Harry wasn't even missing his friends that much. He wasn't sure if it made him an awful person, but he quite liked his private little bubble of happiness. Sure, it got a little lonely sometimes — the three adults were often busy, and couldn't always be expected to entertain Harry's whims — but he was used to being lonely in the summer. It was nice not having to share with anyone, or make allowances for anyone, or fight for attention. At the Burrow, everything was chaos all the time, and Hogwarts was much the same. Here it was just him and his three sort-of guardians, and he was mostly left to his own devices unless he sought out company. His birthday was slowly approaching, and for once Harry was actually looking forward to celebrating it. Sirius was up to something, the dog animagus just giving Harry a mischievous grin every time he asked about birthday plans, and Harry was dying with curiosity.
Staring up at the brand new Holyhead Harpies poster stuck to his bedroom wall, Harry glanced over at his alarm clock. It was eight in the morning on a Saturday; Ceri wouldn't have breakfast ready for another hour. Sirius always liked to sleep in on weekends, unless they were going somewhere. If he could, he'd sleep in every day, but Remus kept insisting he couldn't laze about all morning.
Harry got up with a leisurely stretch, surprised to see Artemis perched outside his window. He grinned, bounding over to let her in. There was a letter tied to her leg, and once Harry had divested her of it she hooted softly and flew away, no doubt heading to the owlery. Harry opened the envelope with eager fingers.
Harry,
France is disgustingly hot. My poor fair skin is not made for these sorts of temperatures! Even with sun blocking charms, I'm having to spend most of my time indoors. Mother seems to think that's a perfect excuse to take me touring around old museums and such rot.
I refuse to believe you made a successful Wronski Feint. You'll have to show me when we get back to school, because I'm fairly sure you're lying to me. And if you're not lying, how dare you. Gryffindor can't win the cup two years in a row. That's just rude.
Have you been writing to Blaise Zabini? I was over at his house in Italy the other week and I could've sworn I saw this owl. If I'm not the only snake in your life, I'll be heartbroken, Potter. I thought we had something special.
Father visited yesterday. It was awful. There's something bothering him, and I don't know what it is, but it must spell trouble. I don't want to go back to England, not if it means putting up with his foul temper for the rest of the summer. Do you think I might burn to a crisp if I just stayed in France until September 1st?
I learnt a new card game from some French witches, too. They're daughters of my mother's friends. They go to Beauxbatons — that's another magic school out here on the continent, if you didn't know. The game is called Coup Le Chat, which is a ridiculous name that translates to 'blow the cat'. When I asked why, they just laughed. It's a fun game, I'll have to teach it to you. Though it's better with three players. Maybe we can invite Blaise to play with us, since you seem to have such fun talking to him.
Write to you soon, if I don't melt.
Draco Harry was smiling by the end of the letter, even if there was an odd, twisting sensation in the pit of his stomach when Draco mentioned spending time with French witches. Dudley always said that European girls were prettier than any English girls. Was that the same for witches?
Not that it mattered, if Draco was hanging out with pretty girls. Harry didn't care.
He set the letter aside on his desk to reply to later, shrugging on his new green dressing gown and heading down to breakfast. "Good morning, Potter," Snape greeted cordially, in his usual spot at the table with tea and a potions journal. No one else was up yet; except for Ceri, of course. She had Harry's orange juice headed towards his place before he could even ask for it, and he gave her a grin in thanks.
"Good morning, Professor. Remus not up yet?" The full moon was two nights ago, and he was still suffering a little from it.
"Not yet, but I don't think it will be long. He's feeling much better than he was yesterday."
"That's good. Is there a plan for the day?" With the moon, Harry wasn't sure if they were going to go anywhere like they did last Saturday. Sirius couldn't take him by himself, and he didn't want Remus to push himself.
"Indeed, but not until this evening. Plenty of time for Remus to gather his strength." As Severus spoke, they heard muffled footsteps down the stairs, and soon a drowsy Remus Lupin shuffled into the kitchen, mid-yawn. He ran a hand over the back of Harry's neck as he passed, then, to Harry's surprise, draped himself over Snape's back and buried his nose in the man's neck, pressing a kiss to the skin there. Snape didn't seem bothered, tilting his neck to bare it to the werewolf, who hummed in satisfaction.
"Smell good," he murmured. Snape's lips curled in the corners in what might have been a fond smile.
"Do sit Potter."
down,
you're
embarrassing Remus huffed softly, dragging his nose up Snape's jaw and pressing a kiss to his cheekbone. "Don't care." But he did take his seat at the table, even if it involved him shuffling his chair closer to Snape's and resting his head on the man's shoulder, letting his eyes fall half-shut.
Ever since Snape had finally removed Dumbledore's curse from Remus, allowing him to reconnect with his wolf side, he'd had the occasional day like this. Especially around the days of the full moon. Days when he let his wolf instincts out a little more keenly, when he was more aware of the scent and feel of pack. Harry had never see him be this affectionate to Snape, though. It was sort of sweet. And the way Snape wasn't even batting an eyelash, Harry wondered if the couple were more tactile in private. Remus had told him that Harry's parents and Sirius were the only ones to ever know the truth of their relationship, before; clearly keeping their distance in front of others was not a new thing for them.
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