Meanwhile, Harry was having a difficult time at Hogwarts. The new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Gilderoy Lockhart, was as insufferable as he was incompetent. Hermione kept a watchful eye on Harry, making sure that Lockhart's attempts to pull him aside for "private lessons" or "exclusive interviews" didn't get too far.
Ron, munching on a biscuit in the common room one evening, muttered, "Mate, you might as well hide in here at this point. That git's obsessed."
Harry scowled, nearly at his wit's end. "I swear, I'm this close to writing to Sirius and Tony. If Lockhart tries anything else, he's going to get an angry godfather and an even angrier half-brother breathing down his neck."
Hermione, who'd been reading but also keeping an eye on Harry, shifted uncomfortably. "Honestly, I've seen how he tries to corner you, Harry. It's not right." She hesitated, glancing between the two boys. "We should report it to Professor McGonagall. She'd do something."
But Harry shook his head stubbornly. "It wouldn't matter. They all know—he's a fraud, but Dumbledore still let him teach. And besides, if we complain, it might just make things worse."
Ron's frown deepened. "It's mental that no one's stopping him. What's the point of having teachers if they don't protect us?"
At that moment, Ginny approached, clearly wanting to say something. Ron gave her a quick glare. "Not now, Ginny. We'll talk later."
She looked hurt but left without arguing.
Harry sighed. "You didn't have to be so rude to her, Ron."
Hermione nodded in agreement. "She's just trying to help."
Ron shifted uncomfortably, muttering, "Yeah, well… I just—"
Harry cut him off gently. "She's your sister, mate. We've got to look out for each other."
Hermione gave Harry a grateful smile, and even Ron managed a small, apologetic nod.
They might have had bigger problems with Lockhart, but at least they still had each other.
Harry frowned, a sudden memory surfacing. He turned to Hermione with a questioning look. "Hey, what did the Headmaster want from you and Ron the other day?"
Both Hermione and Ron visibly tensed. Hermione's fingers twisted the corner of her book while Ron shifted uncomfortably.
Ron finally broke the silence. "He… he wanted to know where you were spending your time. Like, where you go after classes."
Harry's brows furrowed. "Why does he care?"
Hermione didn't look up. She bit her lip, her voice firm but quiet. "It's not really his business. Not after everything that's happened."
Harry glanced at her in confusion, but Hermione just shook her head, her expression determined. "He doesn't need to know who you're staying with. Not after I heard from Tony what you've been through. He's got no right to ask."
Ron glanced at Hermione, surprised by how fierce she sounded, then turned to Harry. "We didn't tell him anything. He's got enough on his plate without knowing about Sirius and Tony."
Harry let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, you two."
Hermione's eyes softened as she finally looked at him. "You've got people looking out for you, Harry. Remember that."
Harry managed a small smile, grateful for his friends. "I know."
Two months later, Sirius and Tony found themselves driving through the French countryside, following a lead Tony had uncovered on Remus Lupin's whereabouts. Tony had a conference in France anyway, and Sirius was determined to find his old friend. They were joined by Johnny Skylar, a Muggleborn wizard from MACUSA who Tony had hired to help with magical tracking.
With Sirius help, of course.
The car hummed quietly as they navigated the winding roads toward their hotel. Sirius, normally the life of any gathering, had grown uncharacteristically quiet, staring out the window at the passing buildings.
Tony glanced at him from the driver's seat, sunglasses perched on his nose. "You've been awfully quiet, Pads. What's going on in that mutt brain of yours?"
Sirius sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's… complicated, Tony. James and I—we were always suspicious of Remus. Back then, we had this paranoia that maybe he was the spy. But it wasn't him. It was that bloody rat." His jaw clenched. "And Dumbledore… He used him, sending him off to talk to werewolves, get them on the Order's side. He never told us. Never told anyone."
Tony's brows furrowed. "That's messed up."
"Yeah," Sirius muttered. "Remus deserved better than that. And now I don't know how he'll look at me. I should've trusted him."
Johnny, lounging in the back seat with his feet propped up, chimed in. "Remus is a good man. From what I've heard, he never blamed you for being suspicious. He's had it rough, mate. Being a werewolf isn't exactly a picnic."
Sirius let out a humorless laugh. "No kidding."
They pulled up to the hotel, a charming old stone building with ivy climbing the walls. Tony parked and turned off the engine, then faced Sirius with a serious expression. "Look, Pads. Whatever happens when you see Remus—he's your brother all but in blood, Don't forget that."
Sirius swallowed hard, then nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, Tony."
Johnny slapped Sirius's shoulder as they got out. "Let's get some dinner, then find your friend. Might as well do it properly."
Sirius managed a small smile as they made their way inside. "Yeah. Let's."
——
Remus had just finished his shift at the small Muggle bookshop he'd managed to get part-time work at. The pay was barely enough to cover rent and his Wolfsbane Potion—when he couldn't even afford it—but it was work, and he was grateful for it. The full moon had been three weeks ago, yet he still looked like a man recovering from a nasty bout of flu. His complexion was pale, his clothes worn but clean, his eyes tired.
He left the shop with a sigh, tugging his threadbare coat closer against the cool evening air. A small café caught his eye, promising a cheap cup of coffee and maybe a croissant or two. Anything to fill the emptiness in his belly—and to drown the ache of another lonely day.
Remus ordered his coffee, counting money carefully before handing them over. As he waited, he caught a familiar scent—warm, with a hint of old cologne and something unmistakably Sirius.
A tap on his shoulder made him stiffen. He turned slowly, his heart already hammering in his chest.
Sirius Black stood there, frowning with concern. His grey eyes flickered over Remus's thin, worn frame. "Moony," Sirius said, his voice thick with emotion, "James and Lily would be disappointed in how you're letting yourself go."
Remus froze, unable to find his voice. His throat closed up with a mix of relief and shame. He'd dreamed of this moment—feared it too—convinced himself that Sirius would hate him for being so weak, for not being stronger, for failing Harry.
Sirius chuckled softly at his stunned silence, then reached forward and pulled Remus into a hug, his arms strong and comforting.
That simple gesture shattered Remus's walls. His arms slowly came up to wrap around Sirius, and he held on, trembling.
He wanted to tell Sirius how sorry he was, how ashamed he was that he'd let himself fall so low, how he'd thought no one would come for him. But all that came out was a strangled, "Pads…"
Sirius pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, his grin fierce. "You've got a lot to make up for, Moony," he teased gently. "But I'm here now. And you're stuck with me."
Remus let out a breath that was half a laugh, half a sob. "I missed you so much."
Sirius clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, let's get you sorted."
As they stepped out into the night, Remus felt the weight of the world lift, just a little. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't alone anymore.