Harry couldn't get to sleep that night.

His mind kept going back and forth over the options Lupin—no, Remus, Harry had to get used to that—had given him. They weren't great options.

Living with strangers probably wouldn't be worse than living with the Dursleys. It wasn't as if a new set of guardians would love him or consider him part of their family, but they would protect him with their own wards, and they weren't likely to withhold food or let other kids in the house physically abuse him . . . or maybe they would. The Ministry would be the ones deciding where Harry would go to live, and they were the same people who had hired Umbridge.

And, of course, there were the blood wards to consider. With Voldemort constantly turning up, Harry could use every bit of protection he could get. He didn't really understand what Remus had been saying about mental health—it sounded like something Hermione might say, and it would probably make Ron roll his eyes and mutter something about girls and their emotions. So it was probably better to take his chances in a familiar place, even if it was unpleasant.

Then again, just the thought of returning to the Dursleys was making Harry feel nauseous. He was pretty sure they were still convinced Harry had been responsible for the dementors that had attacked Dudley, which meant that even threats about Sirius Black might not convince them to leave him alone.

Harry could feel his chest constricting with the weight of the decision. He wasn't sure how long he'd been tossing and turning—there were no clocks in the room where he was staying.

A light knock on the door almost made Harry jump straight out of bed.

The door opened, and Remus peeked inside. "Trouble sleeping?"

"Er, yeah, I guess. How did you know?"

Remus stepped into the room, carrying a thick blanket. "I could hear you tossing and turning from outside the door. I was just coming by to make sure you were warm enough. This old place can get chilly at night."

"Oh. I'm fine." Harry's cheeks burned at the thought that Remus had overheard his restlessness.

Remus raised an eyebrow, cast a quick lighting spell over the room, and came over to sit on the edge of the bed. "You're thinking about the Dursleys."

"It's . . . not an easy decision."

"Didn't I tell you to sleep on it?" Remus chided gently.

Harry shrugged. "I've been trying." He wished there were some way to keep the blood wards without having to live with his aunt and uncle for the whole summer. An idea occurred to him. "How long do I have to live at the Dursleys for the blood wards to remain in effect?"

Remus's eyes widened. "I see where you're going with this. I would guess at least a week or two."

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Harry sat up a little straighter, pressing his back against the headboard. He figured he could last a couple of weeks. "Two summers ago, the Weasleys took me to see the Quidditch World Cup. They came to pick me up partway through the summer."

"And now you're wondering if you might go to the Dursleys for a little while, then live elsewhere after the minimum time had elapsed."

Harry nodded. "I wouldn't even have to go through the Ministry or through Muggle law enforcement. I would still be under the Dursleys' care—er, I mean, they would legally be my guardians. I just . . . wouldn't have to spend much time with them."

Remus nodded slowly. "I'm afraid the Weasleys might have their hands a bit full."

"Er . . ." Harry shifted his weight a little. He hadn't really been thinking of going to the Weasleys anyway—he'd just brought it up as an example—but he didn't want to invite himself to stay at Grimmauld Place if Remus didn't want him here, and now he was too embarrassed to bring it up at all.

But Remus already seemed to know what he was thinking. "Harry, I'm not sure if this is the best place for you."

Harry winced. "I—I can pay for my own room and board."

"We would never ask for that. That's not the problem. The problem is that there is no one here who can take responsibility for you."

"I can take care of myself." Harry had been doing that much for years.

"I'm sure you can, but you are still underage. Legally, someone needs to be responsible for you. When you stay with the Weasleys, you fall under Arthur and Molly's care and authority, isn't that right?"

"Uh . . . I guess." Harry hadn't really thought about it that way, but he supposed they had provided for his basic needs while he was staying with them, and although they didn't really ask much of him, he was obligated to do anything they asked him to do—he helped a little with house chores, and he supposed he had to follow the same rules as Ron with regards to bedtime, mealtimes and keeping his space clean. "Can't Sirius be in charge of me?"

"Officially, Sirius isn't here."

"But he is."

"Harry, if anyone were to look into your affairs . . ."

"But they won't. My aunt and uncle don't care enough about me to mention anything to anyone."

Remus sighed. "There's more to it than that. Azkaban took a toll on Sirius. As much as he might like to, he's coming to terms with the fact that he's not ready to be a parent. There may come a day when his name is cleared and his health is improved, and he might be able to take responsibility for you and maybe even adopt you. As for right now, I'm afraid it simply isn't an option."

"Well then, can't . . ." You? Harry couldn't quite get out that last word.

But yet again, Remus understood. "Harry, you mean quite a bit to me. More than you know. It is for that reason that I cannot be the one to care for you."

Harry knew that there was quite a bit of prejudice in the Wizarding community revolving around werewolves—he'd seen much of it firsthand—but he always felt that those prejudices were a bit dramatic, and Remus dramatized his situation as a result. "Sir . . . I mean, Remus . . . I know Sirius isn't ready to take care of me for a whole summer. But what about for three days?"

"Three days?" Remus frowned.

"Yeah. Three days, each a month apart. That's how many full moons we'll have this summer, right?"

Remus looked away, his brow furrowing as if in deep thought. Harry's stomach turned, and he wished he hadn't brought it up. He knew it was a lot to ask of someone, and he shouldn't have made that kind of assumption.

Harry swallowed. "Just . . . never mind. Forget it."

"I can't, and I won't." Remus took a deep breath. "It's my turn to ask for some time to think. Let me sleep on this, Harry."

"Yeah, sure. Of course." But Harry's stomach was still turning somersaults.

Remus smiled gently and stood from the bed. Harry slid down under the covers, and Remus patted his back over the blankets. "Now you—" he gave Harry a stern look— "get some sleep."

"Yes, sir." Harry didn't correct himself this time. Sir felt right.

Remus gave one last nod and left the room. Harry closed his eyes, but he knew he would still be unable to sleep. Only now, Harry was sure Remus would be tossing and turning as well.