Just a Few Changes (will Keep you Safe) by Blueseabird2

Chapter 3: Progress

Summary:

Harry talks to many children, to a Headmaster, and to a Death Eater. He is done with emotions and maybe leads a Dessert War.
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Harry stared at the ceiling in the hospital wing and wondered if it was sad he could make a comprehensive comparison to the one in his time and dimension. They were mostly the same, though his had several additional scorch marks and one beam had been permanently stained purple.

He continued to study the ceiling, attempting to ignore the throbbing in his arm from the trap he'd triggered on their way out of Malfoy Manner (and wasn't that embarrassing, Draco's Grandfather didn't have near the security Lucius did and Harry still got caught by the chandelier trap). A very young Madam Pomfrey had returned his arm to its natural and not-plant-like state, but it still felt odd and she'd warned him he'd be a little woozy for about a day as an after-effect of the recovery potion.

Harry had waved Hermione and Ron off to bed after they'd shared a moment of deep appreciation for how simple destroying horcurxes was when you had a place to sleep, medical care, and a basilisk to destroy each one promptly and efficiently.

He was also trying to ignore the conversation happening a few beds away. Apparently, it had been a rough full moon. Also apparently, his not-godfather hadn't learned true paranoia and sneakiness until at least sixth year. Neither Sirius or Remus had thought to check behind the curtain of the nearby cot before starting their only mostly whispered conversation.

Harry had been content to stare at the ceiling and try to ignore them, not really wanting to deal with cranky werewolves and Animagi who'd been running around all night.

He didn't remember ever choosing differently, except one minute he was trying to decide if he should turn part of the ceiling purple for familiarity's sake and the next he was looming over Remus's bed. He distantly noted that Remus looked afraid and Sirius looked like he was ready to tear Harry's throat out (which meant he was terrified) but Harry's ears were too busy ringing.

"That's bullshit."

Neither boy answered him, not quite understanding. Harry growled and pulled out his wand, which had Sirius scrambling to do the same. Harry put up an actual silencing ward before tucking his wand away and crossing his arms.

"That's bullshit," Harry repeated. "You are not a monster."

Remus's eyes scrunched and shaded, the strength of a spine that continuously broke and rebuilt draping across his back. If only he used that strength in a way that didn't hurt himself.

Harry reached out to Sirius first, brushing a hand through the boy's long hair and ignoring the way he both flinched and leaned into the contact. Harry used their surprise in the aftermath of the gesture to step forward and place both of his palms on Remus's scarred cheeks.

Harry's palms were so large they easily framed the boy's lower face draped over his throat so Harry could feel the reassuring pulse.

"You, Remus Lupin, are not a monster."

"You don't understan-"

"You're a werewolf." Harry ignored the flinch of both boys. "A werewolf with a terrible sense of self-worth."

Harry brushed his thumbs under the eyes of the boy who could one day become the man who'd saved Harry. Who'd loved him through everything. Who'd lived longer than any other Marauder and spent as much of that time with Harry as possible, despite a stupid war and stupid werewolf regulations and stupid magic protections.

The man who entrusted Harry with his son.

Remus blinked when he felt Harry's tears hit his skin, eyes crinkling in confused concern.