Harry Potter: Raised by Wolves.

It was a while before any of them went to bed that night. When Harry awoke the next morning, there was a large part of his brain that was certain the whole thing had been a dream. But he'd never been in a bed that comfortable; not at the Dursleys', and not at Hogwarts. He cracked one eye open, lips spreading in a grin. Even without his glasses he could see he wasn't at Privet Drive.

His new room really was incredible. He'd been too tired to take much of it in the night before, but he sat up and put his glasses on now, hardly daring to believe the room was all his.

The alarm clock on the bedside table said it was only six fifteen, and Harry doubted anyone else in the house would rise at that hour. He briefly contemplated going back to sleep, but it was no use. Now he was up, he was restless. He looked at his trunk, sitting at the foot of his new bed. His wand, still in its holster on the bedside table. He grinned to himself.

Sirius had said he could do as much magic as he wanted.

The Unpacking spell was one from A Hundred Spells Every Wizard Should Know, and Harry hadn't had much chance to practice it, but he'd been okay at it the last time he'd tried. He opened his trunk and his wardrobe, as well as the top drawers. Wand in hand, he murmured the spell. It was all about visualisation; he had to think clearly about how he wanted his things organised, otherwise they'd just shove themselves willy-nilly in his wardrobe. His neatly folded clothes began to float out of the trunk, carefully arranging themselves the way they did in Harry's mind. They put themselves on hangers, or folded themselves into the drawers, and Harry laughed triumphantly when all his clothes were successfully where he wanted them to be. Next was books.

A flick of his wand, and his books were arranging themselves alphabetically on his empty shelves. There was still so much empty space, and Harry was eager to fill it.

The rest of his things, he placed by hand. Hedwig's cage went on top of the dresser, his Firebolt was propped up next to the window. The few photos he had to display went on his shelves, along with the Sneakoscope from Ron. His quills and parchment sat carefully on his desk waiting for him to complete his homework. His little Wizarding Wireless went on his bedside table next to the alarm clock.

When he opened the drawer of his bedside table to put away his photo album, he froze. Lined up inside were several potion vials, all labelled in Snape's neat, spidery handwriting.

Bruise Balm - For topical application only

Skele-Gro - Only use if necessary

Nutritional Supplement (marked), take before sleep

Six

doses Standard Healing Potion, Grade 3 - Drink on empty stomach

Harry's pulse thudded in his throat, his palms growing clammy. Snape couldn't have snuck those in while Harry was sleeping, could he? He must have left them there before Harry had arrived before he'd seen the way Harry lived at the Dursleys.

He swallowed thickly. How much did the adults think they knew? How many of Snape's suspicions had been confirmed by his little jaunt to retrieve Harry? The prospect squirmed in his stomach, anxiety clawing its way up his chest.

Your father should have tried harder to beat it out of you. Maybe their similarities would be enough for Snape to keep silent. Surely if he wanted to confront Harry, he wouldn't have left the potions? He was a Slytherin, he respected subtlety. He may let Harry deal with his own demons.

But if Snape knew, what did Remus and Sirius know?

There was a knock on the door, and Harry slammed the drawer shut. He nudged the door open with a flick of his wand, revealing Remus in the doorway. He was wearing a dark brown dressing gown over blue striped pyjamas, and his hair stuck up haphazardly. "Morning, cub. Thought I heard you up and about." He looked around the room, then at the wand in Harry's hand, and smiled. "Making yourself at home? That's quite the book collection you're building there. I hadn't realised you were such a voracious reader."

"I had a lot of things to research last summer. And a lot of access to Flourish and Blotts," he added sheepishly, making Remus chuckle.

"I'm glad you're settling in. Are you hungry? Ceri should have breakfast done soon."

Harry's stomach rumbled loud enough for both of them to hear it. "I could eat," he said after a beat. Remus snorted. "Are the others up? Sirius, and, uh, Professor Snape?" Harry felt himself blush. "Sirius is still in bed, but Severus is already downstairs." Remus paused, looking conflicted. "Harry, are you sure you're alright with our— our relationship? If it's too much for you—"

"No, really!" Harry insisted, desperately not wanting Remus to think he had a problem with two men together. "It's not that. It's just, he's my Potions professor, and he hated me for as long as I've known him, and to see him being nice is just… weird."

Something in Remus' posture seemed to ease, and he ran a hand through his messy hair. "Severus is a man of many masks, with many roles to play," he conceded. "I told you before, he doesn't hate you. By the end of the summer you two might even be friends." Harry gave him a look that said he was pushing his luck. Remus winked. "You never know, Harry. He keeps his emotions close to his chest, but he's really not as awful as he likes to pretend. The two of you are actually more alike than you know, in some ways."

His Aunt Petunia's words drifted through his mind again. Harry swallowed. He wasn't sure if that was something he wanted to have in common with Snape.

"I expect it to take time for you two to warm up to each other," Remus continued, oblivious to Harry's internal conflict. "But he cares for you, deep down."

"Do you love him?" Harry bit his tongue as soon as the question escaped, cheeks flaming. Remus looked a little abashed, but a soft smile crossed his face.

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