Author's Note: Heaps of gratitude and thanks to my betas, Ivy and Kathleen. Without them this story would have been left to sit on my hard drive and twiddle its thumbs.

 

He felt as if he'd taken a large drink of milk, but had been expecting orange juice.

"So, you're...you're gay."

Remus' eyebrow twitched. Sirius swallowed.

"Why yes, we are quite happy. Thank you for your inquiry."

The eyebrow rose. Sirius tried again.

"We are." Said in the same light tone of voice Harry had heard him use this afternoon at the Weasley's.

No, I wouldn't like any pie, I had a big lunch, but thank you anyway.

No, I wouldn't like any sex with women, I prefer men, but thank you anyway.

He closed his mouth to cut off the sound forming in his throat, and paused for a moment before he risked speaking again. "And you're..." he waved his hand, "together."

"I should hope so, I'd like to thi-" He stopped when he noticed the face Harry was making.

"We are. Yes." Remus spoke this time.

There's a boggart in that drawer, Harry.

There's some lube in that drawer, Harry.

He shook his head violently. Bringing his eyes back to focus on the men before him, he almost snorted aloud. He didn't know much about them. Didn't know them at all, really. And now he was living in their house. In the house that only had an extra bedroom because the two of them shared one. He tried nodding at them, tried to keep his voice even. "Right then. I'm just...I'm just going to go the kitchen now."

They nodded back.

He realized once he was in the kitchen that this was the last place he wanted to be. Well, the last place save for their bedroom.

Snatches of the conversation that had started once he left their company filtered through the room.

"...can't believe it...James Potter's son...taking apparent issue with...relations between Moony and Padfoot."

Well what the fuck had they been expecting? He was James Potter's son. But he had been raised in the Dursley household. The Dursley household where he had learnt every single thing about the Muggle world he knew. The Dursley household where he had figured out his ABCs. The Dursley household where the condemning of homosexuality was served as a side dish at meals.

No one had seen fit upon his grand entrance into the wizarding world to correct the little nuances of his upbringing.

And so they stuck.

And so now he was in the Lupin/Black household. And so now he was just to take in stride the fact that two of his favorite people were engaged in an illicit affair. And so now, despite the fact that the Dursleys knew fuck all about anything, his brain was screaming that what they were doing was Not Right.

"...give the boy time...come around...probably quite a shock."

You bet your ass it was a shock. He scoffed silently, and he was hardly a boy anymore. He was a man.

"I can hear you in here!" he shouted, mumbling the next few words to himself, "thought you ought to know..."

His thoughts flashed briefly on an image of himself wearing the earmuffs they'd used while repotting the Mandrakes in second year. Earmuffs wouldn't do much against the roaring of blood in his head, which seemed louder than the voices from the next room.

He leaned against the counter, closing his eyes. If he tried hard enough, he could picture Hermione's breasts and how they looked above him, over him. He was assaulted with an image of Ron's chest. The chest he had only noticed in passing. The chest he had only noticed to acknowledge that his own would never quite be so broad. He recoiled physically, as if Ron were right in front of him.

This wouldn't do. This probably wouldn't do. This only wouldn't do if he was a prat about it. Fuck. Fucking hell. Fucking goddamn shit hell.

This was in his hands. He could prance (NOT prance. STOMP.) about and make like he was uncomfortable, and he would be, or he could reason this all out right now and deal. with. it.

And why should there be anything for him to deal with? Why should he be bothered by this at all? There was a...hole. They were filling it. So what that it wasn't the same, er, hole he used? And there was love. That much he understood. Meaningful looks and layered conversations came rushing back to him. Of course. He should have seen it all before. Bloody good Auror he was going to make, didn't even notice a homosexual relationship between two people he was close to.

And he knew that he wouldn't even feel this way were he not raised by the Dursleys. Were he living with his parents. Were they not dead. Were they not killed by Voldemort.

Fucking Voldemort. To blame even for his own bigotry.

He felt his back pocket for the pack of cigarettes he had bought this morning.

There they were.

He threw a glance at the doorway, should he tell them he was going outside? No. They'd know. Or they'd figure it out.

With the backdoor still banging against the frame, he pulled out his wand and lit the tip of a cigarette, inhaling deeply. They tasted like shit, but he had taken them up in a fit of petulance after a row with Hermione and he wasn't quite ready to give them up yet. She'd probably be mad at him again soon anyway; he was due.

He was halfway though his second one when he felt, rather than heard, Remus walk up beside him. The backdoor never banged for Remus. Oh fucking hell. He was not going to twist that sentence around. He just wasn't.

"May I bum one of those, Harry?"

At least he wasn't going to get a lecture.

He gruffly pulled out the pack and shoved it into Remus' hand.

"You may, but, I swear to God, if you make one comment about phallic symbolism..."

Remus looked amused.

"God, eh? Not Merlin? Or on all things magic?"

He knew. Of course he knew.

And he wasn't going to beat around the bush about it either.

"Er...no. God. Not that I believe...it's just one of those things. A Muggle thing. A Dursley thing." He was relieved to notice that he felt embarrassed.

"And your reaction to my relationship with your godfather? That's a Dursley thing too, isn't it?"

He wanted to yell. Of course it's a Dursley thing, you idiot! You were all so concerned with teaching me how to be a savior, no one taught me how to be a decent human being! And obviously I know that the Dursleys are daft and I know wizards aren't the bane of the planet and that not chewing my food twenty-four times isn't going to kill me and that boys who wank off aren't going to hell, but fuck all if that ‘homosexuality is unnatural' thing didn't fix itself in!

He kicked at the ground with his shoe, vaguely annoyed when dirt scuffed the toe. "It is."

Remus thought for a minute. Harry watched him warily, half expecting to see him stroke his chin or do something equally infuriating. "That's fine, Harry. I-- no, we-- know it's not you. It's hard to go against the school of thought you were raised with. Sirius would never admit it, but I'm sure there's a tiny part of him, buried deep somewhere, that twinges every now and again and insists on pureblood superiority. The trick is to ignore it, out-think it, and know the truth."

And the truth was what? That recreational sex with no hope of ever EVER reproducing was within the acceptable limits of Right and Wrong?

Of course it bloody was.

He scrambled to revoke the disparaging thought about recreational sex. It probably wasn't a good idea to even think things like that, lest his brain decide to cement it and cause erectile dysfunction or some other equally horrifying problem the next time he and Hermione had a moment alone together.

"I know the truth. It's fine. You love each other. I can't help it that my hair stands on end at the thought of it. Even if I ignore it, something in me just...reacts. I've never really been exposed to it before to try and...not react."

He was thrown an incredulous look.

And, then, a new voice, and Sirius was standing next to them.

"Never? None of your mates at school...? A waste, that. That school has loads of pla-... Right."

Sirius was exactly what this conversation did. not. need.

It felt like he was going to war with himself. There was the almost all-encompassing love he had for Sirius fighting the stomach lurch/gag/dizzy/nauseated feeling that he got from watching him pluck the cigarette out of Remus' fingers and take a long drag from it.

Clearly underestimating the tension of the situation, Sirius started up again. "And there are loads of people like us." He said ‘like us' as if they both had curly hair or could roll their tongues.

"That Muggle band you both like, the...um...Velour Middle-earth? Their front man had some, er, dalliances. And that painter that put them on."

Fucking hell.

Remus echoed his thought. "Fucking hell, Sirius. The Velvet Underground? Is that where you were going? And Lou Reed and Andy Warhol? And Middle-earth?" Remus sighed, "Well, at least you're reading something."

He was more than mildly surprised to notice that with a few minor changes this could have been a remark Hermione made to him. It was distinctly odd. They were a couple...but...but...

He almost hit himself right there. Almost just hauled off and punched himself, right in the face. Why was every nerve ending in his body screaming? Ron would be happy for them. Hermione would probably beam and gush and say she ‘knew it all along.' And here he was just being an asshole.

He knew of political correctness. Knew he could fake a smile and announce his acceptance. He also knew that his face never lied and that Lupin was far too astute for his own good.

Sirius had realized that what had looked like an innocent conversation in the backyard was actually a minefield and had started babbling as if hoping he would spew forth the Right Thing to Say at any second.

"They did all those Muggle drugs though. You don't do drugs, do you, Harry?" He clapped a hand on his shoulder and tried to look him in the eye, adopting a teasing voice, "Don't do drugs, boy."

Several impulses struck him at one. The impulse to shrug Sirius' hand off. The impulse to run until he found some drugs. The impulse to vomit. The impulse to laugh at the ridiculousness of every single fucking thing that had ever happened to him. The impulse to bawl like a child at how lacking he felt. The impulse to Apparate to Hermione's and reaffirm where his own tendencies lay. The impulse to claw at his head until the blood singing, "It's wrong...it's wrong...it's wrong..." gushed out.

He ignored them all and forced his own action. He withdrew another cigarette from the pack and lit it.

Sirius grinned cheekily, obviously thinking Harry was playing. Harry had never been more serious in his life.

His eyed darted in desperation to Remus.

"Sirius...why don't you see what you can come up with for dinner? Harry and I will be in shortly." His tone barred any argument.

Sirius' eyes flew to Remus' and they appeared to have a lengthy conversation in the air between them, ending when Sirius nodded curtly, threw his cigarette in the dirt and ground it out, walking back into the house.

Harry exhaled audibly. "Thank you."

"You're quite welcome."

"I...er...I'm sorry...I..."

Remus raised a hand up to stop him.

"There's no need to apologize, Harry."

He felt like he was in third year and Remus was insisting he have some chocolate.

"All I'm asking is that you give the idea of us a chance. I need for you to not freeze up or cut yourself off. You're important to us. To me. Your father, and mother, for that matter, were always accepting of us, and I would like nothing better than for you to be as well."

Harry watched the cigarette Sirius had discarded roll away on a breeze before forcing his gaze onto Remus.

He tried, failingly, not to eye him critically. There was nothing about him that screamed ‘poof.' His clothes were normal enough. An oxford under a jumper, the collar folded down on top of it, tails sticking out from the bottom, sleeves cuffed up to below his elbows. Worn-looking jeans. Black boots. And his hair...well, he didn't think he was in a position to judge anybody's hair.

Remus cleared his throat, obviously fishing for some sort of response.

Harry shrugged, he couldn't very well just flat out refuse, and it wasn't like he wanted to feel like this.

And Remus had played the parents card.

"I'll try. I...I'll try, but it...it might take a while."

He hated how young his voice sounded. He hated that it cracked and that he stammered. He hated that they were even having this conversation. He hated how fast he had felt like a stranger in the house he was to call home.

Remus nodded. "I understand."

Harry cringed. Of course he understood, he'd only lived with intolerance his entire life. And now his own godson, for all intents and purposes anyway, was the one judging him unfairly.

He suddenly, desperately needed to lighten the mood.

"Just no kissy-face in front of me, all right?"

Remus grinned, slowly, as if acclimating to the abrupt shift in conversation, but it was a grin nonetheless. "Same goes for you and Hermione then. I know she's planning on visiting soon."

"How did...how did you know about that? Us being together, I mean."

"Oh, come on now, Harry. It fairly rolls off the two of you in waves."

He glanced up at Remus. At Professor Lupin. At a werewolf. At his godfather's boyfriend.

All right then.

He dropped his cigarette to the ground.

He'd try, like he promised, and maybe someday...someday he would take a drink and the orange juice would really be orange juice.