help when you need it."

"What do you think?" Harry turned to Hermione.

"Well…" mused Hermione. "Sirius knows a lot of really useful stuff. He helped me improve a ton with my dueling. And Professor Lupin is the best person we know at defensive magic. It probably would help us a lot if they were involved."

Harry then looked to Ron, who nodded in agreement.

"Alright then…" he said somewhat hesitantly. "Alright," he continued, a little more surely. "You can help. If I have to go away, you can come with."

"You bet we're coming with," Sirius verified. "Whatever it is that you need to do, we're going to make sure it goes okay. We're going to make sure that everything is okay."

Harry looked up into the unwavering confidence in his godfather's eyes. He turned and caught the same assuredness reflected in Remus's. He glanced at his two best friends, recalling every horrible situation that they'd helped him fight his way out of. And he knew that they were right.

Everything was going to be okay.