"Harry likes you, you know," said Sirius.

Lupin smiled. "I'm glad he does. And here I was worrying you had him all to yourself."

Sirius rolled his eyes at Lupin. "I might be his godfather, but he..."

"Likes me?" put in Lupin, wryly.

"Yeah."

Lupin nodded and looked away into the far side of the Weasley's place, where the Golden three were sitting.

Sirius was silent beside him. He wasn't his usual lounging, lazy self; he was sat upright, rather tensely, his black eyes flicking now and then to Lupin.

Lupin turned his head just the tiniest fraction toward him. "What's up, Sirius?"

He did not deign to reply, though he fidgeted rather more with his fingers.

Lupin sighed, and turned to face him. "What's up?"

"I...I'm not sure you understood what I said earlier," Sirius said.

"You said, very kindly I'm sure, that Harry likes me," said Lupin.

"Yes – he likes you, Remus."

"Sirius, are you feeling alright?"

Sirius nodded, his eyes very serious.

Lupin stared at him briefly. "Sirius, I'm not feeling...rejected, or anything..."

Sirius regarded Lupin wordlessly.

"So there's no need for you to, er, confirm that anyone...likes me?" He hoped Sirius was listening; there was a slightly frantic, removed look in his darting eyes.

Sirius nodded, then cleared his throat and said, "Harry said to me that he likes you."

Lupin scowled, irritated. "Yes, I heard that the first time, Sirius. Are you trying to say that no one else likes me, or something?"

"I was –"

But exactly what Sirius was could not be told Lupin, because at that point Harry, Ron and Hermione had come up to them. They had probably heard Lupin's last line, because Hermione looked at him nervously and said, "Er – I like you, Prof- um, Lupin."

Lupin smiled. "It's Remus now; and thank you very much, Hermione."

"I like you too," said Ron, helpfully. Strangely, Harry was silent. Lupin shot Sirius a guarded quizzical look, then stood up from his chair and headed into the house with the teenagers.

"Pass the peas, please, Harry," said Lupin at the dining table. He took the large bowl from him with a smile, and passed it on to Sirius. He turned back to the three. "How..."

But his question trailed off, incomplete, at Harry's strange stare at him.

"Er...how was...your summer?" Lupin continued, tentatively, looking away from Harry's weird gaze.

"Really cool," said Ron, stuffing his mouth with mashed potato. "OwentuFronce ondsohth'mose fascnatin'thing."
"He went to France and saw the most fascinating thing," Hermione translated. "Well, I went to visit Durmstrang."

Lupin stared at her, his eyes huge. "What?"

"Durmstrang, yes," Hermione said, smiling. "It was quite...extraordinary, actually."

Lupin's hand shot out and grasped her arm. "You're kidding. No one can even find the place!"

At that point, Harry cleared his throat and, seeming rather irritated, leaned forward to eat, looking pointedly at Lupin's arm stretched in front of him.

Lupin withdrew his hand and slouched unbecomingly in his seat. "Do tell, Hermione."

As Hermione told of her adventures, Lupin was smiling and making all the appropriate comments, laughing at all the right times, he being thoroughly interested.

Thus he missed the many short, sour looks that Harry bent upon the two of them. (Ron was stuffing his face for most of the time.)

"Well, I certainly wish I had been there," Lupin said, rather wistfully, as they got up from the table. "It sounds really...cool." He grinned at his lack of language.

"Yep, just you and Hermione, eh?" said Ron, laughing, and he went comically silent at Lupin's stern glare.

"What are you insinuating?"

"Nothing. Shut up, Ron," said Harry, wearing the hugest scowl Lupin had ever seen on a Potter's face. Lupin caught Hermione's eye, and she shrugged. Somehow this only served to make Harry even more irritated.

"Stop making bloody eyes at each other already," He near-snarled at them. He stalked off, alone, Ron rather timidly following him.

Lupin's mouth was slightly open. He ran a hand through his greying hair and exhaled deeply from his nose. What the heck?

"Prof-I mean, Lupin, I need to tell you something."

He brought his gaze from Harry's retreating back to her nervous face. "Remus. What...What is it, Hermione?"

She took a deep breath. "I don't know anything for sure, Prof-Lup-Remus, Harry mostly talks to Sirius really, but I think – I think Harry likes you."

There was a brief silence, where the ticks of the clock could be heard loudly in the room. Lupin's expression did not change; his face did not register any acknowledgment of the statement.

Honestly, how dense can he be? He doesn't look that thick. "Like as in like, Remus," She said.

His face changed slightly; he seemed to blanch. His voice was a bit choky and peculiar. "Like like?"

"Yes, really, really like."

The remaining blood had gone from his face. He stood there, a bit slack of jaw. So that was what Sirius had tried to tell him.

Then the blood came back to his face, and he flushed, his face hot and red. "Harry."

Lupin turned right round and clumped his way up to his room.

Hermione stared after him, wondering if she'd just told him a completely truthless bit of gossip, but...she had seen the evidence.

The door creaked slightly when Harry pushed it open and walked into Lupin's room, disgruntled. Why had he of all people been chosen to come call Lupin down for supper?

Lupin lay stretched along the bed, his lean, almost skinny frame quite tall. His hands were resting flat on his abdomen; his eyelids were twitching slightly in REM sleep.

"It's time for supper," Harry said, loudly.

Lupin turned his head slightly to the wall, gave a faint snort, and went right on sleeping.

Harry walked over to the bed and hesitantly put a hand on his arm. He prodded him. "Wake up, Lupin."

Quite suddenly, Lupin blinked and he sat up slowly, his hand covering Harry's on his arm. He stared in slight confusion at the hand, and then followed it up the arm to Harry's face.

"Good Merlin!" He jolted on the bed and his hand jumped away from Harry's. "Harry!"

"It's time for supper," Harry mumbled, not meeting his former professor's eyes. He turned and left the room.

But not before Lupin caught him rather dazedly flexing the hand that had lain on Lupin's arm.

Lupin's light brown hair was blonde, be it a very dark blonde, and the grey seemed to have receded somehow. His was a very messy head and his eyes rather bleary.

Still, Hermione (and another) thought he looked positively charming for a forty year old ex-professor. She beamed at him. "Good evening, Remus!"

Harry's stomach clenched again, in anger and hot jealousy. It wasn't fair; it wasn't fair how she was allowed to smile so brightly at him, to call him so familiarly by his given name. And no one would think she was odd.

In reality, of course, he could do all of those things and not be thought weird. Why would it be weird to smile happily at your old teacher? Harry's thoughts were all skewed from a summer of brooding.