DISCLAIMER: Don't be stupid.

A/N: Another cute drabble, just a father/son moment that Harry doesn't remember between himself and Remus.

Dedication: To Ana, 'cause it's her BIRTHDAY! YAY! FOURTEEN! (So, for goodness sakes, start acting your age! You are no longer 3 years old!) LOL Luv you, Ana! (Oh, and I'll write you another Sirius fic soon. Promise. Give me a prompt, maybe?)

~Ari

The lights hold the child's gaze, calming, mesmerizing. The boy is sick - very sick. Unable to prevent him from shying away and crying, the man, kneeling on the ground in front of the broom cupboard under the stairs, had drawn a long, thin strip of ornately-carved wood from the folds of his tattered cloak. With a flick of his wrist, the lights had appeared.

"Blast!" he mutters as he hears a loud thump! from the stairs overhead, but another second and all is silent once more.

"Who are you?" whispers the four-year-old.

"Shh, child. My name is Remus, and I'll have you fixed up in no time."

"You're the doctor? Aunt said I didn't need a doctor," he says hoarsely.

Remus bristles at this: There no way anyone can deny the child's ailment.

"Not a doctor, precisely, child, but a friend," he answers.

"Friend?" the boy mumbles sleepily, as Remus continues to cause lights of various colors to dance around the ceiling of the cupboard.

Remus ceases the lights and casts a few charms. He withdraws two vials of potion from his cloak, and tips the first into the boy's mouth without resistance. The boy splutters, but swallows it.

He arranges his tired face into a grimace and murmurs, "Yucky!"

Remus chuckles and smooths the unruly black hair back in a soft gesture. He grimaces at the rough texture of the scar, that cursed scar, that blemishes the soft skin of the boy's forehead.

"Hush. One more, and you'll feel good as new," he says.

With some reluctance, the boy accepts the contents of the second vial.

True to Remus' word, the concoctions' affect is instantaneous. The aching, sniffling, shivery feeling of the flu leaves the child's body in slow but consistent bursts, but he is left feeling weak and exhausted.

He sighs and lays back, but Remus is not compelled to leave immediately. Instead, he directs his wand to the ceiling again, and a murmured incantation later, the Aurora Borealis swirl against the backdrop of the cupboard.

"What are they?"

The child's half-conscious voice was unexpected, and Remus starts slightly.

"Well, that depends on how you look at them. Some say that they are the souls of the dead watching over us," the worn-down werewolf whispers back, knowing the effect those words will have on the child.

The boy points to a swirl of green and gold, that looks as though it really could be two spirits intertwined in an intricate dance.

"Then that's Mummy and Daddy," he announces softly.

Remus feels tears prick his eyes at the child's downtrodden innocence.

"It is if you want it to be," he chokes out.

Dawn is approaching, and Remus notes it, so he lets the charm die, kisses Harry Potter's forever-marked brow, and withdraws.

Before he closes the cupboard door, however, he whispers one last word.

"Obliviate."

A/N: A little different from what I usually do, but I just HAD to. :)

~PhoenixFlameGinny67