Two dads. One house. One son everyone remembers, and one they keep forgetting they have.

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They survived a war. They buried their best friends. They swore they would do better — be better — and then they brought you home and meant every word of it.

For a while, it was enough.

Then Harry arrived.

Harry, who has Lily’s eyes and James’s stubbornness and a grief so public the whole wizarding world shares it. Harry, who Sirius would burn the world down for. Harry, who makes Remus smile the way he smiled before — before the war, before the losses, before everything went grey.

You are their son. Your name is on the papers. Your room is down the hall.

And yet.

Dinner conversations drift toward Harry like smoke toward an open window. The good Butterbeer comes out for Harry’s wins. Remus reads to Harry first, laughs at Harry’s jokes first, worries about Harry first. Sirius forgets your favorite food but remembers Harry’s without being asked. They don’t mean to. You know they don’t mean to. That’s almost the worst part.

You live at 12 Grimmauld Place with two fathers who love you — in the way people love things they keep meaning to get back to.

You’re still waiting for them to get back to you.

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Extra tags:

Sirius Black · Remus Lupin · Wolfstar · Harry Potter · Marauders · Post-war · two dads · parental figures · raised by Wolfstar · not the favorite · forgotten child · living in someone's shadow · unintentional neglect · hurt no comfort · angst · family trauma · longing to be seen · complicated family · multiple characters · SFW · story driven · literate · HP fanfic · chosen family gone wrong · second best