Disclaimer: Not even remotely mine.

Notes: Hey guys! Augh, it's been way too long, I know, it's just been so difficult to structure what I want into something that's worth of the storyline, you know? No excuses though, I'm a horrible person and I take full responsibility for my absence! :(

Updates will be a bit sporadic, but trust me when I say that this story is far from abandoned!

A very special thank you and shout out to Skate312 and lojosmom, who have kept on encouraging me and reminding me to get back to this baby! I haven't always replied to you lovelies, but I hope you both know how much I truly appreciate your support and encouragement and kind words! You guys are superstars! ^_^ This one is dedicated to you both!

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"I did, Mummy! I did see a rat!"

Those words, coming from a passing by little girl, was enough to slam Sirius unforgivingly back to reality from the temporary residence he'd taken up in Wishful Thinking.

His blood froze in his veins and he was fairly certain that it was only Harry, perched obliviously on his shoulders that kept him from losing his cool completely. "Did you hear that?" he muttered to Remus under his breath. It was a pointless question as he could see from the tightness in his best mate's features that indeed; he had heard it.

"We have no reason to expect it was Pettigrew," Moony muttered back, even as his body remained tense and on guard. "Don't jump to conclusions."

But Sirius couldn't help it. The Auror in him, the man that had been trained for war straight out of school, the man who'd lived through the deaths of two of his brothers, that man had learned in the worst ways that sometimes, his direst expectations were dreadfully spot-on.

He'd been worried that Reggie would be pressured into joining the Dark side. He had brushed off his concerns and regretted it.

He'd been worried that James and Lily's position would somehow be compromised. He had brushed off his concerns and regretted it.

He was worried now, about Pettigrew somehow managing to slip through their defenses. He wasn't aiming to make it three for three.

Not for the first time since the traitor had escaped, Sirius berated himself for having never revealed his knowledge of Pettigrew's rat form. After James and Lily's death, there had been several selfish reasons not to; Sirius defended it to himself at the time with the logic that he would have been implicated with that information coming to light, and the charges of duplicity that would have inevitably been brought up against him would have made a permanent streak on his Auror career. By itself, he might not have minded that, but the position had been of such high value to the Order, especially as they began to usher in a new era that was free of Voldemort's tyranny. The advantages in maintaining his station had outweighed the miniscule possibility that Pettigrew's animagus would have helped the Ministry catch him faster.

In reality, Sirius knew, the driving force behind keeping that information a secret had more to do with revenge than any sort of responsible, strategic thinking on his part. Knowing how to identify the rat gave him an edge, one that he had always intended on using if he was ever granted the opportunity to kill Peter. And he had fully intended on killing the pitiful excuse of a human being; would have begun hunting him down right after Hagrid had taken Harry from him, that night at Godric's Hollow, if not for the fact that he had been worried about his Godson. Rather than immediately going after Pettigrew, he had apparated to Remus' house and explained everything that had happened, but before he could convince Moony to check on Harry while he went after the rat, Dumbledore had arrived and basically held him at wand point until he'd learned the truth about who the Potters' secret keeper had been. Even after that interrogation, though, he had managed to keep the animagus revelation away from his Auror colleagues, knowing it would serve him well whenever he did manage to track down Pettigrew; because after all, who would think twice about a dead rat?

Not that his plan had seen fruition. When he and Remus had finally cornered Peter in a dingy alley next to a nameless pub in the heart of downtown London, he had been sure that they would kill him together – for James, and for Lily – but before they could do any such thing, Lucius Malfoy had shown up. There was never any proof (that Sirius could find, anyway) that the man had been there to meet Peter, but the damage had been done, and Malfoy had immediately alerted the Ministry, subsequently ruining any possibility of them sweeping Pettigrew himself under the proverbial rug.

Sirius had been forced to settle for seeing Peter thrown in Azkaban, and once he was, it had no longer seemed relevant to mention anything about their illicit animagus transformations. Of course, he hadn't foreseen the possibility of wimpy and weak little Pettigrew escaping; but who could have predicted that someone would breach the security at the wizarding prison stronghold, leave alone doing it successfully enough to allow Wormtail time to slip through the chaos? It was another thing that had been playing obsessively on his mind; who was the mystery security breach, and why had only Peter been able to escape? What about the rest of the crazed fanatics there, like his blasted cousin and her zealot husband? For now, without any information at his disposal, he was forced to speculate, and none of the theories he was coming up with seemed heartening.

Despite how little they knew about what had happened, Sirius still couldn't bring himself to disclose the animagus secret. Not only because of how long ago it had happened, but also because he had Harry to think about now, and he simply couldn't take the chance that he would prosecuted normally for the old crime, which constituted two years in Azkaban. It just wouldn't do any good to anyone, bringing that to light now.

But if that rat had been Pettigrew, Sirius realized, then he would have to be far more vigilant with Harry's safety, not to mention work much harder to find a way on to the team of Aurors that were covering the traitor's escape.

Plucking Harry off his shoulders, Sirius readjusted his hold to his hip. Easier to protect him, that way, to shield his Godson with his body if it came down to it.

When the young Potter looked up at him curiously, Padfoot just smiled and winked, not intending on sharing his concerns with his six-year-old charge. Some part of him felt almost irrationally like Harry was seeing through him, but how could he?

He was just a child, after all.

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If there was an emotion that Harry was keenly familiar with, it was fear.

He'd spent so much of his short life living in it, bathing in it, drowning in it. There were times he felt that he needed to be brave instead of fearing so much, but what else could he feel when the person he cowered from was so many times larger than he? When he had no means with which to defend himself? When there was nothing by way of motivation to be brave?

Sure, he had defended people against Dudley and his little band of torturers and turned their anger on him, but that wasn't brave. That was just the firm knowledge that he could handle their torment much better than someone else for how often he'd endured it.

Padfoot and Moony, they were brave. They had rescued him without showing even a little bit of fear for Uncle Vernon and when that awful man – Mr. Fudge – had come into his hospital room, they hadn't even so much as flinched before they were telling him to go away. They were much, much braver than Harry thought himself to be, but then…

…why did he see that all-too-familiar emotion lurking on the fringes of both his guardians' mannerisms?

It wasn't very difficult to spot, given his familiarity with it. The hint of strain in Padfoot's smile, the way Moony's eyes shifted ever so often over the people in the store, it was all there, plain as day. Harry wanted to console himself with the thought that they were just worried about losing him again, but something told him that there was something else brewing on the horizon. The same thing, perhaps, that they'd had to see Mr. Dumbledore about.

There was something going on. He didn't know what it was, whether it was good or bad, or how it had all come to pass, but there was something going on.

He wanted, more than anything, to help take the fear away. Padfoot and Moony had always helped him when he was afraid or upset, and he wished he could return the favour, but he didn't want to ask them and get into trouble for being such a know-it-all. He'd done that once, tried to help Aunt Petunia with some French she was having trouble with in something she was reading; all that had gotten him was a bare look of disgust from her, and a beating from Uncle Vernon when he explained learning French from a book in Mrs. Figgs' house. Though he knew that his new guardians wouldn't do what his old ones did, that didn't mean that he wanted to hurt them any more than he had apparently hurt the Dursleys.

Not that he understood how his eidetic memory had hurt them, but obviously it had, or they mightn't have been so mean to him.

Taking all of that into account, Harry felt himself in rather a predicament. How was he meant to help Padfoot and Moony without them realizing that he saw their fear? They were really clever and then besides, he didn't want to lie.

As he made himself comfortable on Padfoot's hip, he grew slightly quieter with his concentrated thoughts. Seeking comfort in a way that he relished being able to do, Harry rested his head against Sirius' collarbone, snuggling into his side with as much contentment as one could have when they were thinking so deeply about ways in which they could help their worried guardians.

"Tired, pup?" Sirius asked softly, his other arm coming up around Harry and cuddling him close, a gesture painfully unfamiliar to the young Potter, but one he enjoyed immensely.

He shook his head without lifting it. "Just wanted a hug," he replied equally quietly, unable to quash the lingering concern that his affection would be rebuffed. He shouldn't have worried, it seemed, because Padfoot only rumbled a pleased laugh and cuddled him closer still. It made Harry smile even despite his thoughts. His arms tightened around his Godfather's neck.

"Well," Sirius grinned down at him as he eventually straightened again, lifting his head, "I am more than happy to give you hugs whenever you want them. Moony too, I reckon."

As if to supplement the words with actions, Harry felt himself being plucked from Sirius' arms, and the grip was familiar enough that the young boy only giggled slightly from the tickling grip underneath his arms.

Moony held him the same way Padfoot had, cuddling him with a fond smile. "With a great deal of pleasure, cub," he added by way of reassurance, making Harry beam up at him.

Amazingly, as he looked upon his favourite adults now, some of their fear seemed to have been abated. Though that hadn't been his intention, it had been the hugs that had inexplicably helped to ease his beloved new guardians' ill ease! Apparently, hugs comforted grown-ups as well. Who knew?

Certainly not Harry, but nevertheless he was glad of it. He could give hugs all the time, and the knowledge made him feel a lot less powerless in the face of whatever the danger was that was apparently surrounding them.

Not for the first time, Harry found himself wondering what was going on that was so secretive. Mr. Dumbledore had given Harry the distinct feeling of being examined. He felt as if the older man would show no small amount of eagerness, if given the opportunity to question him, but for the life of him Harry could not begin to understand what was so interesting about him that warranted questions. He was just plain, normal, boring Harry. Except, alright, he was a wizard now, according to Moony, but so was Mr. Dumbledore, so why on earth would that make him any more special than Moony or Padfoot? And he had an eidetic memory, sure, but there was no way anyone besides him, the Dursleys, and his old teachers knew that.

For those reasons, the Potter heir was inclined to believe that the imminent danger had something to do with him. Automatically, his mind jumped to the Dursleys, but as afraid of Uncle Vernon as he had been, his guardians had decidedly not been, and so it made no sense that his bulky uncle was the one looking to see him hurt. Of course, in general, he probably was, but if he was the one looking for Harry, then there was little doubt in the Potter's mind that Padfoot and Moony would not have looked apprehensive so much as furious.

But who else was there that wished him ill?

He'd always tried not to cause harm to anyone, and as far as he could be, he was always polite and kind, if a little snarky at times when challenging someone or standing up to them. Those times were rare though, and usually in defense of someone else; certainly not enough to cause anyone to feel as maliciously as Harry had the distinct idea this unknown attacker was feeling for him.

There was, however, nothing to be done for it. Harry could see easily that his guardians were not intending on telling him about the apparent threat, and he marveled at the love behind their decision enough not to dispute it.

He would simply have to be extra careful from now on. And he had Padfoot and Moony! They would protect him.

Harry had never been certain of much in his short life, but of this, he was convinced.

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Remus remembered the day Harry was born with such stark clarity.

He had been on an Order mission – top secret, recruit the packs type of business that Dumbledore had him engaging in, with his friends none the wiser of the dangerous position he had placed himself in – and when he'd finally gotten back home, he'd barely sat down before being ambushed by Sirius' patronus. The silvery Grim – much like Padfoot himself – was wildly energetic and excitable, and it had run around Remus in circles with an unrestrained happiness that matched Sirius' voice as he announced that Lily was in labour.

All his previous fatigue had been easily forgotten in light of the birth of their first Mini-Marauder, as James had dubbed the unborn baby. Remus remembered immediately apparating to the hospital and though the whirlwind of activity when he'd arrived was a little hazy, the memory of holding Harry for the first time remained crystal clear in his mind, even in his darkest moments.

The tiny, vulnerable, delicate baby boy had fitted in his arms as though Remus had spent a lifetime holding him. The thought of being nervous about the fragility of newborns hadn't even occurred to him until he'd realized that Sirius was feeling that rather acutely; which in itself was rather a turn of the norm, that Padfoot was being the more cautious of the two of them. Instead, carrying Harry had the effect of making all Remus' doubts clear away; even the ones that he had most trouble with, like whether or not his furry little problem would somehow hurt the baby Potter. There was nothing but gentleness in his heart whenever Harry was placed in his hold. It superseded every other emotion.

This time was no exception. Lupin couldn't help noticing how Harry seemed built more like a four-year-old than his own six years, but instead of dwelling on another physical representation of the years of neglect his surrogate nephew had suffered, the werewolf simply relished the sense of calm and serenity that Harry always brought him. Any concern and residual fury that had flooded him at Padfoot's suspicions of Pettigrew being in close proximity slowly ebbed away, to be replaced with warmth and steady confidence. Because how could anything happen to Harry this time, when both of them would be glued to his side constantly until the threat was neutralized? They weren't going to let the young Potter be hurt again, that was just out of the question.

Harry didn't seem too perturbed, ignorant as he was to the danger that was aimed at him. He was settled comfortably in Remus' hold, still looking around him with barely contained intrigue that made Lupin smile. The chaos of Quality Quidditch was bound to attract any child, but Harry looked like he was interested in everything, not just the chatter and the bustling people, or the rogue practice Snitch that was zipping cheerfully around the store.

In fact, if he wasn't mistaken, the young Potter was looking drawn to a display on the Appleby Arrows that had been set up, keen green eyes scanning the bright turquoise and silver colours in a way eerily similar to how his father used to look at things that interested him. What was even more coincidental was the fact that James had been an avid Arrows supporter; something Remus was fairly certain Harry couldn't have possibly known or remembered.

Sirius had noticed Harry's interest as well, and needed no further prompting to steal the little boy back, chattering animatedly as Godfather and Godson approached the display. Remus lagged behind, both to mull on his own thoughts and to watch the pair's backs.

James, you would be spitting mad at the thought of everything your son has had to endure.

Melancholy and regret tinged the first thought that sprung unbidden into his mind. What was worse, was knowing how furious his best friend would be at him and Padfoot; James had been as fervently protective of Harry as Lily had been, and there was no conceivable excuse to justify the fact that his son had suffered while Remus and Sirius had still been alive. The werewolf knew for a fact that, had James survived that awful night, he would have cheerfully ignored every single thing that Dumbledore insisted upon, and fetched his son himself. Something, Remus was beginning to realize, that they should have done as well. Hindsight really was 20-20.

Filing his self-recrimination for a time when Harry wasn't around, Moony approached the display where Sirius was giving their young charge a quick rundown on all things Quidditch.

"What's that?" Harry asked, pointing up to where the practice Snitch was now hovering playfully above their heads. Green eyes were wide and sparkling with delight as he followed the motion of the fluttering ball.

Sirius sent Remus a grin, and the werewolf knew that they were both thinking of all the many times that James used to play with his Snitch. The damned thing had been a perpetual fixture in their lives for years, buzzing around the dorm at all hours, since there were times even James couldn't catch it.

"That," Padfoot answered with flourish, "is the Golden Snitch. It's the fastest ball in the game, and also the smallest. The player who has to catch it is called the Seeker, and each team has only got one of them. The Seeker that catches the Snitch earns their team 150 points, and also ends the game, but it can take ages because of how fast and sneaky the Snitch is."

Harry seemed to absorbing all the information for later analysis, while still following the motion of the Snitch with his keen gaze. "And my daddy was a… Chaser?" he asked, testing the word out so carefully that Lupin had to grin, despite the flash of pain that always accompanied talk of James.

"Yes," Sirius nodded, smiling proudly, but he wasn't as successful hiding the flash of pain that dulled his grey eyes. Remus knew that, for as much as he missed Prongs, Sirius missed him exponentially more. The bond that he'd had with James was about as unfathomable as the one he had with Harry; Remus had stopped trying to understand both many years ago. "He was the best Chaser Hogwarts had seen for many years."

At the knowledge, Harry all but beamed. It was obvious that the child hungered for stories of his parents, and Remus had to wonder whether there was anything that he knew about them. For their treatment of the innocent young child, the werewolf doubted that those blasted Dursleys had told him anything, or if they had, it probably wasn't anything that was true. The werewolf made a mental note to himself about finding some of their old school things; as painful as it might be for them, Harry deserved to hear all about his parents from the people who knew them best; and Remus and Sirius owed it to James and Lily to tell their son about more than their death. To tell him about their life, and about their love, and about their legacy.

They owed them that much.

A smile touched Remus' face as he watched Harry's gaze follow the Snitch. Green eyes tracked the movement of the fluttering ball with a fascination that led the werewolf to believe that perhaps James' son had more of an affinity for Seeking, than Chasing, like his father.

As if he wanted to prove Remus' theory, Harry all but jumped out of Sirius' arms as the Snitch dipped close to him.

It had only been for a fraction of a second, but before it could zip back up, Harry's small fingers closed over the delicate Snitch. Remus didn't know which emotion was more prevalent in that moment; the relief that Padfoot had managed to keep a hold of the small child, or the amazement at the quick reflexes and dexterity that allowed a six-year-old to catch, even a practice Snitch.

"Blimey!" Sirius whistled, beaming at his Godson, and obviously he had no hesitation about what to feel. Harry grinned brightly back at them, seeming pleased with their reaction in a way that warmed Remus. It was clear that the young boy valued their approval. "Did you see that, Moony?" Padfoot asked him eagerly, looking more excited than Harry himself. "Kid's a natural Seeker! He's even better at that than James was!"

It was true, to an extent; indeed, Harry caught it faster than James might have, but there was something to be said about the level of difficulty that the practice Snitch had been set to. Remus knew better than to point that out, though, especially considering how brightly the child was beaming.

Before he could answer, a young man that looked rather familiar approached them, a stunned look on his face. "That was quite the catch, little man!" He spoke directly to Harry, a jovial grin accompanying warm eyes. "I don't think I could have done it better myself!"

If the wide eyes of Padfoot hadn't clued him in, Remus would still have placed the face a moment later; Cooper Sullivan, the Seeker for the Appleby Arrows, was the quickest Seeker of their generation, and the youngest, straight out of school when he'd begun playing for them twelve years ago. Both James and Sirius had been massive fans when Coop had been recruited, and since he was still such a high-profile player all these years later, it was obviously for a good reason.

"Thank you," Harry replied politely, if a little shyly, when he realized that neither of his guardians were speaking. Remus might have felt chagrined, but he was trying too hard not to burst out laughing at the gobsmacked look Padfoot was sporting. The young child held the Snitch out to the player, still blissfully oblivious. "And thank you for letting me play with it."

The young Seeker seemed just as taken with Harry as everyone else that had ever met the little boy. "Oh, hey, it's not mine, Kid," Cooper shook his head with a soft grin, reaching out and gently closing Harry's fist around it once again. "I think you should keep it. The Seeker usually gets to keep the Snitch after they catch it, and I know the owner, she owes me one." He winked conspiratorially at Harry before throwing a grin at a woman who was standing not far from them, watching the scene with a soft smile while she dealt with other customers. The look shared between the two made Remus wonder whether there were romantic entanglements, but regardless of who she was, the woman nodded encouragingly at Harry, giving him permission.

"Wow, thank you!" Harry grinned brightly at Sullivan and towards the woman, green eyes sparkling as he cradled the Snitch protectively to his chest in a gesture that reminded Remus exactly how young he was. Harry tended to act so mature at times that it became hard to tell. It showed now, however, as the Potter heir turned to Sirius excitedly, showing him the fluttering golden ball. "Pa- Sirius, see! I get to be a Seeker!"

Blinking slightly at the correction that he knew would only mean something to him and Padfoot, Remus searched his mind, trying to remember if they'd ever told Harry not to use their Marauder nicknames in public, or if they'd ever given him any indication that he should use discretion when calling them that.

He didn't think they had… but then, how had the child known?

Sirius' slightly strangled voice interrupted his thoughts. "Brilliant, mate!" Now, focused on his Godson, the man seemed to be coming back to his wits. "Now we just need to get you a broom!"

Remus groaned softly to himself and acknowledged the irony in the parallel between James and Sirius and Harry and Sirius; it seemed that either permutation had the ability to give him something to worry about. On the bright side, his cub didn't actively enjoy getting a rise out of him the way James used to.

Merlin, he missed his friend.

But as he looked upon Harry, who was listening intently as Sirius chattered happily on with Cooper Sullivan, Remus found that the jagged edge of pain was starting to smooth out a little.

Maybe they were all starting to heal a little bit.

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Notes: A little shorter than my last few, yes, but please bear with me! If anyone has a request or suggestion of something they would like to see, please don't hesitate to float me the idea! Definitely can't be bad for the muse, right? ;)

Thanks for reading!