There'll Be Bluebirds (Incomplete)

There’ll Be Bluebirds (Incomplete)  

ONE – Prologue

Remus danced lightly into the house, still slightly tipsy from the effects of the wine he'd drunk at Shell Cottage earlier, still floating from the elation of seeing Teddy born. He headed up the stairs to the bedroom he shared with Dora and tripped over his own toes, pitching forward on the staircase. He heard a soft tut from above and glanced up to see Andromeda at the top of the stairs wrapped in her dressing gown. Smiling sheepishly, he hauled himself to his feet. 'Sorry,' he whispered loudly. Andromeda shook her head and disappeared into her own bedroom. Remus stole quickly up the rest of the stairs and stood in the doorway of his bedroom. Dora was curled in the bed, asleep, and Teddy was bundled into a cradle next to the bed. He tiptoed into the room, and bent over the cradle, scooping Teddy up in his arms. It had been a long time since he'd held a baby. When Harry was still this small… Remus had been utterly fascinated with Harry, spending hours marveling over the small hands that wrapped around the tip of a proffered finger with a shockingly strong grip. He ran a cautious fingertip over Teddy's tightly clenched fist and was gratified to see the tiny fingers unfurl and close around his calloused and scarred index finger. My son… he thought, his throat tightening slightly. My son… Words he thought he'd never be able to say in his lifetime. He cradled Teddy against his chest, nuzzling the turquoise-hued tuft of hair exposed by the edge of the blanket wrapped around the baby. Remus eased into the small rocking chair in the corner of the bedroom. He should have been exhausted. Dora had woken him up at four that morning and Teddy was born at half-past six in the evening. It was after eight o'clock now and Remus had been on his feet for most of the past sixteen hours. He scrutinized Teddy's soft baby features, searching for traces of himself. Teddy looked like he was going to have Andromeda's long, slender hands. Piano player's hands, my dad would have called them… His face already bore the heart-shaped sweetness of his mother's, the turquoise hair fading into a sandy downy peak in the center of his forehead. Remus' lips brushed lightly over the widow's peak, smiling a little. Dora had one just like it. She wasn't overly fond of it, and Remus imagined when Teddy got old enough he wouldn't be either. Remus loved it. It was one feature Dora never could quite make disappear when she transformed her appearance. He'd learned to recognize her by it years ago when she was in disguise. 'What were we thinking…?' Dora's husky whisper carried across the silent room. A frown marred the smooth skin between her brows. Remus glanced up at her, with an ironic smile. 'I don't believe we were thinking when this happened.' He inclined his head toward Teddy. The corner of Dora's mouth twitched. 'No, I don't believe we were…' She slowly pushed herself into a semi-sitting position, with a slight grimace of pain. 'What if we…?' She let the question die on her lips. 'I keep thinking how difficult his life will be if we don't…' Dora swallowed hard. 'Win.' Remus began to rock a little, gazing down at Teddy. 'Well, then,' he finally said. 'We'll have to make sure that doesn't happen…' He looked at Dora. Her eyes were glazed and heavy-lidded with weariness. 'Go back to sleep,' he said softly. He waited until Dora had drifted back to sleep before he rose and gently laid Teddy back into the cradle. Still too keyed up to sleep, he picked up his latest journal and slipped into the corridor, opening the narrow door to the steep stairs that led to the attic. He went unerringly to a small carton tucked in the corner and lifted the dusty lid off. Remus' fingers trailed over the spines of the battered journals. They were lined up neatly in order. Twenty of them. Odd how the history of one's life can be summed up in one box like this… He pulled a piece of parchment from the bottom of the carton and folded himself to the floor, Summoning a quill and ink from the sitting room. 14 April 1998 Dear Teddy, Today is your birthday. And regrettably, I almost missed it. I don't have much in the way of personal property to leave you. It feels like I'm tempting fate to even bother writing this, but in the unfortunate event that this is the only birthday of yours I'm ever able to celebrate, I think you'd like to know who your mother and I were. I hope that doesn't turn out to be the case,

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because I've dreamed my entire life of having what I have at this moment. And I so do want to see you grow up. Regardless of what happens to me, Teddy, I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did, and believe me, they were foolish mistakes. So, at some point, when you're old enough, I want you to read these. Learn from your father's regrets, so you don't have the same ones. Love… Remus stared at the parchment until his vision blurred. What should I sign? Remus Lupin? Your father, Remus Lupin? The quill slowly lowered and he carefully wrote one word. Dad. Remus folded the parchment and wrote Teddy's name on it. He laid it on top of the journals' spines and replaced the lid of the carton before picking up his journal and sidling back down the stairs. 'You ought to get some sleep,' Andromeda said out of the shadows, making him jump a little. Remus nodded. 'I know.' He looked at Andromeda uncertainly. 'Could you do something for me?' he asked 'I can try.' Andromeda shrugged diffidently. 'If something happens to me, could you put this one with the others?' He held up the slim, leather-bound book. 'There's a box in the attic. The north corner. I want Teddy to read them, when the time comes…' Andromeda's head inclined a little. 'Of course.' Remus nodded once. 'I know you weren't exactly thrilled about any of this. Me… Teddy…' He paused long enough for Andromeda to make a token protest, knowing she wouldn't. 'Thank you. For everything.' He ducked his head and continued into the bedroom, closing the door without a sound. Teddy lightly tossed his football from one hand to the other. It was pouring outside and he was bored. He couldn't go to Harry and Ginny's, because Lily and Albus both had dragon pox. Victoire was in France, visiting her mother's family during the summer hols. He rolled off his bed and dropped the ball in the middle of it. When he was younger, Teddy used to spend hours pawing through the boxes and trunks of old and abandoned belongings. He ran up the stairs to the attic and stood just inside the doorway, glancing around the dim and dusty room. There was a small box he'd often dismissed before under the eaves. It was certainly too small to hold anything of interest. But today, even something uninteresting was better than boredom. He shuffled to the box and pried the lid off, sneezing explosively in the cloud of dust it raised. When he saw the contents, he frowned. 'Nothing but a load of boring old books…' He picked one up and listlessly fanned the pages several times until he actually looked at a page. He stopped and spread a hand over it, bringing it closer to his face. 'What is this…?' His heart began to pound in his ears when he realized it was his father's journal. Teddy quickly began to scan through them, discarding each of them until he came to the one that mentioned his mother for the first time. He plopped to the floor, unheeding of the thick dust layered over the floor and began to read.

  10 July 1995

TWO – 10 July & 2 August 1995

We met today to discuss the best way to bring Harry over from his relations' house. Mad-Eye, Sirius, Kingsley, and I. Kingsley had a list of people he thought would be good to help escort Harry. One of them is Sirius' cousin. His second cousin, actually. Let me see… His cousin Andromeda's girl, Nymphadora. Mad-Eye says he trained her. She's an Auror. Kingsley brought her into the Order. I haven't met her yet, but Kingsley says she's very good. She has to be, if she managed to get through Mad-Eye's training program. Kingsley says she does have… How did he put it…? Stealth issues…? I wonder what that means… We want to fetch Harry soon. The sooner, the better, as far as Sirius and I are concerned. His aunt and uncle aren't very keen on having him around. But Dumbledore said we have to wait until after the end of July. He wouldn't explain why, though.

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'Wotcher! I'm Tonks.' The petite, bright-eyed witch grinned widely and offered a delicate hand to Remus. 'I'm sorry?' Tonks heaved a long-suffering sigh. 'It's really Nymphadora,' she muttered. 'I'm still trying to figure out what potion my mum was on after I was born to insist on it. Dad says she got it from some book she was reading when she went into labor,' she added mutinously, with a shake of her head. 'So… Tonks…' Remus' head cocked to one side. She was tiny, barely coming up to his shoulders. Not that Remus was very tall himself, but Tonks wasn't much taller than Ginny Weasley. 'Are you sure you're related to the Blacks?' he blurted. 'I know… They're all tall and willowy and I'm practically a midget.' She shrugged cheerfully. 'My dad's mum was quite short, too. But I can do this.' Her eyes crossed, and a brief, pained expression crossed her face. Her hair lengthened from its short, spiky style, changing from bright bubblegum pink to the same dark auburn shade as Ginny and her eyes changed from dark blue to deep brown. Remus grinned. 'That's a neat trick,' he said, impressed. 'Yeah, made all that disguise training a cinch.' 'Tonks, Remus, will the two of you care to join the rest of us?' Mad-Eye growled from the kitchen door. 'Oh, sorry Mad-Eye,' Tonks said cheekily. 'Just getting to know the people I'll be working with, yeah?' 'You can socialize later,' Mad-Eye grunted, as she sashayed through the door, ruining the effect by tripping over her toes. 'Oof!' Tonks kept herself from falling by grabbing the thing nearest to her – Mad-Eye. 'Sorry, sir…' Mad-Eye's eye narrowed as he glared at her. 'You should have spent more time working on your stealth, missy, instead of showing off with those Metamorphmagus skills of yours.' 'And who was it that let me?' Mad-Eye's lips thinned as they pressed together, but he didn't have a retort for Tonks. Remus followed her into the kitchen, a small smile playing on his lips. Most people didn't have the cheek to stand up to Mad-Eye like that. Remus slid into a seat around the long table next to Sirius, who gave him an odd sort of look. They were joined by Arthur and Molly Weasley; Hestia Jones; Elphias Doge; Emmaline Vance; and Dedalus Diggle. Kinglsey stood at the head of the table, looking slightly grave. 'All right, then. The month Dumbledore seemed to deem necessary is over and we need to find a way to lure the Dursleys from their house for an hour or so.' 'I can do that,' Tonks piped up. 'I've been watching them a bit from time to time. D'you know they're the only people on their street who are still using hosepipes and sprinklers on their lawn?' she huffed indignantly. 'Thinks because he doesn't do it every day, he's not as bad as the bloke next door,' she scoffed. 'How do you plan to do that?' Mad-Eye asked. 'Simple. Use the Muggle post. Tell them they've won some barmy contest and there's an awards dinner in London at a posh hotel. They remind me of the people that lived down the lane from my mum and dad. If there's free food promised, they'll go. So will that lot.' 'How long will they be gone?' Kingsley asked. Tonks shrugged. 'Little Whinging isn't too far from London. It might take them half an hour or thereabouts to get to London, but the address of the hotel is in central London, and that might take forever. I'd guess at least two hours.' Kingsley nodded. 'How long will it take to get Harry's things packed up?' 'Knowing his relatives, he probably hasn't unpacked them at all,' Arthur said. 'And if he has, well…' Arthur rubbed the top of his balding head. 'He hasn't got much,' he mumbled. 'Buggering arses…' Sirius muttered under his breath.

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Arthur cut a glance at Sirius, but said nothing. He continued mildly. 'An hour should be plenty.' 'And once he's here, we'll put him with Ron,' Molly interjected. Remus gazed down the table at her. Normally Molly was gregarious and cheerful, but lately it seemed forced and her customary smile was tight and pinched. 'We have to do it before the tenth,' Remus said suddenly. He'd been counting days to himself. Every head swiveled to look at him. 'Full moon,' he said succinctly. 'Someone that has a good relationship with Harry needs to go, and since Sirius can't leave –' Remus ignored the muffled, pungent curse from his friend. 'It has to be me.' He glanced at Arthur with a sympathetic shrug. 'Sorry… But you're not a very good flier and Harry doesn't know Bill that well. He won't willingly come otherwise. Well, he will, but it might take longer for you to convince him you don't mean him any harm.' Remus paused delicately. 'He's not a very trusting sort, for good reason, you understand…' Mad-Eye nudged Tonks' hand. 'How soon can you put the letter to the Dursleys in the post?' 'Tomorrow morning. They ought to get it by Wednesday. I'll make it for Friday evening.' 'Why Friday evening?' Emmaline Vance asked curiously. 'That's when Muggles have their big, fancy dos,' Arthur said knowledgeably. 'They'd get suspicious if it was on Thursday,' Tonks added. Suddenly, Dumbledore spun from the fireplace. 'Arthur, come with me, please.' He waited for Arthur to make his way to the kitchen door, following him out to the landing and upstairs into the grubby sitting room. Dumbledore drew a circle around them and an eerie silence surrounded them. Arthur, I need you to send a note to Harry to stay at his aunt and uncle's and not to give up his wand. He'll listen to you. I'm on my way to the Ministry to sort it all out.' Dumbledore's wand jabbed at the spindly table next to Arthur and a scrap of parchment and a Self-Inking Quill appeared on the dusty surface. 'Sort what out?' Arthur pulled on one of his ears, hoping he hadn't misheard the Headmaster. 'Fudge wants him expelled for performing underage magic,' Dumbledore replied briskly. Hurriedly, Arthur scrawled a note to Harry, and was in the process of sealing it when he heard a loud crack, and a ruffledlooking owl stood in bemusement on the table in front of him. He offered the rolled up parchment to the owl, who disappeared as soon as he accepted it. 'How bad is it?' Arthur asked, a frown deepening the crease between his eyebrows. 'Dementors,' Dumbledore replied. 'Oh, bloody…' 'I must go now. Please inform the others.' Dumbledore swiftly left the sitting room and left the house. 'What happened?' Molly asked when Arthur returned to the kitchen in a daze. 'They're trying to expel Harry from school,' Arthur said quietly. 'Whatever for?' Kingsley sounded confused. 'Underage magic,' Arthur sighed. 'But isn't there a loophole if they're in danger?' Sirius blurted. 'There is,' Mad-Eye said shortly. 'Why would Potter perform underage magic at a time like this?' he added in exasperation. 'There were Dementors,' Arthur said, dropping into his chair. 'That's self-defense,' Remus argued. 'They can't…'

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'Sod it…' Sirius muttered. He yanked open a drawer in an old dresser and pulled out a piece of parchment, an old, but usable quill, and a bottle of ink. He quickly, but neatly, wrote a short note to Harry. 'He's going to do a bunk… He did it two years ago…' As he sealed the short note, he turned to Remus. 'Could you…?' Remus nodded and waved his wand, making an owl appear. 'Where do you want it to go?' Sirius shrugged helplessly. 'I've only seen the house from the outside, eh?' He frantically searched his memory. 'Chimney, I suppose…' 'Good enough,' Remus muttered, jabbing his wand at the owl. 'Right, then…' Kingsley cleared his throat. 'We'll meet here Friday evening, fly on broomsticks to Privet Drive, and bring Harry back here. You say he's a good flier?' he asked Sirius and Remus. 'Better than James,' Sirius assured him. 'And I'm not saying that because he's my godson. He's really good.' 'Excellent. We'll create a barrier around him. There's going to be six of us, so one each above and below him, and four at all points around.' 'He won't like that,' Sirius muttered. 'That's just too damn bad,' Kingsley retorted. 'We can't have anything happening like at the Triwizard.' 'No, we can't,' Sirius agreed reluctantly. Remus sat at the table after everyone had left or gone to bed, cradling a cup of tea between his hands. He glanced up at Sirius, who was studying him intently. 'What?' 'You like her.' 'Who?' Sirius rolled his eyes. 'Tonks. I've never seen you look at a woman like that before.' Remus looked at Sirius sharply. He didn't miss the sad undertone of Sirius' voice, but Sirius' face was smoothly neutral. 'Rubbish,' he snorted. 'I've only just met her. Besides, I can't get involved.' 'But you're interested.' 'No.' The lie came easily to Remus' lips. 'Moony…' 'Padfoot…' Remus sipped his tea. 'I don't feel it's necessary to force my…' He grimaced. 'Lifestyle… on another person.' 'And what were James and I? Pond scum?' Remus sighed. 'That was different. The two of you guessed.' 'Like she doesn't know about your furry little problem. You're making a bigger deal about it than it ought to be. Just don't go on a date during the full moon.' Remus set his cup down with a click. 'That's exactly my point. It's my furry little problem.' 'She's not seeing anyone,' Sirius persisted. 'I asked.' Remus pushed his chair back. 'Enough, Padfoot. All right?' He picked up his shabby cloak and swung it over his shoulders. 'I don't have the energy to argue with you right now. And I am looking out for her best interests. It's not just the lycanthropy. I'm too old for her. And she deserves more than me.' Sirius tilted his chair on its two back legs and studied his old friend. 'For someone who's not interested and has only just met her, you have an awful lot of arguments about why you shouldn't get involved.' He paused for a moment. 'She likes chocolate…' he wheedled enticingly. file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

Remus' mouth quirked in a twisted smile. 'Nice try, Pads,' he allowed. 'Where are you sleeping tonight?' Remus shrugged. 'The flat, I suppose. Technically, it's yours, but if you don't want me to live there anymore…' Sirius set the chair back on the floor. 'James and I always meant…' He coughed a little. 'We always meant to arrange things for you…' Remus' face hardened. 'I wouldn't have accepted it,' he said hoarsely. 'And we wouldn't have accepted watching you descend into poverty.' Sirius rose from his chair. He gently brushed Remus' hair from his eyes, with that same sad tone he'd used earlier. 'Get some sleep. You look like hell.' 2 August 1995 I've never blamed my father for the lycanthropy. Although I wish I knew just what it was that happened between him and Fenrir Greyback that made Greyback come after me. I don't mean to complain, but I can't find work, not since Umbridge passed that bloody law after I resigned from Hogwarts. Frankly, if it wasn't for Molly, I'd probably not eat as much as I do. And Dumbledore sending one of the Hogwarts house elves over with food. I know it's charity, and I detest that I need it, but without it… I shudder to think what it would be like to have James and Sirius take care of me. Like I'm a bloody child. Even my pride has its limits. Dumbledore's managed to keep the Ministry from destroying Harry's wand. Protecting it seems to be rather important, but he won't tell us why. He's also managed to convince them to merely suspend Harry for the time being, rather than outright expulsion, at least until his hearing. And according to what we know, it's an open-and-shut case of self-defense. I'm sure the children heard everything. Fred and George seem to have created something that allows them to overhear things from a great distance. They know more than they ought. But I can't blame them. Molly refuses to tell them anything; on the grounds they're all underage. But I'd chafe under that as well. I'm fairly certain Hermione's already looked up the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and will have a list of circumstances in which an underage wizard is allowed to use magic. Frankly, I'd be surprised if she doesn't have a list ready now. I hope Harry realizes how much she does for him. It's what I would have done if it had been James… Sirius' cousin… Tonks… Is rather… I'd best not think about her. Even though she's attractive and is brave enough to needle MadEye. I think I might find myself wanting more with her. And I won't do it unless I can have what James had with Lily. Or what Arthur has with Molly. And since I refuse to inflict my "issues" on someone else, it will never happen and continue to be relegated to a dream. Remus closed the diary and tapped it with his wand. 'Nothing to see here…' he murmured, and with the sound of paper tearing, the diary sealed itself. Nobody could open it, unless they knew what to say to it. He'd stolen the idea from the Marauder's Map. He tucked it inside the tiny desk in the small flat and with a sigh, blew out the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. 'Teddy?' Silence met Andromeda's query. 'Teddy!' she called loudly. 'I know he can't be outside. Even he's not daft enough to play footie in this kind of weather.' Andromeda climbed the stairs and poked her head into Teddy's bedroom. 'Teddy?' His battered football sat forlornly on the bed. She turned and fled down to the sitting room. She plunged her hand into the urn that held their Floo powder and threw it into the flames with a shaking hand. She dropped to her knees, ignoring the shooting pains the radiated from them as they made contact with the hard floor. 'Ginny? Harry?' Harry crouched down with a glass of juice in each hand. 'Andromeda,' he said, obviously surprised. 'Is everything all right?' Andromeda only firecalled in emergencies. 'I'm so sorry to bother you right now… I know both Al and Lily are ill,' she babbled. 'But I can't find Teddy. He's not in his room and I just stepped out for a moment to go to the market because he's out of the that infernal peanut butter he likes so much, and he was there before I left, I know, because I told him I was going out for a bit…'

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'Give me a minute. I'll just take these up to Al and Lily and tell Ginny where I'm going.' Harry ran up the stairs and darted into Al's bedroom. 'Here you go, Albie. Are you still itchy?' Albus held the glass in both hands, gulping the juice thirstily. 'Nuh-uh,' he gasped explosively when he finally lowered the glass. 'Good. And don't scratch, or I'll Spellotape your mittens to your hands. Ask James. I did it to him,' Harry warned when he saw one of Al's hands creep to his face. Al's hand dropped back to his lap. 'And I'll send Mum in with the potion for the itchies, all right?' 'I don't like it,' Al complained. 'It smells icky.' 'It's either that or the mittens,' Harry said sympathetically, as he crossed the corridor to Lily's room. 'Daddy!' Lily exclaimed, holding out her hands for the juice. 'When is Teddy coming?' 'When you're better, Flower-Power.' 'But I'm better now!' Lily protested. 'Maybe next week,' Harry murmured, tilting Lily's face up to examine the welts that dotted her cheeks. She still hadn't reached the crusty stage yet. 'Don't spill that juice,' he told her, using a finger to right the slowly tilting glass. He left Lily's bedroom and clattered down the stairs walking quickly into the kitchen. 'Hey, Andromeda can't find Teddy…' Ginny looked up from the biscuit dough she was helping James roll out on the table. 'Where could he have gone in this weather?' 'No idea.' Harry leaned over James' head and kissed her. 'I'm going to go help her look for him.' 'Is Teddy coming over?' James asked, a smudge of flour on his nose. 'Not until Lily isn't sick anymore,' Harry told him, ruffling his hair. He went into the sitting room and Flooed to Andromeda's house. He stumbled a little, as he came out of the fireplace. 'Any luck?' Andromeda shook her head. 'No.' 'Where have you looked?' 'Study, his bedroom, my bedroom, the spare bedroom, bathroom… I haven't checked outside much.' Harry raised his eyes to the ceiling. 'Did you check the attic?' 'Of course not,' Andromeda scoffed. 'Nothing up there but a bunch of old rubbish…' She trailed off. 'Oh dear God…' She turned and ran up the stairs, with Harry following her. She darted to a narrow door at the other end of the corridor and yanked it open, before rushing up the creaky, narrow stairs to the dim, dusty attic. Teddy was sitting on the floor, surrounded by battered leather-bound diaries, smudges of dirt on his face. 'What?' he asked innocently. Andromeda pulled him to his feet and hugged him tightly. 'Why didn't you answer me?' she demanded. 'Geroff, Gran…' Teddy grunted. 'Can't breathe…' Andromeda released him a little. 'Why didn't you tell me…?' he asked, holding up the diary. 'They're Dad's…' 'I'd forgotten they were here…' Andromeda admitted. 'How could you forget?' Teddy shouted. 'These are my dad's! He wanted me to read them and you forgot!' he huffed sarcastically, before stomping down the stairs. The reverberation of his bedroom door slamming echoed up the stairs.  

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THREE – 6 August & 13 August 1995

Harry turned his gaze from the staircase to Andromeda. In all the years he had known her, she wasn't one for wearing her emotions on her sleeve. Not that she was cold-hearted. In fact, she was quite the opposite. But even forty years after she'd left her family behind, she still carried the reserve necessary to survive the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black. He was taken aback by the open distress on her face. He grasped her elbow and steered her toward the kitchen. 'Did you really forget?' he asked. 'Would you believe me if I said yes?' she asked sardonically. Andromeda dropped into a chair. 'He asked me, the night Teddy was born if I'd give those journals to Teddy if and when the time came…' She flicked her wand at a cupboard and a bottle of firewhiskey landed on the table. Another flick brought two glasses sailing toward the table. 'I forgot they were there…' She sighed heavily and poured herself a healthy tot of the whiskey. 'Fourteen years is a long time,' Andromeda explained. 'I don't think I've been in that attic since Teddy was a baby. When I put Remus' last journal in the box.' 'Did you read it?' Harry asked, his curiosity piqued. Andromeda's cheeks colored slightly. 'Some,' she admitted. 'It was like he knew he wasn't going to survive in the end. He filled nearly an entire journal in month. With fatherly sorts of things…' She shook her head slightly. 'At any rate, I put the one he had left in their bedroom in the box with the others, closed the box and forgot they were there with everything else that was going on.' She picked up her glass and took a sip, grimacing a bit as it burned a path down her throat. 'I had intended at the time to give them to Teddy when he was older,' she said softly. 'I really wasn't trying to hide them,' she told Harry beseechingly. 'I believe you,' Harry said, picking up his own glass. 'I did that with my parents' things after the war. I took everything worth something to me from their house in Godric's Hollow. Just threw it all into boxes and put them into the attic at the Burrow. Even when I moved out, I didn't bother with them. Not until after we'd moved out of the Soho flat and into the house. Arthur asked if I wanted some help getting them into the new house. And I had forgotten about them.' Harry swallowed. 'Not that I meant to, mind,' he added. 'It was just they were out of sight…' 'Out of mind…' 'Exactly.' Harry took a meditative sip of his whiskey. 'Didn't even open them until Al was six months old or so. He was actually outgrowing things by that point, and Ginny sent me up to find some of James' old things for Al to wear. I opened those boxes instead of the ones with James' old clothes. Just went straight to them.' He shrugged. 'Guess it was just time.' He tossed the rest of his glass back and stood up. 'I need to get back. Lily ought to be better in a few days. The kids are dying to see him.' 'I'm sure he'll be thrilled.' The rest of the phrase hung in the air, unspoken between them. So he can get out of here for a few days… Remus wrapped his fingers around the broom Tonks had borrowed for him. 'Where did you get this?' he asked nervously. It was a rather good broom. Not Quidditch-standard, of course, but on par with the one she flew. But with one small exception: the name plate had been discreetly removed. Remus could see the darker tone of the wood where the square plate had been. She laid a playful finger over his lips. 'Shhhh. Ask me no questions,' she began. 'And I'll tell you no lies,' he murmured against the finger still laid lightly over his lips, completing the thought. She smiled at him conspiratorially, and winked, as she mounted her broom. Remus rubbed his fingers over his mouth, trying to erase the tingle zinging over it. He was still rubbing his lips together when he kicked off the hard-baked ground and followed her into the air, Emmaline Vance behind him. Remus shook his hair back out of his face as he gained altitude, briefly taken back to his school days, when he, James, and Sirius would aimlessly fly around the pitch after Quidditch practice ended for James. Sometimes, they helped him work on a particular skill, and Sirius was a fair Keeper. Remus ruefully recalled he had zero skills when it came to Quidditch beyond fetching the Quaffle for the other two. Peter didn't fly with them. He preferred to stay in the stands and cheer every goal James managed to get past Sirius. 'Oi! Remus!' Tonks shouted. Remus shook himself from his reverie and was startled to find the others were banking sharply to the left. 'Get your head out of the clouds, Lupin!' growled Mad-Eye.

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Remus jerked the broom toward the left and gave Tonks a sheepish grin. She smothered a giggle and veered to his other side, switching places with Kingsley. He noticed Kingsley gazing at him appraisingly; rather the way Lily had done so often. Remus scowled at Kingsley, who merely shrugged elegantly, and swooped over his head. Presently, Remus began to shiver. He didn't mind the cold as a general rule. But that was on the ground. The wind seemed to cut through his threadbare clothing more sharply in mid-air. His hands quickly grew numb, but he didn't dare try to tuck his cloak around them. He didn't have the balance James had. He watched as Tonks flattened herself to the handle of the broom and mimicked her actions. It was a little better. At least he could shield his hands from the wind a bit. He didn't quite recognize where they were. Surrey was just outside of London, and it shouldn't have taken them very long to arrive at number four Privet Drive, but Mad-Eye seemed to be leading them on a loop that went through Kent and Sussex before finally landing on the conspicuously lush lawn of the Dursley's house. Remus tucked his cloak around his hands and glanced at Tonks. 'So where did you get that broom?' She sighed and stuck her hands into the pockets of her patched jeans. 'Promise not to tell?' she asked with a glint in her dark eyes. It reminded him of the one Sirius got, about three seconds before he proposed something guaranteed to cause mayhem. 'All right…' Remus said cautiously. 'Nicked it from a certain broom shed in Wiltshire.' Remus stopped in mid-step. 'Wiltshire…?' he asked weakly. She turned and walked backward for a few steps, flashing that wide smile at him. 'Yup. Consider it a gift from my cousin. Draco would be absolutely appalled to find out what we used it for,' she crowed gleefully. Remus felt a burning sensation in the pit of his stomach. 'Draco Malfoy is your cousin?' The wolf that lurked inside him began to growl softly. 'Mmm-hmm. My mum and his mum are sisters. Actually, Sirius and my mum are cousins. My maternal grandfather and his mother were siblings. I guess that makes me Sirius' cousin, too.' Remus resumed his steady pace next to Tonks. 'I didn't know that.' Tonks shrugged. 'I'm not surprised. Mum said he always seemed to be ashamed to be a Black.' 'He was,' Remus murmured. 'I've seen Draco,' Tonks continued. 'A few times. I was in the apothecary buying fresh potion ingredients before his first year of school. If his nose got any higher, he'd have to put platforms on the soles of his shoes. I've seen him around Diagon Alley a time or two since. Bossing these two absolutely thick blokes around. I don't think either of them could find their way in from the rain without help.' She stopped at the Underground station. 'Says a bit about him, that he's willing to make friends with people who aren't bright enough to question him, no?' 'Yeah…' Remus glanced up at the moon. It was nearly full. He closed his eyes, and heaved a sigh. He wasn't the suicidal type, but he was heartily tired of it all – the hiding, the government-inflicted poverty, the feeling that he could lose all control of himself at any moment… 'I do hope you'll accept my apologies for what happened after dinner,' he said softly. 'It's just Molly wants to keep them all children for as long as she can and Sirius wants to push Harry into James' old place.' 'Oh, was that a disagreement?' Tonks said teasingly. 'Don't worry about it. It's understandable, yeah? Everybody's chafing under the stress.' Remus nodded. 'And if you're Harry, Ron, and Hermione, you're used to being right in the middle of everything – whether you want to be or not. That lot – and I include Ginny and the twins in this – have a way of finding out exactly what they're not supposed to know.' Tonks' smile reappeared. 'I can understand that. Why do you think I became an Auror?' She waved a little as she descended into the station. 'G'night, Remus.'

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10 August 1995 We managed to whisk Harry away from his relatives' house tonight. Tonks' scheme to lure them away from the house worked beautifully. She's a smart one, that girl. I wish I could have seen their faces when they realized it was all a ruse. But then again, they'd never admit it to themselves that they'd been duped. The look on Harry's face frightens me a little. He's so young. I think sometimes we forget that a little, given what he's done and seen. I'm afraid he's so bent on revenge that something is going to happen. Or he'll end up in a situation that's far over his head and abilities to handle. And Sirius is just encouraging him at this point. I must try to talk to Sirius about easing up a bit on that front. In some ways, I'm with Molly. Can't we just let Harry keep some of his childhood just a little bit longer? Before he has no choice but to set it aside? I don't envy Bill, trying to persuade the goblins to work with the Order. I've yet to meet a more crafty, yet recalcitrant creature in my life. They don't trust humans – on either side. But if Voldemort promises them things we keep denying them, I don't see how they can resist. Not that he'll actually keep those promises. And the goblins ought to know better, given his pureblood fantasies. But that lure of equality is powerful. Even I can feel it tugging at me. Oh, I'd never join their side… But… Just to think for a moment… I could be… Free… It's a bittersweet word. I'm far too cognizant lately of what I've had to give up in my life. Even if I was free to pursue a life, it wouldn't be the life I want to have. Remus slowly awoke on the hard earthen floor of the cellar of the building in London where Sirius' old flat was located. More than sixteen years before, the two of them had charmed the cellar to a fare-thee-well. Muggle-Repelling charms, Cushioning charms, Silencing charms. Remus would slip down before the moon rose, leaving his clothing neatly piled in a heap outside the door. He stiffly sat up and took in the dim, windowless room. The wolf hated the city and had used this month to let his displeasure be known. He got to his feet with aching listlessness, examining the various welts and scrapes on his naked body. Remus arched his back slightly, and felt a burning, stinging sensation down the back of one leg. He twisted to inspect the gash that slashed his calf in a livid, jagged laceration. That's going to leave a scar… In spite of his rudimentary Healing skills, Remus couldn't manage to make the scars disappear entirely. They weren't as bad as they could have been, however. The wolf was also disgruntled at Remus' decision to keep Tonks at something of a distance. Shut it, you, Remus told it grumpily. It's not in the cards for us, mate. He tilted his head from one side to the other, making sickening crunching sounds. Ahhhhhhhh… Remus sighed. He wondered what might be available to eat in the flat. He was always ravenous the morning after the full moon. He acutely missed the company of James and Sirius at times like these. Remus didn't dare endure his monthly transformation at number twelve Grimmauld Place with so many people in residence. But he would have loved to have Sirius' canine presence to keep him company. Remus usually didn't remember much about the night of a full moon – just the odd memory and sensation. Remus took a deep breath and slowly reached over the door for the wand he'd stashed there, after putting a strong Locking charm on the door. He flicked it wearily at the doorknob and the door swung open, revealing his pile of clothing. He stooped and picked up the clothes, and made his way up the winding stairs to his flat, not bothering to dress. It was still very early, before dawn, when the absence of light put everything into ashy contrasts. Nobody was up and about at this time of day, other than old Mrs. Coronas. And Remus was past caring if some old bat saw him starkers anymore. He came to a sudden stop at the top of the stairs, clutching his clothes to his scrawny middle. 'Erm… Arthur…' he stammered, flushing deeply, the deep rosy hue spreading over his pale skin. 'I'll close my eyes if it makes you feel better,' Arthur quipped lightly, squeezing his eyes shut. Remus snorted and managed to pull his jumper over his head and tug the pants and trousers on without toppling over. 'Not much to see,' he retorted, hissing slightly as the wool of the trousers brushed over the gash in his calf. 'Thought I'd come tell you about Harry's hearing,' Arthur said. 'And Molly's sent some food.' 'That's very kind,' Remus murmured, flicking his wand at the door of the flat.

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'She thought you'd be hungry,' Arthur said nonchalantly. He followed Remus into the flat and set the basket on the tiny table. 'Can I get you some tea, Arthur?' Remus opened a cupboard door, pulling down a tin of tea leaves. 'Yes, please. Thank you.' Arthur pulled out a chair and dropped into it. Remus tapped the kettle, then poured the boiling water into the teapot over the tea leaves. 'How did the hearing go?' 'They found him innocent, but it was held in Courtroom Ten.' 'Court…' Remus' eyes grew wide. 'But that's where they tried Death Eaters last time…' 'Yeah.' Arthur took out a loaf of bread and sliced it. 'It was on Fudge's insistence.' He shrugged. 'Dumbledore showed up with Arabella, who was able to more-or-less corroborate what Harry said about Dementors in Little Whinging.' He shook his head and took the cup of tea Remus offered. 'Fudge did everything he could to discredit the boy. Full Wizengamot, Courtroom Ten. He even changed the time of the hearing, hoping Dumbledore wouldn't show up on time.' 'He's gone mad,' Remus said quietly. 'Was Percy…?' Arthur's lips pressed together, and the skin around his eyes tightened. But he nodded. 13 August 1995 I don't actually remember seeing the full moon. A real one, not a boggart. I sort of remember seeing it when I was small. Before Greyback. I wonder, if and when I do die, if it will be an issue… One would think that even God (if there is one) would see fit to remember one small sparrow, if you will, and return my dignity. I'm just so tired. I've been tired since I was six years old. No wonder some of my kind resort to suicide. I can't say I blame them, in the end. Things do not bode well for Fudge, if he's attempting to make an example out of a fifteen-year old boy. Cowardice usually results in the attempted destruction of the innocent in an effort to make people think you're doing something. Anything. How many others will he throw to the lions in his attempts to prove he's not inept and over his head? He's a bloody fool. Arthur said Dumbledore didn't so much as acknowledge Harry at the hearing. Or at least that's what Harry says. That's another worry. Harry's desperate for a father-figure right now. He has exactly three options: Dumbledore, Arthur, or Sirius. Each of them with profound disadvantages. Dumbledore… Well, it's quite obvious if he's ignoring Harry… And Harry's looked up to Dumbledore since he started school. What a disheartening thing for him to have his idol brush past him like that. In the case of Arthur… I know Arthur's capacity for love. But in this case, it's Harry's ability to love that I worry about. Would he be able to think of Arthur the way he would James, and not feel like he's forgetting his own father? And Sirius… I've been worried about Sirius since he came to the flat at the end of June. I can see him when he talks about Harry, and he almost has to stop and remind himself it is Harry, and not James. You can see it in his face. He almost wants Harry to be James. That is not healthy. And I can see Harry trying to fulfill that role for Sirius, because he wants to please him so badly. And Harry doesn't need a friend just now. He needs a father. A/N: The broom Tonks stole, erm, borrowed from Draco is NOT his Nimbus 2001. It's the one he had before he started school.  

FOUR – 20 August & 31 August 1995

Andromeda carried a tray with a sandwich and a glass of milk up the stairs. She balanced it on one hand and knocked softly on Teddy's bedroom door. 'Teddy? Can I come in?' A wordless grunt was her only reply. She tried the doorknob and it turned easily under her hand. Teddy lay facedown on the bed, the brown leather-bound diary clutched in one hand. His hair rippled between turquoise, sandy brown, and deep inky black. 'Are you hungry?' she asked, setting the tray on the small desk at the foot of Teddy's bed. 'No,' he mumbled into the pillow. His grip tightened on the diary. Andromeda pulled the chair from the desk and dragged it over to the side of the bed. She sat down and touched Teddy's

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elbow. 'Teddy, darling… I know you're upset…' His thin shoulders jerked in a shrug. Undaunted, Andromeda continued, 'I never meant to deliberately withhold those from you.' Another jerky shrug. 'It's only that your father could be brutally honest about everything and everybody, including himself. And there will be things in there that might be confusing for you.' 'So?' The defiance rang clear, even though his face was muffled by the pillow. Andromeda heaved a frustrated sigh. Teddy had his mother's teenage audacity in spades. It made her wonder what Remus would have been like, if he hadn't been so tightly self-controlled. 'So… I wanted to wait until you were a little older…' Teddy sat up. 'It's always "when you're a little older"!' he mimicked. 'I'm going to be grown up with my own kids at school, and you'll still think I'm too young!' he added scathingly. 'Teddy, that's not true…' 'Then why didn't you tell me about these?' he snarled, brandishing the diary. 'I really did forget,' Andromeda said gently. 'Things were somewhat chaotic around here. You were barely a month old, your grandfather was gone, both of your parents…' Her brows drew together slightly. 'In all of that, you were my main concern… And I generally stay out of that attic as it is, so it slipped my mind they were there.' Teddy snorted in response. 'Yeah, whatever you say, Gran…' Andromeda bit back the angry retort that rose to her lips. 'All right,' she said calmly, mildly surprised to find her voice was smoothly neutral. 'You don't have to believe me.' Internally, she seethed, ready to throttle Teddy for his attitude. She rose gracefully to her feet and replaced the chair before leaving the room, closing the door soundlessly behind her. It made Teddy blink. Andromeda didn't shout or visibly lose her temper when she was angry. She was however, a master of the controlled silence. Even Harry wasn't that good. Remus slipped into the Ministry and instead of the lifts, headed for a hidden doorway. Much like the entrance to Diagon Alley from The Leaky Cauldron, one had to tap certain bricks in the wall with their wand in order to open the door. He came to a stop next to a portrait of a sleeping Grogan Stump, and resisted the urge to give him a rude hand gesture. Continuing on, he began to tap a series of bricks next to a small painting of an ornate tapestry. It stretched until it became the size of a door, and a handle sprouted from the intricate embroidery. He seized the handle, and pulled until the frame of the painting pulled away from the wall. He slipped down the many dizzying steps until a black door with a faintly glowing '10' on it came into view. He whispered the password Kingsley had given them, and the door slid aside. Sturgis Podmore was fingering the door they guarded. Remus attempted to whistle like Fawkes, but he couldn't sing very well under normal circumstances, and tension made anything musical he attempted to produce rather flat. He saw Podmore's shoulders draw in a little at the discordant noise. Podmore was one of those people who could sing beautifully, without a jot of training. 'It's been quiet,' Podmore told him softly. 'Thanks.' Remus settled on the floor, his back braced against the wall, waiting until Podmore had slipped through the door. He didn't quite trust Podmore. There was a vague look to his eyes that made Remus worry. It reminded him of a person who was Imperiused. Must send on a message to Dumbledore about that one… he mused. He let his eyes close. Midnight was one of his favorite times of day. The streets of London were somewhat quiet. And he could amble in relative anonymity, free from the usual stares that greeted him, from wizarding folk and Muggle alike. Remus didn't worry about anyone or anything catching him unawares. The wolf would know. It could sense things before Remus did. Over the years, his relationship with the wolf had evolved into something of a love-hate sort of thing. On the one hand, Remus strongly disliked having to endure his monthly transformations. On the other hand, he appreciated the enhanced

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senses the wolf brought him. On a night like tonight, he could let his mind wander freely, secure in the knowledge that the wolf would alert him if anything were to arise. When he was between tutoring jobs, Remus scoured libraries, Muggle and magical, for something to read. In the days after James and Lily had died, and Sirius shut away in Azkaban, Remus found a book by a Muggle psychiatrist. To Remus' subdued delight, it finally gave him a vocabulary to talk about his rather splintered personality. If his conscience was his superego, the wolf was his id. His conscience was prim, nearly as prim as a Victorian spinster, constantly checking his behavior. Do this, don't do that, it told him. The wolf, on the other hand… The wolf as impulsive and childish in its attempts to get what it wanted, what it craved. Between all the internal battles between what he wanted and what he actually did, Remus was sometimes surprised to find himself still sane. No wonder most werewolves go the way of Greyback and his ilk. It's much less wearing. He drew his knees up into his chest and wrapped his arms around them, drawing Mad-Eye's invisibility cloak over his body. He was having a difficult time himself these days keeping his id and superego balanced so his ego didn't run mad. He didn't know why he wanted Tonks so badly. Maybe it was because she was one of the few women he knew who acted as if the lycanthropy didn't matter. Lily had been one. Molly was another. But if Molly was like a mother to Remus, Lily had been like a sister, so he'd never experienced this level of restlessness with them. Tonks was the first who represented even the concept of a possibility. If they happened to leave an Order meeting together, he would walk her to the Underground station. If they talked a bit before meetings started, and she would touch his arm or shoulder. He could feel Sirius' knowing gaze on him, and a flush would creep up his cheeks. It was like puberty and adolescence all over again. The wolf had hated puberty and adolescence. And so had Remus. 20 August 1995 Sometimes, I think Dumbledore enjoys keeping us in the dark. Yes, I realize that's close to blasphemy in some circles. Like Elphias Doge. He'd want to have me publically flogged for daring to question Dumbledore. It's not so much that I question Dumbledore's goals. Just his means of achieving them. It might make things easier at the Department of Mysteries if we knew what we were guarding. I'm hoping that once the children all go back to school, and we can have a meeting of the Order without fear of being overheard by certain underage witches and wizards. Or a couple of wizards who do happen to be of age, just not yet members of the Order. As it is, all he's told us is that it's something that could help Voldemort. So needless to say, rumors of its true purpose are rampant among the members of the Order who take on the responsibility of guarding what ever it is. I'm also concerned about Dumbledore's continued, well, lack of interest in Harry. Every time Molly, Arthur, or I bring up our concerns about him, Dumbledore changes the subject. It's rather odd for someone who has a vested interest in the boy's future. The children haven't gotten their book lists and Hogwarts letters yet. That's surprising. For one thing, it means Dumbledore cannot find anyone to teach the still-vacant Defense position. However, given how the last several Defense professors have been treated, can you blame people for not wanting the job? It's been years… Forty of them, actually, since the post last had a regular teacher. I've heard it's cursed. It's probably one of those stories people make up to explain things, but on the other hand…. How could it not be? Nobody's lasted more than a year since Dumbledore refused to hire Riddle/Voldemort as the Defense professor. Or at least, that's what McGonagall says… Remus stood in the warm kitchen that was as brightly lit as Molly could make it. She was holding a small dinner party to celebrate Ron and Hermione being made prefects. Remus was more than slightly stunned that Ron had been made a prefect over Harry. Not that he was biased, really, but the year he had taught at Hogwarts, he'd observed Ron was something of a follower and rather hot-tempered, to boot. Not that Harry didn't have his own issues controlling his temper, but Remus imagined it was due more to his feelings of isolation. He – or rather the wolf – had heard Harry's shouting the night they brought him to Grimmauld Place from the Dursleys'. He'd seen the shuttered expression that fell over Harry's face when Molly declared that Harry knew everything he needed to know, and then some. He'd also seen the letter Harry had sent to Ron. Ron had left it carelessly at the kitchen table the morning it had arrived. Tonks stood with Hermione and Ginny, fizzing with effervescent laughter. 'So my dad tracks my mum down to the library and she turns him down.' 'Was he deranged or something?' Ginny asked, wide-eyed.

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'Oh, no. Dad's a right old bloke, but my mum was born a Black, and Dad's Muggle-born,' Tonks explained. 'That could be a bit complicated,' Hermione said circumspectly. 'Just a little,' Tonks replied teasingly. 'So they started studying together in the library their sixth year, tucked away in a hidden corner, safe from the prying eyes of her family. Then, one summer's day, Dad asked her out on a date. Against her better judgment, Mum accepted, and snuck out of the house to meet Dad. He took her to Regent's Park to see a play. And during their seventh year, they dated, but they had to keep it a secret, so her family didn't find out,' Tonks added with a dramatic flare. 'Six months after they finished school, Mum said they had arranged her marriage to Lucius Malfoy, so she ran away to Dad. They got married the next year, and had me a year after that,' she finished. 'To hear Dad tell it, it's a great romantic story, but he's sort of squidgy.' Remus hid a smile as he picked up a plate and wandered down the table set up buffet-style. He added a few things to his plate and joined in toasting Ron and Hermione with the rest of the group. He wasn't surprised to hear Tonks hadn't been made a prefect. She was cheeky enough as an adult, that he could imagine she must have been a handful as a teenager. He noticed Harry's posture, which had been projecting a decidedly dejected air, straightened considerably with Sirius' admission that he, too, and not been a prefect, either. Later, he half-listened to Hermione's earnest exhortations about house elves, impressed, as always, by the depth and breadth of her knowledge. She was right, of course, but Remus could have told her change would have to come from within on the issue of elf rights, being versus beast designations. It wasn't a new topic for him, after all. He'd struggled against its current for nearly thirty years, after all. If anything about Hermione's oration surprised him at all, it was that she could be awfully naïve for someone so intelligent. Then again, he thought, intelligence and common sense don't always go hand-in-hand. She was bound and determined to free the house elves from their servitude, single-handedly if she had to. Whether they wanted it or not. Remus nearly snorted aloud. Free will… If she would just stop talking long enough to listen to herself, she's talking about free will… As much as he wanted to remind her each elf was an individual – that she couldn't paint the lot of them with the same wide brush – he knew she needed to learn that for herself. His telling her wouldn't make a bit of difference to her right now. Hermione let herself be pulled away by Molly to take a few snapshots with Ron and their prefect badges. Sirius rolled his eyes and made gagging noises. Kingsley joined Remus and spoke in a low voice. 'I must say, I'm confused why Dumbledore didn't make Potter a prefect.' he rumbled. Remus glanced across the room. Harry was standing alone in a corner, holding a plate, its food untouched. His shoulders had stiffened once more, and Remus knew, in spite of Kingsley's best efforts not to be overheard, Harry had heard him. 'He'll have his reasons,' Remus replied noncommittally. Damn! It's the last thing he needs right now! 'But it would have shown confidence in him,' Kingsley continued, as if Remus didn't know that. Remus didn't hear the rest of it. His attention had zeroed in on Harry. What little color the boy's face held drained, leaving it a collection of angles and shadows. Mad-Eye had taken a crumpled photograph from his pocket, and handed it to Harry. It was one of the Order from before. A good number of the people in that photograph were dead now. Remus wondered just how good Mad-Eye's magical eye actually was, if he couldn't see the misery on Harry's face. Harry managed to make an excuse and fled the party. Remus didn't blame him. 31 August 1995 That photograph… I could strangle Mad-Eye for showing it to Harry. I know Harry can handle things far beyond most fifteen year-olds. He's faced Voldemort four times in his brief life and walked away each time. More than most fully-trained wizards and witches can say. I do understand why Harry's so upset about not making prefect. But what bothers me is that it wasn't until Sirius and Tonks mentioned they hadn't been prefects either, did he seem to feel better about it. Does he think people won't love him unless he's extraordinary all the time? If that's the case, he's going to wear himself out trying to attain it. And what he needs is consistent unconditional affection. Something he's not likely to get between now and the next time Dumbledore allows him a nice, long visit to the Weasleys. I do heartily wish Kingsley hadn't spoken about the entire prefect issue while Harry was in the room. I know he heard. And even though Kingsley was criticizing Dumbledore, I'm certain all Harry heard was the idea that it might have been a lack of confidence in him on Dumbledore's part. And given the way Dumbledore's been treating Harry lately, maybe he does feel that file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

way. I don't have to imagine. I know it's devastating. Molly is the only one of us who is willing to admit what we're all thinking. This time it might not end well. Faith, in of itself, is fine. But I find that you need to experience the other end of the spectrum to appreciate what you have. Rather strange dichotomy, isn't it? That in order to maintain your faith, you have to question it. Otherwise, you're merely following something or someone in complete blindness. And that is no way to live. Teddy hoisted his bag to his shoulder and reached into the urn for a handful of Floor powder. 'Bye, Gran,' he said carelessly, before throwing the powder into the fireplace. Before Andromeda could respond, he hurriedly stepped through the flames and disappeared in the emerald-green whorl. He managed to disembark at Harry and Ginny's without falling on his face. Feeling a small sense of accomplishment at this feat, Teddy headed for the stairs and swiftly ran up them to the first floor. Giggles from Lily's room piqued his curiosity. Albus sat on Lily's bed, his face and arms covered with a generous sprinkling of crusty green spots. He held a common Muggle marker in one hand, and Lily's chin in the other. Lily dissolved into ticklish titters as Albus began to trace a pattern on her cheek, using the marker to connect the spots. 'You shouldn't do that,' Teddy admonished. 'Ginny'll go spare.' 'It'll wash off,' Albus offered. He picked up a face cloth and dunked a corner into the water glass next to Lily's bed and began to scrub at the design on Lily's face. 'James said so.' 'Owwww!' Lily squealed when Albus began to rub firmly over her still-tender spots. Teddy reached between them and plucked the face cloth from Albus' fingers. 'Haven't we told you not to listen to anything James says?' he sighed. 'But he promised!' Lily protested. 'He always promises,' Teddy reminded her. He tossed the face cloth into the basket in the bathroom and stomped upstairs to his attic bedroom. 'Promises don't mean shite,' he muttered, as threw his bag on the bed. A/N: The dialogue between Kingsley and Remus appears in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Scholastic hardcover edition, pg. 172.  

FIVE – 1 September 1995

Ginny dabbed ointment on Lily's face, casting a beady eye on James, who lurked in the doorway of the bathroom. 'James, what in Merlin's name possessed you to say that marker would wash off?' James sulkily swung a foot at the doorjamb. 'Dad did it to me when I had dragon pox,' he mumbled, wrinkling his nose at the sharp odor of the ointment. Ginny sighed and set Lily on the floor. 'Go find Albie, all right?' she told Lily, who ran from the bathroom, her bare feet pattering lightly on the tiles. She wiped her hands on a small towel and placed them on her hips, glaring at her eldest son. 'James, we don't use markers on our faces,' she sighed. 'Especially markers that don't wash off...' 'But it was fun when Dad did it!' James protested. 'Your dad also knows which markers wash off,' Ginny retorted darkly. 'Go downstairs and make sure Lily found Albie, would you please?' 'Fine.' James trudged out of the bathroom and clattered down the stairs. Teddy slouched by the bathroom on his way up to his bedroom. The door that led to the attic slammed as Albus padded into the bathroom. 'Teddy's mad,' he informed his mother.

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'Really?' Ginny said dryly. 'Uh-huh.' Albus clambered up to the closed lid of the toilet, swinging his feet slightly. 'He said a bad word.' Ginny knelt in front of Albus and gently spread the ointment over his cheeks. 'Did he?' Albus nodded vigorously. 'Yep. It was really bad. He needs to put a Sickle in the jar.' Ginny felt her eyebrows shoot up. When James was old enough to start repeating everything he heard, she and Harry set a jar on the counter in the kitchen, adding a Sickle every time they swore in front of the children in an effort to curb the amount of expletives they used. The children took a great deal of glee in reminding their parents to add Sickles to the jar. 'I'll make sure he puts one in,' she promised. When she finished with Albus, Ginny sent him downstairs to Harry and walked toward the attic door. She opened it and slipped up the narrow stairs. Teddy was sitting on his bed, his back against the wall, his fingers tracing the dates written on the slightly yellowed flyleaf of the journal. She sat on the bed next to Teddy, who shrank slightly away from her. 'May I?' Ginny asked, holding out a hand. Teddy reluctantly surrendered the journal to her and Ginny perused a few pages. 'Where did you find these?' she queried, even though she knew perfectly well where he'd found them, and about his argument with Andromeda. 'The attic at Gran's,' Teddy said stiffly. 'She says she "forgot" about them,' he scoffed. 'I see.' Ginny closed the journal and handed it back to Teddy. 'And you're upset by this.' 'Wouldn't you be?' Teddy raged, flinging himself off the bed and pacing around the small room. 'I suppose,' Ginny replied neutrally. 'And she said she didn't want me to see them until I was older,' he spat. 'I can understand that.' Teddy's eyes narrowed and he glared at Ginny. 'Whose side are you on?' he demanded. Ginny heaved a sigh and picked up an abandoned stuffed dragon from the windowsill near the bed. 'I'm not on anybody's side,' she said. 'But if you could calm down for a moment?' Teddy stopped pacing and stood on the edge of the rug, his arms crossed over his chest, lips clamped together. 'One, your grandmother had a lot on her plate after your parents died. Trust me; taking care of a newborn by yourself is not an easy thing to do. And if your father just mentioned his diaries were up there in passing, it is possible that it did slip her mind in the rather time-consuming job of raising you… And two, there are possibly some things in those journals that she didn't want you to read until you were in fact, older than you are now,' Ginny told him gently. 'And believe me, Teddy; I know how it feels to always be told, "Just wait until you're older." But there are things in there that might be difficult for you to understand. Things about your parents that might be confusing for you, after everything we've told you.' 'Yeah? Like what?' Teddy grumbled sullenly. Ginny hesitated. They had never told him that Remus had left Tonks, albeit temporarily, through a somewhat unspoken agreement amongst themselves. Not that they idealized Remus or Tonks, but they glossed over some of their history when they talked about them to Teddy. 'Just things that don't paint your father in the best light, but he felt he was doing the best thing for your mum. And you.' 'Aren't you going to tell me?' Teddy huffed. Ginny picked up the journal and held it out to Teddy. 'No. I think you need to hear about it from your father…' Remus yawned and stretched, feeling as if he had a slight hangover. He hadn't slept well the previous night. Molly's fears seemed to have infected him as well. Remus had tossed and turned fitfully most of the night, images of Sirius, the Weasleys, Kingsley, and Tonks lying on the polished, black floor of the Department of Mysteries, faces blank in sudden death. He saw Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny bloodied and broken, lost and orphaned. And Harry…

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Remus stared at the ceiling trying to block the image of Harry's dead body sprawled on the floor, with Voldemort standing over him, laughing victoriously. He threw back the blanket and swung his feet to the floor, wincing at the chill of the wooden floor under his bare feet. He stumbled into the miniscule bathroom, flicking his wand carelessly toward the bathtub, and steaming water began to stream from the shower. He ducked into the spray and sighed as the hot water flowed over him. He leaned against the wall and pillowed his head against an arm, hoping Molly had coffee at Grimmauld Place. He needed about a gallon of it. Remus twisted the taps off and toweled himself off carelessly. He wrapped the threadbare towel around his waist and went back into the small bedroom, and stood in front of the wardrobe, surveying his scant wardrobe, an index finger tapping against the door. He needed to blend in today. The blue jumper and brown trousers, he mused, reaching in for them. He quickly dressed and grabbed his traveling cloak, Disapparating to an alley near number twelve. He slipped inside, trying not to wake Mrs. Black's portrait, sniffing the air hopefully for coffee. It was there, and Remus followed the scent down to the kitchen. Sirius was at the table, cradling a cup between his hands, a surly expression darkening his features. 'Why so glum?' Remus asked, pouring a cup of coffee from the pot sitting on the stove. 'I want to go with you to King's Cross,' Sirius huffed. 'But Molly thinks it's a bad idea.' 'As yourself?' Remus choked, spilling coffee down his front. Siruis gave Remus a look of disgust. 'Of course not,' he snapped. 'I'm not stupid,' he muttered. 'Sorry,' Remus murmured. 'I didn't sleep well last night…' 'I thought I'd go as Padfoot. It's not like anyone knows…' 'Snape does,' Remus reminded him pointedly. 'And I know Dumbledore says he's trustworthy, but how do we know he hasn't gone and exposed you to the other side…' 'I really don't care,' Sirius huffed. 'I have to get out of this place,' he whispered. 'It's going to kill me, Moony…' Remus sipped his coffee, contemplating Sirius through half-closed eyelids. 'I'll see what I can do,' he said finally. 'But don't get your hopes up, and for God's sake, don't just show up as Padfoot and expect to go.' He Summoned a loaf of bread from the pantry and jabbed his wand at it. It sliced itself and toasted in midair as it flew onto a plate. Remus flicked his wand at the pantry once more and a pot of jam landed next to the plate. He spread strawberry jam on a piece of toast. 'What did Dumbledore say?' Sirius looked away. 'Padfoot…' Remus said warningly. Sirius pursed his lips. 'He said no.' At that moment, Arthur came into the kitchen. 'Oh, you're here,' he said to Remus. 'Good. You'll be taking the twins and Ginny to the station. I'll have Ron and Hermione, and Molly and Tonks will take Harry.' Remus felt a sprig of disappointment rise that he wasn't paired with Tonks and tried to quash it. 'Oh… Are you sure that's a wise idea?' he asked. Arthur's lips twitched, but he only said, 'Tonks is an Auror, lad.' 'I know that,' Remus said lamely, cramming a piece of toast into his mouth to cover his embarrassment. 'And Molly's quite good. In spite of appearances to the contrary,' Arthur added ruefully. 'It's why we picked her. People won't expect her to be so good.' 'How good is she?' Remus asked. A slow smile spread over Arthur's mouth. 'She used to beat her brothers at dueling all the time. Both of them against her at the same time.'

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Remus' brow rose slowly. He'd heard stories about how good Gideon and Fabian Prewett were before they'd been killed. 'Well, then…' Arthur cleared his throat. 'I supposed I'd better go wake the twins…' he murmured distractedly, a glint in his eye that told Remus he wasn't going to wake the twins, and nearly ran from the kitchen. Sirius poured himself another cup of coffee. 'What do you want to bet they're going to leave here late?' Remus watched Molly and Harry slip out of the front door of number twelve, followed by Padfoot and turned to the twins and Ginny. 'We'll go next,' he said quietly. He pinned Fred and George with a severe look. 'I want the two of you to stay near me, where I can see you when we walk to King's Cross.' Fred and George exchanged a glance where an entire conversation played out with small quirks of their eyebrows. It was over in an instant. 'You don't want us to hold hands or something barmy like that, do you?' Fred chortled, needing to make a joke in the tense situation. Remus shook his head. 'Just make sure you're where I can see you, all right?' He used a finger to tilt Ginny's chin up. 'You, Miss Weasley, will need to stay next to me, okay?' Ginny sighed and her brows knit in a frustrated frown. 'It's because I'm underage, isn't it?' 'Yeah…' Remus opened the door and gestured for the twins and Ginny to precede him. 'Not that you can't take care of yourself,' he told Ginny. 'But I don't want to draw attention to anyone using underage magic.' 'But it's September first,' Ginny argued, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her coat. 'True, but school hasn't officially started yet, and the last thing we need to do is give Fudge an excuse to come down on Dumbledore or other people…' Ginny's wide dark eyes narrowed slightly and she nodded. 'I can't wait until I'm seventeen,' she huffed. 'Don't worry, Gin-Gin,' George said, as he walked next to her. 'In a few short years, you'll be able to hex people, wherever and whenever you want.' 'And the world will never be the same again,' teased Fred. Ginny stuck her tongue out at the twins. 'How long will it take us to get to King's Cross?' Remus grinned. 'About fifteen minutes or so.' 'Brilliant,' Ginny muttered, and walked a little faster. The children safely on the train, Remus and Padfoot stood on the platform, watching the train rumble away around the curve. Remus didn't notice the middle-aged woman next to him, wearing a purple hat until she stumbled and pitched forward. He caught her, and as he steadied her, Remus studied her face. There was something vaguely familiar about her. His fingertips brushed over the iron-grey widow's peak. She smiled and mouthed, 'Wotcher.' The corner of Remus' mouth twitched. 'Hiya,' he breathed. 'Are you all right, ma'am?' he said louder, eyes twinkling. Tonks winked. 'Yes, thank you,' she said primly. She headed for an Apparition point and disappeared. Remus felt something nudge his hand and he looked down at Padfoot, tongue lolling out of his mouth in a doggy grin. 'Don't say a word,' Remus muttered. 9 September 1995 What is Dumbledore thinking? Actually… What was Sirius thinking? Going to the platform last week when he was told it wasn't a good idea. Bloody fool. He's going to give us away if he does something like that again. I could strangle Severus right now. Most of the Order know Sirius' alter ego, but the only way someone like Lucius Malfoy would know is if Severus said something. Damn him! Damn Sirius for his

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devil-may-care attitude and putting himself and all of us at unnecessary risk and damn Severus for his bloody grudges. He may be playing both sides, but does he have to allow his feelings about Sirius dictate his decisions all the time? I'm so angry at both of them. I'm especially angry at Sirius for what he said to Harry last night. He should not have berated Harry for being concerned for his safety. And furthermore, I don't think James would have wanted Sirius to take stupid risks. Risks, sure, but nothing potentially life-threatening. Harry's already feeling put-upon as it is, and now Sirius has to open his enormously large mouth and make him feel even worse by telling him he's nothing like his father. I hope for Sirius' sake Harry forgets he said that. I don't think Harry will though. In that case, then I hope Harry realizes Sirius had been well into the process of drinking himself into a stupor. God help me, it's enough to make my head hurt. Umbridge… I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking. She's one of the most hateful people I've ever had the misfortune to meet. I'm not even able to legally tutor student witches or wizards anymore because of her and her laws regarding werewolves. And from what the children say, she's not even trying to teach them. That's just… Beyond unethical from an educational point of view. It borders on immoral. Especially for the students in the O.W.L and N.E.W.T. years. And she's allowing Fudge to use her to spy on Dumbledore, because everyone knows Delores Umbridge doesn't know how to teach anyone to perform a countercurse, much less an ordinary hex or jinx. It's just all spiraling out of control… There the entry sputtered to an end. Teddy's fingertips traced over the indentations left in the paper. His father had clearly been extremely upset when he'd written that. His normally neat penmanship had degenerated into an untidy, nearly illegible scrawl, with many blots and words that had been scratched through repeatedly. He carefully closed the journal and set it on the small table next to the bed. He slid down into the bed, pulling the quilt over his shoulders. He closed his eyes, but the image of a hand grinding a quill into the paper as it wrote burned into his memory.  

SIX – 6 October 1995

Harry woke up and lay in bed for a moment, listening. He heard nothing but the random chirp of a bird or the soft zing of crickets, but something wasn't quite right. His head turned on the pillow and he squinted a little, bringing Ginny into focus. She slept peacefully, a hand resting on Harry's chest. He gently lifted her hand and set it down on her pillow, next to her face. He quietly slid out of bed and shoved his glasses onto his face. He peered into the children's rooms, but they were all sleeping soundly. A snuffling sound came from the sitting room, and Harry tiptoed to the stairs. Teddy was frantically paging through the photograph albums. Harry folded himself to the floor. 'It's late, Teddy,' he said mildly. Teddy shook his head miserably. 'Hands…' he muttered. 'I need a photograph of Dad… His hands…' 'All right, Teddy. Let's do this in the morning, okay?' Teddy shook his head vehemently. 'No. Have to do it now,' he hissed. Harry's eyes widened slightly, but he reached for one of the older albums, filled with photographs he'd found in the boxes of things he'd salvaged from his parents' house. 'Okay, Teddy…' He bent his head over the pages, searching for one of Remus by himself. The sound of Teddy's sniffles grew stronger and he swiped the back of his hand over his cheeks. 'Don't worry, Teddy,' Harry said soothingly. 'We'll find one…' 'What was he like?' Teddy asked, his voice thick and scratchy. He kept his eyes resolutely trained on the photo album, his fingers tracing the edge of a photograph of Harry's parents with Sirius and Remus. 'Who?' 'Dad…' Teddy's fingertip gently brushed over Remus' head. 'What was he really like?' Harry turned a few pages thoughtfully. 'He cared too much,' he said finally. 'About everybody before he bothered to consider his own feelings.' 'That doesn't make sense…' 'Yeah, I know. But he wanted everyone else to be happy, even if it meant he wasn't. It sounds absolutely silly, but that's how

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he did things, even if the final result cost him. And he was so… Clever doesn't cover it. Still ranks as one of the best teachers I ever had. And he was always a little slow to believe people didn't see him as a freak or that they weren't repulsed by him.' Harry smiled slightly. 'Took your mother almost a year to convince him that he wasn't either too old or too poor for her; or that the werewolf issue didn't really matter to her. He almost never believed he was good enough for people.' 'I don't think Gran liked him very much,' Teddy interrupted. 'It's possible,' Harry acknowledged. 'Andromeda was part of a generation that was raised to believe all werewolves were evil beasts who ought to be destroyed. But somehow I think your grandmother's reasons for not completely liking your father have less to do with lycanthropy and more to do with whether or not she thought he'd make a good husband for her only child.' Harry's throat grew tight at the memory of Remus raging about the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, terrified he had made an innocent child a werewolf, simply by the act of conception. He glanced down at the photograph album. 'How's this one?' he asked Teddy, turning the heavy book around. Remus was propped up on a large cushion on the floor of the Gryffindor common room; sound asleep, with his hands wrapped around a small, leather-bound book. Teddy nodded, his fingers hovering lightly over the edge of the photograph. Harry reached down and gently pried the photograph off the thick paper and laid it in Teddy's hand. 'We'll go through them tomorrow after the little ones are in bed, yeah? Any photographs you want, you can have.' Teddy's only reply was a long, drawn-out sniff. He started to jerk away from the hand Harry laid on his shoulder, but leaned into it. 'Come on, then… Let's get back to bed. Lily'll wake us all up soon enough.' Harry took the photograph album from Teddy's unresisting hands and laid it on the bookcase along with the others, and tugged Teddy to his feet, urging him toward the stairs. Teddy stumbled up the stairs, his eyes focused on the photograph in his hand. He didn't realize Harry had followed him into the attic until he slid into bed, and Harry gently tucked the bedding around him. 'I'm too old to be tucked in, Harry,' he huffed. Harry's smile grew wider. 'Maybe. But no matter how old you get, you'll always the three-year old who liked to throw porridge to the ceiling to see if it'd stick.' And my first child , he added silently. 'Good night, Ted.' 'They're doing what?' Molly gasped. Mundungus Fletcher smiled evilly and blew a foul, green smoke ring toward the ceiling of the kitchen. 'Makin' a club o' some sort. So's Harry can teach them defensive magic and the like.' Mundungus turned his grin toward Molly. 'Your lit'le girl can do a dead-on mimicry of that Umbridge woman.' Molly's eyes grew rounder and her mouth dropped open. 'Ginny was there?' 'Yeah. An' your three boys, too. That mouthy know-it-all girl that was here, it's her idea to have the boy teach 'em Defense spells.' 'Why am I not surprised?' Remus muttered to Sirius. 'I'm surprised it wasn't Harry's idea,' Sirius replied, his voice heavy with disapproval. 'He should have been the one to do it.' 'Shush!' Molly glared across the table at the pair of Marauders. 'This isn't some game they're playing, is it?' 'Did they say why they've formed this particular group?' Remus asked calmly. Mundungus shrugged. 'Said it's to help 'em pass their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. Seein' as how that toad-woman innit doin' it. Nothin' sinister.' 'I'm writing to Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny right now,' Molly declared. 'They're not to go to any meetings with this club.' She shoved her chair back and stood up, but Arthur's hand clamped around her wrist. 'Sit down, Molly,' he said, his voice heavy with intent for all its equanimity. 'Fred and George are of age,' he said in that same even tone. 'And you know very well Ron and Ginny will just do what they want anyway, especially if you tell them they can't. You'd waste an owl. And it's not safe to send any sort of message like that through the Owl Post. And if the Ministry doesn't see fit to ensure their magical education, it's in their best interests to be in this organization.' Arthur swallowed heavily. 'And in all likelihood, one day they're going to need it.' His hand rose and brushed over Molly's cheek, thumbing away tears that file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

had begun to fall unchecked down her face. 'We can't wrap them in cotton wool and pretend it's not going to come sooner than we want.' 'But they're just children,' Molly protested weakly. Remus snorted, rather uncharacteristically. 'When was the last time Harry was a child? The hour before James and Lily were killed?' he spat. 'Or perhaps the afternoon before he pulled the Sorcerer's Stone from that bloody mirror of Dumbledore's? If not then, perhaps it was the afternoon before Voldemort dragged Ginny down into the Chamber? Or when he followed Sirius' Animagus form through the Whomping Willow, faced a werewolf,' – here he saluted the small group gathered around the table – 'and managed to fight off hundreds of Dementors by himself? The last ten seconds before he touched the Triwizard Cup?' Remus didn't notice his voice rising, nor did he realize he was leaning across the table, face flushing with anger or that he had repeatedly struck the table with his clenched fist, punctuating each statement. 'When, Molly? When has Harry ever been a child?' 'And don't forget Molly, Ron and Hermione have been with him for most of that,' Sirius reminded her, failing miserably to keep the note of glee from his voice at finally getting to throw something into her face. 'I need some air,' Remus muttered, shoving his chair away from the table, panting with the effort of keeping his temper under control. He clattered across the stone floor and yanked the door open, lunging up the dark, narrow stairs from the basement to the tiny scrap of a garden. He paced the perimeter, chest heaving. 'You didn't have to bite her head off,' said a feminine voice behind him. Tonks perched on the edge of the low wall that bordered the top of the stairs. Remus had forgotten she was in the kitchen. 'They wouldn't let Sirius come up,' she explained. 'Said it was too dangerous.' Remus huffed audibly, crossing his arms over his chest. Tonks' head cocked to one side. 'She knows, Remus. Everything you said. She knows.' 'Then why does she insist on infantilizing them?' Remus stormed. 'To make up for what they've missed,' Tonks supplied. 'I thought you would have understood that.' 6 October 1995 I can't say I'm not worried. Not about Harry's skills with Defensive magic. I'm starting to think his abilities in that area will surpass mine soon. Not that I'm a slouch or anything, but Harry… Harry has a gift. I'm probably biased, but my proudest moment as a teacher was finding out he produced a corporeal Patronus strong enough to drive away a horde of Dementors. And not yet fourteen years old. Especially considering I've not yet mastered the art of producing a corporeal Patronus myself. It is more than a bit pathetic that a grown man more than twice his age can't do, even as he taught Harry to do it. Those who can't, indeed. What I am worried about is Harry himself. What if something happens to one of the other students? Knowing Harry, he'll blame himself for it. Or if one of them is killed in a battle – dear God, let that be far off into the future – he might not recover from that, knowing he trained them, and it wasn't enough. And what if Umbridge catches them? It could make things rather difficult for them and their parents, if they have parents that work for the Ministry. Fudge is petty enough to take it out on them. Remus laid his quill down and stared at the shadows on the wall of the flat, dancing in the flickering lamplight. He closed the journal and leaned forward to blow out the lamp. Remus stumbled into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, ravenously hungry. Ever since Sirius had gathered "the old gang" he'd become accustomed to eating regularly. Molly was a great one for making sure food was available at all Order meetings. For some of them, it was the only chance they'd had to eat that day, considering they were dividing their time between work for the Order and their day jobs. It was also the night before the full moon, and the desire to accost a chicken and rip it to shreds until nothing was left but the bones was almost as relentless as his need for… He shook himself violently, rather like a dog. Better to not let your mind wander in that direction, he told himself sternly. Not for the first time, Remus idly wondered if he would be able to handle living an ascetic lifestyle. It wouldn't be wildly different

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from his current rather monkish existence. He peered around the door that led into the kitchen, holding his breath, feeling at once relieved and crestfallen to find it lacking the company of… Stop it, he commanded himself. I will when you will, echoed the wolf. 'Don't try me,' he said aloud, in what he hoped was a severe tone he reserved for the most recalcitrant students. His only reply was the ghost of mocking laughter. Sighing gustily, Remus ran up to the sitting room, to find Sirius stretched out on his stomach in front of the hearth, his head in the fire. Remus deliberately trod on the creaky floorboard to alert Sirius to his presence. Whatever he was saying was abruptly cut off as he yanked his head from the flames with a muffled oath. 'Am I interrupting anything?' Remus asked, not in the least bit sorry that Sirius had bumped his head on the mantle when he stood up. 'Just talking to the Marauders-in-training,' Sirius said grumpily, rubbing the top of his head. 'Am I bleeding?' he asked, tilting his head down for Remus to inspect. Remus' fingers parted the graying black strands, gingerly brushing over an already sizable lump. 'No. Your head is harder than the stones of Gringotts,' he said sardonically. 'Hurts,' Sirius muttered, continuing to rub his head. 'Don't supposed you'd kiss it to make it better?' A sly grin flitted over his face. 'Hmmm.' Remus pretended to consider the option. He ruffled Sirius' hair thoughtfully. 'When was the last time you washed your hair?' 'Erm….' Sirius flushed, not wanting to admit it had been a couple of weeks, especially since he'd been so vain when they were younger. 'I'm not your type anyway, you mangy mutt,' Remus said, good-naturedly slapping Sirius on the back. 'You're much too highmaintenance for me…' Sirius' only reply was to toss his hair haughtily out of his face. 'Has Molly left anything for dinner?' Remus asked hopefully. 'Yeah.' Sirius led Remus back down into the basement kitchen. He retrieved a clean plate and loaded it with leftover chicken and potatoes, mindful of Remus' eating habits before a full moon. 'So you were talking to Harry, Ron, and Hermione?' Remus prompted, stabbing a potato with his fork. 'Yeah. We talked about this and that. Their Defense group, mostly.' Sirius shifted uneasily. 'I told them Umbridge wasn't a Death Eater… She isn't, is she?' Remus shook his head, mouth full. Swallowing, he replied, 'Not that I am aware. Ask Kingsley next time you see him if she's ever been suspected, but I don't recall that to have been the case.' Sirius nodded. 'I told them she was a horribly unpleasant person, though, prone to believing the worst about people.' 'And the Defense group?' Remus prodded. 'I think it's a good idea.' 'Even with that damn Decree?' 'Remus, do you really think it's an awful idea?' Sirius challenged. Remus pushed a potato around on his plate before replying, 'No.' He quickly added, 'I'm just worried about what will happen to them if she catches them. Harry barely got off from being expelled over the summer; I don't think he'd survive something like this…' 'And Hogwarts is the only other place he's safe besides Privet Drive,' Sirius finished glumly. 'And it should please you to know I passed on Molly's sentiments about the group to Harry, Ron, and Hermione.' Remus' shoulders slumped a little. 'And they're going to continue as they are?' 'Yes.'

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Remus pushed his plate away, no longer hungry. 'Just as well, I suppose… None of them would ever willingly follow someone else blindly.' He stood and wrapped his cloak securely around his body. 'I'll just go home, then. I'll see you in a few days.' 7 October 1995 The worst thing about being able to see both sides of an argument is that it makes you painfully aware of the consequences if you do something and if you don't do a thing. I understand why Molly is adamantly opposed to the "children" doing this Defense group. Now that Umbridge has Fudge firmly on her side with how the school is supposed to be run, every single one of them runs the risk of expulsion. Fred and George, I think won't be too fussed about it. But Hermione would be devastated, and Molly would be as well, on the others' behalf. If that were to happen, I suppose we could take over teaching them ourselves. At the very least it would give Sirius something to do. He's not exactly a slouch at Transfiguration or Charms and he would be more than capable of seeing the younger ones through their studies for fourth and fifth years. Kingsley and I could do Defense, and maybe… It's possible we could find someone reliable to teach Potions. Maybe Arthur, Molly, Sirius, and I should sit down and make out some plans. Just in case we have need of them. I also understand why Sirius is desperate for Harry to do this. He needs Harry to demonstrate that he's James' son – that Harry's rebellious streak is no mere accident. And he needs to know that Harry isn't sitting idly by, waiting for someone to make decisions for him. Rather like Sirius is being forced to do right now. That being said, we'll have to make arrangements for Harry, so he's got the best tools he can have at his disposal. I'm sure there are some books and other things in that library at Grimmauld Place that might prove useful. I'm not sure how we can actually get them to Harry without arousing suspicion. Perhaps we'll have to wait until Christmas. Umbridge can't take umbrage at a simple gift, can she? Teddy sat on the floor, the last of the photograph albums balanced on his lap. A small pile of photographs featuring Remus during his years at Hogwarts was scattered on the rug next to him. 'Harry?' 'Yeah?' 'Who is…?' Teddy's nose crinkled as he struggled to recall a name from his father's journal. 'Umbidge…?' 'Umbridge,' Harry corrected automatically. His head whipped up as the realization sunk in. 'Where did you hear that name?' he demanded. 'From Dad…' Harry pulled his glasses off and rubbed his eyes tiredly. 'Tomorrow, Teddy,' he promised. He felt a twinge and suppressed it. It's Remus' story I'm telling, not mine, he reasoned. 'Go to bed, Teddy…'  

SEVEN – 5 November 1995

'Are you awake?' Harry's eyes were fixed on the ceiling. 'No. I'm sleeping.'

'He wants to know about Umbridge…' Harry couldn't keep the distaste from his voice. 'Hm.' The silence spooled between Harry and Ginny. 'Hem-hem.' Ginny waited a beat then burst out laughing. 'I'm sorry,' she gasped. 'I couldn't help it!' Harry's lips twitched. 'I'd forgotten how well you do that…' 'What are you going to tell him?' Ginny asked. Harry sighed and pulled the quilt over his face. 'I don't know,' he groaned, his voice muffled by the quilt. 'I don't know whether to be honest with him or sugar-coat it a bit. He's already feeling a bit raw over everything.' 'No, Harry… I meant were you going to tell him about everything she did, including her tenure at school, or just confine it to

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her anti-werewolf legislation?' Harry was quiet for so long, Ginny thought he might have fallen asleep. She jumped a little when he began to speak. 'I don't know,' he breathed in a low voice. 'I don't even want to tell our own children about any of that, and I can't redirect Teddy with an, "I'll tell you when you're older" line. Especially not when he's got Remus' journals mentioning all this…' Harry hesitated. 'What?' Ginny propped herself up on one elbow 'The thing is,' Harry began, mumbling, 'it's almost easier to tell Teddy about it, than when James asks about something.' 'Why? Because he's older?' Harry shrugged. 'I suppose. Or maybe because he hasn't been as sheltered from it, like we've done with James, Al, and Lily.' Harry slowly exhaled. 'That's going to come back and bite us in the arse,' he said darkly. 'I'm not looking forward to James' first year…' Harry was cut off by a plaintive cry from one of the children's bedrooms. 'Daddy! Daddy!' He rolled out of bed, pushing his glasses up his nose. 'At least for now, I'm just the bloke that brings juice to his sick kids and not Harry-effing-Potter…' 'We're not going to be able to keep it from them much longer,' Ginny murmured, watching him leave the bedroom, inexplicably saddened at the idea. The children had a somewhat normal existence here. The magical denizens of Godric's Hollow had more or less closed ranks around Harry and Ginny when they moved into the house after James was born. They claimed Harry as one of theirs, and if he wished to live as anonymously as possible, then they would see to it. Home was one of the few places where Harry could expect to be treated just like any other wizard. And so were the children. Ginny scrubbed her hands over her face. 'That day's coming, far sooner than we'd like…' Kingsley hunched over a map of England. Various villages glowed brightly in the dark, sooty kitchen. One village pulsed more brightly than the others. 'He's still operating out of the Riddle House in Little Hangleton. We can't do more than keep an eye on the house, though, and make a record of who goes in and out… Too many damn charms on the place. He's not made it Unplottable yet, nor has he put a Fidelius on it –' 'Probably doesn't trust anyone to keep it a secret,' Arthur murmured. 'Would you?' Remus snorted. 'I wouldn't trust any of that lot with my mother's knickers,' Sirius snickered. Remus sighed and his lips pressed together in a thin line as he glared at Sirius. Sirius wilted slightly. 'Oh, fine…' he mumbled. 'Just trying to keep it all from descending into gloom…' 'More like he doesn't see the need for it,' Remus stated flatly. 'Arrogance… One day, we're going to be able to exploit that…' Kingsley sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes. 'Dumbledore says it's possible.' Arthur eyes narrowed behind his glasses. 'How?' 'He won't say,' Remus replied tightly. While he appreciated the need for secrecy, he felt this was going too far. It felt like they were flailing in the dark. If he would only tell us what he thinks is the key to defeat Voldemort… Maybe we could reach that goal faster and end all of this. He pushed his chair back and began to pace restlessly around the kitchen. The full moon was in two days and he could feel it tugging at him as inexorably as it pulled on the ocean tides. Arthur let his head fall to the table, pillowing his head on his folded arms. 'Who's got watch tonight at the Ministry?' he mumbled sleepily. He'd been on watch last night and gone to work straight from the Department of Mysteries. 'Emmaline,' Kingsley said, glancing at Sirius. Remus knew Kingsley wasn't very comfortable about talking about the watch schedule in front of Sirius. It usually prompted Sirius to ask, with a desperation that bordered on begging, to be included in anything other than his dreary, housebound existence. 'Hmmm.' Arthur lifted his head slightly, glasses askew. 'Someone ought to go check on her later. She has a tendency to fall

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asleep…' he yawned. The fireplace suddenly flared. All of them drew their wands, Sirius' face alight with the possibility of excitement. Minerva stepped through, clearly seething with anger. 'That… that… that… woman!' She came to a halt in front of the others. 'She's gone too far this time!' 'Erm… Who?' Arthur asked tentatively. 'Umbridge,' Minerva spat. Arthur, Kingsley, and Remus resumed their seats at the table, while Sirius went to fetch a glass from the dresser. He poured a thimbleful of Firewhiskey from the bottle on the table into the glass and held it out to Minerva. She looked at the miniscule amount with a raised eyebrow and snorted. 'For Merlin's sake, Sirius, I can handle my drink. Probably better than you can. If you're going to offer me a drink, don't insult me like that.' Sirius merely tipped the bottle over the glass and added a healthy measure of whiskey. Minerva took it with a murmured word of thanks, and tossed it back in one gulp. Sirius held up the bottle in wordless inquiry, visibly impressed. Minerva held out the glass in reply. He poured several fingers' worth of whiskey into her glass and set the bottle down as he took his seat once more. 'Isn't calling her a woman sort of an insult to women?' he asked with a hint of his customary cheekiness. Minerva managed a faintly amused look at that. 'You might be correct,' she told him. 'What's she done now?' Arthur asked worriedly. Minerva frowned, a deep line appearing between her eyebrows. 'She's banned Fred, George, and Harry from playing Quidditch,' she said heavily. 'She's done what?' Sirius roared, standing up so quickly his chair toppled to the stone floor. 'Given Fred, George, and Harry lifetime bans from Quidditch,' Minerva repeated dejectedly. 'But why?' Molly stood in the doorway, clutching a worn dressing gown below her throat. Minerva wrapped her hands around her glass and stared dolefully into it. 'You'd better come sit for this, Molly…' Her shoulders hunched and she began to quietly, emotionlessly relate the events that led to the boys' banishment. 'Malfoy and his minions made up a song that insulted Ron and everyone else in your family,' she said painfully to Molly and Arthur. 'After Harry caught the Snitch, Malfoy laid into the team, especially your three boys and Harry. They tried not to rise to the bait… They tried so hard, but the final straw apparently, was when Malfoy said something about Lily…' 'What did he say about Lily?' Remus asked, his voice nearly growling. He felt his hands clench under the table, nails biting into his palms. He almost welcomed the physical pain. It allowed him to keep the wolf from crashing to the surface. It was the first time Remus had ever seen Minerva look uncomfortable. 'He made a comment about Lily's blood status,' she managed. 'I'd rather not divulge the details. They're quite…' She paused to take a sip of her whiskey. 'Crude.' 'Minerva,' Arthur said softly. 'I'd like to know what he said…' Minerva stared into her glass for several long moments before she gulped its contents. 'That bloody ferret implied your house is no better than a pigsty, and intimated that Lily and James' house was worse, because Lily was Muggle-born,' she said shortly. Molly's face drained of what little color it had, leaving her pale and sickly looking. 'Oh…' Arthur put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. 'In their defense, the boys didn't mind so much what was said about them personally, it was when that git went after the two of you and Lily,' Minerva told Molly and Arthur. 'Harry held George back as long as he could, and once Malfoy mentioned Lily, he snapped. George joined him in the melee. It took Angelina, Katie, and Alicia to hold Fred back. Barely. Ron had already left the pitch. Umbridge barged into my office while I was attempting to get George and Harry's side of things, and announced Educational Decree Number Twenty-Five,' she said bitterly. 'Another one?' Kingsley and Remus blurted at the same time.

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'I'm afraid so. She now has the right to punish all students with impunity, overriding what their Head of House might have given them. So she banned Harry and George for attacking Malfoy, then added Fred out of malice. Because he and George obviously share a brain.' 'Well, they do at that,' Arthur interjected with a weak smile. 'And she confiscated their brooms. Locked them in her office.' Minerva shook her head helplessly. 'And she did nothing to Malfoy for his blatant provocation, nor did she do anything to the Slytherin Beater who hit a Bludger directly at Harry, just as he caught the Snitch. Knocked him clean off his broom.' Minerva wearily pushed her chair back and stood. 'I'd better get back to the school. She's bound to notice my absence and demand to know where I've been.' 'She's not a Legilimens, is she?' Kingsley asked warily. 'Not that I can tell,' Minerva said. 'But Albus is the one who would know. Or Severus.' 'He's not working with her, is he?' Sirius asked in a biting tone. 'I don't think so,' Minerva sighed. 'But it doesn't look very good when his House escapes punishment for doing something equally disgraceful.' With that, she disappeared through the fireplace. 5 November 1995 Fudge knows… He has to know the Order's been revived. Umbridge isn't just there to keep an eye on things at school, she's there to report any instances of revolt against Fudge. Of course she's there to report on Dumbledore to Fudge. You could argue we're in this… mess… because Fudge is an insecure, petty man. And he surrounds himself with people who are just as insecure and petty as he. And as much as I'm loathe to admit it, I'm not surprised that Percy is one of Fudge's sycophants. Percy's always been one to value rules and order and superficiality over finding out the true purpose of a person's actions. It's disheartening in one so intelligent – God, Percy's astoundingly smart, but he's got little in the way of common sense. And from what I've seen of his brothers and sister, it's not really anything Molly or Arthur have or haven't done. Percy likes things to be just so and sadly, like Fudge, refuses to believe his world has been turned upside down until it's already there and he cannot deny it any longer. I sincerely hope for Molly and Arthur's sake that Percy sees things are not what he wants to see before it's too late. Umbridge is beyond vindictive. I have never seen Minerva so defeated, for lack of a better word. She's always been fair, and has never favored her House over another. I have to wonder… Has she banned Harry, George, and Fred to punish Arthur and Molly, as well as Minerva because they're in the Order? Because what Draco did, while not a physical attack on them, was just as malicious. And he gets nothing from either Snape or Umbridge? I could just be overreacting and paranoid. Seeing things that aren't really there. The closer it gets to the full moon, the more it happens… Harry knelt in front of his parents' graves, pulling up weeds that poked through the cowslips and ox eye daisies. It was characteristically quiet in the valley, and the bright sunshine that filtered through the trees gave Harry pause about the subject he was about to broach with Teddy. He wiped his hands down the front of his jeans and sat back on his heels. 'You wanted to know about Umbridge…' he began. 'I've never heard of her before,' Teddy said, plucking the petals from a daisy. 'For good reason,' Harry snorted. 'She's been in prison for, oh… Just after you were born… And that's been…' Harry glanced over his shoulder at Teddy. 'Fourteen years now.' He squinted at Teddy. 'You can't be fourteen already,' he exclaimed softly. 'April fourteenth,' Teddy huffed. 'You and Ginny sent me a pile of presents. Thought Ariel and Dante were going to pass out when they got to Hogwarts.' Teddy tossed the stem aside and plucked another daisy. 'So, why is she in prison?' Harry moved to Sirius' grave and began to weed the bed of meadow cranesbill in front of it. 'She was in charge of a rather nasty program to register Muggle-born wizards and witches during the war. If they resisted, she sentenced them to a Dementor's Kiss.' Teddy started violently. 'I don't know how many were left as soulless husks,' Harry admitted painfully. 'There wasn't much I could do about it. Hermione, Ron, and I managed to help several of them escape, though, so there is that…' Harry slowly took in a deep breath and let it out. 'If they cooperated,' he said bitterly, 'she sent them to Azkaban. Was in her element. Umbitch loved to torture people who didn't fit into her worldview.'

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Teddy frowned. He vaguely remembered a lesson from his Muggle primary school. 'Wasn't there some bloke in Germany who was like that?' 'Yes. Several of them, in fact.' Harry waved his wand at the pile of weeds and they disappeared. 'Why did you call her Umbitch?' Teddy asked curiously, then looked around guiltily, as if Andromeda was going to swoop down and scrub his mouth out with soap. 'Because she was a bitch,' Harry replied promptly. 'And it sounded just like her name.' He reached for his old schoolbag and pulled out two bottles of butterbeer, shooting a casual Freezing charm over them, and handed one to Teddy. He moved to sit under the towering tree over his parents' graves, his back against the trunk. 'She was the Headmistress of Hogwarts for a brief time. She liked to force us to do lines with a Blood quill.' 'What's that?' 'When you write, it doesn't use ink. It cuts into the back of your writing hand and uses the blood as ink,' Harry said, unconsciously clenching his right hand. The old scars stood out whitely against his tanned skin. 'She banned me and George and his twin Fred from playing Quidditch. She tried to make us take Veritaserum so we'd confess about our Defense group. She tried to sack some of the teachers. She was responsible for making it impossible for your dad to work. She's a lot like those gits at school who gave you such a rough time your first year. Just in a position of power.' 'She sounds like a right bundle of joy,' Teddy muttered. 'Wait… You said she was responsible for sending Muggle-borns to Azkaban…' 'Yeah.' 'Did she… Did she kill my grandfather…?' Teddy asked softly. 'Not directly, no. But Ted went on the run, rather than register like a common criminal. He was eventually caught by a group of people called Snatchers. They killed him. He was with Dean, my friend from school. He managed to distract them long enough to let Dean escape.' 'Gran doesn't like to talk about him,' Teddy whispered. 'It makes her unhappy…' His mouth turned down and hair drooped, darkening several shades. 'What makes you say that?' Harry asked, slightly puzzled. Andromeda had certainly been wistful when talking about Ted, but he'd never seen her dissolve into outright grief since Teddy was a baby. 'Every time I ask her about him, she gets all squidgy and cries,' Teddy said, with a slight air of disgust. 'She just misses him a lot, Teddy.' 'She doesn't do it over Mum,' Teddy said pointedly. 'Not as much anyway…' Harry recalled hearing Tonks talk about her parents' courtship and marriage. 'That's because Ted saved your grandmother.' 'From what?' Harry glanced at Sirius' headstone. 'From marrying someone she didn't love. A fate worse than death…' Teddy's face scrunched in confusion. 'I don't get it…' Harry picked up his old schoolbag and stood up. 'You will… One day.'  

EIGHT – 6 November & 9 November 1995

Teddy set his Charms textbook down with a sigh. He had let his summer homework slide and now had to do it all in the next few weeks. It wasn't so much that he minded doing the homework during the summer – he really didn't – but he'd been feeling his parents' absence keenly the past few months, and had descended into a fit of ennui. A snuffling sound from the

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doorway of his attic bedroom made him look up from the essay he was writing for Flitwick. Lily stood there, framed in the dim light that drifted from the corridor below. 'Hiya, Pumpkin,' Teddy said softly. Lily padded into the room, her bare feet moving soundlessly over the rug, dragging her bunny behind her by one of its ears. 'Hey now… I don't think Cadbury likes to be held by his ear.' Lily clambered onto the bed and held up Cadbury, examining his ear. 'It's okay!' she whispered loudly. Teddy took the bunny and held its face next to his ear. Shaking his head, he replied solemnly, 'Cadbury says it hurts.' Lily's small face scrunched and she took Cadbury back from Teddy, staring at the bunny dubiously. Her face cleared and she thrust the bunny toward Teddy. 'Kiss his ear, an' make it better!' she demanded. Obediently, Teddy went pressed a kiss to the abused ear. 'What are you doing up?' he asked, moving his textbook to the floor, making room for Lily. 'Itchy,' Lily told him. 'Yeah, I remember how bad it was when I had dragon pox.' Teddy slid off the bed. 'Stay right there, Pumpkin. I'll be right back with something for those itchies, okay?' ''kay.' Teddy lightly ran down the narrow stairs to the first floor and slipped into the bathroom. Ginny kept a vial of the potion to keep the little ones from scratching at the welts. He grabbed it and a few pieces of cotton wool and went back up the stairs, wrinkling his nose at the sharp odor emanating from the vial, even with the cork firmly embedded in its mouth. 'Hold your nose,' he told Lily, as he went back inside his room, removing the cork and pressing a piece of cotton wool over the mouth, turning it over until the cotton wool was soaked through. 'Where're the itchies, Lily?' 'Here.' Lily pointed to her cheeks. 'And here.' She held out her arms. Teddy began to dab the damp cotton wool over her round cheeks. 'That feel better?' 'Uh-huh.' 'Ready to go back to sleep?' Teddy moved the cotton wool over Lily's arms, remoistening it when it became dry. 'Tell me a story,' Lily said. 'Okay…' Teddy picked up the cork and firmly pushed it back into the mouth of the vial. He settled against his pillow and pulled Lily into his lap. 'A story…' He tried to recall something he could tell Lily from memory. 'Once upon a time, there was a boy in Hufflepuff,' he began. He'd heard the story of how his grandparents met and married, usually on his grandfather's birthday, when his grandmother thought he was in bed and asleep. She stood in the sitting room, with a glass of wine, playing his old records, talking to a photograph of Ted Tonks. Teddy had thought she'd gone barmy, the first time he'd seen her, but Ginny assured him Andromeda was still sane, just missing Ted terribly. By the time Teddy got to the part where Ted and Andromeda went to Regent's Park, Lily was fast asleep. He considered trying to take her back downstairs to her own room, but Lily always managed to double her weight when asleep, rather like most cats. He managed to scoot down and pull the bedding over the both of them. 'Night, Pumpkin,' he murmured sleepily. Minerva's Patronus faded into twinkling silver nothingness. Arthur tapped the table with a finger. 'So Hagrid's back…' 'You think he was successful?' Remus asked tensely. 'Who knows?' Emmeline said with a shrug. 'Giants aren't exactly known for being rational, are they?' 'Not so much, no,' Mad-Eye growled. He eyed Remus. 'Has Dumbledore spoken to you about infiltrating Greyback's pack?' Remus shifted, uncomfortably aware that everyone's eyes had swiveled toward him. 'He's mentioned it,' Remus mumbled. 'But it's still in the planning stages.' 'Why would they want to be with You-Know-Who anyway?' Emmeline wondered. 'It's not as if their lot will be any better under him.'

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'Because he'll let them do what they want,' Remus snarled, his teeth bared in a feral sneer. 'He may not respect them as beings, but he'll allow them to attack without compunction.' He felt the others draw back a little. 'It's instinct,' he continued. 'To rip and claw a victim to shreds during the full moon. Under Voldemort, they'll have free rein to attack Muggles openly.' The corners of his mouth turned down. 'Muggles who will turn into werewolves. Without even the limited resources we have. Muggles who will run mad and commit suicide in despair,' he spat. The full moon was tomorrow. Remus could feel the wolf pacing impatiently. Staying in the city wouldn't do this month. The wolf wanted to feel earth under his paws, to run with unbridled freedom the basement didn't allow. 'And on that note…' Kingsley stood at the head of the table, the de facto leader in Dumbledore's absence. 'I must go to the Ministry to stand watch in a few minutes. I shall send word of when the next meeting will be.' The others filed out into the miniscule back garden, Apparating in turns so as not to arouse suspicion. Remus remained sitting at the table, wishing for a moment, he could trade places with Sirius. Sirius didn't have to sit in endless meetings, planning, always planning. Sirius could safely ensconce himself upstairs in his mother's old bedroom, with Buckbeak, swilling cheap firewhiskey. He started at a light touch on the back of his hand. Tonks had moved down a few seats and taken the seat next to his. She covered his hand with her own, the soft skin of her fingers rasping over the calluses on his. 'Are you all right?' 'I'm fine,' Remus told her dully. 'Come on, I'll see you to your station.' He pushed his chair away from the table and stood. Remus began to walk up the dark stairs to the ground floor, adroitly avoiding the troll leg umbrella stand. He caught it reflexively when Tonks stumbled over it as she followed him to the door, unable to deal with Mrs. Black's shouts and screams at the moment. They walked silently toward the Underground station, Remus staring straight ahead. 'I tried it,' he said abruptly. 'After James and Lily died, and Sirius went to Azkaban. I was horribly lonely.' 'What stopped you?' Remus stopped at a dingy play park, and leaned against the wrought iron fence that circled it, staring at the shabby swings swaying in the chilly wind. The cuff of his sleeve fell back, revealing a thin scar that stood out amongst the others. It was straight and regular and snaked up the inside of his forearm. 'Not the pain. Pain and I have been friends for most of my life.' His eyes closed and he turned his head away from Tonks. 'It was fear,' he admitted shamefacedly. 'I'm not afraid of dying, you see,' he muttered. 'It's what might be waiting for me…' He trailed off, unsure of why he was laying his history at the feet of this witch. There were perhaps three people to whom Remus had spoken to so candidly before: James, Lily, and Sirius. And Tonks had a feel that was similar to what he'd felt with those three. He wouldn't find judgment or censure on her face. 'Sorry,' he mumbled. 'I…' Tonks shook her head. 'Don't be.' She looked Remus curiously. 'Was that the only time?' Her hand closed around his arm, blocking the scar from view. Remus nodded, keeping his face carefully turned away from her. 'But I understand why someone would actually finish the job,' he said hoarsely. Tonks didn't say anything, but lightly squeezed his arm. She rose on her toes, and to Remus' surprise, gently kissed his cheek. 'I'll see you later, then.' She swiftly walked down the street and disappeared into the Tufnill Park station. 6 November 1995 She's going to make life difficult for Hagrid. Umbridge, I mean. And we can't have Hagrid removed from the school. We need him there. We need another pair of eyes on Harry and Hagrid will defend Harry until he hasn't breath left in his body. And his loyalty to Dumbledore is unshakable. There will be no worries that Hagrid will let his head be turned by the empty promises of Voldemort. Too many people underestimate Hagrid, believing he's simple-minded. While it's true that Hagrid often speaks before he thinks and he's not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer, he sees things the rest of us often do not. In the end, he was right about Voldemort not being gone – something the rest of us somehow missed. Or didn't want to see. I just hope he can keep his emotions in check. Hagrid's biggest asset is also his biggest vulnerability. He feels everything so keenly. And with Umbridge inspecting and evaluating classes, she might take that and find a way to use it against him. If she doesn't merely believe he's a simpleton because of his giant mother. But in all likelihood, she's going to find a way to exploit that and use it against Hagrid.

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The cold woke Remus. He slowly opened his eyes and blinked at the leaves under his cheek, feeling the ripples of gooseflesh over his skin. He had no idea where he was or where he'd left his clothes. Blearily, he examined the numerous scratches on his arms and legs. They weren't deep and would heal soon enough when he was able to put something on them. Something crusted between his fingers caught his attention, and Remus brought his hands closer to his face. What he'd thought were scrapes and scratches were actually smears of dried blood. It was caked between his fingers. Repulsed, he shot to his feet, searching frantically for a stream to wash. The sound of falling water filled his ears and he stumbled blindly, following the sounds of rushing water until the leaf mold under his feet gave way to moss-covered rocks. Remus plunged into the icy water cascading from the rocky overhang, scrubbing at his skin and hair until the red-tinted water ran clear once more. The only solace was that the blood wasn't human. Shivering, he stepped out of the weir and stood, dripping, his arms wound around his body, in an attempt to retain some of the warmth that hadn't yet dissipated. He turned slowly in a circle, trying to remember anything from the previous night. He'd left his flat, bundled in a traveling cloak, his wand in the pocket and Apparated to a deserted wood. When he allowed the wolf to run free, some part of the wolf realized he needed to return home, and usually managed stay within a manageable distance from where Remus had left his clothes and wand. The wolf wasn't a separate being, Remus had often reasoned. It was a symbiotic parasite, fully cognizant that his own survival depended on Remus'. Feeling an internal nudge, Remus struck off in a northerly direction, the movements forcing his body to thaw and the cuts and gashes began to truly ache as the blessed numbness wore off. Remus wound his way through the trees, following the seemingly instinctual urges of the wolf until he came to a large tree. His clothing rested at the base, neatly folded, his wand tucked inside an inner pocket of the cloak. Remus looked up at the tree, as he stooped to pick up his clothes and began to laugh. Rowan. The wolf had all but picked a tree said to protect one from malicious beings. Remus pulled his pants on, then his trousers, musing which one of the two of them the wolf considered a malevolent creature, necessitating protection for the other. He stiffly pushed his arms into the sleeves of his shirt, fingers fumbling to slide the buttons through the buttonholes. He wrapped his shabby cardigan around him, then bundled the traveling cloak in his arms, taking his wand from the pocket, to begin the process to Apparate back to London. Remus approached the front door of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, warily. The windows were dark and the house appeared still and deserted. He opened the front door and headed straight for the kitchen. It was uninhabited, but bore unmistakable signs of Sirius' most recent firewhiskey binge. A bottle sat on one end of the table, fingerprints showing clearly in the dust that coated it. A smeared glass was next to the bottle, a dried residue of whiskey leaving a sticky film in the bottom. He went back upstairs to the ground floor and peered into the gloomy darkness of the sitting room and library, but didn't find Sirius. He padded up the stairs to the top floor, where Buckbeak was housed in Mrs. Black's old room. Padfoot was curled on the foot of the bed, ears drooping dejectedly. Remus' mouth twisted in wry amusement. Ever since he'd figured out how to transfigure into his Animagus form, when Sirius wanted to go off and sulk, he did it as Padfoot. Remus turned to Buckbeak and meeting the large hippogriff's eyes, bowed low at the waist. Buckbeak bowed his head in return, and Remus continued into the room and slid onto the bed next to the dog. He began to stroke the top of the dog's head, lightly scratching his ears. Padfoot whined softly, pale eyes glaring up at Remus reproachfully. 'I know…' Remus murmured. 'I would have liked to have you out there with me last night. But you know it's too dangerous. Someone might have seen you.' Padfoot growled softly in his throat. 'It's not my decision, Padfoot. I realize you're tired of being cooped up and hiding, but you're still wanted by the Ministry.' Remus tilted the dog's muzzle upward. 'And for Merlin's sake, stop being so selfish, would you? Think about Harry for a minute. The last thing he needs is for you to land yourself back in Azkaban.' The large dog whined in response.

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Remus gave the dog one last pat. 'Why don't you come down with me to the kitchen?' Padfoot heaved a sigh and before Remus could blink, in his place sat Sirius in rumpled clothing, a pair of slippers on his feet. Sirius gave Remus a critical once-over, taking Remus' chin in his hand, just as Remus had done with Padfoot. 'What happened last night?' 'How do you know something happened last night?' Sirius snorted, and released Remus' chin. 'How long have I known you?' 'Twenty-four years.' 'And how many times have I seen you the day after?' 'Seven years, from September to June… Fifty six. Plus two years… At least eighty.' Sirius slid from the bed and started walking toward the door. 'So? What happened last night?' Remus shook his head. 'I don't remember,' he admitted heavily. 'I woke up this morning covered in blood. But it wasn't mine…' 'It was probably just some small…' Sirius closed his mouth with a snap. 'Come on, Dr. Jekyll; let's get you something to eat. You're hungry, aren't you?' 'I could eat.' Remus joined Sirius on the stairs. 'Just nothing with…' His face turned slightly green at the edges. 'Molly made vegetable soup the other day,' Sirius said quickly, noting the burgeoning nausea on his friend's face. 'There's still some left.' 'Brilliant.' 9 November 1995 I can't transform in the open again like that. I know it's going to cause problems for me, but I can't do that again. Not anymore. I don't like killing anything, not even in self-defense, and the wolf just kills out of the sheer joy of doing it. Is that what makes me different from the others? That I don't give in to the urge to rip, maim, and kill? But who's the better person? Greyback or me? He's not ashamed of what he is, whereas I, I do everything within my power to suppress it. And I am very much ashamed of what I am. There is something inherently dishonest about that. Teddy felt insistent nudges against his stomach and cracked open his eyelids. Lily sat on his stomach, frowning at him, her small fingers rhythmically prodding him into wakefulness. She grinned when she saw Teddy's eyes flutter open. 'I'm hungry,' she whispered loudly. 'What time is it?' Teddy groaned, reaching for the alarm clock next to his bed. He scowled at Lily, who merely smiled beatifically at him. 'Lily Nymphadora Potter, it's not even six in the bloody morning,' he grumbled. 'But I'm hungry…' Teddy heaved a sigh, and lifted Lily off his stomach. 'Fine…' He transferred Lily to his back and carried her down to the kitchen, setting her down next to the table. 'Owl O's all right with you?' 'Uh-huh.' Lily clambered into her chair at the table, and settled her stuffed bunny in the chair next to hers. 'Cadbury wants Owl O's, too.' Teddy set bowls in front of Lily and Cadbury, then poured cereal into Lily's, and shook a few pieces into the bowl in front of the bunny. He grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and added cereal to it as well. He added milk to his bowl and Lily's. 'I'm not putting milk in the bunny's bowl.' 'He doesn't like milk,' Lily retorted.

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'Of course not.' Ginny shuffled into the kitchen, yawning widely. 'What are the two of you doing up so early?' Teddy glared at Lily, placidly eating her breakfast. 'Someone was hungry.' 'And she woke you up?' 'She slept in the attic. Got itchy and came upstairs. Guess she saw the light on. I was doing my summer homework,' Teddy explained. 'Hmmm.' Ginny's hand splayed over her mouth as she yawned again. She gazed sleepily at Lily. 'Maybe we ought to rethink the length of your naps… You must get this from your grandmother. Your father and I don't do this…' She ran a hand over Teddy's matted hair. 'Sorry.' Teddy shrugged. 'It's all right.' He stirred his spoon around in his bowl a few times. 'How well did you know Dad?' Ginny flicked her wand at the teapot. Steam rose from the spout and Ginny poured a cup for herself and took a sip with a grateful sigh. 'Well enough, I suppose. Why?' Teddy poked at a piece of cereal floating on top of the milk. 'Was he ever happy?' 'Yes. He was.' Teddy snorted. 'Yeah? I keep reading this diary and all I see is Dad being… unhappy… When does he get to be happy?' Ginny cupped Teddy's face in one hand and her thumb brushed away the tears Teddy didn't realize had slipped down his face. 'The day you were born.' A/N: I know in previous chapters, Remus has said he's not the suicidal type... However, that doesn't mean he's never tried.  

NINE – 19 December & 24 December 1995

'Hiya, Teddy!' Victoire called across the Burrow's back garden.

Teddy glanced up from his intense perusal of Molly's herb garden, where he'd fled to escape the crowded sitting room. 'Oh, hi, Vic…' Victoire clambered over the fence surrounding the back garden. 'Got your things for school yet?' Teddy shook his head. 'No. Gran was supposed to take me this week, but I'm staying with Harry and Ginny. Al and Lily just got over dragon pox, so getting my books and other things have sort of been pushed to the end of the list.' 'Dad's going to take me to Diagon Alley tomorrow,' Victoire told him. 'Maybe we can come pick you up, too.' 'We'll have to ask Harry and Ginny,' Teddy said listlessly. Victoire plopped into the grass next to Teddy. 'Don't you feel well?' She immediately attempted to press the palm of her hand to Teddy's forehead. 'Gerroff, Victoire!' Teddy huffed. 'I'm not running a bloody fever!' 'How do you know?' she asked primly. 'I'm fine…' Teddy sighed. He glanced at the girl sprawled on the ground next to him. Her hair had been woven into what he supposed had been neat plaits that morning, but they were coming unraveled. Her nose bore a smudge of dirt over the bridge, and her feet were bare. 'Your mum is going to go spare when she sees you,' he said ruefully. 'Looks like you crawled through the hedgerow.' 'I did.'

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Teddy dug into his pocket for the handkerchief Andromeda insisted he carry. 'Spit,' he ordered Victoire. She obliged and he rubbed the damp cotton over her nose until the dirt disappeared. 'Where are your shoes?' 'Dunno. I think I left them by the paddock wall.' Teddy got to his feet, and held out a hand. 'Come on. Let's go find them before Auntie Fleur finds you like this and starts screeching in French.' He critically fingered one of her plaits. 'Not much we can do about your hair…' 'Why do you care?' Victoire snorted, following Teddy down the garden. Teddy flushed slightly, his hair going pink at the ends. 'I don't,' he said carelessly. 'Just don't want to listen to anyone's mum going on and on in a state.' Victoire trotted next to Teddy, slightly breathless. She was still quite short, much to her mother's consternation, and had to take three steps for every one of Teddy's. 'Are you going to ignore me this year?' Teddy hoisted himself over the stone wall and gave her a look of disgust. 'I don't know. Are you going to tag along behind me, wherever I go?' 'I'm in the same House as you,' Victoire pointed out helpfully. 'It's not like I have a choice about where I eat meals or do my homework when I don't want to use the library and I hate studying in my bed. Keep getting ink on the sheets…' 'Well, it would help if you didn't fall asleep with a quill in your hand so often,' Teddy retorted. 'Why you're not in Ravenclaw, I'll never know… You're certainly bright enough.' 'Blimey,' Victoire said mildly. 'Thanks ever so.' 'I didn't mean it like that.' 'If you say so.' Victoire bent to retrieve her sandals. She slipped them on her feet and soberly studied the boy standing next to her. It was as if the light that normally surrounded him had dimmed considerably. 'What's eating at you?' Teddy's shoulders jerked irritably. 'Nothing.' Remus grunted, jerking his head away from the bright silver light flooding the small flat. He'd just managed to fall asleep after covering Arthur's shift at the Ministry. Dumbledore had sent his Patronus earlier, telling Remus he was needed urgently to take up a shift in the Department of Mysteries. His eyes cracked open and a blurry fox scampered around the room. 'Arthur's been hurt,' it said in Sirius' hoarse whisper. 'Molly and the kids are staying here. Come quickly.' It faded into sparkling nothingness, leaving Remus to stare where it had been, scrubbing a hand over his face. He yawned and stretched, making his joints pop and crackle alarmingly in the stillness. He shivered, stripping off his threadbare pajamas, leaving them puddled on the floor, and pulled on a shirt, jumper, and trousers. Remus shoved his feet into a pair of shoes, then wrapped his traveling cloak around him, critically fingering a small tear by the collar. He'd have to repair it later before it became a gaping hole. He Disapparated, reappearing in the snowy back garden of number twelve Grimmauld Place. He opened the hidden door that would lead to a secret passage to the kitchen some members of the Order preferred to use, rather than traipsing in and out the front door and risk disturbing Mrs. Black. Sirius was huddled at the long kitchen table, poking at a stack of cold toast. 'What's happened?' Remus asked quietly. Sirius looked through the hair that fell over his face, and took a sip of his cold tea. 'Voldemort's snake attacked Arthur,' he replied. 'Harry says he saw it while he was sleeping.' He held up a hand to forestall the questions he could see flying to Remus' lips. 'Harry also said he wasn't dreaming, and it wasn't like a vision. He said it was like he was the snake,' he finished heavily. 'He could tell me every detail.' Remus said nothing, digesting this new information. He dropped into a chair next to Sirius and rubbed a hand over his forehead. 'You don't think…?' he began uncertainly. 'Nah…' 'What?' Remus pressed his lips together, clearly unwilling to complete his thought, but he said, 'That if Harry can see what he's doing, would it work the other way around? Can Voldemort see what Harry's doing?'

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Sirius shrugged. 'I don't know. Probably not, I would think. Because then he'd have a lot more information about the Order, and where we are. If Dumbledore thought we were in danger, they'd not be here.' Remus nodded reluctantly. 'I suppose.' Sirius suddenly swept the hair from his eyes. 'You don't think he's being possessed, do you?' It was Remus' turn to shrug. 'I don't think so.' 'What do you mean, "I don't think so,"?' Sirius snorted. 'Aren't you the expert here?' Remus gazed at Sirius levelly. 'All right. If he was possessed, he wouldn't remember anything that's been done or said. And you said he could tell you everything in detail.' He glanced around the kitchen, taking in the unnaturally still house. 'I thought you said Molly and the children were here.' 'They are. They've gone to visit Arthur at the hospital.' A sly look came over Sirius' features. 'Tonks went with them.' Remus reached for a piece of toast and began to nibble it. 'Hmmm.' 'They ought to be back in a bit,' Sirius said in a slightly wheedling tone. Remus propped his elbows on the crumb-strewn table. 'And your point?' 'Just that she might want to stay for dinner.' Remus slowly put his toast down. 'Padfoot…' he began warningly. 'No.' 'What? I'm not doing anything…' Sirius replied. 'We've discussed this before. I've got no business getting involved with anyone, much less… her…' Sirius shrugged. 'Fine.' He stopped talking and watched Remus eat the toast before he spoke again. 'I've asked them to stay here while Arthur recovers.' 'That's nice of you.' 'Not really.' The skin stretched over Sirius' cheekbones colored slightly. 'I was thinking, while we were sitting up, waiting for Molly to come back with news, that if Arthur was well enough to go home in a day or two, then Harry would go to the Burrow for Christmas, like they'd planned.' He hung his head in a gesture Remus had rarely seen on his friend. 'I hoped… I hoped it would be bad enough for Arthur to have to stay in for several days. Because then I could invite them to stay here… Easier to get the lot of them to St. Mungo's, obviously…' Sirius trailed off, staring at the toes of his slippers. 'And I could have Christmas with Harry,' he choked, waiting for Remus' comments. Remus calmly sipped his tea. 'It wouldn't be the first time someone's called you a selfish git,' he told Sirius. A hard, blazing light came over Sirius' face, fading as quickly as it bloomed. 'We could have Christmas with Harry,' he repeated. 'Just like we did when he was a baby with James and Lily,' he said pleadingly. 'Just like we should have done since…' 'I know…' 19 December 1995 Arthur appears to be recovering nicely, but the snake is most likely enhanced in some way by Dark magic. Its venom is preventing the wound from healing, but Molly says the Healers are working on it. Generally wounds caused by Dark magic are notoriously difficult to heal and I suspect Arthur will have a rather nasty scar when all is said and done. Molly and the children will be staying with Sirius until Arthur's released from the hospital, at the very least. I'll have a word with Molly about staying until they have to go back to school. It will be much easier to transport them all to the train if we can just take the Underground to King's Cross, rather than try to travel to London from the Burrow. I'll have to play on her need to overprotect the children. I don't like to do that, but I can't help but think about Sirius all but praying that someone he considers a friend turns out to be sicker, just so Harry can spend the holiday with him.

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Speaking of Harry, something's terribly wrong with him. Obviously, he's been through a terrible shock, witnessing Arthur's attack. It would put a strain on the most well-adjusted of adults. It's not mere teenage moodiness. He went straight up to his room when they returned from the hospital and didn't come down for dinner. Ron said he was sleeping, but I rather think Harry might have been feigning sleep. He never came down for the plate Molly left for him. Not even by the time I left at midnight. Remus watched the flames from the fire send sparks of deep red through the glass of wine in his hand. Harry and Ron were stretched out on the floor, playing chess. Remus smiled slightly. It seemed that Minerva's boasts about Ron beating her chess set his first year hadn't been exaggerated after all. Ron was very good. What made Ron's playing so impressive tonight was that he was doing it blindfolded. Ginny was silently indicating to Harry which pieces he could move. To Harry's credit, he took Ginny's suggestions into consideration, and even used many of them. Remus nodded approvingly. Harry wasn't one to not admit when he was over his head. 'Checkmate,' Ron stated, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. He pulled the scarf off his eyes and examined the board. 'You're getting better,' he told Harry. 'Used to only take about ten moves to checkmate you.' Harry snorted derisively. 'Right. And you're playing me blindfolded. Rather tips the odds a bit, doesn't it?' He began packing his chess pieces in their box. A chunk of wood broke off a log and fell into the coals, making the fire flare briefly, highlighting a set of scars on the back of Harry's right hand. Remus frowned slightly. He didn't remember seeing it on Harry's had during the summer. He nudged Sirius and used the hand holding the wineglass to point to Harry, giving Sirius a questioning look. Sirius shrugged in response, but Remus recognized the hardening of his expression. It was the one he'd worn in the days after he'd appeared on the Potters' doorstep. No matter how much he or James had prodded or cajoled, Sirius remained silent about the events that had driven him from his parents' house. Ron clambered to his feet and began to laugh softly. Hermione was curled up in one of the armchairs near the fire, sound asleep. Still fizzing with humor, Ron ambled to her, and began to poke her in the arm until she awoke with a jerk that nearly sent her tumbling to the floor. 'Come on, Hermione,' Ron chuckled. 'You'll sleep better in bed…' He hauled her to her feet and still laughing, herded her to the door and up the stairs. 'Honestly, Ronald,' Hermione's cross voice floated back into the sitting room. 'I was fine where I was.' 'Right. And you'll be complaining when you've got a crick in your neck tomorrow…' Ron huffed. Their voices faded as they turned on the second landing. Harry picked up the box with Ron's chess pieces and tucked it under his arm. He held out a hand to Ginny, and helped her to her feet. As they began to walk out of the sitting room, Remus spoke. 'Harry, could you come here, please?' Harry froze and turned around. 'What?' 'Could I see your hand?' Harry stuffed his right hand into his pocket. 'Why?' 'I'd like to see your hand, please,' Remus persisted evenly. Harry stood stubbornly still, his hand firmly embedded in his pocket. 'It's fine.' He turned back to Ginny and started to leave once more. Remus took a deep breath. 'Harry. James. Potter. Let me look at your hand. Now.' The hard-edged command took Harry by surprise. Ginny gave him a concerned look and showed signs of staying, but continued up the stairs. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand from his pocket and trudged toward the sofa where Remus and Sirius sat, dragging his feet sullenly over the rug. He held out his left hand to Remus, making Sirius snort. 'Your other hand, Harry,' Sirius murmured. 'Neither of us are blind.' Sighing, Harry switched his hands, the sleeve of his jumper pulled over the right hand. Remus gently pushed the sleeve back and his fingers convulsed around Harry's smaller hand. Remus was no stranger to scars, but he'd only heard about scars such as this one. 'What happened?' Harry tried to tug his hand from Remus' grasp, but Remus was surprisingly strong, in spite of his appearance. 'Nothing.' Sirius traced the words arcing over the back of Harry's hand. 'I must not tell lies…?' he muttered. 'Is that what this says?' Harry's eyes filled with tears, but he blinked them back and nodded, his jaw clenching from the effort. 'How did you get this?'

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he said roughly. Harry's lips pressed together, and he glared at a spot over Sirius and Remus' heads. 'Detention,' he said shortly. 'With Umbridge.' Sirius' hand closed around Harry's wrist, and he urged him to sit on the sofa between him and Remus. 'Was it a black quill? Rather long and thin with a sharp point?' Harry nodded. 'She told me I didn't need ink,' he said miserably. 'And as you wrote, those cuts appeared on the back of your hand and you were writing in your own blood,' Sirius stated. It wasn't a question. Harry sat still for a long moment, and nodded once. 'Can I go now?' he asked, his eyes downcast. 'Yeah, go on,' Remus told him quietly, with a sympathetic pat. Harry didn't need any further prompting and he fled toward the door, clattering up the stairs. 'How can Dumbledore allow it?' Sirius said through clenched teeth. 'I don't know. But Umbridge does report directly to Fudge, and Fudge, as we both know, is weak and easily persuaded. The school governors can persuade him that removing Dumbledore is in the school's best interests and he won't stop them.' Remus felt his shoulders slump wearily. 'But it's abuse!' Sirius nearly shouted, lunging to his feet. 'Padfoot, calm down!' Remus ordered. 'Neither of us can do anything! You're officially on the run from the Ministry and I'm persona non grata around the Ministry as it is!' He grabbed Sirius' arm, swinging the other man around. 'We just have to bide our time, Padfoot, all right?' He shook Siruis slightly. 'And let's have a nice Christmas tomorrow. For Harry's sake.' Sirius exhaled slowly, his head bent in defeat, hair hanging in his face. He nodded slowly. 24 December 1995 This is the first time in years I've actually felt like celebrating Christmas. I think Harry ought to like the books Sirius and I chose for him. I scoured Flourish and Blotts until I found a set of Defensive magic books that not only contained material likely to be found on the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, but presented the information in such a way that it doesn't require one to be as clever as Hermione to understand. That's not a judgment against Harry, mind. It's just that Hermione is cleverer than most witches and wizards two or three times her age. Prongs had something similar when he was in school. Perhaps I ought to have inscribed the books but not with Umbridge at school. Maybe after she leaves – and if history is correct, she won't last the year – I can inscribe them for Harry. Harry's account of his detention troubles me. I know I'm not Harry's parent or guardian, but I will have a word with Dumbledore about allowing that sort of thing occur at the school. I'm positive he knows – nothing slips by him – but he's still the Headmaster and to hell with the High Inquisitor. Not to speak ill of Dumbledore, because we would be so much worse off than we are now, but there's a part of me that suspects he lets things like blood quills slide as proof of Fudge's character – to illustrate the kind of person he'll hire and allow to teach students. That way, Dumbledore can say, 'This is what happens when the Ministry tries to take over the school.' For the greater good. God, how that makes me want to be violently ill – to ignore all manner of abuse in the name of trying to prove something. Sirius asked me to go back to the house tomorrow, after everyone's in bed. So, and I quote, 'we can have a small family celebration.' He seemed a bit too gleeful when he asked. I have an inkling what he's got up his sleeve, but I'd rather not think about it just now. 'Do you have your booklist?' Harry asked, while Teddy ate breakfast. 'It's in my pocket.' Teddy reached over and pried Al's hand away from the back of his neck. 'Don't scratch,' he sighed.

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'Wasn't scratching,' Al protested. 'Uh-huh.' Teddy craned his head to glance at the back of Al's neck. Red streaks ran from the top of his collarbone to the edge of his hair. Blood oozed from a loosened scab, vividly red against the dark green spot. Harry sipped his tea, while he dabbed at the back of Al's neck with a tea towel with his other hand. 'I'm really sorry I can't take you to get your things this year, Teddy,' he said quietly. Teddy shrugged. 'It's all right.' 'Don't forget to thank Bill for taking you with him and Victoire,' Harry reminded him, glancing out of one of the kitchen windows. 'And take your jacket. Looks like it's going to rain later.' Teddy nodded, furtively looking around the table. If there was food in front of him, James was oblivious to anything else around him. He figured Al and Lily were too young to understand. Or at least he hoped they were too young. 'Do you ever miss your parents?' Harry's eyebrow quirked upward. 'All the time,' he said smoothly.  

TEN – 25 December 1995

'Is she very angry at me?' Teddy asked Harry, as he stuffed his clothes into his bag. Harry looked at his godson. 'Which "she" are you talking about? There're two in this house alone…' 'Gran…' Harry sighed and sat on the edge of Teddy's unmade bed. 'You owe her an apology, Ted,' Harry said firmly. 'I know.' Teddy kept his eyes glued to the textbook he crammed on top of his freshly-laundered socks. 'It doesn't matter how angry you were, you do not have the right to speak to your grandmother in that way,' Harry told him. 'Nor Ginny and me,' he added hastily. Teddy's shoulders hunched. It was as harsh a scolding as he ever got from Harry – the quiet, oh-so-disappointed tone of voice that sent waves of guilt crashing over him. He wondered for a moment how Harry managed to do that. It usually sent the little ones into paroxysms of wailing. 'So I was supposed to calmly say, "Oh, by the way, Gran, I found these journals my father left for me to read. I hope they weren't meant to be one of my birthday gifts for when I come of age, because I've spoiled the surprise,"?' he drawled sarcastically. 'Something like that, yes,' Harry said. 'But lose the attitude, eh?' He ruffled Teddy's hair and stood up. 'I know how hard it is to be told "it's for your own good" or "we were only trying to protect you" all the bloody time. I just want you to be able to still look up to your dad when you're done.' Teddy looked at Harry strangely. 'That's what Ginny said.' His gaze dropped to the battered leather-bound book on the bed next to his bag. 'Was Dad not right in the head or something?' 'No. Remus was perfectly sane,' Harry told him. 'With the small exception of turning into a werewolf once a month…' 'That's enough to send anyone out of their tree,' Teddy muttered. Harry fingered the worn cover of the journal. 'Are you taking them with you to school?' Teddy shook his head emphatically. 'No. Don't want them to get lost or anything. And if I read them here, at least I can come ask about what Dad says.' He tucked the journal into his bag and slung it over his shoulder, staggering a little at the extra weight of his new textbooks. He didn't add there were still other students who tended to view him with more than a little suspicion, and even his personal things couldn't be guaranteed of their safety. If he had the journals with him at school, Teddy might as well have waved a red banner in front of a raging bull. He walked out of his bedroom, turning slightly sideways so the narrow staircase could accommodate his bag, and made his file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

way down to the sitting room. Remus walked at the end of the line of Weasleys and Hermione, keeping a watchful eye on everything around them. Harry lagged behind a little to walk next to him. He seemed to have something he wanted to say, with the way his mouth opened slightly, then closed, lips pressed together, shaking his head slightly. 'What is it, cub?' Remus said softly, his own voice muffled by the gently falling snow. 'How well did you know Neville's mum and dad?' Harry asked hesitantly. 'I mean, I know they were in the Order before. They were in that photograph Mad-Eye showed me before school.' 'Frank was four years ahead of your dad, Sirius, and me and Alice was two years ahead of us.' Remus could picture the Longbottoms as they were when Neville was born. 'When Frank or James had to go do something for the Order, Alice or Lily would go stay with each other before you and Neville were born.' Remus chuckled a little. 'They spent so much time together, none of us were surprised when you were born just a few hours after Neville.' He glanced at Harry. 'Why do you ask?' Harry's shoes scuffed on the sidewalk, kicking up clumps of heavy, wet snow. 'We saw them today. Me, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny.' 'Aren't they in the Sp—' 'Spell Damage ward,' Harry finished. 'Yeah. We were going up to the tearoom, and ran into Professor Lockhart. He'd gotten out, you see, and his Healer thought we were there to visit him. Neville was walking out with his grandmother, just after we got there.' 'That's not the only thing on your mind, is it, cub?' Harry mutely shook his head. 'I almost envy him,' he admitted. 'Why?' Remus was startled. He had occasionally visited Frank and Alice in the past, but it became increasingly painful to watch them rapidly deteriorate as the first years passed. He had often thought it might have been better to let them die. 'They're alive, aren't they?' Harry said, a note of challenge in his voice. 'Well, yes, but…' 'I know they recognize him,' Harry interrupted. 'I know they do,' he said fiercely. Remus didn't feel up to arguing with Harry at the moment, so he made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. 'His mum wanted to give him something before he left. She does it every time, his grandmother said. So that means she has to know who Neville is, doesn't it?' he said in a desperate rush. The anguished hope on Harry's face made Remus want to gather the boy into a hug, like the one he thought James would have given him, had James been here to have this discussion with Harry. Instead, he patted Harry's back and said, 'Okay, Harry. Sure.' 'And anyway,' Harry added. 'At least they're here…' He exhaled strongly through his nose. 'But his grandmother…' He shuddered delicately. 'Augusta Longbottom is a piece of work, isn't she?' Remus said lightly. 'Did your grandmother ever insult you in front of your friends?' Harry asked sarcastically. 'He's a good boy,' he mimicked. 'But hasn't got his father's talent, I'm afraid…' He shook his head. 'Bloody hell; no wonder he thinks he's rubbish at magic…' A determined light settled into Harry's eyes. 'I'll see to it that Nev gets an Exceeds Expectations – at the very least! – on his O.W.L. Even if it kills me.' The forbidding exterior of number twelve came into view and Harry sprinted for the door, as Molly called out to them with a promise of hot chocolate and biscuits. It brought an unbidden smile to Remus' face at the somewhat comforting idea that Harry still had enough of a child inside him to be gleeful at the promise of biscuits and hot chocolate. 'So, Sirius says you're addicted to chocolate?' Tonks said brightly. 'I don't think I've ever met a man who'll admit to something like that,' she added, taking a chunk from one of the large bars of Honeydukes' chocolate that littered one end of the kitchen table. It was late on Christmas Day, or early on Boxing Day, depending on which way they wanted to look at it, and everyone

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else in the house was asleep. 'If it had chocolate in it, Moony here would eat it,' Sirius informed his younger cousin. 'Someone had a tin of chocolatecovered crickets some relation sent as a gift, and the left it out in the common room, and Remus was studying and ate every last one of the things. Didn't even comment on the crunch,' Sirius crowed. Remus shrugged bashfully. 'I just thought it was some odd version of a Crunchie bar.' He sipped his butterbeer and pointed at Sirius. 'One day during the Easter holiday our seventh year, that one decided we ought to have a chocolate eating contest, the four of us – him, James, me, and – P –' He coughed, biting off the end of the word. 'Someone else in our house,' Remus temporized. 'So the eejit collects as much chocolate as he can, which is a formidable amount, and after dinner one night, throws down the gauntlet. The other person lasted through one bar of Honeydukes'. Not even a large one, at that,' he snorted contemptuously. 'James at least made it through the Honeydukes', a bag of Buttons, a large box of Milk Tray, and a dozen chocolate biscuits.' Sirius laughed. 'Do you remember where we found him?' 'I'm almost afraid to ask,' Tonks murmured, clearly delighted by the story, tucking her hair behind her ear. She'd reverted to her normal appearance, at Remus' request earlier, and kept it. If anything, Remus felt it made her look younger. 'Draped over a toilet in the loo of our dormitory,' Remus told her. 'Told us to go away and leave him be with his new best friend.' Tonks reached for her butterbeer and gestured with her chin toward Sirius. 'And him?' she asked Remus. 'He managed to down an additional four Skippy bars and six Milk Tray bars before he collapsed to the floor in a moaning heap of upset stomach.' Tonks blinked bemusedly for a moment. 'What's a Milk Tray bar?' 'Oh, that's right,' Remus breathed. 'It was like a box of Milk Tray, except it was a whole bar, and not individual pieces. They stopped making it… When? Sometime after Harry was born?' 'I think so. By his first birthday, for sure,' Sirius said. 'So you were, what? Six? Seven?' he asked Tonks. 'Something like that,' Tonks replied smoothly. Sirius jerked suddenly, yelping in pain. 'Why'd you kick me?' he asked petulantly. 'I didn't kick you,' Tonks said innocently. The clock upstairs struck three and Tonks' eyes widened in surprise. 'Is is really three? ' she gasped, peering at her watch. 'Damn, it is, and I've to watch tomorrow afternoon…' She stood and pointed her wand at Sirius. 'I blame you,' she said loftily, 'for me missing my beauty sleep.' Remus hastily stood, nearly tripping over his feet. 'I'll see you to the station,' he mumbled, clutching his battered bag in one hand. 'What time is it? Three? I'll take you home, Dora,' he babbled. Is it obvious? No, it's late and offering to take her home isn't out of the ordinary. You walk her to the Underground station all the time. He made to take her arm to escort her upstairs, but Sirius' cry nearly made him pull away as if he'd been burned. 'Wait!' Tonks and Remus exchanged puzzled looks before they turned their attention to Sirius. 'Mistletoe.' Sirius smugly pointed to the top of the door frame over their heads. Remus' eyes closed briefly. I'm going to kill him later, he thought, before he turned back to Tonks. He meant to merely kiss her on the cheek, but Tonks moved, mouth opening to presumably make a comment to Sirius when his mouth landed on hers. The wolf lifted his head, ears pricked with interest. Remus felt, rather than heard, Tonks' soft moan against his mouth. Instead of ending the kiss, which his conscience demanded he do, Remus gave into the inner nudges of the wolf and stepped forward into Tonks' body, one hand twining into her light brown hair, and the other spreading against her lower back, pressing her hips against his. The wolf threw its head back and howled in triumph, urging Remus to drag Tonks to the table and…

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The sound of glass shattering on the stone floor pierced the haze around Remus. He pushed himself away from Tonks, nose twitching at the mingled odors of butterbeer and the nearly overpowering scent of her. The reverberations of his own harsh breathing and pounding pulse nearly drowned out any other sounds. He stared at Tonks, slightly open-mouthed. Her cheeks were flushed and her chest rose and fell rapidly, as she gasped for air. Her eyes narrowed as she glared at Sirius, standing in the kitchen, a spreading puddle of butterbeer soaking his slippers, his mouth a near perfect O of surprise. Sirius shrugged apologetically. 'I'll just go on home, then,' she murmured huskily. 'Good night.' It was a testament to how rattled she was by the kiss that Tonks slipped noiselessly up the stairs and out of the house without either waking Mrs. Black, or tipping the umbrella stand over. Remus watched her disappear into the enveloping darkness of the stairs, then pulled out his wand to clean the mess on the kitchen floor. That was close, he thought. Too close… 25 Dec Remus violently scratched out the date and glared out the dingy window at the roofs below. It was just edging into dawn, and the grey light leeched away what color was left in his threadbare clothing. He'd left number twelve Grimmauld Place an hour ago and had spent the last several minutes staring at the blank page of his journal. He picked up his quill and began to write slowly, as if it pained him to write the words. 26 December 1995 I spoke to some unfortunate man in Arthur's ward earlier today. Or was it yesterday? It feels as if a week has passed between when I woke up yesterday and now. Maybe I ought to start at the beginning… I overheard Fred and George plotting after lunch at number twelve, when they were supposed to be doing the washing up by hand. Apparently, they used one too many colorful descriptions of what they would do to a traitor at breakfast. It seems that Percy sent back his Christmas gift. Unopened. I know I've said it before, but I honestly hope that Percy manages to find his way back from whatever journey he's gone on. I can imagine all to well the regret everyone will feel if he doesn't and something happens to either him or someone else in the family. The twins have all but washed their hands of him. And Ron and Ginny are edging awfully close to that line as well. Arthur hasn't asked about Percy, but you can see him look toward the door while we're at the hospital, and the slight hope that appears as quickly as it fades in his eyes, when Percy doesn't walk through the door. Greyback is back with a vengeance. There's a poor man in Arthur's ward who was recently bitten by him. I spoke with one of the Healers, and he said it was the fifth one they've had since June. That's just the ones Greyback's bitten during the full moon. It doesn't take into account the ones he's mauled in the interim. At least they won't be werewolves. As far as I know, they won't. At least they won't have to live this life. But something Harry said about Frank and Alice does seem to apply here: tainted as they may be, I don't believe they will live as werewolves. At least I'm fairly sure they won't. I spent a lot of time researching the hows and whys of being a werewolf, especially after I lost James and Sirius. Greyback is ill. There's no other way to say it, considering how much enjoyment he gains out of attacking innocent people. I hate when Sirius is right. He's such a smug bastard about it. I hate that he's got an answer to every objection I have about getting involved with Tonks… Remus thoughtfully drew a line through the last word and replaced it. Dora. It makes all of my arguments, which are good ones, seem like bad excuses. He seems to want me to have this relationship with Dora far more than I do, as if he needs to live vicariously through me. Well, nice try, Padfoot, but it's not going to happen. My life is complicated enough. The last thing I need is someone else's life to complicate. Teddy picked at his dinner, glancing at Andromeda from under his heavy fringe every so often. But she merely ate her own meal, peppering him with questions about how Al and Lily were doing and if he had managed to purchase his things for the file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

upcoming school year. She acted as if nothing had happened. 'Gran?' Andromeda set her water glass down. 'Yes, Teddy?' Teddy took a deep breath, and toyed with his fork. 'I'm sorry…' He speared a stalk of broccoli and glared at the offending vegetable. Andromeda nodded and reached out and brushed Teddy's fringe away from his eyes. 'So am I.' A/N: The late night Christmas conversation overlaps with the beginning of 'Begins With Mistletoe'.  

ELEVEN – 11 January & 12 January 1996

Andromeda levitated a wicker laundry basket piled high with Hogwarts uniforms in front of her as she climbed the stairs. Teddy was lying across his bed surrounded by untidy stacks of clean socks and underpants. A pile of textbooks, quills, bottles of ink, and parchment littered the floor next to his open trunk. 'Teddy! You were supposed to put your things in your trunk!' she exclaimed in dismay. Teddy unconcernedly turned a page of Remus' journal. 'Just a mo, Gran,' he murmured. 'Just want to finish this page…' 'The train leaves in the morning, Ted,' she reminded him. 'With or without you on it.' Teddy slammed the journal shut and flung it aside. 'All right, Gran! Keep your hair on.' 'I want your things in your trunk before you come down for dinner,' Andromeda warned. 'Make sure your textbooks are in the bottom, please. I don't want your clothes to be nothing but a mass of wrinkles by the time you unpack tomorrow night.' She set the laundry basket on the end of Teddy's bed. 'And don't forget your toothbrush.' 'Gran, I'm not an ickle firstie…' Teddy groaned. 'Oh?' Andromeda replied archly. 'And who was it that insisted he was grown up enough to pack his things on his own last year and forgot half his underpants, his toothbrush, and all of his socks? Was that you?' I dunno,' Teddy grunted, dropping his textbooks into the trunk. 'I seem to have blocked last year out of my mind.' 'The list of what you need to pack is on the desk,' Andromeda trilled as she left the room. 'Brilliant,' Teddy mumbled, as he picked up the journal once more. 'Oh, and Teddy?' Andromeda's peered around the edge of the door. Teddy jerked the journal behind his back. 'Yeah?' he asked casually. 'Try being a little nicer to Victoire this year. She's not something you'd wipe off the bottom of your shoe, young man.' 'Fine,' Teddy huffed, gathering up large handfuls of socks, preparatory to throwing them into the gaping trunk. When Andromeda disappeared around the door again, he dropped the socks in the middle of the bed, and picked up the journal. Sirius hunched at one end of the table, his arms crossed over his chest, glowering at the burn mark left on the table when Fred and George had magicked a cauldron of stew to the table last summer. His lips were pressed together in a thin, hard line and his eyes were flat and shuttered. Remus slid into a chair next to him and gently touched his arm. The muscles bunched as Sirius jerked away, the chair scraping noisily over the stone floor. Remus sighed and laced his fingers together and rested them on the table. 'What is it, then?' he asked, too familiar with Sirius' mood swings to take offense. 'Nothing.' Remus merely raised an eyebrow. 'Oh?' He eyed Sirius' increasingly tense posture. 'This doesn't look like nothing.' Other members of the Order began to file into the kitchen. 'Later,' Sirius mumbled, his shoulders tightening.

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Kingsley settled into a chair at the head of the table, the de facto leader of Order when Dumbledore wasn't in attendance, an event that occurred with alarming frequency of late. 'Harry, the Weasley children, and Hermione Granger need to return to school on Sunday,' he began. 'Can't they just take the train back?' Hestia Jones wondered. 'They could,' Kingsley allowed. 'But it's too open to attack. As Remus can attest.' Heads turned to look at Remus for confirmation. 'The year I taught Defense, the train was stopped by a group of Dementors and searched before we reached Hogwarts. It's not too far of conclusion to believe that Voldemort or any of the Death Eaters might be able to do the same.' 'And it's an awfully long journey,' Molly added nervously, glancing at the door. Remus hid a grin, knowing she was looking for Extendable Ears and flicked his wand at the door, silently setting an Imperturbable charm on it. 'Too risky,' she added. 'And Dumbledore doesn't want them on the train,' Kingsley interjected. 'The Floo is also out,' Mad-Eye said wearily. 'It's being watched by Umbridge, and if we Flooed the children directly into Minerva's office, it could lead her here.' 'And there's already been one close call,' Molly sniffed, her eyes flicking toward Sirius. He sank even further into the chair, an impressive feat, given the solid mahogany back of it. 'Apparition?' Emmeline Vance volunteered. 'For six teenagers?' Elphias Doge scoffed. 'There's six of them, plus luggage.' 'But it's untraceable,' Hestia argued. 'We can keep that in mind,' Kingsley said quickly, in an attempt to forestall an argument. 'It'll require a great deal of coordination to get them from here to Hogsmeade without drawing attention to ourselves. But I think it should be an option of last resort.' 'Knight Bus?' Tonks offered. 'It's fairly quick and it'll only take two or three of us.' 'That is how Hermione got here,' Molly said thoughtfully. 'Train doesn't leave Hogsmeade until the Saturday after the term ends, but she got here… when?' 'The Friday term ended,' Sirius supplied. 'Right before dinner.' 'And I'll bet if we can slip a little gold to the driver, he can move us to the top of the list,' Tonks said cynically. Molly bit her lip and stared at the table. 'It's a bit dear, though, isn't it?' she said hesitantly. Remus knew she and Arthur hated to accept anything that might be considered charity, and calculated the cost of transporting the four Weasley children. While forty-four Sickles might not seem like much to most, it amounted to a fortune to Molly and Arthur. 'I have authorization from Dumbledore to use funds from his vault to cover the costs,' Kingsley said. 'When he and I discussed the means to bring the children back to Hogwarts.' 'When did you do this?' Emmeline asked. 'Before Christmas,' Kingsley said smoothly. 'I can't allow him to do that,' Molly maintained stubbornly. 'Why not?' Elphias asked. 'Because they're my children, and if we use the Knight Bus, Arthur and I will pay for their fares,' Molly nearly shouted. 'Molly, don't be an idiot,' Sirius blurted rudely. 'You're being watched as a member of the bloody Order. Do you really think they'll be safe as babes in arms on the train? Is your bloody pride going to protect them?'

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Tight silence descended over the table. Sirius tipped his chair back and glared at the ceiling, while Molly sat, pale with shock, dumbfounded. 'It's Order business, Molly,' Kingsley intoned into the silence. 'And considering Ron is one of Harry's closest friends, he's in just as much danger.' Molly's shaking hand passed over her eyes and she nodded. 'Fine,' she acquiesced, with great reluctance. 'Good,' Kingsley stated. 'Tonks, you'll go with them?' 'Yeah.' 'You need another person,' Mad-Eye growled. 'Keeping an eye on Harry and Ron is a full-time occupation.' 'I'll go,' Remus volunteered. 'Get them on the bus as early as possible. The sooner they're back at school, the easier we'll all breathe,' Kingsley ordered. 'Right after breakfast,' Tonks promised. 'I'll have the gold for the Knight Bus tomorrow afternoon,' Kingsley told her. 'You'll need to stay at work late so I can slip it to you without arousing suspicion.' He looked around the table. 'That's it, then.' The rest of the Order members slipped out singly or in twos. Tonks lingered at the door, but Remus tilted his head toward Sirius. She nodded, and left, blundering into the umbrella stand. Remus could hear Tonks cursing at Mrs. Black's portrait over her insane screeches. Molly slowly followed Tonks to the door, throwing a baleful glance at Sirius over her shoulder as she left the kitchen. Remus flicked his wand at the dresser and a teapot landed delicately in front of him. He tapped it with his wand and steam drifted from the spout. Another flick brought two cups from the dresser and he poured tea into each cup. 'So?' he asked, pushing a cup toward Sirius. 'Nothing,' Sirius said, pulling his feet into the seat of the chair and wrapping his arms around his knees. He rested a cheek against his bent knees in a pose Remus recognized from school, when Sirius was pouting about something he couldn't control. Taking a guess, Remus reckoned Sirius was upset Harry had to leave once more. He'd been the same way in the days leading up to September first. 'Harry can't stay here,' Remus said quietly. 'I know that,' Sirius muttered. 'Do you?' Sirius looked away and murmured something Remus couldn't quite hear. 'I'm sorry, what was that?' 'Nothing.' Sirius bit his lip and stared into the cup of tea on the table. His neck flushed dully, but Remus could have sworn he'd heard Sirius admit to being lonely. Out of all the other Order members, Remus was the one without a regular job, so in between his tutoring sessions with some poor Muggle child attempting to earn a GCSE – the boy desperately wanted to take his A-levels and go to Cambridge, just like his father – he was either on patrol in the Department of Mysteries or keeping an eye on known or suspected Death Eaters. It didn't give him a great deal of free time to spend with Sirius. And what time he had, Remus knew wasn't enough. 'Listen, I haven't got anything tomorrow evening. I've got tutoring in the morning and the Ministry in the afternoon, but I can come round after dinner…?' 'Yeah, if you want.' Sirius set his feet on the floor and shoved away from the table. The sounds of his footfalls changed from the soft patter of his slippers on the stairs to the sharp clicks of Padfoot's claws. Remus sighed heavily and followed the drooping tail up the stairs. 'Sirius!' he hissed. The dog ignored him. 'Padfoot!' The dog paused on the landing, whimpering softly, his pale eyes fixed on the floor. 'I'll be here tomorrow.'

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Padfoot's tail wagged once; and he disappeared into the inky shadows of the staircase. The air was heavy and tense inside the kitchen of number twelve Grimmauld Place when Remus walked inside the next evening. 'What's going on?' Arthur glanced up from the remains of their dinner that still littered the table. 'Severus was here earlier.' 'Whatever for?' Remus dropped into a chair, and examined what remained of a large shepherd's pie. He waved his wand at the dresser and caught the plate deftly as it floated toward him, then spooned some of the shepherd's pie on it. 'Dumbledore wants him to teach Harry Occlumency,' Sirius muttered. 'To keep Voldemort out of his mind.' 'And you're not overly fond of the idea,' Remus stated, pushing a potato around the plate. 'I just don't trust Snivellus,' Sirius retorted. 'Dumbledore trusts him,' Molly said, waving her wand over the table. The other plates zoomed to the sink and began to scrape themselves into the dustbin in the corner, then stacked neatly in the sink, where a dishcloth began to scrub them. Sirius and Remus exchanged a look. 'It's just that Severus and Harry's father didn't quite get on very well in school,' Remus told Molly and Arthur. 'And, Occlumency and Legilimency feed on strong emotions. And Harry, well…' 'Wears his emotions on his sleeve,' Arthur finished. 'And you think Severus would manipulate that, just because of some schoolboy grudge?' 'Exploit it,' Remus corrected. 'Harry didn't have the easiest time of things before he came to Hogwarts, and Severus could very well force him to reveal things he'd rather not reveal. Especially if he feels ashamed or embarrassed by an event.' Remus took a bite of his dinner and chewed it slowly. 'Honestly,' Molly huffed. 'Isn't that just a wee bit childish?' 'Yes, it is,' Remus said mildly. 'But James was responsible for several of Severus' most humiliating moments when we were younger…' 'And I wouldn't put it past him to gain a little revenge,' Sirius spat. 'It's still childish,' Molly maintained. 'He's a grown man.' 'Yeah, well…' Sirius tipped his chair back. 'Immaturity knows no age limit.' Molly made a muffled choking noise. 'Are you all right, Molly?' Arthur asked with concern. 'Yes, dear.' She turned Arthur's wrist over and studied his watch. 'Early start to our day tomorrow. We ought to get to bed.' 'I'll wash the plate, Molly,' Remus told her as she rose from the table. 'Good night.' He waited until he couldn't hear their footsteps any longer and turned to Sirius. 'That was nice of her to not point out your level of immaturity,' he said casually. 'I am not immature!' Sirius huffed. 'As a whole, no, but you have your moments, you mangy mutt.' Remus quietly ate the rest of his dinner while watching Sirius carefully. 'I gather Severus told you himself about the Occlumency lessons.' 'He bloody well gloated about it,' Sirius snarled. Remus stood up, his chair scraping loudly over the floor. He carried the plate to the sink and began to wash it. He picked up a tea towel and dried the plate thoroughly. 'What do you want?' he asked. 'You are Harry's legal guardian. You have every right to make decisions regarding Harry's care and safety.' He set the plate on top of the stack Molly had set to wash earlier and Banished them one by one to the cupboard on the other side of the room. 'That's not fair,' Sirius said.

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'What's not?' 'Safety.' Sirius said the word as if it was something that tasted unpleasant. 'You know I'd not do anything to deliberately put Harry at risk.' Remus folded the damp tea towel and draped it over the edge of the sink to dry. 'I'm not too chuffed about Severus teaching Harry Occlumency any more than you are, and I'm also inclined to believe he's going to try and use it to make Harry's life as miserable as he can.' 'But it's a necessary evil,' Sirius spat. 'I wish…' 'What?' 'I wish I wasn't stuck here. I'd love to…' Sirius trailed off, his brows drawing together. 'Sirius?' 'The mirrors!' he exclaimed. 'I can't believe I forgot about them. Do you still have them?' 'What mirrors?' 'The ones Prongsie and I used to talk to each other when we had separate detentions!' 'I think so. I didn't throw anything of yours out after…' Remus made a vague gesture meant to encompass Sirius' imprisonment in Azkaban. 'I want to give one to Harry. That way we can keep an eye on him. We can't talk through the Floo and he can't write to us. And unless Harry uses the mirror in the open, it's fairly secure.' Remus felt a doubtful expression settle over his face. He didn't have the heart to tell Sirius that his scheme depended on Harry's willingness to actually use the thing. Sirius tried one last tactic. 'He can use it in his DA meetings,' he wheedled. 'We can offer suggestions and you can teach them again.' His arrow hit its mark. Remus shook his head. 'Low blow, Pads,' he murmured, grinning. But the opportunity to teach Defense once more was tempting. 'I'll look for them when I get home.' 11 January 1996 When you're young, you think – believe – that everything will get easier when you get older. It just gets more complicated. Such profundity, no? When did such a simple thing as returning to school after the Christmas holiday become such a complex undertaking? I do realize the situation has changed. I'm not completely gormless, but an event like that ought to be spent on the train with everyone else, making a ruckus and eating too many sweets. It shouldn't be some cheerless covert activity. I must remember to have a word with Sirius. He needs to apologize to Arthur and Molly. Yes, it needed to be said, because Arthur is quite stubborn about that sort of thing, and normally I'd agree with him, but in this instance allowing someone else to pay for the twins, Ginny, and Ron is necessary. However correct the message was, the tone was unnecessary. Somehow, I can't shake the feeling that we were expertly manipulated into transporting the children back to school by the very means Dumbledore wanted. Although I'm not sure who was pulling the strings – Dumbledore or Kingsley. If it was Kingsley, he did a superb job of it. I'm not sure anybody realized they were being nudged to where we were supposed to end up until after it was all said and done. A wise decision on his part, considering we as a group prefer not to be given orders peremptorily. At the very least, we can claim it was "our" idea. Sirius' idea to give one of his mirrors to Harry is a rather brilliant idea. I wish he had thought of it sooner. If Harry checks in regularly, it might make Sirius feel as if he's more involved in not only the Order, but with Harry. As for the Occlumency lessons… Why Severus? I know Severus is quite skilled at Occlumency and knows better than any of us how to use it effectively, but will he be able to set aside his feelings about James and, by extension, Harry so he doesn't make it impossible for Harry to learn how to keep Voldemort out of his mind? I know Dumbledore trusts Severus implicitly, and that means we ought to as well, but still… In the back of my mind l can't help but doubt his intentions.

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Remus trudged into the kitchen and accepted the cup of tea Tonks pushed toward him gratefully. He pulled a package wrapped in brown paper out of his jacket pocket. 'Here,' he mumbled, handing it to Sirius and yawning. 'Found it between some of my books. Took most of the night to track it down.' 'What is that?' Molly asked curiously, with a slight hint of suspicion. 'It's a way for Harry to contact us,' Sirius told her resignedly. 'Without the Ministry or Umbridge knowing about it.' 'That's actually a good idea,' Arthur murmured. 'You don't unconditionally trust Severus, either, do you?' Remus asked. Arthur spread jam over a slice of toast. 'Dumbledore does,' he said thoughtfully. 'But you don't,' Remus replied bluntly. 'It's not that I don't trust him,' Arthur said slowly. 'I just…' He shook his head, shrugging helplessly. 'Bit hard to take when you know he can sift through your memories without you knowing,' Tonks said suddenly. She reached for a piece of toast and nibbled the edges. 'Legilimency isn't even routinely taught to Aurors. And he can do it so you'd never know he just did it.' 'How do you know that?' Remus asked, surprised. 'Got caught out of bounds at the end of my sixth year,' she said, blushing slightly. 'Snape heard me trying to sneak back into the Hufflepuff dormitory. Asked me what I was doing out after curfew.' She glanced at Molly and Arthur before returning her gaze to the abandoned toast in her hand. 'At any rate, I tried to give him some story about losing track of time, but I was looking at him. And you know how his eyes get all intense when he's questioning a student?' 'I do,' Remus murmured. 'I couldn't feel anything for certain,' Tonks continued, 'but I had to restrain myself from squirming. Like he knew I was lying…' The kitchen door opened, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione stopped just inside the door. Molly stood up and forced a smile, their conversation clearly over. 'What would you lot like for breakfast, dears?' The Knight Bus lurched to a screeching halt outside the gates that led to Hogwarts. Remus swallowed heavily, silently commiserating with poor Madam Marsh who'd gotten off the previous stop. Not quite willing to believe that he wasn't going to end up with his breakfast on the floor of the bus, Remus motioned to Fred and George to exit the bus and followed them, relieved when his feet hit solid ground. 'Never again,' he muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of a hand. 'You and me both,' George agreed, pale under his freckles, giving the violently purple bus a rude hand gesture. The others filed off the bus and Remus went to each of them, shaking hands, reminding them to keep up with their studies. 'Look after yourselves.' He came to Harry at the end of the line. 'And listen… Harry, I know you don't like Snape, but he is a superb Occlumens and we all – Sirius included – want you to learn to protect yourself, so work hard, all right?' He winced inwardly. It sounded as if he were trying to convince himself of Severus' good intentions. Harry nodded, his eyes flashing with something like dread, and he trudged up the icy lane, following the others. Remus turned to Tonks as the Knight Bus lumbered away. 'Fancy a drink?' Tonks glanced at her watch. 'It's not even noon!' 'After that trip, it might as well be five in the afternoon,' Remus quipped. 'If nothing else Madam Rosmerta'll give us a nice cuppa.' Tonks examined Remus for a moment. 'All right.' She shifted a small knapsack that bulged with what appeared to be books. Remus had thought it belonged to Hermione. 'Did Hermione forget her bag?'

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'No, it's mine…' At that moment, Tonks slipped on an icy patch and went sprawling. The bag flew out of her hand and the books spilled into the snow. Remus held out a hand and helped her to her feet, then stooped to retrieve the books from the snow. The worn titles caught his attention. 'What are these?' 'Nothing.' She blushed furiously and snatched the books from his arms, stuffing them unceremoniously into her knapsack. 'Why are you reading books about human-to-animal transformation?' Tonks struck off down the lane for Hogsmeade. 'Don't you want that tea?' 'Why are you researching Animagus magic?' 'Because Sirius said it helped,' she admitted tightly. 'That it helped you during the full moon.' Remus stared at the back of her head, then ran after her, sliding a bit in the icy mud. He reached for her hand, wrapping his cold fingers around hers. He didn't say anything, but gently squeezed her fingers. He brought her hand up to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist, exposed between the edge of her coat sleeve and glove. 12 January 1996 I don't think I can continue to insist to myself that I only want Dora as a friend. I do want more. There, I've admitted it. Now what am I supposed to do? Teddy peered into his trunk, and checked off each item on the list his grandmother had made. He reached for the photograph of his parents Andromeda had given him and started to tuck it between his jumpers, but he paused and studied the photograph. Andromeda had told him it was taken shortly after he was born. It was a completely unguarded moment, with his father's arms wrapped around his mother and himself as a baby tucked between them. Remus' forehead rested against Dora's and Teddy felt they had been unaware of photographer, dancing almost imperceptibly, swaying to music he couldn't hear. He set the photograph tenderly in his truck and wrapped an extra jumper around it, lest it break during the trip to Scotland. As he closed the lid, he caught sight of the journal sitting in the middle of his bed. Without pausing to examine the impulse, he slid the journal into the trunk, even though he'd decided not to take it with him to school, and closed the lid gently, as if he might wake someone if he let it fall too loudly. A/N: Remus' farewell to Harry appears on pg. 527 of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, published by Scholastic, hardcover edition.  

TWELVE – 28 January & 4 February 1996

Teddy scowled at his Potions notes, unable to make heads or tails of what he'd written down in class, and unwilling to ask for help. 'How can you read that?' Victoire murmured behind him. 'It's illegible!' She tossed one of her bright plaits over her shoulder. 'Go away, Vic,' he growled. 'You can't put the armadillo bile in a Wit-Sharpening potion before the ginger root,' Victoire said blithely, unconcerned by Teddy's temper. 'You put the ginger root in first and let it sort of get a little mushy, then add the scarab beetle. After all that simmers for a while, then you add the armadillo bile and simmer it for an additional half hour. Then you need to strain it through a fine sieve,' she pronounced, earning a stare from Teddy. 'How do you know all that?' he demanded. 'You're not even meant to cover this for two more years.' 'I want to be a Healer,' Victoire said simply, reaching down to scratch her shin through the thick grey tights. file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

'Y'do, eh?' Teddy asked skeptically. 'Uh-huh.' Victoire hefted her bag to her shoulder. 'Have to get Exceeds Expectations in my N.E.W.T.s for Herbology, Potions, Defense, Transfiguration, Charms, don't I?' 'Trying to cram seven years of school into five?' 'Do you know how many O.W.L.s Dad earned?' Victoire huffed. 'Twelve.' 'Twelve?' Teddy repeated weakly. 'Twelve.' Victoire's mouth crimped. 'All Outstandings to boot.' 'Blimey.' 'Mum was in the top of her class at Beauxbatons, as well,' Victoire sighed. 'It's a lot to live up to…' 'It's just that Gran earned a N.E.W.T. in Potions,' Teddy said miserably. 'So did my grandfather and my mum.' 'What about your dad?' Teddy shrugged. 'Dunno.' He gathered his things and dumped them into his bag. 'I'm going to the library,' he muttered. He climbed out of the portrait hole of the Gryffindor dormitory and plodded down the stairs, annoyed to be shown up by a second year. 'Potions is rubbish anyway,' he scoffed. He found himself daydreaming more often than not in Potions class, which probably explained his poor note-taking skills. Neither his grandmother, nor Harry ever reproached him for his lessthan-stellar marks in the subject. Harry tried to help him revise over the summers, and while Teddy appreciated the efforts, Potions mystified him. He found himself standing in the entrance, just in front of the Great Hall. Dim light flickered from the corridor to his left. Teddy tried to avoid that corridor at all costs, but tonight, he was drawn to it – a reluctant moth to its hypnotic flame. He hadn't been in there since the day it was dedicated when he was ten years old. But then, he'd had Harry and Ginny soothe him. He stood just inside the entrance, one hand clutching at the strap of his knapsack. Taking a deep breath, Teddy began to walk slowly into the corridor, his eyes trained on two portraits. He took a moment to silently thank the person who'd spent his first few weeks of life with a camera trained on him. It was the only time he'd ever seen what passed for a smile on his father's face in his later years. Otherwise, Teddy might have thought the turned-up corner of Remus' mouth an aberration. His mother smiled impishly, laughter in her eyes. Teddy knew that look on Dora's face very well. Her eyes had always sparkled with laughter before the war dimmed it somewhat. At least that's what the photographs told him. Teddy braced his back against the wall across from his parents' portraits and slid down to the floor. He arranged himself into a comfortable position, and pulled out his Potions textbook. 'Right… How does armadillo bile affect the ingredients in a WitSharpening potion?' Remus lounged on the battered, albeit comfortable, sofa in Dora's small flat. Her head rested against his chest and his shirt bore a gradually widening damp patch. She had fallen asleep within minutes of settling into him, weary from her week at work coupled with more than one overnight shift in the Department of Mysteries. He held a small book in one hand, savoring the poetry. Dora had asked him to read aloud, so he obliged, his other hand creeping up to slide through her hair. It was its normal shade just now. She'd been too tired to maintain the bubblegum pink. She shifted in her sleep, sighing into his worn cardigan. His hand drifted from her hair to the back of her neck, fingers gently massaging the tense ridges, as he continued to read, only half-focused on the page, mulling over how he ended up in this particular situation. He had met Dora outside the Ministry when her watch ended. It was still early – that odd, peculiar hour before the sun rose when everything was drained of color and shadowed in subdued, ashy hues. She was so exhausted, she stumbled over her own feet as she walked out of the Ministry. Well, stumbled more than usual, Remus reflected. Normally, he just walked her to the Tube station, trusting she could navigate the Underground on her own, but this morning, he'd pulled her into a small, dark alleyway, wrapped his arms around her waist, and Apparated them both to the door of her flat. He'd insisted on cooking her breakfast, grateful Mrs. Potter had shown him how to cook with magic during the summers he spent with James and Sirius. He didn't think Dora would stay conscious long enough for him to cook the Muggle way. She'd eaten half of the food he'd piled on her plate and gulped the steaming cup of tea he'd pressed into her hands. Remus thought she might have scalded her tongue, but Dora didn't even whimper if she had. She clumsily stood and tugged him to the squashy sofa, pulling him down

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with her. Read for me… she'd begged sleepily. Remus knew she meant one of those Animagus books she pored over in her nonexistent spare time, but the small book of the poetry of John Donne burned where he'd tucked it into the pocket of his traveling cloak earlier. He'd Summoned the book, and began to read aloud, his voice a bare murmur over her heartbeat. It wasn't much, and he was certain it wasn't entirely what she would have wanted. If he angled his head just so, he could glimpse her just-wide-enough bed through the door of her tiny bedroom. Dora wasn't the tidiest person, but he could tell she'd made her bed with more attention than she normally gave the task. The bedding was turned back invitingly, and Remus would have loved to do nothing more than burrow into it with her entwined around him. He took a deep breath and thumbed the page over, forcing his eyes to focus on the poem. Dora had offered herself unconditionally, but Remus had been reluctant to even consider it. Reclining on her sofa, with her body draped over his, while he read seventeenth-century poetry was as far as he was willing to go at the moment. It wasn't that Remus didn't trust Dora. He did. It was himself he didn't trust. The words on the page swam as his eyes drifted shut, then snapped wide open. Remus didn't sleep much as a rule. He considered himself lucky to sleep for five or six hours at a stretch during the night. The book fell from his fingers, its landing muffled by the thick rug on the floor. Remus felt weightless, drowsy, and the only thing that anchored him to the sofa was Dora's warm weight pressing him into the sofa cushions. He slid his now-empty hand over her hip and let it rest, spread against the small of her back, giving in to the insistent tugs of slumber. Buzzing sounds invaded Remus' hazy dreams. He lifted his head from the arm of the sofa and glared at the door in displeasure at having his sleep disrupted. Nonetheless, in spite of his sleepy, groggy state, he slid his wand from the pocket of his trousers and aimed it at the door, his arm tightening around Dora's waist. He felt her breathing shift and she glanced up at him languidly, questions creating a crease between her brows. She followed his gaze to the door and shook her wand from the holster under her sleeve, copying his motions. The walls of Dora's flat were thin and he could hear the muffled conversation on the other side. 'Andromeda, leaning on that buzzer won't make the door open any faster,' a dry voice boomed. 'It's impolite for Nymphadora to leave us standing out here this long,' a woman huffed. Dora's shoulders slumped. 'It's just my mum and dad…' she breathed. No sooner had she relaxed, than her body stiffened. 'Bloody hell! It's my mum and dad!' She sat up, pushing her heavy hair from her face. 'What's the day?' 'What?' Remus was still muzzy from being awakened so suddenly. 'What day is it?' 'Sunday…' 'No, the date!' Remus stared at her in confusion. 'The twenty-eighth.' 'Oh, bugger me!' Dora hissed, nearly falling off the sofa as she struggled to her feet. Remus stretched lazily. 'What's the matter?' 'I'm meant to have lunch with my parents today! Probably somewhere posh and snooty and French,' she added in disgust. 'Nymphadora Juliet, if you do not open this door in ten seconds, I swear I will blast it open!' Remus' brows rose. 'Juliet?' Dora threw him a scathing look. 'Not now,' she growled, tripping over the rug and lunging at the door and yanking it open. 'Mum… Dad…' she said weakly. 'Hallo, dear.' Dora's father nearly lifted her off the floor from the force of his embrace. He cupped her face in his broad hands and peered down at her. 'You look peaky,' he said.

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'Just tired,' Dora murmured. 'It's been a long week.' She turned to the slender woman standing behind her father. 'Mum.' Remus nearly started when he saw Dora's mother. He knew she was related to Bellatrix, but he wasn't prepared for how much they resembled one another. He scrubbed his hands over his face and shoved his wand back into his pocket. The smile that graced Dora's mother's features was not one he'd ever see on Bellatrix Lestrange. Nor would he have ever seen Bellatrix gently tuck a lock of hair behind Dora's ear, as her mother now did. 'Is everything all right?' she asked anxiously. 'It took ages for you to open the door.' 'I was asleep,' Dora said. 'Hm. You always were difficult to wake up when you were younger.' Dora's mother gestured toward Remus, still sitting on the sofa in a daze. 'Aren't you going to introduce us to your… friend?' she asked. 'Oh… erm…' Dora reached for Remus' arm and tugged on his elbow, urging him to his feet. 'Mum, Dad… This is Remus Lupin. He works with me in the Order. Remus, these are my parents, Ted and Andromeda Tonks.' Remus awkwardly stuck out a hand. 'It's a pleasure to meet you,' he murmured. He didn't miss the way Andromeda's gaze sharpened when she heard his name. She took in his rumpled clothing and raised an appraising brow. Dora didn't miss it. 'Remus brought me home after my shift,' she said defensively. 'He was helping me with some research and we fell asleep.' 'Did I ask?' Andromeda said lightly, but everyone could tell it was forced. 'You didn't have to,' Dora muttered mulishly. Andromeda's eyes flicked over the sitting room, noting the conspicuous absence of books anywhere near the sofa, and the pile stacked haphazardly on the small desk in the corner, as Remus nonverbally Summoned his book from the floor. She held out a hand toward Remus. 'May I?' she asked, indicating the book. Remus handed the worn book to her, feeling as if he was being measured by those dark, hooded eyes. Andromeda perused the book and handed it back to Remus. 'Interesting… "research", Mr. Lupin,' she said quietly. 'I think so,' he replied, aware of the thickening tension in the room. 'Lupin… Lupin…' Ted muttered. 'Aren't you the were—' He was cut off when Dora drove her elbow into his ribs. 'It's not important, Dad,' she said softly. 'I was just leaving,' Remus said, reaching for his cloak that he'd carelessly thrown over one of the chairs that crowded the scrap of a table in the small kitchen are of the main room and slipped out of the door, with a nod to Ted and Andromeda, his fingertips trailing across the back of Dora's hand. 28 January 1996 I remember when Prongsie went to visit Lily during the Christmas hols our seventh year. Her parents weren't home, and he said they'd been snogging rather intently on the sofa in the sitting room when her parents did come home. And while they hadn't actually progressed beyond snogging, when Lily introduced James to her parents, he felt like they'd already dismissed him as a tosser of the first order. I wonder if it felt anything remotely like what I was feeling when Dora's parents were eyeing me like I'd violated her in front of them on the table between the toast and the sausages. It's a decidedly unpleasant sensation. Although in reflection, it can't possibly feel as humiliating as when Mrs. Tonks treated Dora like she was thirteen and not twenty-two. But then again, if I came to my daughter's flat, and found her in the arms of a man thirteen years her senior, and a known werewolf to boot, I would imagine I'd question her sanity, too. Remus came to spread-eagled and facedown in the cellar. He felt bruised and raw, as if the wolf had flayed his skin from the

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inside. He slowly sat up and ruefully noted the bruises that blossomed over his arms and chest, as if the wolf had repeatedly flung himself against the door in an attempt to batter it down. He ran his palms in a cursory manner over his bare skin, checking for any gashes or scrapes that he might need to see to when he returned to the flat. Several splinters were embedded deep into his fingertips, including a rather large and painful one that extended the length of the first joint of his middle finger. He sniffed cautiously at the stale air of the cellar, but the tang of fresh blood didn't meet his nostrils. Satisfied the splinters were the worst of his injuries, he thoughtlessly grabbed at the stone wall to haul himself to his feet, driving the splinters deeper into his flesh. Jerking his hand away from the wall, he hissed in pain, cradling his abused hand against his chest. He carefully unfolded himself from the ground and gingerly walked across the cellar and reached for his wand, hidden in the top of the doorframe, wincing as the movement pulled against the bruises over his chest. He flicked it at the door and it unlocked and swung open slightly. Remus pulled the door open, and blindly reached for his clothes that should have been piled just outside, but his hand closed on empty space. 'What the…?' he breathed, looking around the dark entrance. His clothes were nowhere to be found. He trudged up the stairs to his flat, his pace a little faster than it might have normally been. Remus didn't have many clothes to speak of, so the loss of a pair of trousers, pants, and a shirt would put a serious dent in his wardrobe options. 'Rough night?' asked a decidedly feminine voice above him. Remus froze on the landing below his flat. Dora sat perched on the top step, his clothing folded in a messy heap next to her, a canvas carrier bag at her feet. Remus' hands dropped instinctively to cover himself. 'A bit,' he allowed, keeping his eyes fixed on a spot in the middle of Dora's forehead. She rummaged through his clothing and fished out his pants. 'I like boxers,' she said. 'I like them, too,' Remus retorted. 'I don't suppose you could help a bloke and bung them down here, eh?' 'I'm not sure if these qualify as pants, really,' Dora said doubtfully, holding them up. 'Can bloody see through them, you can.' Remus gritted his teeth. 'Regardless, could I have them back, please?' 'You could just Summon them,' Dora said cheekily. 'I could,' Remus said evenly. 'But I'd rather keep my hands where they are just now.' 'Shame.' Dora tossed his much-maligned pants down the stairs. They landed at his feet in a pathetic clump. Remus bent to snatch them up and pivoted on one heel, turning his back to her so he could pull them over his feet and legs. 'Although, that's a nice view as well…' Decently covered, Remus stalked up the remaining stairs and glowered at Dora. 'To what do I owe the honor of this visit?' She helpfully held out his trousers. 'Sirius said you'd be rather peckish the morning after. Thought I'd return the favor and make you breakfast this time.' 'Your mother isn't going to come round for lunch this time, is she?' Remus asked, as he jerked on the trousers, and accepted the shirt she offered, pulling it over his arms, leaving it unbuttoned. 'No.' Dora scrambled to her feet. 'I'm sorry about that. Mum was rather rude to you.' Remus flapped a hand toward her, dismissing Andromeda's behavior of the previous week. 'It happens all the time.' 'Doesn't make it right.' Remus shrugged and unlocked the door of the flat, and gestured for Dora to precede him inside. 'Kitchen's through there,' he said, pointing to the back of the flat. 'If you'll excuse me, I need to remove a few splinters…' 'I can do that,' Dora said promptly. Remus gazed at her, one eyebrow raised dubiously. 'I can!' she insisted. 'Aurors have to know basic Healing spells and first aid.' Remus merely murmured, 'Accio.' He caught the small kit as it flew from the bathroom and held it out wordlessly, sitting down at his small table, extending one hand to her. 'Be my guest.' Dora fished out a small pair of tweezers and began to delicately remove the splinters from Remus' left hand. 'Is it always like

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this?' she asked softly, the bantering note in her voice replaced by something more somber. 'After…?' 'No.' Remus could see Dora's face light with hope. He hated to douse it, but he had to. 'It's worse.' Dora's hand trembled briefly, but she calmly continued to work the splinter from his finger. 4 February 1996 It's best for Dora to know what it's like. I won't make lycanthropy sound exotic or sexy, like Sirius probably does. She deserves to know that it will age me faster than other wizards. That I could be dead before she's forty years old, presuming either of us lives that long. That werewolves don't have children. That she's consigning herself to a lifetime of ridicule and hatred. She's idealistic enough to believe the only people that matter are the two people directly involved with it. That may be so, but does she realize what it could do to her life? She could lose her position and then we'd both be destitute. I can accept the poverty of my existence, but I can't ask her to live like this. At least she's agreed that we ought to keep things quiet. As far as the Order is concerned, we're just colleagues and friends. I might drop a few hints to Sirius. To the rest of the world, we're nodding acquaintances, if that. Mad-Eye would go spare if he found out. He'd go on and on about risks and enemies using one of us to get to the other. Dumbledore, I think, would approve. Not that we need it, but he does hold love in high esteem as a weapon against the darkness. 'What's the matter Lupin?' drawled a voice behind Teddy. 'Too busy crying over your dead parents?' The voice snickered cruelly. 'Or maybe I should say parent, since werewolves aren't fit to be parents.' Teddy's hand convulsed around the handle of his wand, and he swiped the sleeve of his robes over his face, wiping macerated ginger root from his face. He hadn't been concentrating and shook armadillo bile into his cauldron just after adding the scarab beetles. The contents of his cauldron had exploded spectacularly, showering Teddy and the poor girl next to him with ginger goo, flecked with tiny flecks of ground scarab beetle. He turned and glowered at the boy still chuckling with derision. 'Sod you,' he ground out between clenched teeth, his hair a nimbus of glowing red. He dug a blob of the goo from one ear, muttering, 'Bloody, buggering hell!' 'Teddy!' Professor Williams swept down the aisle. 'Mind your language, please. At least while you're in my classroom,' he rebuked gently. 'Go down to the toilets at the end of the corridor and have a bit of wash,' he ordered, turning to the other student. 'Greyson, move your cauldron to the table by the desk.' He jabbed his wand at the mess that was congealing on the table, Vanishing the ruined potion. Teddy trudged into the corridor and drew out the process of cleaning the remnants of his potion from his hair and clothes as long as he humanly could. By the time he returned to the classroom, everyone else had been dismissed to dinner. He grabbed his bag and began to leave the classroom as well, but Williams emerged from his office with a small piece of parchment that he wordlessly handed to Teddy. Teddy glanced down at it impatiently, and his mouth dropped open. 'Detention!' he spluttered. 'But, sir…!' 'Yes, Teddy, detention,' Williams said swiftly, cutting him off. 'I expect you back here promptly at seven.' Teddy shoved the parchment into his pocket and stormed toward the Great Hall. Instead of turning into the Great Hall, he darted into the corridor and headed for his parents' portraits. He collapsed to the ground in a billow of school robes. He drew his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead against them, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to keep the hot, humiliated tears at bay and failing miserably. He sniffed loudly and drew the sleeve of his robes under his nose and swiped it over his cheeks, looking around suspiciously for anyone that might have seen him. He jerked when he felt something brush against the back of his head, as if a hand had lightly caressed his hair. But the corridor was empty.  

THIRTEEN – 7 February & 14 February 1996

Teddy plodded into the Potions classroom, a sullen expression on his face. He dropped his bag on the floor next to a chair and slumped into it, waiting. Professor Williams came sailing from his office, a sheaf of parchment in his hands. 'Ah, very good,

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Teddy, right on time.' Teddy grunted a reply, rummaging through his bag for parchment and a usable quill. He examined the point of a possible candidate, then unscrewed a bottle of ink. 'What do you want me to write?' 'You're not doing lines,' Williams told him, flicking his wand at the supply cabinet. 'We're going to brew a Wit-Sharpening potion properly.' Teddy scowled at the cauldron. 'I'd rather do lines, if you don't mind, Professor.' 'I do mind,' Williams said sharply. 'I know you can brew a Wit-Sharpening potion, but you keep getting distracted by something.' He shoved the ginger root toward Teddy. 'Now. Shred the ginger root into fine slivers.' Teddy grudgingly took the ginger root and picked up his silver knife and began to carefully peel the knobbly root. 'Have you given any thought to what you might want to do after you finish school?' Williams asked conversationally, scanning a piece of parchment that Teddy recognized as their quiz from the other day. Glancing up from the freshly peeled ginger root, Teddy shrugged. 'Not really.' He snorted as he began to carefully cut the ginger into smaller pieces. 'Obviously nothing involving an N.E.W.T. in Potions…' 'Why?' Teddy raised a sardonic brow and gestured at the cauldron. 'Have you seen me at all in class? Total disaster.' 'It's not that bad,' Williams chuckled. 'It would help tremendously if you took a moment to slow down and pay attention to what you're doing.' 'I suppose…' Teddy fanned out the ginger root for Williams' approval. 'I mean, how bad would it be if I failed my O.W.L.?' 'I can assure you it won't be the end of the world. Professor Longbottom didn't earn an N.E.W.T. in Potions,' Williams said. 'He's the first to admit he's complete rubbish at potion-brewing. But, he's brilliant at what he does.' Williams gave Teddy a nod of approval at the ginger root, so Teddy lit a fire under the cauldron. 'And if I move Greyson to a table in the front of the room, he won't be able to talk about you in your ear while you're trying to concentrate.' Williams added. 'We ought to be able to at least get you to an Acceptable in your O.W.L.' Teddy dumped a handful of scarab beetles into a mortar and began to grind them into fine powder. 'I don't want to be the only one in my family that doesn't earn an N.E.W.T.,' he admitted. 'My mum did, because she was an Auror, and my grandmother met my grandfather in their N.E.W.T.-level class…' 'And your father?' Williams asked. Teddy's shoulders tensed visibly and the pestle stilled momentarily. 'I don't know,' he said quietly, as he began to grind the scarab beetles once more. 'No one's ever said. If they know at all. It's not as if he would have been able to use it anyway,' he added, a hint of bitterness under his voice. He began to tilt the contents of the mortar into the cauldron, but a casual flick of Williams' wand stopped him. Teddy tried to turn his wrist, but it wouldn't budge. 'Have you checked your ginger root?' Williams asked calmly. 'Erm…' Williams jabbed his wand at Teddy, releasing his hand. 'It ought to be quite mushy before you add the beetles. Prod it with your wand.' Teddy set the mortar down with a put-upon sigh and poked his wand into the cauldron. The ginger root didn't give much. 'It's not ready yet…' He glared at the cauldron. This was why he hated Potions so much. Too much waiting and watching. Too much patience. He preferred action, to be able to do something and see an immediate result. He thought Remus must have earned an Outstanding in Potions. From what he'd read so far of the journals, the man had the patience of a proverbial saint. Poking his ginger root once again to test its consistency, Teddy mentally tallied the months between the last entry he'd read from to the day his parents were married. It was slightly more than eighteen more months. Maybe patience had nothing to do with it, and Dad was being overly gallant to keep Mum at arms' length like that.

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Remus clutched his worn cardigan around himself and hunched his shoulders as he bid his tutoring student farewell, and tucked the envelope with his week's payment into the pocket of his trousers. As he walked down the street, he started guiltily, realizing it had been several days since he'd last seen Sirius. He turned casually at the corner of the library building and ducked behind it, quickly glancing around for any would-be observers before he Apparated to number twelve Grimmauld Place. He tapped the doorknob with his wand and slipped inside, neatly dodging the umbrella stand and managing to avoid waking Mrs. Black's portrait. 'Sirius?' he called softly, once he'd passed the portrait. He waited for a moment for a reply, but none was forthcoming. Remus closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply, attempting to scent Sirius amid the miasma of the decaying house. His nose wrinkled at the odor of unwashed skin and stale firewhisky that seemed to be strongest in the sitting room. Remus made his way to the first floor and pushed open the door to the drawing room. Sirius was curled in the sofa, staring sightlessly into the flames of the fireplace, holding a half-full bottle of firewhisky, an old issue of the Prophet lying on the floor. Remus didn't need to read the headlines to know what it contained. 'Are you all right?' Sirius nodded, swallowing heavily. Remus bent to pick up the abandoned newspaper, smoothing the creases from it. Antonin Dolohov's face glared up at him, along with Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, Augustus Rookwood, and others. He remembered that bright summer day, when he had Apparated into the meadow with Sirius and Mad-Eye, just as the first Killing curse hit Gideon Prewett. 'Tell…' Sirius passed a shaking hand over his eyes. 'Tell Dumbledore when the time comes, I want to be let out of this damned prison. So I can wipe the smirk off Dolohov's face myself.' He looked up at Remus from under layers of matted hair. 'I keep seeing it. Every time I try to sleep, all I can see is Gideon dying, then Fabian. Then the questions start coming. What if Frank had stayed with them? What if we'd come a minute sooner? Like being in bloody Azkaban again.' Sirius lifted the bottle to his mouth and gulped several swallows of the amber liquid. 'I don't care about the others,' he ground out between gritted teeth. 'But Dolohov is mine.' He sat up and snatched the paper from Remus' hands. 'Fudge just couldn't resist pulling me back into it, could he? Calling me their bloody leader for Merlin's sake. As if any of them would have followed me.' He crumpled up the paper and thrust it into the fire. 'Arsewipe should know my dear cousin Bellatrix wouldn't even spit on me if I was on fire to put me out.' Sirius' face twisted as he watched the paper burn to ashes. 'Sirius, you know he's just parroting what's been said about you since you were arrested. It gives them a scapegoat,' Remus sighed patiently. 'And frankly, mutt, you're not that much of a leader,' he added, in an attempt to inject some levity into the conversation. 'Thanks,' Sirius said dryly. Remus dropped to the sofa next to him. 'Said it before, you're much too self-centered.' Sirius stared at Remus for a long moment, then pushed himself to his feet. 'Wait here. I think there might be some salt in the kitchen.' 'Why do you need salt?' 'So you can rub it into my wounds.' Remus rolled his eyes. 'Please.' Sirius flopped back down to the sofa, and while he didn't smile, his expression had lightened somewhat. 'What was it between you and Gideon? You never said…' Sirius froze. 'What makes you think there was something between Gideon and me?' he asked, his voice tight. 'I saw the way you reacted when we took their bodies home,' Remus said quietly. 'More than friends with benefits, but not quite the love of my life,' Sirius said quietly. 'Closer in some ways than you and Prongsie were to me, but not nearly as close at the same time.' He shrugged managed a crooked half-smile. 'It wasn't the best time to get involved with someone, but it did make it bearable.' 'Yes, it does,' Remus agreed, a small smile playing over his lips. Sirius' mouth opened and he stared at Remus before it snapped shut. He gazed at Remus for several long moments. 'It's about bloody time,' he grumbled. 'But if you break her heart, I will have to hurt you,' he added.

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7 February 1996 I wonder why Sirius never told James and me about his sexuality. I'm hardly in a position to judge. Not that I would have in the first place, mind. It's not as if James and I didn't know by the end of our third year, as it was. Did he think he couldn't trust us enough to tell us? Was that why he ran away from home? We never could get him to say. I knew he was with Gideon more and more as the war raged on and by the time the Prewett twins were killed, we each thought the other was feeding information about James and Lily to the Death Eaters. But I'm so blind, I thought they were just indulging in a common love of pranking Lucius Malfoy together. Mostly because I didn't see the point of becoming involved with someone during such a terrible time, I didn't imagine anyone else would want to. Especially Sirius, because he never took anything seriously (pardon the awful pun, but it's unavoidable in this circumstance). I suppose I was wrong about him after all. It wouldn't have been the first time. 'How are things at Hogwarts?' Kingsley asked Minerva, once the usual business of the Order had concluded. 'Do you really want to know?' she retorted tartly. 'I would,' Arthur interjected. 'None of the children will write to us.' 'You can't blame them, Arthur,' Tonks said around a mouthful of her sandwich. 'She's tried to intercept their post as it is. I'm surprised she's not started having their letters read and parcels searched before they're delivered to them.' 'Hush, Nymphadora,' Minerva admonished lightly. 'You'll give her ideas.' 'Just by speaking it aloud?' Emmaline chuckled. 'Because she's got ears like a bat,' Minerva responded. 'I swear a mouse can sneeze three floors away, and she'll be there offering it a lacy handkerchief.' 'What does the decree say again?' Sirius asked from his corner of the table, enveloped in shadows. 'Staff can't talk about anything that's not directly related to their subject.' Minerva's mouth thinned ominously. Sirius' face lit up in a slow smile. 'Use it,' he said. 'You've got two of the best pranksters since, well, me. And you won't be able to tell them to stop or handle anything they can unleash.' 'You can't just condone that sort of behavior,' Molly gasped, turning to Minerva. 'She won't,' Sirius interrupted. 'But she can't tell them to stop. Not according to the decree. Between Fred and George, they'll be able to create enough chaos between the two of them to create a distraction. They want to join the Order, don't they? Why not let them unofficially?' 'Dealing with them will keep her distracted,' Kingsley said slowly. 'She won't have time to try and find out things about the Order.' 'Think about all the testing they can do for their joke shop,' Sirius wheedled. 'I remember the kind of mayhem they could cause their first year,' Tonks said brightly. 'Never knew two eleven-year olds could make such a ruckus before that. Kept Filch distracted so he never had the time to actually catch the rest of us doing anything.' Molly bit her lip. 'Ron, Harry, and Hermione will have to study for their O.W.L.s in all that,' she said doubtfully. 'And the twins have got N.E.W.T.s…' 'I can have a bit of a chat with them about just how far they can go,' Minerva mused thoughtfully. 'And it won't take any prodding at all to persuade Peeves to join them.' 'The circumstances have to be right,' Remus muttered. 'It can't look as if Dumbledore's involved in any way. His credibility as the Head of Hogwarts must be preserved.' He gave Sirius an apologetic glance. 'But I can still alert the twins...' Minerva's face took on a calculating expression. 'At some point, she's going to try to have Dumbledore removed. Whether it's through the board of governors or one of those damned decrees.' file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

'How can you be so sure?' Mad-Eye growled. 'She's a power-hungry, ambitious, grasping toad of woman,' Minerva spat. 'All those decrees are akin to putting a frog in a cauldron of water, then slowly heating it up. Most people won't realize she's trying to take over Hogwarts until it's too late and it's already done. We're just going to have to be patient.' 'Can you involve the other teachers?' Sirius asked, a glint in his eyes. 'Or at least let them in on the plan to unleash the full fury of Fred and George Weasley on Umbitch, just so they're not punished if caught?' A slow smile spread over Minerva's face. 'Most of the teachers can be trusted to, ah, look the other way. If nothing else, it will make Ministerial control of the school look like the worst idea since someone thought charming a Quaffle to explode after a set amount of time would be a good idea,' she sniffed. She caught Molly's worried expression. 'We'll keep them out of trouble,' Minerva assured her. 'She won't be able to put her grubby paws on Fred or George, even if she tries. You have my word.' She pushed her chair back. 'I must get back to the school.' It was a signal for the other to take their leave. They slipped from the kitchen in ones and twos. 'I'll come back round later,' Remus murmured to Sirius, who snorted and pushed his hair from his face, as he frankly studied Tonks, who was washing the plate she'd used for her overdue dinner. 'Come back before tomorrow and I'll smack you about the head and shoulders,' he said in an undertone. Sirius checked his watch and chuckled. 'It's Valentine's Day.' Remus recoiled in horror. 'You're joking.' 'I would never joke about a holiday designed to put that particular look on the face of another bloke,' Sirius said in mockseriousness. 'Besides, you haven't had much time to yourself since the breakout last month.' 'All right?' Tonks asked in concern, drying her hands on a tea towel. 'You look like you're about to be sick…' She drew her wand and Summoned a basin from the dresser and held it out to Remus. 'I'm fine,' Remus muttered. 'Come on, let's get you home.' He gathered his traveling cloak and held out Tonks' coat. 'Good night, Padfoot…' 'Good night, Moony,' Sirius replied in a sing-song tone. Tonks waited until they were safely out of the house and halfway to the Underground station before asking, 'What was that about?' Remus sighed and tightly wrapped his cloak around himself. 'You don't expect anything tomorrow, do you?' 'You mean other than the sun rising in the morning and setting in the evening?' she quipped. 'I don't expect much of anything beyond that these days.' 'It's the fourteenth,' Remus said, his face settling into lines of distaste. 'Is it?' Tonks replied disinterestedly. 'Hm.' 'What?' 'Never been too chuffed about it all, you see.' 'Really?' 'Yes. Walked by Madam Puddifoot's once in Hogsmeade and nearly lost my lunch.' Tonks shuddered delicately. 'Can't stand that sort of rubbish.' 'A woman after my own heart,' Remus murmured. 'Can't stand it, either. As if I'd need a holiday to tell you…' 'Tell me what?' Tonks prompted. She suddenly stopped. 'No, don't…' She looked around the street uneasily. 'Let's get down to the platform,' she muttered. 'Feels like I'm being watched…'

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Remus glanced around them, eyes narrowed. 'I don't see anybody…' he said, but he followed her down the stairs. 'Ever since the breakout,' Tonks began as she settled on a bench to wait for the train, 'it feels like I'm being followed.' She looked at something on the other side of the platform. 'Especially when I'm with you,' she added reluctantly. 'I see…' Remus stood up and began to walk toward the stairs, but Tonks caught a handful of his cloak in one of her hands. 'I'm not saying it's your fault,' she hissed, lunging after him. 'Damn it, Remus, sit back down!' She glared at him angrily. 'I'm just saying I get it! All right? I get it! Why you're worried about being seen with me in public, and why you think it's a bad idea of us to even do what we manage to do now!' 'Dora, shhhhh…' Remus attempted to calm her. They were attracting the notice of the others on the platform. Her lips clamped shut and she took a deep breath, massaging her temples. 'It's just with you being…' Tonks fished for a word that wouldn't draw unwelcome attention. 'What you are,' she finally said. 'And my parents being who they are, I feel like there's a rather large target on my back.' Remus nodded. 'You know what Mad-Eye would say about all this?' 'That we'd have to stop seeing each other?' He shook his head. 'Well, probably, but the first thing he'd say…' 'Constant vigilance!' Tonks supplied. The train rumbled into the station and Remus stood up. 'It's up to you,' he told Tonks as she boarded the train. He knew she wouldn't willingly walk away from the nascent relationship, but he felt as if it was ending before it even started. 14 February 1996 I've always wanted Dora to see things from my point of view about our relationship. And now that she does, I'm not so sure it's what I wanted from her. She's usually the optimistic one. I need her to hope this is going to work out. I wonder if she'll do what Sirius did and start to pull away from me, little by little, because she'll find she's unable to trust me. I can picture someone like Dolohov going after Dora because she's flaunting Wizarding law and consorts with what's legally a beast. Although, in truth, I'd be more worried about her aunt Bellatrix. She might not kill Dora outright, but she'd torture her, just like she did Frank and Alice for nothing more than her enjoyment. Before the breakout, that was just something of an idea. That it could happen. But now, it's a distinct possibility. On the lighter side of things, I'd love to be under a Disillusionment spell in Minerva's office when she tells Fred and George they can wreck havoc without getting into trouble. Flush with pleasure, Teddy ran up the stairs from the Potions classroom and pelted into the corridor off the Great Hall. He skidded to a stop in front of the portraits of his parents. 'I did it!' he crowed. 'I brewed a Wit-Sharpening potion!' There was soot streaked across his cheeks, and his robes bore several tiny holes from sparks when the potion had exploded during his first attempt. 'It only took three hours, but I DID IT!' 'Lupin?' McGonagall rounded the corner. 'Who are you talking to?' Teddy's pink cheeks reddened further. 'Erm…' McGonagall's eyes flicked toward the wall. 'Oh, I see…' she breathed. 'It's past curfew, young man. You ought to be in your dormitory.' I just got out of detention with Professor Williams,' he stammered. She shook herself slightly. 'Did Professor Williams give you a note so you could avoid another detention?' 'Yes, ma'am…' Teddy dug into his pocket and pulled out a slightly singed piece of parchment bearing Williams' scrawled signature with the time he'd released Teddy from detention.

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'Well, you should go up to Gryffindor straightaway, then, Lupin.' 'Yes, ma'am…' Teddy threw one last look at his parents, then trudged out of the corridor, still brimming with glee that he had managed to successfully brew a potion. McGonagall watched him leave then turned to the wall. 'He's doing very well, even if it's not in the way he expects to do. But that does happen quite often here, doesn't it?' A/N: McGonagall refers to the American variation of Quidditch known as Quodpot, where the Quaffle (known as a Quod) explodes. And lots of thanks to Steph who helped me flesh out the journal entries.  

FOURTEEN – 23 February & 1 March 1996

Teddy grabbed the jug of orange juice and poured himself a goblet. 'Going to Hogsmeade today?' Victoire asked around a mouthful of cereal. He shook his head. 'No…' 'Doing extra potions lessons with Williams this afternoon?' 'Shhhh!' Teddy shushed Victoire and glanced around the table. For the last several weeks, he'd crept from the Gryffindor common room to the Potions classroom on Saturday afternoon and spent an extra couple of hours with Professor Williams. 'Don't tell everyone!' 'Why not?' she asked. Teddy grabbed an apple from the bowl in the middle of the table. He took a large bite and wiped the juice from his chin with the back of his hand. 'How would you like it if I shouted out at dinner that you were getting extra help with Transfiguration?' 'It's nothing to be ashamed of,' Victoire muttered. 'And I don't need help with Transfiguration,' she added archly. 'I know you don't need the extra help. But I don't want everyone to know I do. It's embarrassing…' Victoire rolled her eyes, and let her spoon fall into her empty bowl with a clatter. 'You're worse than Dad,' she scoffed. 'He'd rather die than let Mum know he needs help with something. So why aren't you going to Hogsmeade?' Teddy shrugged. 'It's not extra lessons.' 'I thought you'd be jumping at the chance to get away for a day.' 'Vic, stop it. Please? Just stop it,' Teddy sighed. 'I just don't feel like going into Hogsmeade today.' He swung his legs over the bench and left the Great Hall. Something trickled down his wrist, and he looked down, surprised to see the half-eaten apple clutched in his hand. He tossed it into the air and Vanished it before it could hit the floor, then wiped his sticky hand down the side of his jeans. Castle ought to be nearly empty today,' he thought. I can find a nice quiet corner, and not be disturbed. I'll have to go now, so Victoire won't be able find me easily. Not up to trying to keep her and her nose out of my business. There were drawbacks to having known someone since they were both young enough to be put into the same bath together. As much as Teddy liked her, Victoire's innate inquisitiveness could get irritating. Especially when Teddy wanted to be left alone. Victoire always had a million questions and didn't seem to understand the meaning of the word, "no". He trudged into his dormitory and picked up his bag from the floor next to his bed and slung it over his shoulder. His hand automatically slid into a pocket, fingers closing reassuringly around the smooth leather of his father's journal. He hadn't tried to read it since school had started nearly two months ago, but carried it around with him like a talisman. But today – today would be the perfect day to read. With most of the other students heading to Hogsmeade, he would be able to read in relative peace and quiet. 'What's that?'

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Teddy whirled around, the journal in his hands. 'What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?' he roared. 'This is the boys' dormitory, in case you hadn't noticed, Victoire.' Victoire's round eyes swam and her chin trembled. 'I just…' 'You can just leave me alone, damn it,' Teddy growled. 'I can't even study without you making comments about it! All right? Go away and leave me alone!' He crammed the journal back into his bag and stormed from the dormitory. Remus lightly ran up the stairs to Dora's flat. He hadn't heard from her in over a week, but yesterday, a brown owl had brought him a note bearing nothing except a time, written in Dora's round hand. As he strode down the corridor, he could hear two voices coming from Dora's flat. Remus stilled and closed his eyes, angling his head toward the low, urgent voices. 'Did you come all this way to lecture me, Mum?' 'I'm merely saying you ought to be more careful, Nymphadora. My sister would love nothing more than you torture you into insanity, just like she did Frank and Alice Longbottom.' 'Because of Remus?' Andromeda snorted. 'No, foolish girl, because of your father and me. But speaking of him, what on earth are you thinking?' 'We're not really dating, Mum,' Dora protested. 'He's a werewolf!' Andromeda's voice rose. 'Thanks for pointing out the obvious, Mum,' Dora retorted dryly. 'I'd have never figured that one out on my own, even if I wasn't already painfully aware of the fact.' 'Nymphadora, please…' Andromeda's voice took on an anguished tone. 'You don't know what it's like to be ostracized because of… of who you married,' she said in a strained whisper. 'So, you regret marrying Dad, is that it?' 'Of course not!' Andromeda snapped. 'I don't regret a thing about marrying your father! But when I did, I lost everything. Not that I wanted to remain on friendly terms with most of my family, but still… I don't want to see something like that happen to you.' There was a long moment of silence. 'Does that mean you and Dad would cut me off if I became more involved with Remus?' Dora asked coolly. There was another extended pause. 'I think you ought to go, Mum, before you say something you'll regret later.' The door to Dora's flat opened and Remus flattened himself against the wall, a few steps above the landing. Andromeda charged out of the flat, muttering angrily to herself, the door slamming behind her. He waited for several minutes, then clattered down the steps and knocked softly on the door. Dora yanked it open, her face set in mutinous lines. She glared at him for a moment, then stepped to the side, mutely inviting him inside. Remus fancied he could see steam pouring from her ears. 'Something the matter?' he asked, knowing perfectly well what the answer would be. 'Does your mother treat you like a ten-year old child?' Dora huffed. 'Erm… no…' 'Really? How do you manage that?' Remus coughed and flushed. 'Well… It's… My mother… She died when I was in school.' Dora's face immediately sobered. 'Oh… I'm sorry,' she stammered. 'I didn't know…' Remus shrugged. 'It's all right. And in case you were wondering, my father died about a year after I finished school.' He pulled his traveling cloak off and hung it on a hook next to the door. He leaned against the door, unable to lie to her. 'I overheard you and your mother arguing,' he blurted. Dora paled. 'How much did you hear?' she asked faintly.

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'Enough,' Remus said succinctly. 'What started it?' Dora dropped heavily onto her sofa. 'She said she had to go to Diagon Alley for something or other – I wasn't paying attention – and thought she'd stop by for a mo.' She reached down for a crumpled magazine and held it out to Remus. 'She saw this on my table and it went downhill from there.' Remus took the proffered magazine and felt the bottom drop from his stomach. Harry's face blinked up at him from the cover of The Quibbler. 'Oh my God…' he breathed. 'Has he lost his mind?' 'I don't think so,' Dora murmured. She shifted to one side and motioned for Remus to sit down. 'Sit. You're starting to look peaky,' she told him. 'Why would he do something like this?' Remus said in a bewildered tone. 'He's never sought this sort of attention…' 'Desperation. We're all getting desperate,' Dora said quietly. 'People do stupid, thoughtless things when they're desperate,' Remus countered. He stared at the magazine in his hand. 'Your mother's right, you know.' 'Don't do this,' Dora breathed, covering her face with her hands. 'Don't start that again.' Remus set the magazine down on the arm of the sofa. 'I think I ought to go before I say something I'll regret later,' he said in a low voice, parroting Dora's advice to her mother, then left the flat, certain he could hear a nearly inaudible sniffle drift from the sofa. 23 February 1996 Dumbledore is always fond of saying love is the greatest weapon against fear. On the other hand, Mad-Eye thinks love is a weakness to be exploited. I'm inclined to side with Mad-Eye. There are just too many variables one cannot control. What is desperation? Is it the act of one driven to do something ultimately foolish, because they've been stymied by authority? Is it the last gasp of a hopeless, helpless situation? Or is it when you keep going, because you can't see anything else, save what's in front of you? What was Harry thinking to give an interview like that? Of course, since it's in the Quibbler, I highly doubt most people will take it seriously, but if any of the students buy it, a good portion of them will remember the end of the Triwizard, and start to think he's telling the truth after all. I suppose he found himself with no other option, than to use a magazine that's customarily labeled as a tabloid. It reminds me of some of the more outré Muggle tabloids. Either way, it must have cost Harry a great deal to talk about the events of the last year. He normally doesn't talk about things like this. Aside from the chosen few, that is, and it certainly doesn't include adults most of the time. I'd be surprised if anyone other than Ron and Hermione had an inkling about what goes on inside Harry's head. I'd be very surprised if he does tell them everything. Somehow, I doubt he would. Not that he's secretive or doesn't trust them, but I think he's constantly calculating what other people might say or how they might react. At least when his emotions don't get the best of him. That does happen every so often to even the most tightly selfcontrolled of us. Certain people bring out that sort of reaction. I do hope Sirius manages to keep himself together. The worse things get, the more Harry's going to need him. The drinking's gotten worse since they left in January. I'll say this for Padfoot – he can hold his drink for the most part. He might reek of it during Order meetings, and look the worse for wear, but he's never been visibly inebriated during a meeting, and we've never found him lying unconscious or in a stupor. If he does drink himself into oblivion every night, he's been considerate enough to wait until we're gone. Lets all of us maintain the illusion that he's not reached the point of desperation. At least not yet… 'Have you told Fred and George about our plan yet?' Remus asked Minerva, simply to avoid making eye contact or conversation with Dora before the meeting began. 'You ought to have seen their expressions. I might as well have told them Christmas had come early.' 'How'd you do it?' 'I gave them detention,' Minerva said off-handedly. 'Not an uncommon occurrence, I assure you. Then while they were in my file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

office, I made them plan what they were going to do and had them make a list of anything they might need. Fortunately, most of the ingredients are fairly innocuous. I made them promise nothing too destructive, however. I'll continue to give them detentions every so often, just to keep an eye on their plans and progress.' 'That's nice,' Remus murmured distractedly, only half-hearing what Minerva had said. 'Are the Occlumency lessons going well?' Sirius asked anxiously from his customary shadowy corner of the dark kitchen. Remus had to give him credit. Sirius was ashen, eyes bloodshot and puffy, and the scent of stale firewhisky almost visibly radiated off him. But he was present at the meeting, seemingly clear-headed. 'I don't know,' Minerva admitted. 'Severus and I don't discuss the lessons.' 'Does Snape discuss them with Dumbledore, then?' Sirius asked tightly. 'If he does, Albus hasn't said,' she replied tartly. She looked as if she was about to say more, but the arrival of Elphias cut her off. 'I never thought I'd live to see the day!' he wheezed to Hestia, who was following him into the kitchen. 'Rita Skeeter wrote an article that isn't full of half-truths and innuendo.' 'Is she ill?' Hestia wondered. 'Or perhaps she's fallen and hit her head.' 'And learned journalistic integrity?' Kingsley snorted. 'Not very likely. Must be something else… Hasn't written a thing in nearly a year. Maybe someone has something on her that they're holding over her head.' 'But who does Harry know that would resort to blackmail?' Elphias rasped. 'You make it sound like a filthy word,' Sirius said, with a hint of genuine dismay. 'Are you talking about that article?' Minerva interjected with a mild look of distaste. 'It's all over the school and Umbridge has threatened to expel any student with a copy of it.' 'Can she do that?' Sirius asked in bewilderment. 'Educational Decree number twenty-seven,' Kingsley supplied. 'Issued mere hours after the magazine came out.' 'If Fudge moved as quickly to do something about You-Know-Who as he has Harry's interview, most of the escaped Death Eaters would have been recaptured by now,' Dora muttered. 'He's got us "looking" for them,' she added, drawing air quotes with her index fingers, 'but he's got our hands tied. Can't even follow our usual procedures with something like this.' 'Is this true?' Remus demanded, turning to Kingsley for corroboration. Kingsley nodded soberly. 'Normally, we would track a known Death Eater to wherever they're hiding and apprehend them with a squad of Hit Wizards. But we're not being allowed to do that. He's got us observing and arresting what seem like random people, just so we look like we're doing something productive. He still hopes if he ignores the situation, it'll disappear.' He ran a hand over his bald head. 'I've never seen morale so low.' 'Foolish, careless…' Remus murmured. He stopped and rubbed his fingers over his lips, feeling as if he were about to be sick. He gazed at Sirius and knew he was thinking the same thing: had they done to Peter what they'd wanted to do nearly two years ago, none of this would be happening. It had been Harry – Harry with his sense of justice and morality – that begged them to keep Sirius from actually committing the crime of which he'd been accused. Not that Remus blamed Harry in the slightest. He had been proud of the boy for the amount of maturity he'd shown in recognizing the line between punishment and justice. They should have known, the both of them, to put every jinx they knew on Peter to keep him from transforming. But they had forgotten to do it, in the elation of the moment. Remus didn't view himself as a philosopher by any means, but he wondered what butterfly had flapped its wings somewhere in China to set off this chain of events. 1 March 1996 I remember two Muggle novels I read one summer when I was moping about the house in a fit of ennui as a teenager. One of

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them dealt with a somewhat dystopian society where the government knew your every move, and very nearly your every thought. When information is disseminated to the people, it's carefully manipulated so it looks as if the government is right about everything. And when the poor protagonist decides to rebel, he's imprisoned, tortured, and "re-educated" about what's proper. If Fudge has his way, that's what will happen to anyone who dares dissent against the official Ministry line. The other novel was also of a somewhat dystopian society where books were verboten. Forbidden. The funny thing was, it started out in such a benign way – these books might make this particular group feel threatened, so they must be removed. Soon enough, everything written was banned. Not that I think Fudge is going to start banning books… Oh… Right. He has. He's banned the teaching of proper Defense Against the Dark Arts and its textbooks. What worries me the most is that by the time the societies in those two books realized anything was out of sorts, it was too late to do anything. At least not without major risk to life and limb. Perhaps it is a good thing Harry did that interview. If nothing else, it'll help keep too many of his peers from falling into complacency that the Ministry will take care of everything. Be careful, cousins, Big Brother is watching… Teddy shivered and wrapped his cloak around his body a little more. He let his hot forehead rest against the cold glass of the window in his dormitory and looked up into the night. The moon rode low in the sky, its rounded fullness just skimming the tops of the trees in the Forbidden Forest. It was full – or would be in a day or two. He carefully worked a wad of cotton wool into his ears, his shoulders tensed against what felt like a cacophony of sound coming from his year mates. Every snort, grunt, or deep sigh seemed to echo painfully in his ears. Even the dimly glowing coals of the fire in the middle of the room made his eyes water as if he'd stared into the sun too long. He could normally hear and see quite well, perhaps better than the others. He always knew when Filch was around the corner or when Mrs. Norris was lurking about. Joel had once teased him that he'd been gifted with the Sight. Teddy swallowed the bitter taste of bile that rose in the back of this throat. Something burned in his stomach, but he wasn't quite sure what it was. He'd hardly eaten anything at dinner and wasn't hungry just now. Victoire hadn't waited to hear his half-formed apologies, but turned those large, sky-blue eyes on him, full of mute reproach, then flounced up the stairs on the girls' side. He sighed heavily and let his eyes close against the moon. His grandmother had always told him he had his mother's temper: quick to burn and quick to die out. But the savageness of his behavior earlier that morning had surprised him, if not frightened him a little. Was it a shadow of the werewolf prowling through his veins? He held up a hand, moving it slightly so it sliced through a silvery beam of light that spilled through the window. He shook himself when nothing happened and slid from the windowsill, stumbling toward his bed, suddenly very tired. A/N: Remus quotes both Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451 and George Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four. Those are the two books he alluded to in the entry for 1 March.  

FIFTEEN – 7 March & 9 March 1996

Teddy groaned and pushed his head under his pillow. Going to see Madam Pomfrey was pointless. She'd just make him swallow some foul-tasting potion and make him lie down with cool cloths on his forehead. He'd once asked her if she could at least add honey or sugar to it, but Madam Pomfrey just tutted about ingredients losing potency if it were sweetened. Just one more day… he moaned to himself. 'Teddy, mate, you're going to miss breakfast!' one of his year mates said urgently. 'Shhh!' Teddy could hear Joel shushing the others. 'Full moon tonight,' he reminded them. 'You know how tetchy he gets…' Teddy thought he heard a note of contempt in Joel's voice, but shook it off as a symptom of the vague sense of paranoia that sometimes accompanied the full moon. The other boys left the room, allowing the door to slam noisily behind them. Teddy hissed in pain as the noise reverberated off the stone walls and floors, his hands clutching tightly on his pillow. The echo died away quickly and Teddy felt himself gradually relax into the bed, the relative silence a welcome respite. The fingers of one hand wrapped around the smooth leather cover of one of Remus' journals that he'd hidden under the pillow. Under the neardarkness of the curtain-shrouded bed, Teddy opened his eyelids to bare slits and slowly turned the pages. He couldn't imagine

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having a teacher like the Umbridge person his father mentioned from time to time. Every teacher at Hogwarts was skilled in their specialty, and sometimes almost equally skilled in another. From what Harry had told him about Umbridge during the summer, and what he'd gleaned from the journal entries, Umbridge was next to useless as a teacher. It made him wonder what N.E.W.T.s she'd actually taken and passed. He gave up trying to read the next entry. The elegant copperplate script Remus customarily used was difficult to read under the present circumstance. It swam and blurred. Teddy closed his eyes and tried to sleep. '"Busy old fool, unruly Sun,/Why dost thou thus,/Through windows, and through curtains, call on us?/Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run?" Obviously, John Donne wasn't a werewolf,' Remus muttered to the battered teapot on the table. He disagreed with the notion that the sun was a bad thing. He welcomed it. He couldn't remember a time when he didn't tilt his face up to the sun, especially the morning after the full moon, if he was lucky enough for it to be a sunny day. When he was older and indulged the wolf with outdoor transformations, he'd allowed himself a stolen hour or two to stretch out in an isolated field to sunbathe naked. Today happened to be a sunny day, so he had the thin curtains pulled back from the windows, allowing the light to straggle into the flat. Booming knocks broke into his reverie and Remus stared at the door, startled. Who on earth could that be…? The only person who ever ventured up to the flat recently had been Dora, but he hadn't seen much of her in the last week, although she'd left a basket of food on his doorstep for him to find after the full moon the other day. At least he'd thought it was her. Nobody else would think to leave an ironic sprig of wolfsbane twined around the handle. Drawing his wand from his pocket, Remus approached the door warily. 'Who's there?' he called out. 'Ted Tonks.' Remus frowned. There was no way to ascertain if it was, in fact, Ted. But he could try. 'How did your wife choose Nymphadora…?' 'She was reading Greek mythology when she went into labor. And when it was obvious the baby was a Metamorphmagus, she settled on Nymphadora.' Remus opened the door a bare inch, and kept his wand trained on the older man's forehead. Ted Tonks stood patiently on the landing. He didn't seem to be coerced and it looked as if he were alone. Still… Remus gave his wand the merest flick, but the only red light he could see outlined Ted. Satisfied, he widened the opening enough to allow Ted to slip into the flat. Ted looked around the small flat, at the bookcases filled to overflowing with books and the neat stacks of much-read cheap paperbacked books acquired in secondhand bookshops when he had the money to spare, or salvaged from someone's dustbin. 'If literature be the food of love, read on?' Ted asked wryly. 'Something like that,' Remus agreed, tucking his wand back into the pocket of his trousers, wondering why Ted was here. He'd only met the man once, more than a month ago at Dora's flat. 'I'm more of a music sort of bloke myself,' Ted mused. 'Classic Muggle rock. Beatles, Rolling Stones, Cream, Jefferson Airplane, the Who. Occasionally Led Zeppelin… Janis Joplin…' A beatific smile passed over his face. 'Used to sing in Potions class. Early Beatles. How I wooed Dora's mother.' 'How did you find my address?' Remus asked. 'Not a state secret, is it?' Ted countered. 'I used to work in the Ministry.' 'Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?' Remus snorted. 'No. Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. But I did look you up last month.' Ted gave Remus a hard look. 'Something any concerned father might do. And Dora won't talk about you.' 'I see,' Remus said stiffly. 'Can I get you something? Cup of tea, perhaps?' Remus offered belatedly, remembering his manners. 'Cuppa would be nice. Andi's trying to make me drink the decaffeinated stuff,' Ted said with a grimace. 'Been reading too many Muggle women's mags. Steamed veg, baked skinless chicken,' he added mournfully. 'Says I need to start watching what I eat.'

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'And she can smell fish and chips on you from a mile away?' Remus guessed. He didn't think much got by Andromeda Tonks. Remus found a dusty mug in the cupboard and hastily gave it a cleaning with his wand, then began the process of fixing a fresh pot of tea. 'Yeah,' Ted sighed. He took a seat at Remus' small kitchen table and idly picked up the book of poetry Remus had left lying on it. 'Mind if I ask you something?' 'Don't suppose I could stop you from doing so,' Remus replied, spooning tea leaves into his old teapot. 'How do you keep from letting the werewolf gain control? According to your file, Greyback bit you when you were four.' Remus stoically poured tea into two mugs and carried them to the table. 'Because I don't let it,' he said stonily. 'I'm nothing like Greyback.' 'Sort of like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, eh?' 'Except I don't enjoy my Mr. Hyde. Unlike Dr. Jekyll, I don't find a measure of freedom in my transformations. If only I had a portrait of my werewolf self,' Remus mused, sipping his tea. 'So you could stab it?' Ted said with a chuckle. 'Probably end up killing both of us,' Remus said. 'Can't really separate myself from the wolf.' 'Which brings me to why I'm here,' Ted began. 'Forgive me for being prosaic, but what are your intentions toward my daughter?' Remus started, slopping tea over the edge of his mug. He brushed at the front of his jumper with a tea towel. 'I have none,' he admitted. 'So you're just toying with her?' Ted rumbled. 'No. I mean… I… I have no business becoming involved with her,' Remus recited. 'I'm too old and too dangerous.' 'But you do love her, don't you?' Remus nodded, his lips pressed together, staring into his mug. Ted sighed and set his mug down. 'I know you didn't choose to become a werewolf, lad. No one does. No more than I chose to be born a wizard. I was prepared to walk away from Andromeda for her own protection. A Muggle-born had no right to try and be with a member of the Black family. Not unless she was prepared to cut herself off from the rest of her family.' 'You'd disown Dora?' Remus asked skeptically. 'No.' Remus felt his head reel. There was only one choice, really. It was the only one he had all along. 7 March 1996 If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? No, I didn't choose to become a werewolf. But I'm still a human being. No matter what the Ministry might have to say about that. I am nothing like Fenrir Greyback. Nothing. I do not bite small children during the full moon. I do not prefer to take revenge against adults by going after their children. I do not kill because I enjoy it. I do not give the wolf free reign over my life between full moons. This is my life, damn it. MY life. And any idea that I might have any sort of choice over it is simply an illusion. And any attempt to pretend that I can choose has been futile.

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'You've shaid – said – yourself you aren' keen about keepin' Diviniation as a subject.' Dumbledore looked at Sirius over the rims of his half-moon glasses. 'You are inebriated,' he stated, the twinkle in his eyes shadowed by the stern look he currently gave to Sirius. 'So? What elshh… elsssse do I have t' do 'round 'ere?' Sirius drawled belligerently. Dumbledore sighed and turned away from Sirius. 'My feelings about Divination aside, I have reasons for keeping Sybill on the staff of Hogwarts.' 'But she's not on staff,' Arthur said. 'Umbridge fired her.' 'She can still live at Hogwarts,' Dumbledore maintained. 'Dolores may have usurped my ability to hire and fire teachers, but I still have the right to say who lives at Hogwarts and who does not. And Sybill stays.' 'Why is it so important for Trelawney to live at Hogwarts?' Remus asked quietly. 'I have my reasons,' Dumbledore stated. 'Perhaps you could share them?' Remus persisted. Dumbledore's face was inscrutable. 'She knows things about what Riddle wants in the Department of Mysteries,' he allowed. 'An' th' only place tha's shafer den Grint'tts 's 'ogwar's,' Sirius slurred sarcastically. 'Well, I see you haven't entirely pickled your brain in firewhisky,' Molly noted archly. 'Bugger off,' Sirius huffed. 'So have you thought about what you're going to do for the Divination class until the situation at school changes?' Arthur asked, desperately trying to turn the conversation back to the current situation and away from the potentially volatile explosion brewing at the other end of the table. 'I've asked Firenze to take over and share the teaching duties for the time being. It was necessary for him to indulge in a change of scenery for the moment.' 'A centaur?' Remus choked. 'That's going to put Umbridge's knickers in such a wad; she'll need an Entrail-Expelling curse to put things to rights.' Dumbledore's lips twitched. 'That is an image I could have lived without.' He rose from the table and gave Remus a significant look, then flicked his eyes toward Sirius. Remus nodded once. Sirius' drinking had progressed to a point where it was hindering his limited ability to participate in Order business. And now Remus had to take care of it. Dumbledore swept from the kitchen after bidding farewell to Molly and Arthur. 'Do you need any help putting Sirius to bed?' Arthur inquired. Remus' gaze swiveled to Sirius' end of the table. He was slumped in his chair, head pillowed on the table, snoring softly. Remus shook his head. 'No. But thank you.' 'Are you sure?' Arthur dubiously eyed Remus' thin frame. 'I'll Levitate him up to bed,' Remus said. 'If I happen to bump his head a few times, I doubt he'll feel it under the hangover he'll have when he does wake up.' The howls of Mrs. Black's portrait rang through the kitchen. Sirius snorted in his sleep, then resumed his deep, steady breaths. The portraits rants were suddenly silenced and Dora appeared in the kitchen door, clutching a small brown paper bag. 'Have I missed it?' 'Dumbledore just left. Umbridge sacked Trelawney and tried to throw her out of the castle,' Molly told her, sniffing a little in disapproval at Dora's tardiness. 'But he intervened and is keeping her there for her own safety, but won't really say why, other than she know about what you lot have been guarding. And he's asked one of the centaurs to replace Trelawney for now.' She turned to Arthur and Remus. 'Is that it?'

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The sharpness of Molly's mind, contrary to her normal appearance, never failed to impress Remus. 'Yeah, that's about it.' 'I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner,' Dora began. 'I was on my way over and noticed I was being followed.' 'Followed?' Arthur asked sharply. 'By who?' 'I don't know. Whoever it was, they had on a cloak and the hood was pulled up over their face.' She held up the brown paper bag. 'I ducked into a Muggle shop, then after I bought something so I didn't look suspicious, went into the loo and Apparated to that alley down the street.' 'You'll need to let Kingsley know in the morning,' Arthur told her. Dora nodded and set the paper bag on the table. 'As soon as I get to work.' 'Good. Molly?' Arthur held out a hand, and Molly took it, her fingers trembling slightly. They left the kitchen, clutching each other's hands. Remus sighed and rolled up his sleeves. He pointed his wand at Sirius and jerked it up. Sirius' head banged painfully against the wall behind his chair. 'What are you doing?' Dora asked curiously. 'Putting the mutt to bed,' Remus replied, getting a shoulder under Sirius' arm, and wrapping his arm around his waist. 'Would you like some help?' Tell her no… Tell her you don't need it… Send her back home… 'Yeah, thanks.' Remus felt his ears burn. He'd all but promised Ted he would begin the process of disengaging himself from Dora's life. That they'd go back to being colleagues in the Order. But he couldn't make himself push her away. She was his weakness. An old Muggle comic book came to mind. One that he'd read when he was desperate for entertainment. Kryptonite, he mused. Dora moved to the table and wrapped her arm around Sirius on his other side. Sirius roused a little. 'Know wha' I need?' he mumbled drunkenly. 'What's that?' Remus asked, humoring his friend. 'A goo' shag…' Sirius peered through his hair at Remus. 'I'ss been…' He trailed off and his eyes unfocused as he counted. 'Four'een yearsh.' 'Are you sure everything's in good working condition after such a long time?' Remus chuckled. 'Does yoursh even wor'?' Sirius said snidely. Remus felt Dora's eyes on him. 'Enough of that now,' he murmured, feeling the ripple of a flush climb up his face. He pointed with his chin to an open door and with Dora's help, managed to guide Sirius' body into his bedroom and dumped it on the unmade bed. Tonks pulled Sirius' slippers off and dropped them next to the bed, then helped Remus roll Sirius onto his stomach, angling his head so his face nearly hung off the edge of the bed. 'There, if he vomits, he might not choke on it,' Remus muttered, Summoning a small dustbin and positioning it next to the bed. Tonks flicked her wand at the fireplace, bringing it roaring into life, filling the dark, damp room with light and warmth. 'Why do you have to care for him?' 'Because I need to do what I failed to do when we were in school.' 'Which was…?' Remus dropped onto the small sofa in front of the fire. He gazed at the bag in her hands. 'What'd you buy at the shop?' 'Oh.' Dora looked at the bag, startled. She seemed to have forgotten all about it. 'Ice cream,' she said wryly. 'Chocolate.' She pulled a small carton from the bag. 'Want to share? Save me from eating it all by myself?' Remus smiled a little and waved his wand. Two spoons appeared in mid-air, and he wrapped his fingers around the handles and inclined his head to the seat on the sofa next to him. Dora pried the lid off the carton and accepted one of the spoons. 'So… Why…?' She waved a hand at the figure sprawled across the messy bed. file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

'When we were in school, I never tried to convince him what he was doing was destructive. And I was a bloody prefect. Never chided him for what he did or said.' Remus scraped the spoon across the surface of the ice cream, closing his eyes in pleasure as it slid down his throat. 'I never had friends when I was younger. My parents kept me sort of isolated, because of the lycanthropy. So when James and Sirius befriended me, and remained friends with me, even after they found out about me, I was so desperate to keep them as friends, that I refused to do anything more than put up a token protest at their behavior. 'So now, I have to do what I didn't want to do then.' 'Do you think he'll be angry at you for calling him out on his drinking?' 'Probably,' Remus sighed. 'I'll do it when he wakes up.' Remus glanced at Sirius. 'Maybe after I make him some coffee,' he amended. 9 March 1996 I didn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to confront Sirius. Because I am coward. Especially when it comes to people who do actually like me. I couldn't do it when Dora offered to stay and I ought to have made her leave. I couldn't do it when Sirius woke up. I don't want to lose his friendship, and it's not that I think our friendship couldn't withstand a little criticism, but I can't risk it. But at the same time, he needs to stop using alcohol to insulate himself against the fact he can't leave Grimmauld Place. That being said… I don't know why Dumbledore doesn't allow him to leave Grimmauld Place. It's not as if we don't have methods at our disposal for allowing him to leave without being recognized. He could use Polyjuice or Disillusionment charms. Unless… No… Dumbledore couldn't possibly be that diabolical. He couldn't possibly be deliberately destroying Sirius… Because if he is… what purpose would that serve…? 'Teddy?' Victoire called softly through the curtains of his bed. 'Ungh?' 'I brought you some soup…' she said hesitantly. 'And Madam Pomfrey said you're to take this…' A small vial filled with purplish-blue liquid was thrust between the edges of the curtains. Teddy reached up groped blindly for the vial. His fingers closed around it and he pried the cork from the vial with his teeth, spat it out, then drained the liquid, gagging as he swallowed it. In a few moments, the pounding in his head receded and he sat up, pulling the curtain back a little. The light still bothered him, but not as much as it had before. The scent of vegetable soup reached his nose and his stomach gurgled noisily. 'You have soup?' 'Yeah.' Victoire held out a bowl cradled in a tea towel, and pulled a spoon from her pocket. Teddy began to hungrily devour the soup. All too soon, the spoon scraped against the bottom of the bowl. He set the bowl aside and looked up. Victoire was standing uncertainly by the door of the dormitory. 'I really am sorry about shouting at you yesterday,' he muttered. 'It wasn't you…' He took a deep breath. 'But, Vic, when I say leave me be, I mean it…' 'All right.' A/N: The two quotes come from John Donne's 'The Sun Rising' and William Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice.   'Teddy?'

SIXTEEN – 16 March & 2 April 1996

'Hmmm?' Teddy absently glanced up at his grandmother over the edge of a journal.

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'Teddy, it's after eleven.' Andromeda slipped her hands into the pockets of her dressing gown and leaned against the door frame. 'It's an hour past your bedtime.' Teddy wasn't quite able to refrain from snorting in derision. Going to bed at ten was almost a quaint vestige of home at school. Between the occasional detention, homework, Quidditch practice, and skiving off his homework, he was lucky to get into bed at midnight some nights. 'All right, Gran…' he murmured. 'I know bedtimes are nothing more than some vague memory at school,' Andromeda said lightly. 'But it's a long day tomorrow. We're to be at Harry and Ginny's early, then to the Burrow for lunch.' 'Too bad you just can't tell me Father Christmas won't come unless I'm asleep anymore, eh?' Teddy chuckled. 'I'll admit, it made things easier,' Andromeda said dryly. 'Fifteen more minutes, young man, then turn out the lamp and go to sleep.' 'Gran?' Andromeda stopped and turned back around. 'Yes?' 'Dad… He said… that you…' Teddy glanced at the journals, lined up neatly on their shelf. Remus had intimated Andromeda was against his relationship with Dora from the beginning. 'Nothing.' Andromeda hadn't missed Teddy's furtive look at the journals. 'All right.' She indicated the alarm clock, ticking softly on the small bureau. 'Fifteen more minutes,' she repeated. 'Yes, Gran…' 'Good night, Teddy.' 'Night, Gran…' Andromeda closed the door and crossed the corridor to her bedroom, and stood for a moment, with her hand resting on the doorknob. Instead of seeking her own bed, she went downstairs to the sitting room, where their tree stood in the corner, festooned with fairy lights, just as it had been every Christmas since she'd married Ted. She nudged a few packages aside with her toes, then, feeling extremely foolish, knelt and lay on her back, wriggling until her head was under the tree and she looked up into its branches, as Ted had always done on Christmas Eve. 'When he does ask, Ted, what shall I say to him? Shall I tell him everything?' Her eyes closed and she exhaled slowly. 'It was much simpler when he was younger and I could divert his attention away from questions of his father. Sometimes, I wish Remus hadn't been such a conscientious recorder of his own history. But I suppose I ought to admire him for that, oughtn't I? Not very many people have the ability to hold their own soul to a mirror as he did.' Her head tilted to one side, as if she rested it on the shoulder of someone only she could see. 'Happy Christmas, Ted…' Remus set a large cup of coffee on the table next to Sirius' damp head. 'We need to talk.' Sirius looked up through strands of hair, his eyes bloodshot, nearly closed against the dim light of the lamp hanging over the table. 'D'you have to be so loud?' he asked in a pained whisper. Remus glared at him for a moment, then set a vial of deep blue potion next to the cup of coffee. 'You don't deserve it.' 'And you're a love for giving it to me regardless,' Sirius muttered, prying the cork from the mouth of the vial and tipping the contents down his throat. He shuddered as the contents brought him welcome relief, snatching at the cup at his elbow, scalding his tongue as he gulped the black coffee. 'What? No milk?' 'You're lucky you're getting coffee. Milk is for people who haven't been getting pissed on a regular basis.' Remus calmly poured his own cup of coffee, then with a smirk, ostentatiously added liberal amounts of milk to it. 'Would you like a little coffee with your milk, then?' Sirius snickered. 'Oh, go sod yourself…' Remus sighed. 'That's anatomically impossible,' Sirius retorted.

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'It's the only thing you've got left,' Remus murmured, sipping his coffee. 'Considering you've already done so metaphorically.' Sirius frowned and reached across the table, searching Remus for something, making the werewolf giggle. 'Stop that. It tickles.' He slapped Sirius' hand away. 'What on earth are you doing?' 'Looking for the newspaper. So I can roll it up for you, and you can smack me on the nose more effectively.' 'You're not a pup,' Remus said. 'Shouldn't have to smack you on the nose.' He set his cup down gently between his bent elbows. 'I know you're bored. And you're lonely. Discouraged. But…' He hesitated. 'The drinking's getting out of control, Pads…' Sirius looked at him sharply, but Remus continued. 'Harry's going to be of age next summer. He'll be able to come and go as he pleases, and I daresay once his aunt and uncle discover he's an adult in wizarding law, they'll be more than happy to throw him out with naught but the clothes on his back. He'll need you. And even before then, things are probably going to get worse, and he'll need you with all your wits about you.' Remus met Sirius' stunned gaze. 'If you want to drown yourself in whisky after it's all said and done, that's your prerogative. But too many people depend on you just now for you to get a head start on the job.' Sirius licked dry lips. 'Did Dumbledore tell you to say that?' 'No.' Remus cradled his cup between his hands and inhaled slowly. 'But you are being selfish. Just like you were in school and you don't give a damn who you hurt in the process, just as long as your needs are met,' he said firmly. 'If you had to be locked up in here –' Sirius began. 'Enough!' Remus snarled. 'I know this isn't the ideal place for you to be, but you're hardly in Azkaban. Do you ever think about that?' he snapped. 'You act as if hope doesn't exist for you anymore. Stop behaving like such a spoiled child and think beyond the next ten minutes.' He raked his hand through his hair. 'When we win –' 'If – if we win,' Sirius interrupted. Remus studied him dispassionately. 'When we win,' he stated coolly. 'When we win, you can clear your name. And be free in every way there is. This prison in which you now hide is of your own making. We all know of your distaste for this house, but it's the best we've got for now.' He sipped his cooling coffee and looked at Sirius over the rim of the cup. 'Besides, what good will you be if you're thrown back into Azkaban while Fudge is on this trial and conviction spree of his? And if you cannot do it for yourself, do for Harry. Like you promised Lily and James you would when he was born.' He pushed his cup to the center of the table and stood, striding out of the kitchen without another look. 16 March 1996 I used to wonder sometimes, especially when we were in school, if James, Sirius, Peter, and I had been Muggles, would we have been friends? Toward the end, it seemed as if the only thing the four of us had in common was magic. I buried myself in books and study, when we weren't plotting some sort of mischief. Strike that… When James and Sirius weren't plotting some sort of mischief. And Peter… I still wonder how he managed to get himself Sorted into Gryffindor. I'm curious as to just what Voldemort offered him to make Peter turn against his friends and agree to assist in the murder of James and Lily, and then to frame Sirius for his death. I can understand why Peter might have grown to dislike James and Sirius. They weren't exactly kind to him, really. But Peter was always somewhat of a sniveling, gormless prat, and it only got more and more grating the older we got. I rather think the four of us were friends for the simple reason that we were the only boys in our year in Gryffindor. James… James was enamored, or at least fascinated, with Lily from the beginning, and anything she did or said to disparage him pricked his ego. And when he got older, she helped distract him. Or at least kept his impulses in check. And if he had Lily dividing his attentions, he had less time either for Peter, or to devise ways to subtly torment him, as Sirius did with so much time on his hands. I think Sirius used to spend his spare time thinking of ways to insult Peter to his face, but to do so in a way that wouldn't be apparent immediately and see how long it would take Peter to realize he'd been slighted. And together, they did exclude Peter often. When they researched how to become Animagi, they didn't include Peter until it was time to start trying the transformations. Although, in hindsight, it wasn't necessarily a poor decision on their part, given how difficult Peter found it to transform at first. I don't know if James and Sirius ever commented amongst themselves if Peter's Animagus form was suspect, but perhaps we should have, given he turned into a rat… As for myself, I'm hardly blameless in all this. Just like with everything else I did regarding Sirius and James, I never said anything to them when they were actively engaged in discovering new ways in which to take the piss out of Peter. Maybe I just file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

didn't care Most of the Order crammed themselves into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. They glumly stared in disbelief at the morning's newspaper announcing Dolores Umbridge as the new Headmistress of Hogwarts. Minerva's lips were pressed into such a tight line, they had all but disappeared. 'Is Harry all right?' Remus asked into the yawning silence. Minerva nodded, just once. 'They weren't able to pin forming the group on Harry. Albus took full responsibility for it.' Sirius snorted. 'I'm sure Harry's just thrilled by that.' 'And that girl won't talk?' Dora asked. Shacklebolt shook his head. 'Memory charm.' 'Which was excellent spell-casting, Kingsley,' Minerva interjected. 'Thank you,' Shacklebolt said, inclining his head, in a small bow. 'So where is Albus, exactly?' Mad-Eye inquired. 'We don't really know,' Minerva sighed. 'Then how are we supposed to contact him?' Molly huffed. 'Patronus,' Minerva said succinctly. Her lips twitched and she began to howl with laughter. 'This is hardly amusing, Minerva,' Mad-Eye growled. 'Oh, but it is, Alastor,' she wheezed. 'That… toad tried to swan into the Headmaster's office this morning when Fudge named her Headmistress, but…' Minerva tried to stop laughing, and breathed deeply. 'The phoenix guarding the door refused to let her enter,' she choked, wiping tears from her cheeks. She sat back against the chair with a sigh. 'Oh, I haven't laughed like that in ages,' she chortled. 'Needed that.' She sighed again, this time with regret. 'I ought to go back. Before she tries to sack me.' 'Right.' Shacklebolt stood. 'No messages to anyone at the school – not Minerva or Severus, or the children,' he said severely with a look at Molly. 'But I… I've sent their Easter eggs already,' she stammered. 'You didn't put anything personal in there, did you?' Mad-Eye exclaimed in alarm. 'Of course not!' Molly snapped. 'Easter's next Sunday,' Emmeline Vance murmured. 'Will they get through with her searching the post by then?' 'Be lucky if it does,' Arthur muttered. 'Anything else before you leave, Minerva?' 'Why yes.' She looked at Molly and Arthur. 'I summoned the twins to my office this morning. With Albus gone, I figured it was the right time for them to set their plans into motion.' 'How did that go?' Molly asked, almost fearfully. 'Have you ever seen what those two can do with fireworks?' Minerva asked idly, examining her nails. 'If you try to Vanish them, they split in two. They set off a few, and she tries to get rid of them, but alas, they multiply. Seeing her completely and utterly fail to clear them away was one of the most pleasurable experiences I've had in years.' A small beatific smile graced her face. 'It was almost better than sex…' Remus felt his mouth drop open. 'Oh, close your mouths, the lot of you,' Minerva said breezily. 'I said almost. I have had a life, you know.' With that she rose from her chair and swept from the kitchen. Sirius shook his head and tugged gently at one ear. 'Did she say what I think she said?' 'I believe she did,' Shacklebolt chuckled. Sirius gave his ear one last tug. 'I was afraid I'd have to use another Scouring charm on my ears…' file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

'Tonks, you've got watch in ten minutes,' Mad-Eye told her. 'Blast,' the younger witch muttered. 'Right. I'm out…' She dug in her small knapsack for a moment and emerged with a small, brightly-wrapped package. 'We missed your birthday,' she said to Remus, handing it to him. 'You can open it later,' she said shyly. 'No… I'll…' Remus ripped open the bright red paper. It fell away to reveal a book he'd mentioned to Dora. 'Paradise Lost…' he murmured, lifting the book to his nose, inhaling the mingled scents of leather, ink, and paper, closing his eyes in pleasure. He fancied if he were able to actually engage Dora in less… intellectual… pursuits, the usual devices women employed to make themselves more alluring would be wasted on him. Perhaps if she rubbed the page of a book over her wrists and behind her ears in the way Lily used to do with perfume… 'It's lovely. Thank you.' Dora blushed and bobbed her head. 'You're welcome.' 'Tonks!' Mad-Eye said irritably. 'Better go…' She left the kitchen, tripping over the umbrella stand. Her cry of, 'Every bloody time!' could be heard over Mrs. Black's mad howls. The kitchen emptied slowly, but Remus remained seated at the table, paging through the book. Sirius waited until he was the only one left. 'You'll notice,' he began, 'that I'm washed, shaved, dressed in clean clothes, and I've even managed to wash my hair. I cut it last week. Buckbeak barely recognized me.' Remus raised an eyebrow. Sirius' hair didn't look as if a pair of scissors had so much as been waved in his direction. Sirius ran a hand through his dark hair. 'Oh, all right, fine… I just trimmed off a few inches. And it's been fourteen days since I've had so much to drink that I pass out and need to have someone put me to bed.' 'It's a good start.' Remus closed the book, and propped his chin in an upturned hand. 'I've been thinking… Molly usually does a nice do for Harry on his birthday. I'll talk to Dumbledore about finding a way to get you there for it – in disguise, of course. And maybe he can come here for the Christmas hols next year…' 'Thank you…' Sirius breathed. He waited a beat then indicated the book. 'Did she inscribe it?' 'Don't know…' Remus opened it and looked at the flyleaf. His lips curved in a slight smile. 'She did.' 'What's it say?' Remus just gave Sirius an enigmatic smile, glancing down at the flyleaf once more. Remus – Sometimes, you have to travel the depths of Hell in order to recognize the Paradise we seek was with us all along. Nymphadora Tonks, March 1996 2 April 1996 Well, Fudge has finally done it. He's got Ministerial control over Hogwarts. Nominally, at any rate. At least the Order isn't fully dependent on Dumbledore to function. Between Kingsley out here, and Minerva on the inside of Hogwarts, we're stable as an organization for now. I have to give credit where credit is due to Minerva, taking advantage of the upheaval as she did to unleash Fred and George today. Perfect timing. I'm pleased to see Sirius didn't bury himself after our little chat. Perhaps if Dumbledore can see him taking responsibility for himself around here, and perhaps doing more internally, he'll let Harry come for visits during the summer. It would be better for both of them. So much rests on Harry's shoulders just now, and if what Dumbledore says is indeed true, the happier Harry is, the better he'll be able to get through the next few years… Teddy sat up groggily rubbing his eyes. He looked eagerly at the foot of his bed, but the usual pile of gifts weren't there. 'Gran?' he called, a tiny fissure of fear sending chills down his spine. He pushed the heavy quilt back and yelped as his feet came in contact with the cold floor, then crammed his feet into the slippers next to the bed. 'Gran?' He grabbed the dressing gown from the foot of the bed and pulled it over his pajamas. He peered through the gap between the door to her bedroom and the doorframe. The bed was still neatly made, and didn't look as if it had been slept in at all. Teddy bit his lip and ran back to his room for his wand. Andromeda never made her bed until after breakfast. And at this time of day, he was more likely to find her in it with a pot of tea and the morning paper. Teddy's sweaty hand slipped around the handle of his wand as he padded down the stairs. 'Gran?' he said, annoyed at the quiver in his voice, like he was some ickle baby.

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He craned his head around the corner of the staircase, fingers rubbing over the dent in the banister. 'Gran…?' He could see Andromeda's feet sticking out from under the tree. 'Gran!' he shouted, running to the tree and frantically prodding her shoulder. 'Teddy, stop…' Andromeda said weakly, trying to wave him off. 'I'm awake…' Teddy frowned at his grandmother's rather incongruous position. 'Why are you on the floor?' 'I fell asleep…' Andromeda stiffly pushed herself up. 'Ted used to lie on the floor under the tree and watch the lights. I always said he was silly to do so, and I thought I'd try it,' she said loftily. 'When your mother was young, she liked to do it with him.' Teddy folded himself to the floor, relief making him limp. 'You scared me,' he said, only a little mulishly. 'Believe me, it was entirely unintentional.' Andromeda massaged her aching shoulder. 'I'm far too old to do something so foolish.' She inclined her head toward the tree. 'Would you like to open your gifts?' Teddy fiddled with the sash of his dressing gown. 'Did you not like Dad?' he asked softly. Andromeda's breath caught for a moment. She finger-combed her disordered hair to buy herself some time. 'How far along are you in the journals?' she asked. 'Easter, two years before I was born.' Teddy said promptly. 'I see…' Andromeda inhaled through her nose. 'It wasn't that I disliked Remus. Under normal circumstances, he and your mother might have been happy. He was patient, kind, and more than a match for her intellectually. I didn't mind the age difference, not as much as Remus did for so long. There have been many marriages where one spouse is several years older than the other.' 'What are normal circumstances?' Teddy asked suspiciously. 'Not being a werewolf. The laws regarding lycanthropy were much more punitive then. I wasn't certain if they would include your mother in some sort of "guilt by association" loophole. They never would have been accepted, beyond their intimate circle of friends. Marriage shouldn't be that difficult. When your parents married, I thought your mother rushed into something she wouldn't be able to handle in the long run. I imagine your father might have felt the same way about it before then.' Andromeda looked down at her hands, afraid she'd revealed too much. Teddy shrugged. 'Makes sense, I guess. Took him long enough to consider just getting involved. I mean, blimey, Gran… Only people I know that took longer were Ron and Hermione, and that's just from the stories Ginny's told me.' He reached for the first package that came to his hand. 'Would you have still loved me, even if you despised Dad?' 'Of course, I would!' 'Even if I was a werewolf, too?' Teddy asked haltingly. 'But you're not.' 'But what if I was?' Teddy persisted. 'It wouldn't have mattered,' Andromeda said firmly. 'Now, why don't you see what Hermione and Ron sent you?' She managed to leverage herself to her feet and find the camera, knowing it was only a matter of time before Teddy came face-toface with some of the more unpleasant circumstances surrounding Remus.   'Harry?'

SEVENTEEN – 18 April & 3 May 1996

Harry looked up from the file on his desk at his godson standing uncertainly in the doorway of his office. He closed the file and slid it into the open drawer next to him and shut it. 'You're up late,' he observed. 'It's not even ten and I'm not Lily,' Teddy said scornfully. 'And James thinks he's being clever, because he's reading under the file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

covers with a torch,' he informed Harry. 'So that's where it disappeared to,' Harry mused thoughtfully. 'I tore the tool shed apart looking for it…' 'Did you really?' Teddy's face scrunched in distaste. The tool shed made him sneeze and all the rafters were festooned with several large cobwebs. It even smelled a bit musty, like the Potions classroom. 'Not really. Just moved a few Chocolate Frog boxes around and gave it up as a bad job.' Harry unfolded himself from the battered chair behind the desk and stretched languidly. 'Fancy some hot chocolate?' he asked. 'Is that really a question?' Teddy retorted. 'Right. Forgot who I'm talking to,' Harry chuckled, draping an arm across Teddy's skinny shoulders. 'So what's got you prowling the house so late?' Teddy shifted uncomfortably. 'How well did you know your godfather?' 'Sirius?' Harry couldn't hide the surprise from his voice. 'In all honesty, not very well,' he confessed. 'I didn't know about him until I was thirteen. And didn't know I could have lived with him after my parents died until I was almost fourteen.' Harry snagged two mugs from a cupboard and set them on the counter. 'Get the milk, will you?' he said to Teddy, rooting through the pantry for the drinking chocolate. 'Any contact I did have with him was sporadic at best over the next two years, and we didn't exactly sit down and have deep, emotional conversations.' Harry poured milk into each mug, then tapped it with his wand, heating the milk. He measured chocolate into each mug and flicked his wand carelessly at a drawer. Two spoons floated out and landed in each mug and began to stir. Harry handed Teddy one of the mugs and took the other to one of the windowsills, sitting sideways, his knees drawn up to his chest, back braced against the frame. 'And then he died… Suffice to say, I didn't know him nearly as well as you do me.' Teddy nodded, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. 'Who's Gideon Prewett?' Harry raised a brow, but merely said, 'One of Molly's twin brothers. Gideon and Fabian. She doesn't talk about them much. Why do you ask?' Teddy toyed with the spoon in his mug. 'I think he and Sirius were…' His hair slowly changed from deep turquoise to bright, fiery orange. 'Just…' He shoved the journal at Harry, who took it with a questioning look. 'The page marked with the quill,' Teddy mumbled. Harry thumbed it open and began to read, his face smoothly neutral. 'Hm. Learn something new every day,' he murmured. He turned a few pages thoughtfully, mind racing through a few hazy memories of Molly and her interactions with Sirius. Explains a lot, he mused, recalling the somewhat tense aura that seemed to surround them at times. Harry wondered if what he'd just read contributed to their frequent spats. It certainly would have made a great deal of sense. Sirius' reputation as a prankster was widely known, and certainly well-deserved. And what from what Harry could gather from the little Molly had said, Fabian and Gideon had their less serious moments, but when the occasion called for it, they could be even more serious about the task set before them than Percy. Harry could see how it might have gotten under Molly's skin if Sirius had managed to rub off on Gideon. Harry didn't know the exact circumstances surrounding her brothers' deaths, but based on Remus' ruminations on how heavily Gideon's death weighed on Sirius, perhaps Sirius might have been indirectly responsible for it. Unfortunately, the new information opened up more questions than it actually answered. 'You don't think…?' Teddy's hesitant questions broke through Harry's musings. He took a hasty gulp of his hot chocolate to cover his embarrassment, wincing when he scalded his tongue. 'Sirius and your dad?' Harry asked gently. Blushing furiously, Teddy nodded, his eyes fixed on the wilting flowers in a vase in the middle of the scrubbed wooden table. 'No,' Harry said firmly. 'How do you know?' Teddy asked tightly. Harry looked down at the slightly worn journal, the leather scuffed along its spine. Images drifted through his head of Remus with Sirius the few times he'd seen them together – in the Shrieking Shack his third year, at Grimmauld Place his fifth year. It was the same sort of relationship he had with Ron. Closer than friends, and closer than brothers, but strictly platonic. He let his eyes drift shut and he saw the way Remus' eyes followed Tonks around a room, even though nothing else indicated he paid her the slightest bit of attention. And the way he stared into the dark July sky, searching for Tonks the night they took

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him from the Dursleys, his thumb worrying the still-new wedding ring on his finger. The palpable relief he felt when Tonks staggered off her broom, and threw herself into Remus' arms, shaking with a mixture of fear and relief at arriving safely. 'Do you ever really look at a photo of your mum and dad?' 'Yeah…' 'Do you ever notice the way he looks at her sometimes?' Teddy idly stirred his cooling hot chocolate and mentally contemplated the photograph that stood on his night table at school. 'Yeah,' he said cautiously. 'Like she's some sort of tasty morsel and he hasn't had chocolate in ages…' Teddy trailed off as the impact of his statement hit him. 'Oh, that's disgusting!' he cried, lifting his cup to his lips, swallowing the entire contents without stopping, as if it would erase the thought from his mind, gasping for breath when he set the cup down. 'How do you think you got here?' Harry retorted. 'I prefer to believe I was left by the stork,' Teddy said loftily. 'And Mum and Dad just held hands.' 'Well,' Harry said, settling into the windowsill. 'That's how I know.' 'I've been thinking…' Sirius said, his slipper scuffing against the stone floor of the kitchen. 'Don't strain yourself,' Remus quipped lightly. 'I was thinking about the flat,' Sirius continued, as if Remus hadn't spoken. 'Oh?' Remus felt his heartbeat slow and pound painfully in his chest. His face prickled uncomfortably as the blood drained slowly from it, and he gripped the edge of the table tightly to keep from swaying. 'I was thinking that when I'm able to clear my name, I'll move out of here and get a place that's big enough for Harry and me. He'll need some space of his own to strew his dirty socks, and that old flat's awfully small for that. It'll reek of teenage boy in ten seconds.' Sirius shoved a scroll across the table to Remus. 'If you sign that, the old flat's yours, legally.' 'Oh…' Remus carefully unrolled the scroll and scrutinized it, nodding in agreement until he came to the last paragraph. 'You've what?' he yelped. 'There is more gold in my bloody vault than I could ever spend,' Sirius said patiently. 'Even if I gave half of it to Harry to fritter away on international standard racing brooms for the entire Gryffindor team until he finishes school. Pride is sometimes a virtue, Moony, but not when you have to starve because of it. Or go without decent clothes.' He fingered the cuff of Remus' jumper critically. 'You won't be able to keep repairing this much longer, will you? And I know you… If you let yourself allow things with Tonks to go any further, you won't want her to be the main breadwinner…' 'That's not going to happen,' Remus interrupted, a line deepening between his brows. 'So you say,' Sirius said smoothly. 'And even if that doesn't go anywhere, what if I'm not able to clear my name? I'll have to leave England once more, won't I? And Harry… Harry will need somewhere to go, and I know he's got his own money, but for Godric's sake, Remus, when he ends up leaving his aunt and uncle's house, if he doesn't have somewhere else to go, he'll wind up at the Burrow and Molly will mother him to death!' 'You make that sound like it's a rather awful fate,' Remus murmured. 'What if Harry wants mothering?' 'Either way, he'll still need somewhere where he can scratch, and belch, and…' 'And do other disgustingly male chest-pounding activities that he'd never dream of doing in front of Molly?' Remus guessed. 'Well, yes,' Sirius allowed, 'but where he can also get into a spot of trouble with Ginny…' Remus choked on the tea he had just sipped, spewing it all over the parchment in front of him. 'Really? You think he's got some sort of crush on Ginny?' 'You weren't here much when Arthur was in the hospital at first,' Sirius said quietly. 'Harry spent most of his time hiding in his bedroom those first few days. Ginny was the only one who could get him to talk.' He glanced at Remus over the rim of his own cup. 'I may be a self-centered, egotistical, selfish git, but not when it comes to Harry. Mostly. Those Extendable Ears Fred file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

and George developed are dead useful. ' When Remus glared at him incredulously, Sirius merely shrugged. 'It's not my fault they didn't charm the door… Anyway,' he added briskly, 'Ginny won't put up with any of his nonsense.' 'Neither will Hermione,' Remus interjected. Sirius shook his head. 'Nah. With Ginny, it's more like equals. Hermione treats him like he's a daft younger sibling sometimes. It's almost like…' His mouth crimped and he shook himself. 'Well, then. Ought to get that paper signed, hadn't you? Before Kreacher slips something in my morning coffee one day and it all goes to Harry, who doesn't need it.' 'I'll take the flat, but not the gold,' Remus countered. 'Why not?' snapped Sirius. Remus heaved a sigh. 'Because,' he began with exaggerated patience. 'It's charity.' 'Damn it, Remus!' Sirius exclaimed. 'Why won't you let me help you?' A muscle in Remus' jaw jumped wildly. He ground his teeth together in frustration as Sirius' seeming inability to understand his refusals. But then he remembered the weeks when he barely had enough food, especially before Dumbledore tracked him down after Sirius had been imprisoned and Harry left with his Muggle relations, and began to send Hogwarts elves to him every so often with baskets of food. The daily fear that he'd shred one of the few clothing options available to him, with no way to replace it. The Hogwarts elves still brought the baskets of food, but since Umbridge had arrived at the school, it had grown increasingly sporadic, and he had needed to rely on what his odd tutoring jobs paid him to keep from starving. 'Very well,' he said tightly. 'But only for emergencies.' 'I'll go fetch a quill,' Sirius murmured. 'Or at least have Kreacher tell me where he's hidden them. He took all of the quills from my mother's old desk. I'll be back in a bit. I think he's up in the attic… Up there a lot lately.' He left the kitchen, leaving Remus alone with the parchment. 'Sirius?' Remus jumped and peered around the kitchen, looking for the source of the new voice. It came from Harry's head inside the swirling flames of the fireplace. 'Harry!' 18 April 1996 When I was teaching at Hogwarts, I rather suspected Severus still harbored a terrible resentment against James and Sirius that he then re-directed toward Harry. While I understand the incident in question might have been extremely embarrassing for Severus to have Harry see (and it was unfortunate that Harry felt the need to literally poke his very curious nose into someone else's business as he did) I feel I must challenge his decision to stop instructing Harry in Occlumency. If Voldemort can see what Harry does, so much of what we're doing is at risk. Of course, the question regarding Severus true loyalties do remain. Just what has Harry seen, besides that one memory? When I spoke with Severus yesterday, he seemed to imply that this wasn't the first time Harry's breached his memories. Dear God, has he become so blinded by these old hatreds and resentments that he's willing to destroy what we're working to accomplish? I've sent a message to Kingsley. I hope he can somehow reach Dumbledore and talk some sense into Severus. As for the flat… I'm grateful it's mine now. At least I can have roof over my head. And the Ministry cannot take it away from me. Before, my living arrangements were somewhat precarious, as I did not own it outright and Sirius was in no position to say I could stay there permanently, so they could have thrown me out. And legally, it's a gift, as much as I hate to take it like this, it's a gift and there are no laws regarding gifts to werewolves. There doesn't have to be… Because really, who would give a werewolf a gift? I'd rather not think about the gold. I shall do as I told Sirius and keep it aside of emergencies. Only if I need it. And my definition of "need" is much different from Sirius'. 'I will not continue to give the brat lessons!' Severus' sonorous voice rang through the kitchen, echoing off the stone floors. 'And you cannot force me to do so!' he added petulantly.

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'No,' Kingsley said mildly. 'I cannot. But Dumbledore expressed to me his desire for you keep giving Harry lessons in Occlumency.' 'I only take orders from Dumbledore,' Severus spat. 'So until he orders me in person instead of by proxy,' he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, 'to continue to attempt to pound the finer points of mental control into Potter's extraordinarily thick skull, I shall pass.' He spun on his heel and flounced from the kitchen in a swirl of black hair and blacker robes. A grating, splintering sound filled the void of sound and Remus looked down, surprised. Four parallel gouges marred the arm of his chair, and his fingernails had begun to thicken, and they dug into the wood with barely suppressed rage. 'Shite…' he breathed, looking wildly at his watch. The moon had risen and a faint beam bathed his hand. He had no time to return to his flat and the relative sanctuary of the heavily charmed room in the basement. He could feel his pulse begin to race and the blood pounded in his ears. Remus didn't feel the hand that clamped around his wrist, all but dragging him to the thick door that led to the basement of the house. Nor did he feel the hands that impassively divested him of his clothing, soon replaced by a warm, furry head, pushing against his hand… A hand that rapidly devolved into a hairy claw. And then… Nothing. Nothing save an incomprehensible thirst to maim and rip. Something large shouldered him aside, and lowered its head, whining softly. Remus felt a growl rumble through his throat, and the black dog lowered his head to the floor, the piteous whine growing a bit louder, the pale eyes wide and pleading. Remus backed into a corner, hackles raised at the unfamiliar surroundings. It wasn't the usual room where he spent the nights of a full moon. This room was almost frigid. His breath clouded in front of his snout. The dog… Padfoot… whispered through his frenzied mind. Padfoot whimpered, showing deference to the wolf, who howled triumphantly, charging toward the dog. Remus stopped at the last moment, gazing down at the cowering dog, then pounced, as a hazy memory took over. He nipped at the dog with ferocious playfulness, somehow knowing the dog wasn't to be harmed. Padfoot fought back – not enough to hurt the wolf, but hardly the passive animal he'd presented earlier. It was enough. It wasn't the wild freedom he knew when he was able to prowl around the moors and forests, but it was enough… For now. Remus blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling above his face. One hand drifted up to the itchy woolen blanket draped over his naked body, and his face creased in bewilderment. 'What happened?' he asked hoarsely. 'You're a lot rougher now than you were when we were seventeen,' Sirius observed, leaning against the wall. 'How did I get here?' Remus clarified. 'That's not like you…' Sirius mused idly. 'You practically have the moon phases memorized for the next twenty years.' Remus sat up stiffly, glaring at Sirius. 'I'm afraid I don't remember much past Snivellus repeatedly calling Harry a brat, refusing to continue lessons that might help the boy live to see his second decade, if we're lucky, and then storming out like an overgrown, sulky, adolescent bat.' Sirius brows rose. 'You called him Snivellus…' he breathed in awe. 'You never call him that…' 'Yes, well… I'm not quite myself just now.' Remus paused and lifted the edge o the blanket, then set it back across his hips. 'Who undressed me?' 'Who do you think?' snorted Sirius. He slid to the packed dirt floor, wrapping his arms around his bent knees. 'It's not the first time I've seen your blindingly pale arse.' 'Y-y-you did?' Remus choked weakly. Sirius' lips pursed and he stared at a spot on Remus' forehead. 'Does it bother you that I did it, or does it bother you that I did it, now that you know about… me…' Sirius chuckled in ironic, scathing laughter. 'I wouldn't have thought you'd be so bloody parochial, especially considering your… issues…'

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'That's not what I meant!' Remus snarled, surging to his feet, the blanket slithering to the floor. He spied his neatly folded clothing on a high shelf and snatched at it, yanking his boxers over his feet and legs. 'You and James… and Peter…' he murmured. 'You were already in your Animagus forms when I… When I…' He jerked his shirt on his arms, a distant corner of his mind noting how frayed the cuffs were becoming. 'You never had to see it happen.' Sirius shook his head. 'I didn't.' He pushed himself to his feet and tugged Remus' trousers from the shelf, holding them out. 'As soon as I got you undressed, so you didn't rip your clothes to shreds – although why you won't let me replenish your admittedly pathetic wardrobe is beyond me – and then I transformed. Before you really got going.' 'I see…' 'It was kind of nice,' Sirius said, flicking his wand at the blanket. It folded itself as it flew through the air, landing in his outstretched arms. 'Just like the old days. Well… sort of like the old days.' He blinked a few times. 'I wish…' 'As do I.' 3 May 1996 It has been a long time since I forgot about the moon. I was startled by Severus' resolute insistence to cease to instruct Harry in Occlumency, but that shouldn't have rendered me blind and deaf to what was occurring within myself. I know… I've always said publicly if Dumbledore trusts Severus, then so must we all. But why? What does Dumbledore know about him that hold such sway over Severus and his loyalties? Is he merely loyal to Dumbledore or is he loyal to the Order? Dumbledore does not put his trust into others lightly. But there's a small part of my mind that wonders if his trust is just a bit displaced. What do we offer Severus that the other side does not? I do wonder, however, why would Severus deliberately disobey an order from Dumbledore…? Dumbledore is the only one Severus will listen to anymore. Unless Severus really is working for the other side, and this is part of a plan to weaken Harry… Ahhhh. Stop it. I'm becoming as paranoid as Mad-Eye – seeing shadows that aren't there. That being said, I think I was completely justified in calling Severus "Snivellus". I always abhorred the name, felt it dehumanized Severus. But after his little performance last night, I felt no qualms at all in using it. Harry leaned back against the bathtub, sighing as he sank into the comforting hot water. He peered short-sightedly at Ginny, accepting the bottle of butterbeer she pressed into his hand before doffing her dressing gown and slipping into the bath with him. He let his head fall back against the rolled-up towel wedged between the bathtub and the wall, while his free hand splashed water over his face. Putting Teddy on the train to return to school was always a difficult day. The rush to London in the early morning, keeping the children occupied the rest of the day so they didn't complain over much about missing Teddy. The complaining there was nothing to do had been especially grating that afternoon. Even the promise of sundaes and a film after dinner hadn't been enough to break the ennui that had gripped the children as they rode in the car back to Godric's Hollow. It is a long drive, Harry mused, sipping his butterbeer. He sympathized heartily with the boredom that had gripped James, Al, and Lily once the charms of the books and toys in their respective schoolbags had worn off less than an hour into the return trip. 'You're awfully quiet,' Ginny observed, settling her back against his chest. 'Is it terrible of me to be jealous of Teddy?' 'Depends,' Ginny responded, tilting her head back. 'In what way?' 'Well, for the ability to change his looks, for one,' Harry chuckled. 'Be nice to be able to go out sometimes and not have all sorts of people still stare at me. At least that's all they do is stare…' Ginny snorted. 'Yeah, hi. You're an Auror. Figure out how to disguise yourself, if you want to do that.' 'Yeah…' Harry sighed regretfully. 'It would make it awfully hard to explain why you're with someone else, wouldn't it?' 'Just a bit.' 'It's because he knows his father better than I do mine. Better than I ever will. He even knows Sirius better than I do,' Harry said, with more than a hint of bitterness. 'It's completely ridiculous,' he muttered. 'I'm thirty-two, for Merlin's sake, and I'm

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bloody envious of my fourteen year-old godson.' 'But you actually knew Remus,' Ginny pointed out. 'Did we?' Harry asked, sitting up and sending a wavelet of water over the edge of bathtub to splash to the tiled floor. 'Did we really know Remus or Sirius, for that matter?' Twisting around, Ginny gazed at Harry in bemusement. 'What's gotten into you?' 'Did you know Sirius was gay?' Harry hissed. 'Sort of,' Ginny admitted. Harry felt his jaw drop open. 'How did you know?' he demanded. Ginny scooted so she faced Harry, and pried the butterbeer bottle from his hand, reaching over the edge of the tub to set it on the floor. 'The summer we stayed there, before my fourth year,' she began, 'I found his old bedroom and Sirius saw me in there, goggling at all the Muggle posters on the wall. And instead of being embarrassed that I found a treasure trove of bikiniclad women, he starts enthusiastically talking about the motorbikes. Like the women didn't even exist. I've really just had suspicions, but nothing concrete. How did you find out?' 'Remus wrote about Sirius and his relationship with your uncle before he died.' 'Which one?' 'Gideon.' 'Ah…' Ginny nibbled a fingernail. 'Explains why he never married. Bet that sent Mum into a tizzy when she found out about it. She always thought Sirius was too flighty and impulsive for his own good. Must have driven her mad to think of one of her precious brothers being under Sirius' bad influence…' 'He should have said something,' Harry stubbornly maintained. 'Wasn't exactly the best time, was it?' Ginny asked. 'The war going on and all. There were loads of other things to deal with at the time and I'm sure Sirius sitting down and having a deep discussion about his sexuality was not high up on his list of things to do. Maybe he wanted to wait until things were settled.' Ginny shrugged. 'Who knows?' She handed Harry his butterbeer and waited while he took a long pull on the bottle. 'Does it change the way you feel about Sirius?' Harry picked contemplatively at the label. 'I suppose not…'  

EIGHTEEN – 15 June 1996

Teddy idly spooned cereal into his mouth, staring at the head table, watching McGonagall converse with Professor Sinestra. 'How old is she?' he wondered aloud. 'How old is who?' Victoire responded, following Teddy's gaze. 'McG.' 'Don't let her hear you call her that,' Victoire warned. 'She's likely to slap a month's worth of detentions on you.' 'Or she might find it cheekily amusing,' Teddy snorted. 'No, really, how old is she?' 'Dunno,' Victoire said. 'I think she was teaching when Grandmum and Granddad were here.' Teddy whistled between his teeth. 'Blimey, that's a long time ago…' Victoire leaned in closer. 'She's got to be at least a hundred…' She waited a beat a let the rising tide of student conversation envelop them. 'Mum calls her a dried-up, bitter, old bat.' She paused. 'In French, of course.'

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'Oh, of course,' Teddy echoed. He pulled out a thick book from his bag and flipped through the pages. 'Right, so according to Hogwarts, A History, she started teaching in nineteen fifty-six…' he murmured. 'And Gran was born in nineteen fifty-three…' Awe lit Teddy's face. 'Bloody hell,' he breathed. Victoire studied the staff table. 'What about Hagrid?' 'He's spent his whole life here,' Teddy murmured. 'Harry says he became the assistant groundskeeper when he was thirteen. After he was expelled,' he added matter-of-factly. 'That had to have been before McGonagall started teaching…' 'Yeah… Doesn't look very old, does he?' 'I've seen photos of him with Harry when Harry was eleven. Doesn't seem to have changed a bit.' 'Did you know Professor Sinestra is married?' Victoire breathed in awe. 'Have you ever seen her husband?' 'Once or twice, I think. My first year. He was on the Astronomy Tower with us during class with this massive telescope. Sinestra said he was a guest for the evening doing research. He didn't act like a guest. They were snogging after she dismissed us. Looked over my shoulder when we left the tower. And you know that crescent moon pendent she wears? He had one just like it.' 'Correlation does not prove causation,' Victoire said smugly. 'Yeah, but snogging like crazed weasels does,' Teddy retorted. Victoire clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling the giggles. 'Crazed weasels,' she chortled, gasping for breath. 'Flitwick?' she murmured. 'Immortal,' Teddy said promptly. 'I saw his name on a plaque as a Dueling Champion in nineteen fourteen when he was a student.' 'That's almost a hundred years ago…' 'Who's younger, Neville or Rafa?' Teddy mused. 'That's Professors Longbottom and Moreno to you,' Victoire corrected primly. 'At least while we're in school, anyway.' She bit her lip, watching Rafael Moreno, the Arithmancy professor, leisurely sip his coffee, while he perused the morning paper. 'Neville's the same age as Uncle Harry, just a day apart. Rafa… I think I've heard Aunt Ginny say he's Uncle Percy's age.' Teddy's brows knit. 'That would make him thirty-eight. Or thirty-nine.' 'Wasn't Neville quite young when he became a teacher?' 'Twenty-four, twenty-five,' Teddy said vaguely. 'I wasn't much more than six or seven when he started working here.' They remained at the Gryffindor table, their heads together, giggling, the morning sun gleaming off Victoire's pale silvery red strands, not noticing the Great Hall itself had cleared of most of its students. So involved were they in their discussion, they didn't hear the sharp tap of someone's shoes against the stone floor. 'Is there a reason why neither of you have so much as made an effort to get to your first class on time?' McGonagall asked archly. Victoire went red. 'Erm… No, ma'am…' Teddy's head had tilted to one side and he examined McGonagall's lined face. Looks could be deceiving, he knew. Andromeda did not look as if she were approaching sixty. 'How old are you?' he blurted. McGonagall's lips twitched, ever so slightly. 'One does not ask a lady her age, Lupin,' she informed him loftily. 'Even if she does happen to be a dried-up old bat.' Her bony arms crossed over her chest. 'Get to class, the both of you.' Teddy and Victoire scrambled from the bench and scampered to the entrance, diving into the eddy of students that dawdled on their way to class. Teddy glanced over his shoulder at McGonagall, a silent edifice in the current of chattering students, chivvying seventh years who sauntered as if they had all the time in the world to their first class with a quelling glare. One of the boys, a Ravenclaw, whose tie was hardly knotted, saluted her with a cheeky grin as they walked past. McGonagall shook her head slightly. 'Get on with you, Stevens,' she said dryly. 'Or I shall administer your next practical examination in file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

Transfiguration.' The boy's eyes widened and his step quickened a little. Teddy wondered if the Headmistress had ever truly been ill. He didn't think even dragon pox would have stood a chance against her formidable will. 'How many?' 'Four…' 'You're joking…' 'I wish I were…' 'Who said…?' 'Witnessed by the O.W.L. examiners. And all the fifth years taking the Astronomy practical exam.' 'How old is she…?' 'Seventy, if she's a day.' 'Four Stunners? Four. And she survived?' 'So far.' 'And she's going to recover?' 'She ought to. Came round this morning. Lucid. Verified what the examiners told them.' 'How did this happen?' 'Umbridge went to fire Hagrid. In the middle of the night like a coward.' 'Merlin's pants, why?' 'To avoid making a fuss.' 'Go on and tell me another. She did it in the middle of an O.W.L. while they were on the highest vantage point of the castle. She sent a message that nowhere is safe there. She'll come for them at any time.' 'She's a bloody moron.' 'And how did you reach that conclusion?' 'You can't Stun Hagrid. He's half-giant. Giants are impervious to Stunning spells. If she knew anything other than how to give Fudge's arse a wet, sloppy kiss, she'd have known that…' 'Bloody hell, d'you have to get so graphic, Sirius?' 'Fine. Lick Fudge's boots… Is that better?' 'She can't be there forever…' Remus stirred in his chair. 'If the curse holds, Umbridge shall be gone by the end of next week,' he predicted, opening his eyes. Kingsley rubbed his hand over his bald head. 'Set a guard shift outside her room at St. Mungo's.' 'Won't that look suspicious?' 'I don't think Fudge is going to bring Minerva a bunch of grapes and well-wishes,' Arthur snorted. 'But it couldn't hurt to have an extra eye on her.' 'It'll only be for a few days,' Kingsley murmured. 'Auror Healers say she ought to be back at Hogwarts Sunday or Monday. So it file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

ought not to be a strain to add it to guarding the Department of Mysteries.' The sound of heavy footfalls on the stairs down to the kitchen made every Order member in attendance draw their wands, and aim them at the doorway. Snape appeared, his robes billowing around him in a midnight swirl. The only signal of his discomfiture was the slight widening of his eyes. 'You're here,' he said to Sirius. 'Where else would I be?' Sirius scoffed. 'Cozying up to Voldemort?' 'Your brat of a godson swore you were in the Department of Mysteries, while the Dark Lord subjected you to every painful hex and curse known to wizardkind,' Snape drawled. 'Where would he get that mad idea?' Mad-Eye growled. 'Potter has a singularly weak mind,' Snape intoned, in a bored voice. 'It was obviously implanted by the Dark Lord so he could ascertain our whereabouts.' A small, silver tiger shot into the room. 'Come quickly!' it hissed in Dora's terrified voice. 'Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and two others are here! They just went through the door!' It slowly faded, leaving the echoes of what it had said behind it. 'Not you, Arthur,' Kingsley ordered. 'Can't have you distracted by Ron or Ginny.' Arthur, who had half-risen from his seat, sank back into it slowly. 'What in Merlin's name are they doing there?' he whispered. 'Mad-Eye, Remus, you'll come with me,' Kingsley said, striding toward the door. 'Harry'll listen to you, Remus. He respects you. We might be able to persuade him to go back to the school before anything happens.' 'I'm coming with you,' Sirius stated. 'Absolutely n—' 'Damn you, Kingsley, I'll not sit here and wait to find out if Harry's been killed or not!' Sirius roared. He drew his wand and pointed it at the Auror's head. 'I've spent all bloody year sitting on my hands! I'm not doing it this time! He's my godson and I promised I'd look after him.' Kingsley hesitated. The only sound in the otherwise silent kitchen was the hissing sound of Sirius, panting through clenched teeth. 'All right,' he said. 'But if Fudge wants to throw you back into Azkaban, it's on your head,' he warned. 'I'll take the chance.' 'Come on, then.' Kingsley darted out of the kitchen, followed closely by Sirius, Remus, and Mad-Eye. Remus hitched the chair a few inches closer to the bed, and let his eyes drift shut. Sirius falling through the archway… Barely grabbing Harry at the last possible moment, as his trainer hit the edge of the dais… Harry's frantic struggles to free himself, stubborn disbelief that Sirius was gone… Remus' eyes flew open, and he stared at the circle of light on the ceiling from the small lamp next to the bed. Hospitals were noisy places, he reasoned. They were supposed to be quiet so people could rest and recover. People moved to and fro outside the room. He could hear someone in the tiny waiting area down the corridor screaming about something. Healers spoke in clipped, hurried tones as they passed. There was an almost constant murmur from whatever spell they'd put on Dora to track her heartbeat. It whispered continually just under his conscious hearing, doling out time in slow, steady beats. His chin trembled, and Remus ran a hand over his face. Not now, he thought. Later. Bellatrix darting away from the scene of the battle, laughing madly. Harry snapping out of his stupor, enraged, his bellows echoing off the stone walls, vowing revenge, unheeded tears streaking through the dirty smudges on his face as he gave her chase. Remus sat upright, his hands clenched into fists on his knees. Dora's body falling limply down several rows of benches. Bellatrix's spell… Bellatrix, who didn't forget the perceived slight of Andromeda's marriage to Ted… Pushing Mad-Eye aside, ignoring the older man's grunt of protest. Scooping Dora into arms

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that quivered from the strain of battle, of holding Harry away from the archway. Hearing the soft moan as he rose to his feet, shifting Dora's body to arrange it in a better position. Apparating to St. Mungo's, sweat pouring down his face. A Healer eyeing him beadily until Kingsley arrived and vouched for him. Bile rose in the back of his throat at the strong scent of antiseptic and Mrs. Scower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover. Remus gagged and turned to the small dustbin in the corner and spat repeatedly. He caught sight of his reflection in the dingy window. Blood streaked down his face, caked and dried in the lines around his eyes. He looked as if he were wearing some sort of hideous mask. No wonder that poor Healer looked at me as she did, he mused. Or at least I hope that's why and not because she thought I attacked Dora… He hauled himself to his feet, his joints aching painfully, and shuffled into the tiny bathroom. In the bathroom, with the overhead light throwing his face into sharp relief, the effect of the dried blood was even worse. He turned on the taps and let the warm water flow over his hands. He cupped his palms, gathering water and splashing it over his face, over and over again, until the water ran clear. Remus leaned toward the mirror, tilting his head to the side, examining the gash over his eyebrow. He grimaced at the scar it would leave and then immediately shrugged. It wasn't as if he'd win any sort of beauty contest before the battle. After drying his dripping face on a towel, Remus resumed his solitary vigil at Dora's bedside. Dumbledore strode into the room, as if he was the Healer in charge of Dora. 'I hoped you might be here,' he said casually to Remus. 'Considering I would be in one of two places, it's hardly a miracle of deductive reasoning,' Remus retorted wearily. One of Dumbledore's silver brows swept upward at Remus' biting tone, but mercifully refrained from comment. 'You're needed elsewhere and soon,' he continued. 'Oh?' 'Now that Voldemort is operating openly, I'll need you to make contact with the werewolves.' Dumbledore paused delicately. 'With Fenrir Greyback's pack.' Remus surged to his feet, his wand slashing in a vicious circle. A jet of pale-blue light shot from it, and arced around himself and the Hogwarts Headmaster. 'I won't do it!' he snarled into the silence that enveloped them. 'How could you even consider asking that of me?' 'My dear boy, you are the only one in the Order who can convince other werewolves Voldemort does not have their best interests in mind.' Dumbledore examined his fingernails. 'I am hardly asking you to spy for us.' 'Yet,' Remus spat bitterly. 'The Order needs this, Remus. We must act quickly, if we're to counteract what Greyback has done.' 'You mean convince them that the very Ministry that makes it difficult for others like myself to live ought to stand?' Remus snorted. 'You might as well as ask me to run for the Muggle Prime Minister.' 'I can order you,' Dumbledore intoned quietly. 'I prefer it much more if you do this voluntarily.' Remus sighed, signaling defeat. 'When?' 'Soon. I cannot tell you more than that just now.' Dumbledore swept his wand around his head, releasing Remus' charm. 'I shall send word, of course.' He took a few steps to the door and stopped. 'My condolences… Kingsley informed me Sirius fought bravely. I am truly sorry for the loss of such a friend.' 'I don't need your condolences,' Remus said softly. 'But you owe Harry an explanation. About why you felt the need to keep his godfather a virtual prisoner in that house.' 'As do you, I presume?' Remus shook his head, brushing his hair from his eyes. 'I don't need one, Albus. As a grown man, I'm certain you had your reasons. But trying to brush off Harry with that line of reasoning is going to fail – and fail horribly, if it hasn't done so already. He's not a man, Albus. He's a boy. A boy forced into a role over which he's had no say. And if you expect him to fulfill that role,

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to grow up and mature faster than he ought, then you're going to have to tell him whatever it is you've not seen fit to tell the rest of us. It's his life, isn't it? You have to give him some semblance of a choice. You have to give him what you've refused to give the rest of us. Even if all you give is the illusion.' He dropped into the chair, and reached to touch the back of Dora's hand that rested in still repose on top of the nubby blanket. 'Don't send me to the werewolves until after the term begins in September,' he said suddenly. 'I will do my best to accommodate you.' Remus' eyes shut. 'I thank you,' he murmured formally. 'Someone needs to look after Harry, now that Sirius…' His throat closed. 'He can't remember Lily and James by himself. He needs to remember…' Dumbledore said nothing, but left the room in a swirl of robes. The past two nights hadn't rendered the hard wooden chair next to Dora's bed any more comfortable, but Remus felt as if it had somehow defied the laws of physics and molded itself to his body's contours. Or perhaps it's just my arse has grown numb from sitting in it? He snorted softly in dark mirth, and hitched the chair closer to the bed. Her mother had been there earlier. No one in the Order would have left a small vase of pansies on the table. The ugly bruise that had darkened the side of her face had nearly faded. The Healer overseeing her case had mentioned in passing the curse Bellatrix used was a rather nasty one, and it was fortunate Dora had managed to dodge the worst of it. Aside from the prolonged unconsciousness, she'd escaped with relatively little physical damage from the curse itself. Most of it had come from her tumble down the stone stairs and was limited to cuts, scrapes, and more than a few horrid-looking bruises. He had found himself wishing she would wake up during the early hours of the morning. Once Dumbledore had ordered him to infiltrate the werewolves, Remus knew he could no longer maintain any semblance of a relationship with Dora, no matter how platonic he strove to keep it. He had to end it, once and for all. There could be no weaknesses when he faced Greyback. None. And she was his weakness. At least he could keep his memories. That, even Greyback couldn't… 'Remus?' The hoarse, scratchy whisper was as loud as a klaxon in the silent room. 'Where…?' 'St. Mungo's,' he replied softly, bending so his head nearly rested on the pillow. 'Bellatrix hexed you in the battle,' he added. 'Figures,' Dora huffed weakly. 'I'll bet it was the icing on her fairy cake, too.' Remus conjured a glass of water, then delicately waved his wand over it and a straw appeared. He offered the straw to her, wincing in sympathetic pain as her parched lips wrapped around the end of the straw. 'She wasn't unhappy,' he said. Dora released the straw with a soft gasp. 'Are the children all right?' Remus' hand cupped over her head and he began to stroke her hair from her face. Long, gentle strokes that made her eyes drift shut in pleasure. 'They're fine. Physically, at least. Neville and Ginny only had to spend the one day in the hospital wing after Madam Pomfrey fixed them up. Luna's all right. No harm from the Stunner they sent at her. Although with Luna, I'm not sure how'd you tell if something was off… Perhaps she'd make sense…?' he mused. 'Ron and Hermione are still in the hospital wing. Whatever it was that Dolohov cursed her with is going to take a long time to heal properly. She's fortunate he was unable to say the incantation. And Ron… He's speaking normally again and doesn't quite sound like he's been in the psychotropic potions. I still don't understand what those brains did to him. But Poppy says he'll likely have scars for the rest of his life.' Dora's eyes narrowed. 'Harry?' She hadn't missed the fact he'd left off Harry in his litany. 'What about Harry?' Remus scrubbed a hand over his face. He hadn't said it out loud since it happened. 'Sirius is dead…' he said in a low voice. 'Bellatrix… Bellatrix…' He waved his hand in the air. Unashamedly, he lowered his head to the edge of the mattress and his shoulders began to shake. 'Killing curse,' he choked. He wept into the blanket, his hands fisted into it. Presently, he felt Dora's hand creep to the back of his head, her fingers rubbing the back of his neck gently. Remus gave in to the grief he'd been resolutely ignoring for the past few days. He knew it was the one chance he had. 15 June 1996

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I won't try to justify Sirius' death with a number of empty platitudes that repeat, 'He's free from his pain.' To add insult to injury, there is no body. I cannot blame Harry for his disbelief in those first moments. It's one of his strengths that he doesn't always believe what his eyes tell him. To tell the truth, I halfway expected the mangy mutt to lope around the edge of the damned archway, laughing at how he managed to thwart Bellatrix. But to not even have something. And to not even be able to properly mourn and memorialize him. That is just too cruel. I wasn't very surprised when Sirius' Animagus form was a dog. Not just any dog – a large, menacing one. Sirius was nothing if not loyal to those he loved. And like he proved the other night, he was willing to give everything he had in order to protect his friends and family. Even if it meant his certain death. He was flawed, of course, we all are. If Sirius had a fatal flaw, it was that he did everything full-tilt. Life itself was his windmill, and he did everything by throwing caution to the wind as his first step of the process. I am the last of the Marauders… If not in fact, in spirit. The Peter we knew at school died the day he betrayed us and turned to Voldemort. I always believed I'd be the first to go. Teddy sat in the corridor, directly across from the portraits of his parents, the journal dangling from his fingers. His head turned at the sound of footfalls approaching. McGonagall swept around the corner and strode the few steps it took to stand next to him. She waved her wand and a hard-backed wooden chair dropped to the floor next to him. 'Hm. I wanted something soft and squishy,' she muttered. 'Have to keep working on that,' she said idly. 'Professor Dumbledore could conjure armchairs you could drown in. I'm good, but even I have off-days,' she added, gracefully lowering herself into the seat. Teddy frowned and glanced at his watch. It was well after curfew. He gulped and paled slightly. He already had three detentions because of breaking curfew by sitting in this corridor on previous nights. He stuffed the journal into his bag and began to scramble to his feet, but stilled at McGonagall's gesture to remain seated. 'One of the first times I saw your father, he had just left Professor Slughorn's first Potions class with the new Gryffindors, covered in soot. Like you, he had a terrible time with Potions. Managed an Acceptable on his O.W.L. because one of his friends spent ages drilling him when they had a spare moment. Your mother tripped over her shoelaces as she came into the Great Hall to be Sorted. Went sailing into the air and tumbled into the Ravenclaw table. She jumped up, acting as if she had planned to do that all along as part of some sort of acrobatic exhibition. Your grandfather…' Her eyes closed. 'Ted Tonks walked through three ghosts before he realized what he'd done during his Sorting. Fred Weasley managed to charm Severus Snape's shoelaces to tie themselves together his second year. He might have gotten away with it, too, had the foolish child not been cackling with glee when Severus landed face-first in a student's botched potion. The stench he emanated was unbearable for days. And it wasn't for lack of washing,' she said pointedly. 'I've been teaching here for nearly fifty-seven years,' McGonagall continued. 'And I've never forgotten a single student.' She leaned forward a little. 'Hogwarts' staff is nearly as constant as the stars, lad. Well, with the exception of those years the Defense position was cursed… Although it was mildly entertaining to speculate how the new one would leave. And even when it seemed as if Hogwarts would have to close, we remained open. It's not the building or the ghosts. It's the people inside of it. And their memories. A person cannot remember things if they haven't anyone with which to share them. Books are perfectly adequate if you desire the facts and an analysis. But nothing takes the place of actual memory. It's why I stay on.' With a sigh, she rose to her feet. 'Off to your dormitory with you, Lupin, and do try to avoid another night of detention.' Teddy pushed himself off the floor and began to exit the corridor. 'Oh, Lupin?' 'Yes, professor?' 'If you even so much as think about calling me McG, I shall personally see to it that the school elves starch your trousers so much you won't be able to sit.' Teddy's face drained of all color. 'Y-y-y-you heard that?' he asked weakly. McGonagall's face creased in a wide, rare smile. 'I might be old, but bats have excellent hearing, my boy.' She patted his face and walked away, leaving Teddy gaping after her.  

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NINETEEN – 22 June 1996

Teddy eagerly tore the wrappings from one of the parcels that had arrived that morning at breakfast. 'A book?' he said in disbelief. 'Gran sent me some manky old book for my birthday?' 'Dad sent me books for my birthday last year,' Victoire informed him tartly. 'Well, yeah, but I'm not as smart as you are,' Teddy retorted. 'You are,' Victoire said archly. 'Have you seen my Potions marks?' 'Don't even use that as an excuse… You've been doing much better.' Victoire plucked the book from Teddy's lax fingers. 'Yeah, I've moved up from Troll to Poor,' Teddy scoffed, balling up the wrapping paper and tossing it toward the common room fire, where it caught quickly and burned more brightly than the surrounding flames before dying out in as little time as it took to burn. 'It's still improvement.' Victoire tossed her head haughtily. 'Says the girl who gets an Exceeds Expectations or Outstanding all the bloody time.' 'You could, too, you know.' Victoire opened the book and began to peruse the pages. 'Teddy…' The sound of her voice gave Teddy pause. He looked up from the homemade card James, Al, and Lily had included in his package from Harry and Ginny. 'Yeah?' 'I think you need to look at this…' Victoire held out the book, open to its flyleaf. Remus J. Lupin, 11 July 1977. 'This was Dad's…?' 'Obviously.' Teddy flipped the book over. 'Magical Memory: Methodology for Memory Retrieval and Storage.' He glanced up at Victoire with a raised brow. 'That's a little advanced for the average fifteen year-old, isn't it?' 'I wonder why she sent it… It's not like you've decided on a career yet.' Teddy rooted through the paper on the table. 'There's a card…' he muttered, ripping the envelope open. '"Dear Teddy",' he read aloud. '"This was among your father's things when he died. He'd been reading it in the days after you were born. He seemed to refer to it often while he was writing in his journals. I thought perhaps it might help to have it when you reach those portions. Love, Gran…"' Teddy's frown grew deeper as he flipped it open to a random page. 'Pensieves… What's a Pensieve?' 'I don't know,' Victoire said, peering over his shoulder. She scanned the page, her eyes moving rapidly across the text. '"Pensieves are enchanted devices that are primarily used to examine and study specific extracted memories. They appear to be filled with a silvery substance, resembling the extracted memory itself. The contents of the Pensieve are neutral, and do not retain the essence of any memories at all." Hmmmm. Interesting…' she mused. 'How do you extract a memory…?' Teddy bit his lip and quickly closed the book. 'What's your earliest memory?' he asked in a rush. 'I… I'm not sure,' Victoire said uncertainly. 'I guess it was… I think I was three… And Mum and Dad were in the front garden, working in the flowerbeds… And I looked up and they were both gone… I remember screeching in absolute terror, starting to cry…' Her expression cleared and she grinned in a somewhat abashed way. 'I remember the dress I was wearing. It was blue. With flowers just here…' She indicated the collar of her shirt. 'Yellow flowers…' She stared into the fire, the light creating sparks of deep red in her hair. 'Dad came tearing around the side of the house… They were both on the side…' She inhaled slowly and glanced at Teddy. 'That's it…' Victoire busied herself with straightening the parcels on the table. 'Why?' 'Do you think it's possible to remember something earlier…?' 'Are you spell-damaged? Or perhaps you've merely lost your mind?' Mad-Eye asked casually.

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'Perhaps I have,' Remus said mildly. 'But someone needs to have a word with Harry's relations. Just so they know he's not entirely alone and that we're looking out for him.' 'What does Dumbledore say?' the former Auror growled. 'It's fine. We can't afford for Harry to be as cut off from our world as he was last summer,' Remus sighed. 'All right, so the two of us will meet the train…' 'Three. I've asked Dora to accompany us. Well, if she's released from the hospital tomorrow before the train arrives.' 'Nymphadora?' Mad-Eye blurted incredulously. 'Yes. She blends into Muggle society far better than you and I would. And Dumbledore has plans for Kingsley. She's really the only one in the Order other than Kingsley that could disappear into a Muggle crowd that easily.' 'Are you sure you're thinking with your head, boy?' Mad-Eye scoffed. Remus' brow rose as he stared the older man down. 'Yes. I am,' he replied evenly, inwardly shocked that Mad-Eye would read so much into his choice of Dora for his scheme. Mad-Eye's magical eye whizzed around inside his eye socket for a moment. 'What about the twins?' he asked finally. 'And Harry knows them.' 'Too young and immature, still,' Remus said ruthlessly. 'They might see the whole thing as a lark, or an excuse to test some of their sweets on his cousin out of revenge. Besides, that aunt and uncle of Harry's would never take either of the twins seriously.' 'And you think they would Nymphadora?' 'She's a gifted Auror, Alastor,' Remus reminded him. 'You trained her.' He folded his hands on top of the table. 'She knows not to cross the line.' 'So, tomorrow…' Mad-Eye said in resignation. 'Tomorrow.' Remus checked his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time since he walked into King's Cross that afternoon. The train was due at any moment, and Mad-Eye had yet to make an appearance. 'Wotcher!' said a bright voice next to his ear. Remus jumped slightly and looked down at a welter of bright bubble-gum pink hair, silently sighing in relief. 'They just let me out of St. Mungo's at lunchtime. High time, too. I was about to starve on the slop they insist on calling food there.' 'Remus! What are you doing here?' Arthur strode toward the barrier, followed by Molly and the twins. 'I came to meet Harry, have a word with his relations.' 'Ah, perfect,' Arthur said. 'I'd like to join you, if I may?' 'I don't know…' Remus demurred. 'Harry's part of our family, Remus,' Molly said firmly. 'I wish we could just take him straight home with us, but Dumbledore won't allow it. At the very least, we can try to see to it that he's not being mistreated –' 'Or at least not locked up in his room,' George said cynically. 'What?' growled Mad-Eye, stumping up to the group behind Dora. 'Who's locked up someone?' Fred and George exchanged a look with each other, then Fred cleared his throat. 'Before Harry and Ron's second year, his relatives had Harry locked in his bedroom. They'd been starving him.' 'Thought we might break his arm when we pulled him out of the window,' George added. 'Nothing but skin and bones,' he file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

muttered, unaware of how very much like his mother he sounded just then. Remus studied the faces of the Weasleys in front of him. They were are all sober and determined – even the twins. 'They have a point, Remus,' Mad-Eye told him in a gravelly murmur. 'Strength in numbers, eh?' Remus hesitated, weighing his options, then nodded assent, and the others closed around him a little more. The first students began to trickle through the barrier. Remus glanced uneasily around the platform, but he'd never met Vernon and Petunia, just heard about them from James and Lily. 'That's them, right there,' Arthur muttered, jerking his head toward his left. Remus craned his head around Mad-Eye, and nearly had to bite the inside of his cheek to refrain from snorting aloud. Vernon was so rotund, it was astounding he could wedge himself in and out of a car and Petunia was nothing like her name. James was right! Remus chortled to himself. She does look like a horse! 'There they are,' Dora whispered, indicating the barrier with a flick of her dark eyes. Molly rushed forward, relief evident in every line of her body. 'Ron, Ginny!' She tightly embraced them each in turn, and reached for Harry. 'Oh, and Harry dear – how are you?' 'Fine,' Harry said quietly, but it was evident to Remus from the strain on the boy's face that he was most certainly not fine. It lent all the more importance to what they were about to do. Remus watched Harry stride from the station with a small smile. You'd be proud of him, Prongsie, he thought with a quick glance upward. 'Fancy a quick cuppa?' Dora asked at his shoulder. 'Pardon?' Remus started a little. 'You just look as done in as I feel,' Dora continued. 'Mum's stocked my kitchen and she's left some lovely scones. And I've got the marmalade you like…' 'I…' 'And I've gotten quite behind on my Animagus research,' Dora added hopefully. 'You could help me catch up, so it won't be totally wasted time.' Remus' eyes closed briefly. It was the opening he needed. 'A cup of tea would be nice, thank you.' The tea leaves swirled in a wave of milky amber liquid. The mesmerizing patterns they made fascinated Remus. Just do it, already… There's no use in prolonging the inevitable. You have to do it. If you don't do it now, you're going to end up stringing her along until it's too late to do anything about it… He set the cup in its mismatched saucer with a soft click. What did Lily used to say…? It's like pulling off a plaster… The faster you do it, the less it hurts… 'We need to talk…' 'Yeah, there's something I don't understand about this passage,' Dora told him, Summoning a small book, bound with cracked burgundy leather. 'It claims there's no incantation… But in this one…' A flick of her wand brought a thick book, roughly the size of a brick to the sofa. 'This one says the incantation is necessary for focus…' 'Nymphadora…' Remus said quietly, firmly. He gently tugged the book from her hands and laid it aside, amongst their cups. 'You're calling me Nymphadora,' she whispered. 'You never call me that…' Remus inhaled slowly. 'Dora, we need to talk.' 'That never sounds good,' Dora commented lightly, but a line appeared between her brows. He resisted the urge to smooth it away. Remus took one of Dora's hands between his and joined her on the sofa. He hated what he was about to do to her, because she still looked so pale after her stay in the hospital. 'We… I…' He gently chafed her hand between his. 'I don't… I can't see you anymore,' he choked. 'Why?' Dora's wide dark eyes filled with tears. She blinked and they spilled down the planes of her cheeks. Remus cupped her face with one of his hands, thumbing tears away from her face. 'Dora… Please don't cry, darling…' His

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other hand rose and threaded through her hair. 'I can't do this if you're going to cry…' Dora shook her head. 'I don't understand…' Remus pulled a worn handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed gently at her face, unable to stop touching her. 'While you were unconscious, Dumbledore told me he needed me to try and persuade the other werewolves to join the fight against Voldemort,' he explained. 'I can't be with you and do that at the same time.' 'I see,' Dora said dully, her head bowed. 'Look at me…' Remus tilted her chin up with a finger. 'It's too much of a risk. For you,' he insisted. 'I cannot go to Greyback with any emotional attachments at all. I have to go and you must be nothing to me while I'm there.' Dora's eyes hardened, and her mouth opened to protest, but Remus covered it with his fingers. 'Think about it!' he said harshly. 'Do you think he'd allow you to escape unscathed if I managed to anger him?' Understanding slowly replaced the ire on her face. 'That's right,' he said. 'Why do you think Greyback likes to go after children?' 'To punish their parents,' Dora replied stiffly. 'Exactly. And since I haven't any children, he'd attack the next best thing…' Remus murmured hoarsely. Dora's face crumpled and tears slipped down her face faster than Remus could blot them. Knowing it would probably be the last time he could do it, Remus gathered her in his arms. He pressed tiny kisses along her hairline, murmuring soothing nonsense. After several long moments, punctuated by the occasional sniffle, she pulled away. 'I suppose you'd better go,' she told him tightly. 'Dora, I…' The words stuck in Remus' throat. 'Go…' she whispered. Remus wound a lock of her hair around his finger and leaned forward, brushing the lightest of kisses over her mouth before he lurched from sofa and propelled himself out of the flat and Dora's life. 22 June 1996 Remus sat for several interminable moments, quill suspended over the page, ink dripping from its point. Tap-tap-tap. The droplets of ink slowed until there was only silence in the flat. He slowly dipped the quill into the jar of ink at his elbow and began to write, the soft scratching sound of the quill traveling over the paper filling in the empty spaces. Sinceshe must go, and I must mourn, come night, Environ me with darkness, whilst I write ; Shadow that hell unto me, which alone I am to suffer when my love is gone. Alas ! the darkest magic cannot do it, Thou and great hell, to boot, are shadows to it. I haven't anyone to blame but myself. I should never have let it go as far as it did. It was indescribable to feel almost… normal… Foolishness on my part. I knew better and yet, I still… I wish I could say I regret any of it. But the fact is – I do not. 'Excuse me… Professor?' Teddy peered around the partially-open door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Gareth Shacklebolt stood in front of the blackboard, directing various colored chalks in a dance that sketched Grindylows and Pogrebins on its surface. Gareth glanced over his shoulder, never once dropping the beat with his wand as the colored chalks danced over the blackboard. 'Trouble with last night's homework?' Teddy emphatically shook his head. Defense seemed to come to him as naturally as breathing. 'No, sir…' He sidled into the room, with Remus' old book clutched in his sweating hands. 'I was wondering, sir…' Teddy's eyes dropped to the book. 'Have

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you ever seen a Pensieve?' 'Just once of twice, in San Francisco,' Gareth told him. 'They're really rare.' 'How rare is that?' Teddy mumbled, feeling his hopes fade slightly. Gareth set his wand down on his cluttered desk, and stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets, perching on the edge of the desk. 'Oh, perhaps one wizard in a million owns one. Even most Auror departments worldwide don't have access to one.' 'Oh…' Teddy felt himself deflate like the balloons at Lily's birthday party last summer. 'Why do you ask?' Teddy traced the flaking lettering in the spine of the book. 'Just read about it somewhere,' he muttered noncommittally. He started to trudge from the room and head down to the greenhouses for his Herbology lesson, when he stopped, one hand on the door. 'Could I ask one more thing?' 'Of course…' 'Obliviators… they remove memories, right?' 'Quite. Good ones can almost remove mere seconds and make it look seamless to the person whose memory's been modified.' Teddy nodded slowly. 'So… If they can remove a memory, can they retrieve one…?' 'I don't know for certain,' Gareth admitted. 'There hasn't been much research or study into the matter…' 'Right. Well, thank you, anyway, professor,' Teddy said dully. He pulled the door open and trudged from the classroom. The entire day, the question niggled at the back of his mind… Certainly if someone could force you to forget something, they could possibly find something you had forgotten, or didn't know you had. He would never have admitted it to anyone – not even Harry, who would have understood – that he would have given anything to hear his mother's voice, or feel his father's touch against his cheek. There were days where he longed to talk to his father or mother. To discuss the random bits of literature that glided across the pages of the journals and how to keep his hair from changing with every sharp turn of emotion. Usually, Teddy didn't miss either of his parents terribly. After all, how could you miss what you never knew? He realized that to most people it might sound terribly harsh, but Teddy only knew his parents from photographs and what other people told him. His earliest memories were of Andromeda's husky lullabies, Ginny's bright hair, and the light winking from the lenses of Harry's glasses – the people who picked him up when he fell, and dabbed potions and ointments on his skinned knees and elbows, and patiently told him endless stories about Remus and Nymphadora Lupin. Occasionally, he burned with shame at the memory of his petulant behavior the morning they dedicated the battle memorial, and how he had shouted he'd all but hated them for dying. As grateful as he was to both of his parents for his very life, neither of them were featured in his memories. Teddy's fingers skimmed across the spines of a seemingly endless row of books in the library. The air made his nose itch with dust. He was going to find a way to unearth a memory of his parents, even if it took years to accomplish the task. A/N: Remus quotes John Donne's "Elegy XIII" in his journal entry. The lines of dialogue between Harry and Molly are from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Scholastic paperback edition, pg. 867  

TWENTY – 1 September & 2 September 1996

Teddy opened the door of the Defense classroom. Gareth sat at the desk, grading first-year essays. Teddy could hear him muttering under his breath at some of the thicker students' responses. He hung back near the door, adjusting the heavy bag on his shoulder, wondering if he ought to interrupt. 'What is it, Teddy?' Gareth asked, without looking up. 'How did you know I was here?'

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'That door squeaks,' Gareth replied, looking up. 'And I could see your hair in the window's reflection.' Teddy rolled his eyes, but slid into the room, letting the door slam shut behind him. Gareth pointed his wand at it, and the door opened a bit. Teddy gave Gareth a questioning look, but Gareth just shook his head. 'I was wondering, sir,' Teddy began, 'if you could recommend a book…?' 'Your Defense essay isn't due until the beginning of June,' Gareth said. 'It's not for the essay.' Teddy shifted slightly from foot to foot. 'You used to be an Obliviator, right? Before you went to America?' 'I was.' 'Is there a book or something you can recommend about memories?' Gareth frowned a little. 'Why are memories so important to you?' Teddy looked down at the scarred wooden floor, scorch marks from errant spells and hexes streaks of black against the dull bronze of the wood. He traced one with the toe of his shoe. 'They just are.' He wound his hand around the strap of his bag. 'What was the youngest person you ever had to Oblivate?' Gareth set his quill down. 'She was three years old,' he said dully. It had been one of his first cases. A Muggle family had been brutally tortured, just before Voldemort had disappeared. He could still hear the child screaming in fear and terror. 'Do you think she would have remembered it, even if you hadn't removed the memory?' Gareth squinted at Teddy, belatedly recalling Teddy's parents had died when he was only a few weeks old. 'I don't know. Nobody really knows at what age a child begins to create memories.' He pulled a scrap of parchment across the desk and scribbled the title of a book on it with his quill. 'This ought to be in the library. Ask Madam Pence to show you where it is.' He quickly scrawled a note at the bottom of the parchment. 'Just in case it's in the Restricted Section…' He paused before he handed the note to Teddy. 'Memories can be dangerous, Teddy,' he said, with a hint of warning in his voice. 'You might not like what you find…' Remus held up a pair of trousers to the light, critically examining them for tears or other damage that he'd have to repair before he left the next afternoon. Satisfied they were serviceable; he neatly folded them and laid them on the foot of his bed. His only other pair, other than the ones he currently wore, were draped over the arm of a chair, waiting to be mended. His thick traveling cloak was fairly new – he'd purchased it the year he taught at Hogwarts. His socks were nearly beyond help, but seeing as how he'd never learned the art of knitting or weaving, he'd have to content himself with darning them yet again. There wasn't much in the way of the original yarn left in his socks, he'd darned them so often before. And while he did have the reserve of gold in his Gringotts vault from Sirius, Remus refused to consider touching it. Not for something as trivial as socks. He held up one of his four shirts, noting a small rip near the placket. That would have to be mended as well. He studied his one good jumper, sighing as he saw the fraying yarn at a shoulder seam, adding it to the growing pile of clothes that demanded his attention before he went to Merlin-knew-where. The rest of his jumpers were already in the pile. He gathered the clothing into a messy bundle and carried it into the sitting room. The light was better in there and he wanted to make the necessary repairs to his clothes as unnoticeable as possible. Sitting on the small table next to his one comfortable chair was the well-thumbed copy of Paradise Lost Dora had given him for his birthday. Remus debated with himself about adding it to the small knapsack that slumped against the side of the chair. It already held a new journal and a supply of SelfInking quills that he'd used the last of his tutoring fees to purchase in a reckless splurge. Remus perched in the chair and dropped the bundle of clothing at his feet, reaching for the small box that held several needles, spools of thread, and a small ball of yarn that matched his socks. His hand brushed the cover of the book. Remus picked it up, balancing it in the palm of his hand. He thumbed open the cover and stared at the inscription. He knew if the book was found, they would know just what Dora meant to him. Remus bit his lip hard and with a small pang, carefully tore out the flyleaf. He dropped the book into his bag, then grabbed the box. Remus expertly threaded a needle and picked up the trousers and fingered the rip in the knee. They had caught on a splintered section of the door to the storage area in the basement where he transformed, when he'd slipped down last week to reinforce the charms on it. He licked the tip of an index finger and wrapped the end of the thread around it, rolling it off his

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finger. He pulled the tail end of the thread, forming a small knot and stabbed the needle into the dark grey wool of his trousers. Tiny, even stitches blossomed in a neat row behind his quickly darting needle, gradually closing the gap in the fabric. The sound of a booming knock made him jerk and he jabbed the needle deeply into the pad of the opposite thumb. Swearing under his breath, as he sucked the offended thumb, Remus shuffled to the door, and yanked it open, an irritated look on his face, the trousers dangling from one hand. 'You didn't bother to inquire after me before you opened the door,' Kingsley admonished. 'That's a lot of rubbish,' Remus muttered. 'They could have hostages or use Polyjuice… And it's not exactly a secret that you prefer marmalade to jam on your toast.' Kingsley chuckled, the sound rolling through the open door. 'True. But Scrimgeour feels it's much preferable to do something, rather than pretend problems don't exist.' Remus stepped back to allow the Auror inside the flat. 'And distributing useless solutions is going to make the problems disappear?' 'Not exactly.' Kingsley shut the door behind him. Remus dropped the half-mended trousers and faced Kingsley. 'I'm afraid I haven't anything to offer you in the way of refreshment,' he said off-handedly. 'I won't stay long,' Kingsley murmured. Remus retrieved his trousers and resumed his mending. Kingsley dragged one of the chairs from the kitchen table into the sitting room and folded himself into with cat-like grace. He studied Remus for several moments, leaning forward, his elbows propped on his knees. 'Haven't seen you since that imbroglio at the Ministry… How is it, then?' he asked gently. Remus glanced up at him, frowning slightly. 'Fine.' Kingsley sat back, folding his arms over his chest. 'Really?' Remus knotted the thread and bit off the end. 'Really.' He picked up the shirt, continuing the process of mending the tears in his clothing. His hands shook as he tried to thread the needle, picturing the cemetery in Godric's Hollow, the austere white headstones bearing James and Lily's names, knowing there wasn't anything of the sort for Sirius. For some reason, that bothered him more than Sirius' death. Kingsley wisely refrained from commenting and gazed with interest at the stacks of books near his feet, tactfully giving Remus time to collect himself. 'Do you have a plan for the werewolves?' he asked. 'Beyond trying to persuade them one at a time?' Remus snorted. 'No.' He stitched quietly for a minute. 'I thought I'd try with the ones that were bitten recently.' 'Good plan.' 'I figured they haven't had enough time to become indoctrinated with Greyback's propaganda.' 'And if they have…?' 'Do you really think I have much chance of success regardless?' Kingsley sighed. 'No.' Remus shrugged. 'Maybe I can reach one or two of them…' 'How?' 'I honestly do not know…' Remus muttered. 'It's not as if we have it so good with the Ministry. Trying to persuade people to abandon someone, that's at the very least promising them a life that isn't on the fringes of society, is going to take more than a few empty platitudes,' he added bitterly. 1 September 1996

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As I do not have the gift of prophecy, I cannot say if I shall be able to record the events of my life over the next several months with any sort of regularity. Is it cowardly to admit fear? I've never spent any time at all in the company of other werewolves. I've never sought their company, nor have I desired it. I fear I might lose myself – the part of myself that keeps me human – if I stay with them for any length of time. And I risk this for what? For the miniscule chance that I might bring a few to our side? Is it an act of treachery to question if Dumbledore does indeed know what he asks of us? I can be useful here. This is a fool's errand. For the greater good… And yet, I'll do it. I'll do it, because I'm the only one that can. And I'll do it because, if only one turns… If only one turns to our side, it's still one more than we had before. Remus dropped his knapsack inside the small room allocated to him in the abandoned farmhouse. His sensitive nose twitched violently at the musky odor of so many werewolves convened in one location. The small camp bed reeked of a substance Remus would rather not identify. He jabbed his wand at it, sniffing cautiously over the stained mattress. The stench had lessened considerably, and another jab lifted the worst of the stains. Remus gingerly spread the sleeping bag he'd borrowed from Arthur over the camp bed, and perched on the edge. 'You even reek of humans… Didn't think we'd see you here,' said a sardonic voice from the door. Remus glanced up at the man leaning insolently against the door frame. 'You were in St. Mungo's last Christmas,' he said evenly. 'And now I'm here because I haven't anywhere else to go,' the man said bitterly. 'My family won't have anything to do with me.' 'That's their loss,' Remus retorted. 'With precautions –' 'Like those so-called "precautions" that kept you employed at Hogwarts?' the other werewolf snorted. 'I was talking about the ones I've been using most of my life,' Remus said smoothly. 'The Wolfsbane was merely one more tool in my arsenal. Sadly, I'm not much of a potion-brewer.' He paused for a moment, head tilted to one side. He rose from the edge of the camp bed, extending his hand. 'Remus Lupin.' The man stared at him warily before taking Remus' hand. 'Matthew Jones.' Matthew examined Remus' face. 'How old are you?' 'Thirty-six,' Remus told him. 'You look like you're—' 'Older, yes.' Remus stooped to haul the knapsack to the bed. He carefully unpacked his scant belongings. 'It'll do that to you. Or have they,' he said, indicating the open door with his head, 'neglected to tell you that?' 'They told me it was because you keep trying to live among humans and it's because of the strain it puts on you.' Remus swore under his breath. He should have known the other would have discussed him. 'Some of it, I'm sure,' he said, shrugging nonchalantly. 'How old do you think Greyback is, by chance?' he challenged. 'I… I don't…' 'He's only fifty,' Remus said quietly. 'Looks like an old codger, doesn't he? For a wizard, anyway.' He tucked the journal under the sleeping bag, along with the copy of Paradise Lost. 'And if you think it's going to be better under Voldemort…' 'Of course it will!' Matthew hissed. 'Haven't you heard the latest? The Ministry wants to register us! Like we're common criminals! They want to take a page out of Muggle history and force us to visibly identify ourselves.' 'I know.' Remus patted his shirt pocket. He could feel the small moleskin pouch Hagrid had sent to him a few days before. Hagrid was a firm believer in ensuring people had something to safeguard their belongings when on a mission. The flyleaf of Paradise Lost was folded into a tiny square and tucked inside, the outlines stiff against the soft moleskin. 'They already keep

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tabs on us, you know.' He stowed the knapsack under the bed. 'There's been talk of registering us and tattooing us or something like it since I was in school. Problem is, how do you force someone like Greyback to register, hmmm?' 'Why aren't you angrier at them?' Matthew cried. 'I'm not angry at the Ministry as a whole,' Remus corrected. 'Just the ones who refuse to see lycanthropy as a manageable condition.' He shrugged. 'And why should I waste my time or energy railing against something I can't change just now?' 2 September 1996 Of all the things I've been told, nobody's ever said I "reek of humans". That is most definitely a new one. I wonder now, if it was fortunate for me to have received the bite at such a young age. I haven't known anything else, but a life as a werewolf. Granted, it does not follow that I particularly enjoy it, but nonetheless, perhaps it has been good that I have no memories of what it was like before. I can be bitter about being a werewolf and forced to live outside society, but I cannot imagine what it must be like to remember one's life before and compare it to the life you used to have. This is going to be much more difficult that I had imagined. Not only must I fight against their new-found prejudices against humans (and the idea that they are no longer human), but I must also fight against the perception that their lot will be much improved under Voldemort. That is hardly the case, but they're so dazzled by the bare whisper of the thought of being able to live as they want, they are blind to the fact once they're served their purpose under Voldemort, they – rather, we – will be cast aside like so much rubbish. Voldemort might very well enjoy the havoc Greyback can wreck on Muggles and wizarding folk alike, but I daresay, he won't want us to sully the wizarding bloodline. Vaguely ironic, no? Especially when you consider all those years he spent living in the bodies of snakes. Teddy slowly paced between the shelves of the library, his head tilted at an awkward angle, pausing every few steps to scan the title stamped, burned, or otherwise marked on the spines of the books. He consulted the scrap of parchment Gareth had given him every so often, checking for the title. And the end of the row, Teddy straightened with a sigh, rolling his head around his neck, the knots popping loudly in the quiet library. He eyed the next row of books apprehensively, not quite willing to wander down the row, listing to one side, searching for one small book in the legions of books that snaked through the cavernous room. But he wasn't quite willing to approach Madam Pince, either. Truth be told, she frightened him more than McGonagall with her sharp manner and dour personality. But faced with the reality of the task looming in front of him, Teddy decided discretion was the better part of valor, swallowed his pride and fear, and marched to the desk. Madam Pince was perched on a tall, narrow stool, glaring at something in a large book. 'Yes?' she barked. Teddy's eyes grew round, but he managed to slide the parchment across the desk. 'I was looking for that book…' he stammered. Madam Pince's brows rose over the rims of her glasses. 'This is rather advanced for your age, don't you think?' she sniffed. 'Professor Shacklebolt said I could read it,' Teddy objected. He pointed to the scrawled signature at the bottom. 'See?' Madam Pince said nothing, but then again, she didn't need to. The look she gave Teddy was quite eloquent in its severity. But she flicked her wand and a book from the Restricted Section zoomed into her hand. She hesitated before handing it to Teddy. 'I trust you won't be trying any of the spells in here?' she demanded. 'No, ma'am,' Teddy said meekly. Sighing, Madam Pince pointed her wand at the book. It glowed for a brief moment. 'It's due back in two weeks,' she told him, sliding the book across the desk. Teddy took the book, and carefully stowed it in his school bag. 'Thank you.'  

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TWENTY ONE – 10 October 1996

Teddy carefully set the book down on his bag, making an effort to keep the stained leather binding from touching the grass. If he returned the book with so much as a smudge on the cover, Madam Pence was certain to take it out of his hide. He settled with his back against a tree and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. The instructions for Occlumency weren't quite what he needed, but Teddy thought the initial steps might be something he could use. He was meant to clear his mind, but rather than attempt to block someone from trying to gain access to his mind, he wanted to see if he could push past what he knew as his earliest memories, and go further. He hadn't been very successful at it. So far. But he was determined to do it. Sometimes, he wondered if he would manage to merely create a memory out of whole cloth, because he wanted it so badly. The book had warned about the dangers of manipulating memories, even to the point of convincing someone that events had occurred, even if in reality, it never had. Memories, even those removed to be viewed in a Pensieve, could be tampered with, and even skillfully twisted in ways that wouldn't be noticeable, except to one with a great deal of expertise. He had vague memories of staring at a photograph of his father for so long, that his appearance gradually changed, until his round childish face bore the marks and scars of his father's. Sometimes, guilt burned in Teddy's stomach that he didn't feel the same yearning for his mother, but he justified it by telling himself he lived with his mother's mother, and he grew up in the same house she had. The house was full of memories of his mother. At times, all he had to do was look at his grandmother in certain lights, and he could see his mother in her face. He knew he ought to have been grateful for what he did have in Andromeda, Harry, and Ginny, and somehow the feeling that he wanted more felt slightly wrong. He wanted his father. Remus felt a sharp nudge in his ribs. 'Get up,' someone said rudely. He blinked in the bright light from someone's wand, utterly confused. 'Get up,' the harsh voice repeated. 'Before I drag your scrawny arse out myself.' The person turned abruptly and stomped from the room. Remus ran a hand through the thick hair flopping into his eyes and groggily sat up. He reached for the clothes neatly folded on the floor next to the rickety camp bed and pulled the jumper over the ragged t-shirt he wore, then slipped the trousers over his legs. 'What's going on?' Matthew whispered from the doorway, tugging his trainers on his feet. Remus glanced up from tying the laces of his shoes. 'Don't know,' he grunted shortly. Their heads turned toward an impatient growl from the top of the stairs. 'Whatever it is, we'd better go…' He stood and grabbed his cloak from the foot of the camp bed. 'Come on…' He walked through the door, placing a hand lightly between Matthew's shoulder blades and propelled him down the narrow corridor. 'The one that woke me is one of Greyback's lieutenants. It won't do to keep him waiting,' he cautioned. They quickly darted down the steep staircase and joined the handful of other bewildered werewolves standing in a clump at the base of the stairs. 'Out!' barked the werewolf who seemed to be in charge. Remus felt a hand close around his arm and looked down. Matthew clutched at him, vibrating with fear and unease. Remus' other hand rose and gently landed on Matthew's, squeezing it briefly, before they were jostled into an isolated clearing containing a rusted wing from some ancient car. 'Touch it,' the werewolf ordered. 'Why?' one of the group said, trying to repress the quaver in his voice. 'Just do it!' 'That's an illegal Portkey,' mumbled an older man behind Remus. Another man chuckled ironically. 'You think they care?' He reached down and put a finger on the edge of the wing. The others soon followed with Remus thoughtfully examining the werewolf in charge of the ordeal as he slowly complied. He felt the familiar, sickening jerk behind his navel as the Portkey turned blue and he was lifted off the ground, bumping into the people around him. They landed in an unfamiliar wood and Remus caught one of the others to prevent him from falling to the wet ground and disgracing himself in front of the assembled werewolves in Greyback's camp. The musky stench emanating from them in waves was overpowering. Remus boldly searched for Greyback, but he was not there.

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'Take your kit off,' one of them ordered. 'Whatever for?' One of the werewolves strode to the unfortunate person who'd dared to ask. He wound his dirty fingers into the person's hair and twisted savagely. 'No questions, jus' do wha' ye're tol'.' He released the whimpering man and whirled around to face the others. 'Per'aps the rest o' ye need a bit o' persuasion-like…' he growled silkily. Remus felt his gut clench as a wand appeared and pointed at a random person. He almost felt, rather than heard the hissed, 'Imperio.' As if on cue, the others of Greyback's group removed their wands and began to point them at the assembled neutral werewolves. Remus felt the fingers of the curse tickle the edge of his mind. It ordered him to remove his clothing, but Remus had never been one to do things strictly because someone else said he should. He and a few others were able to resist the Imperius curse, though not without a struggle, while the others doffed their clothes in various stages of jerkiness that belied how hard they fought it. 'I see we've got a few stubborn ones.' Remus' head lifted and he came face-to-face with the ghastly visage of one Fenrir Greyback. 'Think you can resist it, eh?' His hand floated up and he trailed one filthy fingertip down Remus' cheek. Remus suppressed a shudder of distaste. He sincerely hoped what Greyback had in store for them didn't involve getting buggered. There were a lot of things he could handle, but he didn't think rape would be one of them. He knew he would be reserved for Greyback, as a special treat. Greyback's hand closed around Remus' throat and he squeezed. Remus began to choke, face slowly turning red, coughing and gagging, while Greyback's hand slowly tightened – grubby, dirtencrusted nails digging into his flesh. Greyback thrust his face close to Remus. 'Take them off,' he commanded, spittle flying into Remus' face. Arms flailing, Remus managed to toe off his shoes and push his pants and trousers down. Satisfied, Greyback released him, throwing him to the ground. Remus lay on the cold, wet ground, coughing and retching, utterly humiliated. He wondered, as he slowly sat up, and pulled the jumper over his head, if it could possibly get any worse. It could. Thin, whip-like lightening bolts flew from wands to lash at their bare skins. Crying out in pain was not an option. Not after they saw what happened to the first one that did. The werewolf that had been tormenting him smiled with a feral grimace, and instead of releasing the stinging lash, held it, wrapped around the man's midsection until the clearing was filled with the scent of singed hair and flesh. Remus, no stranger to pain, set his teeth into his lower lip, but was unable to prevent grunts of discomfort from rising to the surface. He felt as if every inch of his skin had been flayed when they finally stopped. He heard a muffled, 'Oh, thank God…' from somewhere on his left. That can't be all they're going to do, Remus thought. He wasn't expecting what they were going to do next, but later in hindsight, he knew perhaps he should have. At any rate, he wasn't surprised by what came next. 'CRUCIO!' one of them roared, followed by a chorus of them. Remus gave up trying not to howl with pain. Dawn broke with a chorus of birdsong that seemed out of place with the events of the previous night. Greyback's group disappeared with an admonishment for them not to leave or the consequences would be severe. They lay in limp, exhausted heaps, or slumped against trees, pale and shaken from last night's ordeals. Remus leaned against a tree next to one of the older members of the neutral group. 'Held yourself together well in the face of that nastiness,' he commented hoarsely to Remus. 'I'll take that as a compliment,' Remus replied tiredly. He glanced up through heavy-lidded eyes at the man. What was his name? Remus hadn't been very sociable with the others, merely trying to integrate himself into the structure of the neutral group, without arousing suspicions. Ah… The name rose from the mists of his memory. Archie… Archie Campbell… Something shiny glinted in the rising sun. Archie wore a plain, wide band on his ring finger. 'You're married,' Remus blurted. Archie nodded. 'Yeah. Or I was.' He lightly caressed the ring. 'Once I was released from St. Mungo's, I left…' He dug a much-

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creased photograph from his pocket, the edges beginning to fray. 'My wife, Melinda, and our son, Finn.' He held the photograph out to Remus. 'I never even told her goodbye. I waited until she and Finn were out of the house, snuck in, grabbed some clothes, and left her a note…' He looked down at the photograph. 'They're better off without me,' he said sadly. 'When did you…?' 'Full moon in July.' 'Which one? There were two,' Remus reminded him. 'July first,' Archie sighed. He shyly glanced at Remus through his eyelashes. 'Might I presume to ask you something?' 'You can ask,' Remus grunted. 'I don't have to answer.' 'Fair enough.' Archie shifted slightly grimacing at the residual aches in his muscles. 'Does it get easier? Transforming?' Remus shrugged. 'A bit. If you're with others… I had friends who were Animagi when I was younger who stayed with me during the full moon. I really haven't been in the company of others of my – I mean, our – kind. Never transformed with other werewolves.' Archie let his head fall back against the rough bark and the merest hint of a laugh rose on his exhalation. 'Tonight, then.' 'I suppose.' Archie sighed. 'What do you suppose they've got in store for us tonight?' he murmured, staring at the photograph cradled in his palm. 'No idea…' Remus rolled his head on his neck, which emitted several loud pops. He glanced at Archie. 'Best put that away,' he admonished. 'You don't want to let them see it, yeah? Whatever life you had before doesn't exist anymore.' He felt a twinge of guilt, thinking of the moleskin pouch pinned inside the pocket of his trousers that contained the flyleaf of Paradise Lost with Dora's inscription and signature that he had refused to leave behind. Remus closed his eyes, as if he could block his own transgressions against his admonishments. Remus stood with his cloak wrapped tightly around his body, eyeing Greyback, pacing the clearing, waiting impatiently for the sun to set. As the sky blazed with shades of orange and purple, Greyback stilled and glared over the huddled group. 'One of us will Side-Along you,' he said in his gravelly tones, insinuating they were mere children. 'You stay with us the entire night, we'll allow you in my group, no questions asked. Run, and the effort you'll have to exert to earn my trust will be… Considerable.' There was a quickly smothered cry of dismay behind Remus. He knew it came from Matthew, who'd had a difficult time last night, and been singled out and used badly, with lines permanently etched between his brows. Remus dared to steal a look over his shoulder at Matthew and shook his head slightly. Archie wrapped an arm around Matthew's waist and held him up with a short nod toward Remus. Remus turned his attention back to Greyback. Greyback dismissed his group with a wave of his wand. Remus' eyes followed them with sickening dread, as none of them approached him. He knew without looking that is was Greyback's foul paw that roughly encircled his bicep. Greyback's pungent odor wreathed around him, and Remus fought back nausea, mouth filling with saliva. 'I've been waiting for this,' Greyback rumbled in his ear. 'I was very upset when your parents chose to raise you among… humans,' he sneered. 'I had hoped to train you in my own image. Never bit one as young as you were. I was very happy when you survived…' Remus swallowed heavily. 'I'm ever so pleased I could accommodate you,' he drawled, with a level of insolence that would have made Sirius proud. 'Tonight's the night you leave all that behind,' Greyback murmured, almost seductively. Remus said nothing, but kept his gaze firmly glued to the ground in front of him. Greyback chuckled and turned, Apparating to a small village. Remus glanced around, studying the unfamiliar locale. It was lonely and windswept, with doors and windows shut tightly against the rising fog. 'Oh, God, no…' Archie moaned. Heads swiveled toward him in curiosity. 'No…' he breathed as Greyback struck off for a small cottage huddled on the edge of the village. 'Please, let them not be home,' he prayed, voice cracking under the strain.

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The door burst open magically, and Greyback strode into the house, smirking, dropping his cloak behind him. He disappeared into the cottage, and frightened screams soon echoed from inside. The screams were soon replaced by cries of distress and pain. Greyback dragged a woman from the house by her hair, while she stumbled next to him, her clothing torn and livid marks across her face, indicating she'd been slapped. 'Melinda…' whispered Archie. The woman, Melinda Campbell, tore her eyes from Greyback and searched for the source of the tortured whisper. 'Archie? What's going on?' 'You're about to find out,' Greyback growled, his lips close to her ear, then threw her to the ground. Remus squeezed his eyes shut, unable to block the screams. Not Melinda's, nor Archie's. The moon rose over them, full and heavy, bathing the scene with silvery light, lending the horror that occurred a slightly unreal aura. Remus felt something tickle his hand, and he looked down, his skin thickening, nails lengthening, coarse hair sprouting on the backs of his hands. For once, he welcomed the near mental oblivion that came with the transformation. The wolf shook the scratchy material from his paws and prowled in a tight circle, his nose lifted, scenting the breeze the washed over him. A soft howl escaped from his muzzle. At last… Other wolves… A pack. He could run with them. Hunt. Perhaps even kill… The howl grew louder, receiving answering howls from the pack. The wolf stilled, then loped toward something that pulled him like a lodestone. He came to a small group of other wolves, gathered around something soft and feminine. He snuffled at the hand that lay, palm open, as if in supplication to the moon, just beyond the welter of paws. The hand twitched, and a keening moan made the wolf pause, but only for a moment. He nosed his way into the throng, exhilarated at new experience of belonging to pack. The other wolves bit and slashed at the woman, her fair hair streaming against the grass, darkened and sticky with blood. The wolf raised a paw to strike at the expanse of quivering flesh, then halted, hovering a hairsbreadth away. In spite of the raw wounds on her face, something stirred inside the wolf. The echo of a name. A photograph floating in someone's hand. She belonged to someone. Someone the wolf knew. He backed off, tail lowering, not quite tucked between his hind legs, then fled. False dawn turned everything to ash. Remus limped back to the clump of trees where he'd transformed the previous night, sickened by what he'd almost done. He sorted through a pile of clothing, until he found his trousers and pants. He plunged a hand into one of the trouser pockets, sagging in relief when his fingertips brushed over the moleskin pouch, the outlines of the paper inside standing out in relief against the soft moleskin. He slipped the worn pants up to his hips and held up the trousers, looking for any rips or tears he'd have to repair when his hands stopped shaking. Satisfied they were relatively unharmed, he pulled them on and was in the process of donning the jumper, when he heard muffled sobs. Remus peered around a tree, and his mouth fell open at the sight. Archie held his wife's body in his arms, face buried in her ruined neck. The clothes had been ripped from her body, and she was naked. Long gouges marred her thighs and breasts, and her throat had been ripped out. Remus stumbled toward Archie, barely able to breathe. 'Archie… You have to go home… Your son…' 'No,' Archie rasped, lifting his head. 'Do you think I want something like this to happen to him?' 'It wasn't you,' Remus argued. 'It could have been.' Archie shook his head slowly from side to side. 'No… I've got a sister in America. He'll go live with her. The Ministry won't allow me to care for him anyway.' He gently laid Melinda in the grass and rose unsteadily to his feet. 'We're no better than beasts, Remus,' he choked. 'Even if I didn't rip her throat out, I as good as handed her over to them.' He tripped away in the low fog, his breathing harsh in the quiet morning. 10 October 1996 It's been more than a week since the last full moon, and I've only now been able to put quill to paper…

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The normally neatly rendered copperplate script became an angular scrawl. This is why I really shouldn't say anything personal. Not about me, nor anyone… We lost two out of our… pack. The pack of neutral werewolves who haven't yet embraced Voldemort's side or the Order's. Maybe I oughtn't to be concerned about convincing them to join the Order, and focus on keeping them out of Voldemort's hands. But we lost two… Lewis stayed with Greyback. He'd been treated so badly by his family after he was bitten, that he was convinced the only way to live was the way Greyback offered. And we lost Archie. Matthew found him. He'd slashed his throat with a silver knife. The same kind of knife that's in Potions kits. He had been inconsolable since the death of his wife, and understandably so. Matthew is only a few years older than Nymphadora… He has not accepted his lot in life with any sort of equanimity. And finding Archie has shaken him very badly. The first few nights afterward, he had such intense nightmares, that none of us slept. We've been resorting to dosing him with Calming draughts or Sleeping draughts before he goes to bed. Although, I cannot speak for the others, I'm not sleeping very much regardless, even without Matthew's nightmares. I fear we might be in danger of losing him, too – whether to suicide or Greyback, I cannot be certain. Someone must have been watching us to have known about Melinda. To know that he still carried a photograph of Melinda and Finn and that he still wore his wedding ring. So from now on, I will no longer speak names aloud of those whom I care for, but most especially not hers. Nor will I write them down in here. Teddy stared at the castle until its outlines blurred. Disjointed pictures floated through his head. Frantically trying to locate Andromeda when he was very, very small… younger than Lily… Sobbing for her in earnest as he wandered between the sitting room and the kitchen, clutching his ragged stuffed wolf… Patting Harry on the face and calling him "Da", because all his picture books called the man with a small child so, and Harry's harsh voice telling him to not call him that… Teddy recalled Victoire's memory of losing her parents and wondered if all early memories were as horrible as that, or even the ones he struggled to retrieve from the mists of his early life. Was it because the emotions associated with it were so strong as to make them indelible? 'Teddy?' Victoire loomed over him. 'You've missed dinner…' Teddy swiped his hands across his cheeks at the surprising wetness that streaked over them. 'I'm not hungry,' he muttered, heaving himself to his feet, and fleeing into the recesses of the castle.  

TWENTY TWO – 30 October & 26 November 1996

Harry eased the car into a space in the car park near King's Cross, and darted across the street, adroitly avoiding traffic, then passed through the barrier to Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters. Ordinarily, he would have used Appartion to collect Teddy and drop him off at Andromeda's, but he'd chosen the car after receiving several worried owls from no less than Neville, McGonagall, Gareth, and Hagrid. Harry figured if he used the car, he could try to pry what ailed the boy out of him. It was at least a two-hour drive to Andromeda's house. He joined Bill near a pillar, casting a worried eye at the darkening clouds overhead while he twirled the key ring around one finger, making the keys jangle. Bill rubbed at the scar that ran down one cheek. 'Going to rain,' he commented, noting Harry's glance at the rapidly thickening clouds. 'Scars ache beforehand.' 'That's handy,' Harry replied absently. 'Huzzah. I can predict the weather.' Bill's droll tone kept it from being completely bitter. 'Suppose it's one good thing to come from that.' He reached over and closed his hand around Harry's, stilling the motion. file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

'Sorry.' 'Something on your mind?' Harry tucked the keys into his pocket and shrugged. 'Have to talk to Teddy, and I'm not sure how to go about it.' He gave Bill a sideways look. 'Byproduct of my upbringing…' Bill smoothed a hand over his wind-whipped hair and straightened his shoulders. 'Don't leave it open-ended,' he advised. 'Like, don't ask, "So, is there something going on?". I take it you have an idea about what's bothering Teddy?' At Harry's nod, Bill continued, 'Toss him a bone, eh? Be specific. If you get a yes or no, it's something to go on. It's how Dad would do it with Percy and Charlie. Especially Charlie. He wouldn't talk much unless you dragged it out of him. And Percy would go on and on about a thousand different things, so Dad had to be direct.' 'Direct. Yeah…' The scarlet engine pulled into the station with a great cloud of steam and squealing of brakes. 'Not too direct,' Bill cautioned. 'Don't want to antagonize him.' Harry crammed his hands into his pockets. He had a notion from the letters that Teddy had already crossed the line into antagonized. 'Yeah…' Remus wedged himself into the narrow windowsill, pulling his knees into his chest, grimacing a little as the motion pulled on the new scars that roped his arms. Souvenirs of the last full moon. His head rested against the grimy windowpane, eyes trained on the waxing gibbous moon that hung between a break in the clouds. 'Why do you look at it so much?' Matthew's grainy voice fell into the dirty attic. 'All it represents is agony and pain.' Remus exhaled slowly, his breath momentarily misting the window and blocking the moon from his view. 'I was so young when I received the bite, I don't remember what a full moon looks like.' He turned his head and gazed at the young man slumped in the doorway. 'Call it morbid curiosity.' 'Morbid's a good way to describe it.' Matthew traced the toes of his shoes into the thick layer of dust that coated the floorboards. 'There's someone here to see you…' 'Who?' Remus brows drew together in bemusement. None of the Order members, save Dumbledore, knew his exact location. 'House-elf.' Remus scrambled from the window, nearly tripping in his haste. 'Did they tell you their name?' Matthew shook his head. 'No. But it's one of the school elves.' Remus felt a stab of disappointment. Normally Dobby came to see him, bearing oversized baskets of food that Remus immediately shared with the other werewolves. He could only imagine that was the purpose, since he wouldn't be able to eat all that food by himself. Not even when he was fifteen and practically ate his weight every meal. Dobby also brought news of Harry – a subject he was most enthusiastic about, and could be persuaded to talk about it with very little prodding. And from time to time, news of Dora, who guarded Hogwarts. 'Oh. Thank you.' 'He… or is it a she…? I can never tell… Either way, they've brought more food. Enough for the next week.' He followed Remus down the narrow stairs. 'That's very kind of them.' 'Yeah, because charity's always benevolent,' Matthew snorted sardonically. 'It's not charity,' Remus mumbled defensively. 'If you say so.' 'Why don't you ask the elf, whoever it is, why they've been bringing food to this house since before I even arrived?' Remus rounded a corner and entered the warm kitchen. He stopped just inside the doorway, nearly gaping at the young elf perched on a tall stool. She – Evie – was one of the younger elves. She'd just barely taken on light duties when he taught the one year,

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and had been assigned to clean his quarters. He'd had an unexpected free period, and walked in on Evie in the midst of her chores. She'd been distraught that he had seen her about her duties, but Remus had managed to calm her and struck up a light conversation. As it was, Remus was a favorite in the kitchens for his kindness from his student days when he'd gone on one of his frequent late night chocolate prowls. 'Any news?' Evie reached into her tea-towel, which was still a little too big for her, and withdrew a tiny piece of parchment. 'From Professor Dumbledore.' She looked at Matthew disdainfully and drew herself up, gathering her dignity around her like a cloak. 'Is we supposed to let you starve?' she scoffed, in a surprisingly motherly tone. 'I guess not,' Matthew admitted. Evie straightened her tea towel and hopped off the stool. She marched purposefully to Matthew and poked him in the knee. 'I has heard too many stories about bad families from other elves at Hogwarts,' she squeaked. 'If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wins, it is being like that for all of us.' 'A rebel elf, are you?' Maurice muttered. Deeply insulted, Evie whipped around. 'No. I is knowing my place at Hogwarts. I is not wanting to be paid. But I do has a mind.' 'We're all in this together, is that right?' Philip drawled. 'I is knowing when something is not fair,' Evie said defensively. 'Was you asking to be a werewolf?' she added acidly. 'No…' Philip murmured, taken aback by the vehemence of the small elf's response. Evie turned back to Matthew. 'That is why I is bringing you food.' She glared around the room, her drooping ears stiff with indignation, then snapped her fingers, disappearing with a loud crack. Maurice blinked. 'That was like having my mother tell me off…' He tugged on one ear. 'I do believe she would have boxed your ears, Philip, if she could have reached them.' Remus put the food away, setting Stasis charms on the cupboards, and remarked, 'She likely would have. I knew her mother. Marli was quite bossy, as well.' He leaned against the counter, and squinted at the impossibly tiny script on the miniscule parchment. He tapped it with his wand, it murmured, 'Engorgio.' The note blossomed to its full size, and Remus rapidly scanned it. 'Damn,' he hissed. 'What?' 'We need to find somewhere else…' Remus said flatly. 'Greyback's been planning another outing.' His grey eyes hardened as they flicked from side to side. 'Damn it,' he repeated, then began to read from the terse note. 'Apparently what we had the pleasure to endure last month will pale in comparison to this month,' he drawled ironically. Matthew visibly tensed. 'It can get worse?' Remus nodded. 'Causing mayhem amongst our families isn't enough inducement for those of us in this room to join Greyback. No, he has a bigger test for us, if we so choose to partake.' He ran a shaking hand through his hair. 'He wants us to bite someone… Muggle, magical – it doesn't matter.' 'What if we don't want to?' Philip asked in a small voice. It sounded incongruous coming from such a large man. Remus didn't reply. He didn't have to. 'We ought to leave, then,' Maurice said firmly. 'What purpose would that serve?' Philip asked. 'They'll only find us again.' Remus lifted his head. 'Not if one of us can perform a Fidelius charm,' he said, in a somewhat failed attempt to make a joke. It had the exact opposite effect. Tense silence enveloped the room. 'I can…' Matthew's whisper barely permeated the distress. 'How?' Remus blurted. 'I mean, it's rather advanced magic. Well past N.E.W.T.-level,' he added lamely.

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'I worked for Gringotts in Argentina,' Matthew stammered. 'I was home visiting my parents during the Christmas holiday when Greyback attacked me last year.' He wrapped his thin arms around his ribs. 'And a lot of South American wizards like some of their treasure to be kept a family secret. So we had to learn how to do them.' 'We'll still have to find another place to stay,' Philip stated. 'Actually, no, we don't.' Remus remembered how James explained how the charm would work on the house in Godric's Hollow. It didn't matter if you knew where the house was before. Once the charm was set, only the Secret Keeper had to actually tell you what the secret was. Not even James or Lily could have told anybody where they lived. 'He's right,' Matthew said shakily. 'Once I set the charm, the fact we live here is a secret, and only the person who holds it – the Secret Keeper – can tell anyone. Greyback could walk in here while we're having afternoon tea and never see us…' 'And more importantly, someone who's not the Secret Keeper can't reveal the secret,' Remus interjected. 'Let's do it,' Philip said heavily. 'I don't fancy making someone else go through this… No matter how bitter I feel about it.' 'Who's the Secret Keeper?' Maurice asked. Matthew gestured toward Remus with his chin. 'Him.' 'Why me?' Remus choked. 'I might have my doubts about the Order of the Phoenix,' Matthew said mildly, 'but you seem to hold them in high esteem. And they you. Which counts for something with my mum. If other blokes respect you, and not just fear you. And they don't hold being a werewolf against you. So if anything were to happen… you've got them to protect you.' He looked at Philip and Maurice. 'Unless either of you have an objection…?' 'Not at all,' Maurice said immediately. Philip took a bit longer to reply. 'I suppose not.' 'How long will it take?' Maurice asked. 'Not too long,' Matthew sighed. 'But what will do about Saturday…?' Remus tapped a kettle with his wand and then Summoned four cups from the old dresser on the other side of the kitchen, and began making tea. 'We go elsewhere. Wales is good. Wye Valley, Forest of Dean, Monmouthshire… There are some fairly isolated areas we can go.' 'And you know this how?' Philip scoffed. 'If I didn't use the basement of the building where I lived – and that was charmed so heavily, nobody even remembered it was there – I occasionally went outdoors. And I preferred somewhere where the risk to the rest of the population was minimal.' 'Enough with questioning every last thing he says,' Maurice rumbled. 'Remus has had to cope with this longer than the three of us combined. If he says to go to the Wye Valley Saturday, then we'll go to the Wye Valley.' He handed Philip a cup and glared at him. 'Unless you want to join Greyback or try and survive on your own?' 'No…' Chastened, Philip accepted the cup. Remus put a hand under Matthew's elbow. 'Come on, then. Let's go upstairs and set that charm. The sooner we do that…' Matthew looked glum. 'Yeah…' He clumped up the stairs toward the attic, where they would not be disturbed. 'Is it always going to be like this?' 'That's why I fight,' Remus replied. 'So one day it's not.' Remus shrugged his cloak off and folded it neatly, gazing intently at the tree that towered over him. 'Try to remember where you've left your clothes,' he reminded the others. 'Usually, you can find your way back to them. You won't wander very far.'

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'Can't you just Apparate?' Maurice asked nervously. 'Where do you plan on keeping a wand?' Matthew asked dryly. 'Good point…' Remus slowly, carefully unbuttoned his shirt. 'I've never gone above a half-mile away from where I've left my things…' He meticulously folded the shirt and laid it on top of the cloak. 'If you pay attention to yourself, you can manage to return with few problems.' The shoes were toed off and socks stuffed inside. 'The wolf will tell you,' he said in a low voice, waiting apprehensively for the moon to rise. 30 October 1996 The advantage to being the Secret Keeper is considerable. None of the others will be able to alert Greyback to our location. I think it gives Matthew some measure of comfort that as long as he stays here, he won't be accosted by Greyback, or his followers. I must tell Dumbledore and Dobby, at the very least. And perhaps Evie and Marli. Otherwise, we won't have all that lovely food that's in the cupboards. But that's all. And nobody except the Hogwarts Headmaster can order a Hogwarts elf to do something or to not do something. But the very nature of a Fidelius charm offers a measure of protection. Neither of them will be able to breathe a word of our location. Not even if Dumbledore commands the elves to do so. After all, it's worked out well, as far as Kreacher is concerned with Order headquarters. And he'd give our location away to his beloved Miss Bellatrix in a heartbeat, given half a chance. There is something to be said for being part of a pack. It, too, has quite an advantage. Especially since none of us want to turn others into werewolves. It does keep us focused and we do tend to stay together. It's exhilarating. Not that being with Prongsie and Padfoot wasn't helpful, but to be with others like myself… It approaches a feeling of euphoria I have never experienced. And yet, it leaves me wanting something more… Remus tucked his hands into his traveling cloak and slipped out of the back door of the abandoned farmhouse he currently called "home" and ducked into the dilapidated barn where he could Apparate. An unsigned note tucked into the weekly delivery of food requested his presence at Hogwarts that evening. However, Dumbledore's angular script was unmistakable. Remus was grateful for an opportunity to leave the house. It wasn't that he didn't care for the company of the other three inhabitants, but he was used to being able to come and go as he pleased. His nights were mostly occupied with standing on the edges of Greyback's pack, a position he avoided at all costs during the full moon. Greyback didn't trust him at all, and the others followed his lead in ostracizing Remus as one who had attempted to live among humans. Increasingly, Remus mulled over the conclusion that many of the werewolves may not have agreed with Voldemort at all. But after years of threats from the Ministry of everything from imprisonment to registration, they were disinclined to support them in any way. Remus also suspected some of the werewolves treated Greyback's claims of freedom under the Dark Lord with a healthy dose of skepticism, but didn't dare breathe it aloud. All in all, it was a wearisome, lonely existence. One that proved to be especially chafing to Remus. He would have written Harry, but he couldn't risk owls flying in and out of the farmhouse. It had been a terrible choice to make, considering how much Remus knew Harry would have wanted and needed guidance from someone who was something of a father figure. He'd all but severed his ties to Dora, and found he keenly missed her company. She was bright, intelligent, and possessed an aura of cheeriness he found infectious. She haunted his dreams so often, he awoke startled, grasping for something that wasn't there. The musty barn disappeared and in seconds Remus stood in the crags outside Hogsmeade. He took a moment to breathe deeply the tang of the sharp, pine-scented air. He carefully picked his way down to the edge of the village and contemplated his next course of action. He could dart between buildings, keeping to the shadows, or he could choose to boldly stride down the High Street. He inched closer to Hogsmeade, peering through the darkness. Darkness… Everything was shut tightly against the pressing darkness. The streets were deserted. Remus tightened his cloak around his body and began walking down High Street. His nose wrinkled slightly as the odor wafted from the folds of his cloak. After the full moon the night before, he'd returned to the house and collapsed into his camp bed, without the luxury of either a shower or bath. Bathing was a somewhat rare occurrence in the farmhouse. There wasn't running water, and one had to be willing to fill the ancient bathtub with water.

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Even with magic, it took an inordinate amount of time to fill it. He could recall Padfoot snuffling at his chest the mornings following a full moon while they were at Hogwarts, then commenting on the scent, even after Remus had bathed. It wasn't unpleasant, but it made his head spin, while blood pounded in his ears. A movement off to the side caught his attention. He drew his wand and stilled, waiting. A figure, muffled in a cloak, rapidly walked from the opposing side of the street. Remus stepped from the sheltering shadow of the house and moved toward them. He knew that gait anywhere. Silently, he stole across the street to intercept her. His nostrils twitched as her scent grew stronger and he drew closer. He trod on a dead leaf, making it crackle under the sole of his shoe. She spun, her hood falling back. Without waiting to contemplate his options, Remus grabbed her wrist and all but dragged Dora down a narrow alley between two buildings. He pushed her against a wall, fingers trailing hungrily down the side of her face, then plunged into her light brown hair. He didn't stop to wonder at her unusual appearance, as she usually wore her hair short and pink. He preferred her natural hair color anyway. His fingers wound through her hair, pulling her head back slightly. Dora's mouth was half-open in surprise and shock. He bent his head, slanting his mouth over hers, body pressed against hers. His other hand splayed against the small of her back, urging her hips forward, grinding against her. His tongue swept through her mouth, plundering the taste of her, then trailed down the sensitive flesh of her neck, nibbling and biting. He was blind and deaf to everything else, save the taste and smell of her skin. BANG! Remus flew across the alley, slamming into the stone wall with his back. He limply slid to the cold, hard ground, gradually regaining his senses, as he tried to force oxygen into his lungs. He wheezed painfully for several long moments, until he could once again breathe normally. Something nudged his ribs, and Remus looked up at the woman towering over him, rigid with rage. Her hair rippled from dark red to orange, like the flames of a fire. 'How dare you?' she hissed. 'You want nothing to do with me five months ago, but run into me here, randy as schoolboy, and all of a sudden, it's perfectly all right to maul me?' 'No… I…' Remus pushed himself to his feet. The longer he lived with werewolves, the closer his own wolf rose to the surface. At a loss to explain the situation, he merely offered her a sketchy sort of bow while gathering the cloak around him. 'I do beg your pardon,' he said formally. 'My apologies…' Dora raised her wand a little, and hesitated. Remus felt his cheeks burn with shame. 'This is why we can't… I'm too dangerous…' Dora's head reared back and she glared at Remus, her breath coming out in short, irritated puffs. 'Oh?' she said archly. 'As you just learned, I am more than capable of protecting myself.' She stalked out of the alley, jabbing her wand at Remus' feet. He waited uneasily for the hex she was sure to send his way. But it didn't come. After waiting for Dora to leave the alley, then counting slowly to fifty, Remus took a step toward the opening of the alley. And promptly fell on his face. He tried to move his feet, but they were bound together by his shoe laces. Whatever hex she'd used had twisted them into a knot of such Gordian proportions; it would be dawn before he managed to undo it. Sighing, he wrenched his shoes off and tucked them into a pocket inside his cloak and trudged up the cold lane to the gates of Hogwarts. Remus stood in the staff lounge, holding his hands out toward the crackling fire. A large mug of hot chocolate stood on the mantle, fragrant steam tickling his nose. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against the cool marble. He felt feverish, but knew that wasn't the case. There was no excuse for his earlier behavior. Most of his life he'd been able to hold the wolf in check, but the past few months had shown him that too, was nothing more than an illusion. The door creaked open behind him, and Dumbledore strode in, giving Remus an odd look. 'What happened to your shoes?' 'Nothing,' Remus mumbled, wriggling his toes in mortification over the hole over his smallest toe. He felt like nothing more than a naughty first year caught out of bounds. 'How are things progressing?' Dumbledore asked, helping himself to a scone on the tea tray, and adding a healthy smear of raspberry jam. file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

Remus picked up his mug of hot chocolate and sipped it slowly, allowing the warmth to seep into his bones. 'Slowly. It isn't that people – my kind – don't trust the Order,' he said apologetically, 'they've grown accustomed to mistreatment at the hands of the Ministry. And who's to say that you're not just another Ministry puppet?' 'Surely, you don't – ' Dumbledore spluttered. 'I don't believe that.' Remus' flat voice cut through Dumbledore's protestations. 'But I'm your man, you see, and by extension, I'm not to be trusted.' He smiled thinly. 'I reek of humans.' 'Regardless, how can they trust Greyback? The werewolf who made most of them so?' Remus shook his head, biting his lip to restrain the bubbles of laughter that rose to his lips. 'It's seductive. To be promised the life we dream of, the freedom to live with some measure of dignity. You don't know what that feels like…' 'Ought I to worry about you?' Remus took another sip of the hot chocolate. 'No. I do know the difference between truth and fiction.' 'Quite.' 'I do have one request…?' he asked. At Dumbledore's nod, he continued, 'If something should happen to me, I'd like to Order to take the ones who are with me into their protection. One of them is particularly fragile. I'd hate to see Greyback get his hands – paws – on him. He's also highly skeptical of both our sides.' 'I shall see to it.' Remus drained the rest of his hot chocolate. 'Thank you.' 26 November 1996 After that display in the alley, I no longer wonder why the Ministry classifies us as beasts. Even though, technically it's true just one night a month. If that resembles what Greyback feels when he bites someone, no wonder he does it so often. What happened tonight makes what happened last Christmas pale in comparison. I am grateful she was able to put a stop to it. I shudder to think what might have happened had she not. Because I do not believe I could have stopped myself. I wonder if my failure to entice more werewolves to join the Order or remain neutral is due to my feelings of ambiguity regarding the matter. I know real change will not come in my lifetime and perhaps not even in Harry's lifetime, if he lives that long, and if the Order triumphs. That kind of change will not happen under Voldemort. But while he will promise them the stars and moon, I will do nothing of the sort. I refuse to promise something I know I cannot deliver. Harry glanced at Teddy in the passenger seat, staring at the rain-swept meadows that whizzed by as they trundled down the motorway. The only sound was the soft whoosh of the windscreen wipers rhythmically sliding across the glass. 'I know what it's like to want to remember something that happened when you were young,' he said softly. 'And to want it so badly, you'll do almost anything to get it.' He paused and took his eyes off the wet asphalt and studied Teddy. He slumped in the seat, with his forehead resting against the window. 'Do you ever feel like that?' Teddy's eyes closed, as if he were too exhausted to keep them open any longer. 'Yeah,' he confessed, almost too low for Harry to hear. 'Kind of pushes everything else back, doesn't it?' Harry continued, encouraged by the response he received from Teddy. 'Yeah…' 'When I was a bit younger than you, when Sirius escaped Azkaban, and Dementors stopped the train, that's when I heard my parents' voices for the first time,' Harry told his godson, unable to hide the slight thickening of his voice. 'Hmmm.' 'I got your dad to teach me how to cast a Patronus charm to help, because every time I came into contact with one of those

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blasted things, I damn near passed out.' Teddy grunted. 'I did wonder at one point, if I wasn't trying as hard as I could have to cast the charm, just so I could hear my Mum and Dad's voices.' 'I keep trying,' Teddy said to the window. 'To go back through my memories so I can see if I can remember them at all…' 'Do you remember anything?' Teddy shook his head. 'Just…' He hesitated, twisting to meet his godfather's concerned gaze, then whipped back to the scenery. Harry spied a lay-by ahead and pulled into it, shifting the car into park, letting motor tick over. 'What?' 'Why won't you let me call you "Dad"?' he asked plaintively. 'Because I'm not,' Harry blurted. Teddy stiffened, and Harry hastily added, 'I didn't want to take your dad's place.' 'Really?' Teddy snorted. 'Seeing as he's not here, I don't see how that's an issue,' he said coldly. He hunched into himself, huddling into seat. 'Can we go?' Stung, Harry pulled the car back onto the motorway, feeling as if the silence that cloaked them once more was going to suffocate him.  

TWENTY THREE – 17 December & 25 December 1996

Andromeda's fingers tapped restlessly against the surface of the kitchen table. While she had expected Teddy to experience some measure of teenage angst, the sullen stranger who had taken up residence in her house was more than she had expected. He spent most of his waking hours either listening to music on the wireless that barely qualified as noise and sounded like Mermish; or morosely kicking his football around the back garden. It wasn't just with her, either. Ginny had mentioned he exhibited the same behavior at their house, much to the consternation of James, Al, and Lily. She could almost shrug it off as typical teenager growing pains, but this reminded her more of… 'Harry,' she breathed. 'Of course…' Although Andromeda hadn't met Harry until he was seventeen – and even then just for mere moments – the anger and resentment simmered so close to the surface, she was surprised he hadn't gone mad. At the time, she thought it had more to do with his connection to Voldemort, but as time passed, and she learned more about him from Dora, the more his bitterness toward the world in general made sense. She didn't blame him one bit. Not after hearing how his relations had wanted to force him to leave their house when he was only fifteen years old. Or the mere fact that both his parents had died, attacked in their own house, immediately followed by the attempt on his life. Watching Sirius die in front of him, followed by Dumbledore a year later. It was enough to drive normal humans out of their minds. It was little wonder Harry didn't trust most people and further than he could Banish them. Granted, it wasn't the same for Teddy. He didn't have the same burdens Harry had at his age. But he did have his own. There still were members of the wizarding community who viewed him with suspicion due to his father. There were constant whispers and stares from them. And while Teddy wouldn't say so, Andromeda was certain there were comments floating around regarding Dora and her willingness to marry a werewolf, let alone have a child with one. She didn't know exactly what was in Remus' journals, but it had to be difficult for Teddy to read them, for the longer the immersed himself in them, the more he withdrew into himself. Andromeda had a feeling Remus poured heart out on those pages in order to maintain his aura of seeming tranquility. And if nothing else, she was sure he talked about the tortured twists and turns of his relationship and marriage with Dora. Like Harry at that age, Teddy needed a father, a role Harry had been most reluctant to take on when Teddy was a baby. It was something he still struggled with out of respect to Remus. Someone knocked on the back door of the house, and Harry's dark head craned around the edge as he opened it. 'You wanted file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

to talk?' 'Yes.' Andromeda indicated the chair across from hers. Harry slid into it with a bemused expression. 'I need you to take Teddy for the remainder of the summer.' 'Why?' Andromeda shifted a little in her chair and toyed with the glass of water in front of her. 'Does he ever talk to you about his father?' she finally asked. Harry leaned back, a little startled. 'Not very often,' he admitted. 'We do talk about Remus, but more in a general sense. I don't know very many details, just my own experiences with him.' He shrugged helplessly. 'He knows Remus better than I at this point.' 'He needs a father,' Andromeda said crisply. 'Not a journal.' Harry's eyes closed. 'Andie, I know what you're asking, but I…' 'Don't tell me you can't be his father,' Andromeda retorted tartly. 'You've been Teddy's father in all but name since Remus died.' Harry opened his mouth to protest. 'It's not the title that matters,' she added in a gentler tone. 'Or what he calls you.' She reached across the table and grasped Harry's hand in hers. 'He needs you.' Remus trudged into the dark sitting room of the farmhouse, blinking bemusedly at the tiny pricks of light strung across the floor. Flames illuminated the piles of paper chains in front of the fireplace. 'What are you doing?' Maurice looked up from the tangle of fairy lights bundled into his crossed legs. 'It's Christmas,' he explained shortly. 'I realize that,' Remus snorted. 'Someone's conveniently put up an Advent calendar on the wall in the kitchen.' 'That little elf from the school brought it for you. The bossy one.' 'Evie. And surprisingly, no one's opened all the doors and eaten all the chocolates.' Maurice grunted. 'That's because she threatened the rest of us with dismemberment if we touched it and ate "your" chocolate. Left us some, though. But that calendar's yours. Honeydukes' best chocolate.' He patiently untangled more of the string of lights and glanced up at Remus. 'There's a note for you in the kitchen. It was in the basket Evie brought while you were out.' 'Thanks.' Remus turned to retrieve the note, but his way out was blocked by the arrival of Phillip and Matthew dragging a large fir tree through the door. 'Did Father Christmas vomit in here or something?' Phillip maneuvered the tree into a corner and began to adjust it, turning it this way and that. 'It's Christmas.' Remus massaged his temples. 'And…?' 'It's Christmas,' Matthew repeated. 'As much as our lives are shite, the least we can do is try and feel, well, normal, for one bloody day, damn it.' Remus, for reasons he couldn't understand, began to laugh. Loud, gasping whoops of laughter. He slid down the doorframe, not caring that he'd just snagged his jumper on a jagged edge. I'll repair it later… Oblivious to the astonished stares from the other men, he wiped his palms over his face, slowly gaining control of himself. His forearms came to rest on his canted knees. Panting, slightly out of breath, Remus gazed at the tree. 'This is normal.' Remus crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall of the dilapidated castle. Not much of a castle, really, he mused. Resembles nothing more than a pile of rubble. Good to hide in, though. Who would think to look for them here…? Greyback wasn't in attendance. Remus assumed he was with the Death Eaters. The corner of his mouth turned up just the smallest bit. Here he stood, on the outside of a group that would never accept him into their ranks, and Greyback was in the exact same position. Neither the Death Eaters, nor Voldemort for that matter, would ever fully accept Greyback into their circle, except as a tool they could wield to inspire fear. Remus mentally counted the matted, dirty heads, inhaling deeply. Odd that he didn't notice the heavy musky odor of so many werewolves didn't make his nose twitch any longer.

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'Why do you keep coming back where you're clearly not welcome?' snarled a man, who seemed to be the same age as Remus. 'You're not spying on us, are you?' Remus chuckled lightly. 'If I were, do you honestly expect me to own up to it?' He shook his head. 'I'm not spying. Nothing that's said here ever leaves here with me.' 'Then why do you come here?' asked another man belligerently. 'Merely to attempt to persuade you that your lot with the Death Eaters won't be as rosy as it's been painted for you.' 'You want us to betray Greyback?' 'Betray is such a strong word,' Remus murmured. 'Just asking you to see the other side of things.' 'I've seen the so-called other side of things,' the first man sneered. 'I was, ah, asked to vacate my flat, my marriage, my children's lives, even my work. The other side, as you call it, is rubbish,' he pronounced. Remus inclined his head in acknowledgement of the man's words, and resumed his perusal of the gathered werewolves. Last month's count had included four children. Now there were only two. 'What happened to the children?' 'They died,' the second man said shortly. A muscle in his jaw jumped. 'While they transformed.' Remus started visibly. 'But they were… older… than… They were older.' 'How old were you?' Remus licked dry lips. 'Four,' he admitted softly. 'Hmph.' The man's gaze flicked over Remus appraisingly. His next words chilled the blood in Remus' veins. 'Some can take it better than others.' Remus gratefully accepted the large, steaming mug of tea Arthur handed him, while he surveyed the small, dimly lit coffee shop in Liverpool. They wouldn't be noticed. 'I'm afraid I haven't anything to report,' Remus said apologetically, sipping the tea. He felt his shoulders drop a little as the warmth slid down his throat. 'It's not about your work,' Arthur replied, poking at the mound of foamed milk on the surface of a mocha latte. 'How do they make the milk do that, do you wonder?' he breathed in awe, then sampled the coffee, leaving a line of foam across his upper lip, which he wiped away with a paper serviette in delight. 'Bloody marvelous…' He glanced at Remus. 'It's about Christmas. We'd like you to come stay with us, Molly and I.' 'I can't.' 'Why not?' 'Too close to the full moon, for one,' Remus stated. 'Second, I can't abandon the ones that have chosen to at least stay neutral, if not on our side.' 'It's two days,' Arthur retorted. 'Do you think they'll begrudge you people who genuinely want you to spend the holiday with them?' 'I…' Remus' words stuck in this throat. He scalded his tongue on a gulp of tea, drunk to cover his confusion. 'They haven't got anybody, you see…' Arthur tilted the chair back on two of its legs. 'What if I were to promise they'd been seen to and provided with a bit of Christmas cheer?' he bargained. 'I can think about it…' Remus replied reluctantly. 'Harry's coming down from school,' Arthur said casually. 'Did I forget to mention that?' He smiled guilelessly. 'I'll lay odds that you haven't written him, have you? He'd really like to see you, I'm sure. Boy admires you a great deal, Remus.' Remus nodded absently, staring into the milky interior of his mug. 'I'll think about it.'

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'You're all he's got left –' 'That's not true!' Remus hissed. 'He's got you and Molly…' 'If you'll allow me to finish?' Arthur waited, with a censorious brow raised. 'I was going to say you're all he's got left with a connection to Sirius or his parents.' Remus sighed explosively. 'You do not play fair, Arthur.' Arthur grinned widely. 'Comes from having seven children. You pick up a thing or two.' 17 December 1996 I've often wondered what it meant that I survived receiving the bite and so many other children did not. I received the same medical care as they did. Actually, my medical care was primitive by today's standards. Thirty years is an awfully long time as far as medicine goes. Perhaps it is for the best for the children to die. Better to die than to live a life bathed in animosity, revulsion, and contempt. I've often said I would never wish this on my mortal enemies and I stand by that. One of Greyback's followers commented that some people can withstand being bitten better than others in regards to my own survival. Was I meant to be a werewolf? If so, it is possibly the worst joke in the cosmos. I personally do not find it very funny. Normalcy is what it is for me. Living on the perimeter of polite society is normal and has been for thirty-two years. I'm not entirely certain I would know what to do with myself if something else were to present itself to me. I've lived the majority of my life unencumbered by commitments to anyone else, and it has, by and large, proved successful. If one can count enforced solitude as a success. It has kept the people who would choose to associate with me safe from attack. I could decline Arthur and Molly's generous invitation to spend Christmas with them. My presence there will most likely be noticed by those who keep watch over such things. I do not wish to draw undue attention upon them. On the other hand, I haven't had a Christmas like they offer since… Since Harry was five months old. It is a gift. One that if I so choose to accept, means I shall push three others who share my predicament to the side in a fit of selfishness. So the question remains: do I spend the holiday with Molly and Arthur or assuage my guilt by declining and spending it with the other werewolves? Remus perched on the edge of the stone fence, gazing up at the sky. The moon floated heavy and bloated against the starry night. He felt feverish and shaky, like he usually did in the few nights before a full moon. He glanced over his shoulder at the faint sound of snow crunching under someone's shoes. Harry wound his way to the fence, his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat. 'Shouldn't you be in bed?' Remus asked in amusement. 'Father Christmas won't come if you're awake,' he chided. 'I'm a little old for Father Christmas,' Harry retorted. He joined Remus at the fence, consciously aping the older man's pose. 'I suppose you are,' Remus said wistfully. 'Never had much of a Christmas before I met the Weasleys anyway,' Harry said diffidently, a tone Remus knew well. It was one he employed quite often when he wanted people to think things didn't bother him. 'I do apologize for not being able to write to you,' Remus said suddenly. 'It's okay,' Harry replied with a shrug. 'It's not okay,' Remus said sternly. 'It is unfortunate, and you need…' He tore his eyes away from the boy and returned them to the moon. 'I would never try to replace James, of course. I could not. Nor would I try to replace Sirius,' he murmured awkwardly. 'Okay…' Harry twisted on the fence looking at Remus in confusion. 'It's just if you would ever need to seek out the sort of advice James would have given you, or even Sirius, you can come to me.' 'What about maintaining your secrecy?' Harry snorted. 'Use Dobby,' Remus told him. 'He'll know where to find me. Just don't…' file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

'Don't count on you to be able to reply right away,' Harry muttered, managing to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Remus hesitatingly reached out – hand darting out, then backing away several times, until he finally laid it on Harry's bony shoulder. 'It won't always be like this. And I will always be here when you need me, Harry.' Harry's shoulders hunched, whether in acknowledgement or discomfort, Remus couldn't tell. 'What do you know about girls?' Remus laughed, his head thrown back. 'Probably as much as you do.' 'I doubt that,' Harry scoffed. 'At least you're older…' He squirmed on the rough stones. 'What if Dad had a younger sister that you maybe liked…?' Remus gazed at him shrewdly. 'Are we talking about Ginny?' 'No… ah… I mean… Not… well…' Harry coughed and spluttered. 'I see.' Remus tipped his head back to gaze at the stars once more. 'Follow your heart,' he said at length. 'But be careful.' 'Yeah, that's not very clear,' Harry protested. 'I'm rather the wrong person to ask about girls, or women in general,' Remus mused. 'I can't talk to Ron about it,' Harry said in a rush. 'I would imagine not.' 'And Hermione would just want to talk it to death,' Harry sighed. 'You will know what to do when the moment presents itself…' Remus' eyes closed, recalling that first kiss with Dora under the mistletoe in Grimmauld Place a year ago. His eyes flew open and he looked down at Harry, who was staring at the snowcovered paddock pensively. 'Don't let the moment go,' he advised. 'Grab it with both hands, and don't let it go.' 25 December 1996 Rufus Scrimgeour has impeccable timing. I think Harry might have been onto something when he asked about her Patronus. That her Patronus has transformed into a… Into a werewolf… Harry does know what I look like during the full moon. Strange, considering hers had been a tiger before I ended our relationship. I do know parting ways had to have been painful, but I never imagined it had caused that much of an emotional trauma. I wish I had the courage the Sorting Hat seemed to find within me to go to Dora's flat and see if she did, in fact, spend the day alone. It probably wouldn't have been too difficult to persuade her parents that she had work to do, given her continued extended duties. But nobody should have to spend Christmas alone. Especially not her. Teddy crept down the stairs, holding his breath. If Harry or Ginny discovered him out of bed, they'd want to talk and the last thing Teddy wanted was to talk to anyone. He didn't want to be around people who smothered him with love. It felt like he was drowning in their collective affections. Affection he didn't want at the moment. He paused for a moment in the kitchen, and delved into one of the higher cupboards, stealthily searching for the bottle of Firewhisky that was hidden there. The floor squealed upstairs, and Teddy froze, one hand wrapped around the neck of the half-full bottle. When nobody came into the kitchen, he exhaled soundlessly, and tiptoed into the scullery. Teddy hoisted himself to the table that normally was used to fold laundry. He twisted the cork out and sniffed experimentally at the mouth of the bottle. The fumes made his eyes water, but he raised the bottle to his lips and took a tiny sip. The liquid burned his lips and tongue, and singed his throat, but he took a larger sip. It still burned, but not quite so badly as the first. After several more sips, the room began to spin slightly, and feeling bolder, Teddy slid off the table, bumbling into the windowsill. He managed to make his way to the tool shed, yanking the dangling chain to turn on the bare lightbulb overhead. He poked around idly amongst the tools and bits of rubbish, still sipping from the bottle of Firewihsky and found the keys to the motorbike hanging from a nail in the wall.

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Harry sat up in bed. 'Did you hear something?' he asked Ginny. 'No…' 'I thought I heard…' A roar ripped through the open windows. Harry vaulted from the bed and grabbed his glasses as he stumbled to the closest window that overlooked the back garden. The light from a single headlamp split the darkness, and the old motorbike wobbled out of the garden and around the side of the house, careening toward the lane. It wobbled several feet before it plowed into the fence surrounding their neighbor's front garden. 'Teddy!' Harry snatched up his wand from his night table and ran from the bedroom, then pelted down the stairs. He yanked the front door open and darted into the front garden, ignoring the clammy feel of dew on his bare feet. 'Teddy! Are you all right?' Teddy lay among the wreckage of the picket fence, gazing bemusedly at his godfather. Harry waved his wand over Teddy, checking for serious injury. Finding nothing save for odd bumps and bruises, Harry offered Teddy a hand. The boy stared at it in befuddlement, before grasping it, allowing his godfather to haul him to his feet. Teddy surveyed the damage, then began to laugh hysterically. 'I broke the motorbike,' he gasped. Harry's nose wrinkled at the fumes of Firewhisky that hung on Teddy's breath. 'You're drunk,' Harry pronounced severely. Teddy swayed on his feet. 'I'm not drunk,' he pronounced, just before he threw up in the neighbor's hydrangeas. A/N: Technically, the full moon was on Christmas Eve in 1996, but seeing as how JKR had Remus stay with the Weasleys during the holiday, I've "moved" the full moon to another day, in order to maintain consistency between HBP and this story.  

TWENTY FOUR – 2 May & 18 June 1997

Ginny met Harry's eyes in the mirror. 'What are you going to say?'

Harry shrugged morosely. 'I don't know.' He rubbed a hand over his freshly-shaven jaw, checking for stubble he might have missed. 'I'll have to check the motorbike, but I don't think he did any serious damage to it. Nothing that can't be repaired…' He set the razor in its stand and wiped his face with a towel. 'Can't say the same for the Dennings' fence.' 'How bad is it?' Ginny's brows drew together as she calculated how much it might cost to repair their neighbor's fallen picket fence. They could easily afford to replace the fence, but Ginny was far more concerned at the cost to their tenuous relationship with the neighbors. The Dennings had often viewed Harry and Ginny with more than a little suspicion since they moved into the house nearly nine years ago. They feared the attention Harry and Ginny could bring to their quiet corner of Godric's Hollow. Their fears proved to be unfounded, but it didn't stop the Dennings from looking to pin any disturbance on the Potter family. Harry heaved a sigh and squirted toothpaste onto the frayed bristles of his toothbrush. 'Remind me to pick up a new toothbrush,' he murmured off-handedly. 'I don't know,' he said, in reply to Ginny's inquiry. 'I don't know what I'm going to say. I didn't want to wake them in the middle of the night, and I'm going to go speak with them as soon as I'm dressed. Be proactive and ensure it's taken care of in the next few days.' He poked the toothbrush into his mouth and proceeded to brush his teeth. 'I was referring to Teddy.' Harry spat into the sink. 'I don't know that, either.' His expression grew grim. 'But he won't like whatever it is I do say.' He glanced through the open bathroom door at the alarm clock. 'How long until the children wake up?' Ginny bit her lip, trying to figure out how much longer James, Al, and Lily could sleep and still manage a nap later that afternoon. 'Thirty minutes or so…' Harry nodded. 'Brilliant. Let them make as much noise as possible.' 'That's a little mean,' Ginny observed. Harry strode into the bedroom and pulled a pair of jeans over his legs. 'It's a lot mean,' he corrected, his head popping through the neck of his t-shirt. 'He smelled like the floor of the Hog's Head last night.' file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

'Eww.' Ginny raised her arms over her head, twisting her hair into a loose knot in deference to the summer heat that was sure to blanket the valley later that day. 'Where exactly is he?' 'Sitting room sofa. It was as far as I could levitate him without being sick myself from the combined smell of whisky and vomit.' Harry thumped down the stairs, bypassing his godson, sprawled on the sofa, face on the edge of a cushion, a small waste bin angled under his mouth. He shook his head, wondering what was going through Teddy's head when he not only decided to go on a bender and drink the rest of his best bottle of Firewhisky, but to attempt to drive the motorbike in that state… It was enough to give Harry more than a few grey hairs. In the morning sunlight, the damage to the fence seemed much worse. The hydrangeas were bedraggled and splotched with sick. Harry ran a hand through his damp hair and resolutely marched to the front door of the painstakingly tidy house. XxXxXxX 'The boy is a menace,' thundered Severus, over the protests of the other members of the Order. 'Oh, don't be so melodramatic,' muttered Elphias Doge. 'Harry is hardly a menace…' Remus gazed at Severus over the tips of his steepled fingers. 'Did you bother to try and investigate who hexed whom first?' 'Are you insinuating Potter used Dark magic in response to Jelly-Legs jinx?' Severus retorted silkily. 'I'm insinuating you most likely handled the situation with your usual grace and finesse, flinging accusations and not allowing Harry to explain.' 'Your bias is even more pronounced than it was three years ago,' spat Severus. 'I realize Harry is capable to doing a great many things out of anger,' Remus corrected. 'But murder someone in cold blood?' He shook his head. 'No.' 'I'm more interested in discovering where Harry learned such a spell,' interrupted Kingsley. 'It's not something he'd find in The Standard Book of Spells.' The room went as quiet as if someone had cast a Silencing charm over the Order. Remus' mouth twisted up in an ironic smile. 'Yes, Severus,' he said softly. 'Where did Harry learn such a spell?' Severus' eyes narrowed and his lips thinned, but no reply was forthcoming. 'How did he manage to get his hands on your old Potions textbook?' Severus looked away, as if embarrassed. 'Were you hoping that someone else would find it? Malfoy, perhaps,' Remus taunted, his voice never rising above a murmur. 'That was exceedingly careless of you, Severus. To leave something with those particular spells in it lying where anybody could pick it up…' 'That's not what happened!' Severus spluttered, his preternatural calm visibly ruffled. 'Enlighten us.' Remus sat back in his chair, and waited. 'Dumbledore felt Potter would find some of the spells written in the margins useful. I knew neither he, nor Weasley, would have purchased a copy of Advanced Potion-Making. I also knew that when faced with a choice of one that looked as if a Kneazle had vomited on it and one that was less grubby, Weasley would choose the latter, even if it came to blows. His pride would allow for nothing less.' 'And you neglected to remove certain spells?' Remus scoffed. 'Bad form, Snivellus.' He pushed his chair back and stood. 'I bid you good evening.' He wrapped his worn traveling cloak around himself and strode into the street outside Kingsley's flat, slowing his pace, when he heard footsteps following him. Tensing, Remus carefully pulled his wand from the inside pocket of his cloak, and he stopped to study a ragged flyer taped to a light pole looking for a lost puppy. 'It's just me,' Dora said crossly. 'The Underground station to my flat in London is just up the street.' Remus inclined his head in the direction of the station. 'Would you like company?' He strove to keep the irrational hope from his voice. file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

Dora shrugged and struck off down the pavement, her head bent. Remus trailed behind her, unwilling and unable to let her walk unescorted. It's merely keeping an eye out on a fellow Order member, he tried to convince himself. It gave him an opportunity to examine the younger woman. 'You look well.' Liar. She looks awful. It was true. Her hair was unkempt and carelessly pulled back from her face. She looked even more wan than the last time he had seen her. Her face was paler; circles under her eyes were darker. Even her clothes were baggier than usual. It's just the stress… XxXxXxX 2 May 1997 I've often wondered how James and Lily would have reacted to Harry's teenage angst. If they would have been angry with him for using spells of which he had no knowledge of their outcome. Or would they have been disappointed? And to which would Harry have reacted the most? Anger or disappointment? I stand by what I said about Harry: I do not think he is capable of murdering anyone in cold blood. Knowing him as I do, I think he'd rather Disarm an opponent, then Stupefy them, instead of killing them. I do think he is capable of reacting without thinking of the consequences of his actions, however. I also believe once he realized what that spell could do, he felt a great deal of guilt over his actions. And as much as it pains me to agree with Severus, taking Quidditch away from Harry is probably the worst thing he could have done to him. He does have to own up to what he's done. And so will Severus. XxXxXxX Remus watched the door swing shut behind Harry. He could feel the eyes of the Weasleys on his back, as he kept his eyes glued to the door and repeatedly smoothed the front of his robes where Dora had rumpled them in her fists. Phoenix song wafted through the castle, its mournful melody ricocheting from the walls, filling the silence of the hospital wing. Dora sighed softly and wiped her hands over her cheeks. She moved to where Molly stood, watching Fleur gently dab ointment over Bill's ravaged face. Dora's eyes closed against the sight of Fleur resolutely facing her own uncertain future, then touched Molly's elbow. 'I'll be going,' she murmured. 'If you need anything…' Molly nodded, briefly gripping Dora's hand. Dora then trudged past Remus, staring at the floor. The small gap she made opening the door intensified the phoenix's mournful tune for a moment, before the door swung shut once more, muffling the song. Remus slowly became aware of Arthur standing next to him, gazing thoughtfully at the door. 'She's not being reasonable,' he muttered to the older man. 'She never has been regarding… this.' Arthur chuckled softly, a rather incongruous sound in the still hospital wing. 'Reason has little to do with it, Remus.' He nudged Remus lightly with his elbow. 'You'll never get another chance. And times being what they are…' Arthur glanced over his shoulder at Molly. 'You don't know what tomorrow's dawn might bring. For once in your life, Remus, you ought to think about what you want…' He clapped Remus on the back. 'Go on, then. At the very least, get some rest. The next few days will be a bit difficult.' Remus didn't say anything. He seemed rooted to the spot, but he found himself bidding Ron, Ginny, and Hermione good night, asking someone to appraise him of Neville's condition in the morning, and murmuring a farewell to Molly and Arthur. He wandered aimlessly from the castle, intending to Disapparate, and return to the farmhouse as soon as he cleared Hogwarts' gates. Instead, his feet acted of their own accord and carried him into Hogsmeade. Remus blinked in surprise, looking around, studying the buildings until he found the one where Dora lived. 'Now or never… ' He yanked open the door of the building, then darted up the stairs, climbing the many dizzying flights of stairs, pace increasing until he all but ran up the last flight. Panting, he began to pound on the door of Dora's small flat. When she didn't open the door straightaway, he assaulted it again. Suddenly, the door opened, and Dora's elfin face appeared, a pale, smudged oval in the darkened corridor. With great effort, Remus managed to pull the blow intended for the rough wooden surface of the door and avoid hitting Dora square in the nose. He stared at her for the merest second, before he blurted, 'Did you mean it?' 'What?' file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

'What you said in the hospital wing. About none of it mattering – the age difference, the werewolf issue.' Remus held his breath, waiting, hoping she hadn't finally given up, although he did deserve it. 'Yes.' 'Oh. All right then…' Remus exhaled in relief that he hadn't managed to turn it into complete disaster. He turned, and began to walk down the stairs, when a quiet voice halted his steps. 'Would you like to come in?' Remus looked up, and Dora took a step back into the flat, one hand gesturing into the room. He felt his throat close, but nodded, and walked into the flat, then closed the door behind him. XxXxXxX Remus quietly rummaged in the drawer of the scrap of a desk in the corner of the flat, searching for a quill. Even a Muggle ballpoint pen. A pencil would do. His questing fingers located a bedraggled quill wedged in the back of the drawer. He slid it out, grasped between the tips of two fingers. He then picked up the small bottle of ink and carried the lot to the chair he'd drawn next to the bed earlier – before he had joined her on the bed and kissed her. He picked up his robes from where they'd been carelessly tossed to the floor earlier, and dug his journal from an inside pocket, then stealthily flipped the pages until he came to the next blank page. Dora stirred a little in her sleep, and her nose wrinkled momentarily. Remus froze, the tip of the quill suspended over the bottle of ink until she subsided into slumber once more. He dipped the quill into the ink and lowered it to the paper. And nothing… Several times, he attempted to describe the actions of the previous hours, but he lost himself in a reverie of remembrance of how it felt to have her lips graze over the scars, to finally do what he wanted, and not what he thought he ought to do. The final moments of oblivion, where the sheer intensity was replaced by boneless languor. He could feel the blood still singing in his veins. His fingertips fairly vibrated with it. It had been enough to make him forget – albeit momentarily – everything that had happened that day. The journal slowly closed and he set it aside. Remus slid under the duvet, nuzzling the back of Dora's exposed neck, until she murmured sleepily and turned in his arms. He thumbed a lock of hair from her cheek, following it with his lips, the need to have her again becoming all too evident. She could sleep later. They could both sleep later. In the end, it was nearly dawn before Remus could manage to pull himself away from the temptations of Dora's body and let her sleep. He slipped his worn boxers on, then wrapped the cheery afghan that had slid to the floor during the night around his shoulders. He picked up the abandoned journal, and began to write, his thoughts disjointed and chaotic. XxXxXxX 18 June 1997 Dumbledore is dead… If I keep saying it enough, it might be real. Dumbledore is dead… It's so strange to think of him as dead. I had often wondered when I was a first or second year student if the man was actually immortal. He certainly seemed ancient at the time. And Dora… At this moment, I will call myself a fool for denying her for so long. At various points of my life, I've read Petrarch, the Decameron… Delved into Henry Miller and D.H. Lawrence from time to time… Yet none of them were able to adequately describe what I've experienced. Oh, they've depicted sexual intercourse in all its variations from the crude to the ephemeral. But their words in no way prepared me for this. I always found it odd that the woman's participation is construed to be the most vulnerable and referred to in such a way as to imply she is something to be had for the taking, like the man is a thief… Not that she isn't in a vulnerable position, but making love with an individual is rather like laying one's soul bare, and hoping against hope she doesn't laugh and point. I wish I could adequately describe it, but perhaps it's just as well that I cannot. I think if I could, I might ruin the entire endeavor. XxXxXxX

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Teddy's nostrils pinched at the scent of a traditional fried breakfast, courtesy of Harry. Fried eggs, bacon, sausages, grilled tomatoes, fried mushrooms, toast. Even black pudding, which Teddy knew both Harry and Ginny detested. Lots of tea for Harry and Ginny, chocolate for the children. Orange juice. His stomach roiled in protest at his plate piled with eggs, several rashers of bacon, sausages, and topped with a small mound of mushrooms, a couple slices of toast, crowned with a grilled tomato. 'May I be excused?' he asked faintly, fearing to open his mouth any further than necessary, lest he vomit all over himself again. Harry glanced up from his breakfast, noting Teddy's pale, ashen face, and nodded. 'Go wait for me on the sofa,' he replied. 'Would you like some tea?' He indicated the pot with his egg-laden fork. Teddy paled even further and frantically shook his head, lips clamping together, then fled to the sitting room. Harry heaved a sigh of relief and pointed his wand at the plate of black puddings. 'Thank Merlin…' 'Why'd you cook that if you don't like it?' James piped up. 'Purely for the effect on a nasty hangover,' Harry said smoothly. 'Huh?' James' forehead wrinkled in confusion. 'He's trying to teach Teddy a lesson,' Ginny told him. 'About what?' Lily wondered, pausing in the act of attempting to feed her stuffed bunny a mushroom. 'Staying up too late,' Ginny temporized. Thank you, Harry mouthed at Ginny. He didn't feel up to explaining Teddy's drunken revel of the previous night. He then wiped his mouth with his serviette, and tossed it to the table. 'Teddy and I will be outside,' he told Ginny. 'Will you be back in for lunch?' Harry grimaced. 'I doubt it. But do send out a sandwich or two for me, will you?' He pushed the swinging door open and stood next to the sofa. 'Come on, then,' he said to Teddy. 'What?' 'You and I are going next door. Where you will repair the Dennings' fence.' 'What?' Harry ignored Teddy and pulled him to his feet, pulling the boy to the door. 'The fence that you quite pulled down last night in the Dennings' front garden. You will repair it.' He led Teddy across the sun-dappled garden in front of the house and to the ruined fence of the house next-door. Teddy squinted in the sunshine, mouth falling open at the realization he was going to have to do it all the Muggle way. 'Why… Why can't you…?' He waved a hand in the hair, mimicking a spell. Harry didn't reply immediately, but set about organizing the new fencing and tools. 'Magic doesn't always solve your problems,' finally said. 'Sometimes…' He hefted a hammer in one hand, seeing the dirty bathroom tiles, covered with water and growing blossoms of blood floating on the surface, rather than the sunny valley. 'Sometimes magic only hides what's bothering you or it makes it too easy to not see the person on the other side of the hex.' 'I don't understand…' Harry shook his head. 'It's nothing.' Teddy massaged his pounding temples. 'You're making me do this because you're mad at me…' Harry straightened and glared at Teddy until he haltingly met Harry's eyes. 'Mad… a little. I'm more disappointed in you than anything else. I can't imagine what made you drink the remainder of my best bottle of Firewhisky.' 'I didn't drink all of it…' Teddy interrupted mulishly.

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'Right. There was enough for one good swallow,' Harry retorted. 'I'm shocked you could stand. And then you think it's a brilliant idea to take my motorbike out for a midnight spin, while you're so shitfaced you couldn't take a piss in a straight line if you had to. And to top it all off, Teddy, you destroyed the neighbors' fence in the process. So, yes, I'm somewhat disappointed in you.' Teddy's eyes flicked toward the pile of fencing. 'You can't tell me what to do.' 'I bloody well can,' Harry growled. 'You're not my father…' Harry drew himself to his full height. 'I promised your father the day you were born I'd help look after you. If I let this go with no consequence for you, Teddy, then I've let you down, and I've let Remus down.' He stooped for a fence post and set it a hole in the ground. 'Fill this in with the gravel, will you?' Teddy reluctantly shoveled crushed gravel into the hole around the post. 'It's not that I didn't want the responsibility of caring for you,' Harry began softly. 'I didn't want you to forget Remus. Nobody ever let me forget my dad. I figured the least I could do was try and do the same for you. If I let you put me in Remus' place, I was afraid you'd forget him.' 'Bollocks,' Teddy pronounced, stomping the gravel around the fence post. 'Absolute bollocks. If he and Mum loved me so much, then why did they have to do something so damn stupid and get themselves killed, eh?' 'Teddy, that's not what happened!' Harry said, stunned. 'It is,' Teddy maintained. 'Mum didn't have to go, and she chose to. She cared more about fighting than me.' He bent for another post, lugging it to the next hole. 'I don't want to talk about them anymore…'  

TWENTY FIVE – 21 July & 23 July 1997

Ginny drew her old hairbrush through Lily's hair, before gathering it into one hand. She set the brush on her small vanity, then deftly split Lily's bright hair into three strands, and began weaving them into a neat plait. Lily sat quietly on the vanity's stool, her small feet swinging several inches above the floor. Ginny swiftly completed the plait and bound the end with an elastic band, then gazed at the image of Lily in the mirror. Lily wore a dark blue pinafore, the rounded collar of her white shirt peeping over the edge. White knee socks and black bar strap shoes completed the outfit. Ginny felt tears prick the corners of her eyes, and she turned away for a moment, busying herself with straightening the vanity. 'Don't forget your cardie,' she told Lily. 'I don't want to wear it,' Lily protested. 'It's still warm!' Ginny fixed her youngest with a stern eye. 'Yes, I know. But I'd rather you take it and not need it, than not have it and want it later.' Lily's small brows scrunched together in bemusement, so Ginny merely said, 'Take it with you, please. Put it with your schoolbag by the door.' Lily glared at Ginny with a put-upon sigh, and began to walk out the door. One sock drooped halfway down her shin. 'Lily, wait…' Ginny knelt and pulled Lily's sock back into place, then nudged Lily to go down the stairs. The sock immediately slid back down to its previous location. 'Pull your sock up, Lily,' Ginny said with a bit of frustration. The socks are brand-new, for Merlin's sake. They shouldn't fall down like that… Ginny followed Lily down the stairs and into the kitchen, where James and Al were frantically shoveling cereal into their mouths, while Harry and Teddy watched them. 'Do you have to walk with us?' James whined. 'It's not as if Lily's going somewhere else for school,' he added. Harry's hand began a slow ascent to his nose, so that he might massage the sudden ache that took up residence between his eyebrows. He checked the motion, and instead wrapped his fingers around the sizeable mug of tea at his elbow. 'Yes,' he said shortly. 'It's Lily's first day of primary school, and we're at least going to take her to the school. You can walk ahead if you wish.' James slumped in his chair, glaring mulishly into his empty bowl. Harry looked down the table at Teddy, desultorily pushing pieces of cereal around his bowl. 'Teddy, you can stay here, if you like. We won't be gone very long. Have you finished packing?' Teddy shook his head. 'Why don't you go up and get started on that? Then when Ginny and I get back we can take you to the train.' 'Fine.' Teddy swiped his bowl from the table, sloshing milk over the edge. He all but dropped it into the sink and slouched from the kitchen. Harry then let his fingers firmly pinch the bridge of his nose.

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'It's just a phase,' he muttered to himself. XxXxXxX Teddy crammed the last of his belongings into his trunk, before he all but slammed it shut. The resultant bang echoed around the small room. Harry appeared in the doorway, arms held stiffly at his sides. 'Are you ready?' he asked quietly. Teddy nodded shortly, and waited for Harry to tap the trunk with his wand, lightening it enough for Teddy to haul it down the stairs. He wrapped his fingers tightly around the handle and dragged it noisily down the narrow stairs, the end of the trunk slamming into the risers. Teddy glanced over his shoulder at Harry, but Harry's face was stonily impassive. Teddy charged into the back garden ahead of Harry and waited, arms crossed impatiently over his chest. Harry walked past Ginny in the kitchen and she smiled sympathetically, hand reaching out to briefly squeeze his. 'It'll be all right,' she murmured. Harry paused and met her slightly worried eyes. 'I hope you're right,' he replied, then stalked into the garden. He held out an arm for Teddy to take. When Teddy didn't immediately grab Harry's elbow, Harry shot a look of disbelief at Teddy. 'Let's go, Teddy,' he huffed. 'You're not old enough to Apparate yet.' Reluctantly, Teddy slowly grabbed a handful of Harry's jacket sleeve. Harry looked at Teddy thoughtfully for a long moment, and an echo of something Remus had told him his third year came into his mind. 'You said your mum cared more about fighting than she did about you,' he said slowly. 'Yeah.' 'Your mum and your dad both died to give you a life,' Harry told him evenly. Teddy snorted derisively. 'Ha-bloody-ha. If she wanted to give me a life so badly, maybe you can tell me why she even had to go. She didn't, did she? She could have stayed home, all nice and safe. But no. She just had to run off and fight in some stupid battle.' He glowered at Harry. 'Don't try and guilt me into forgiving her. She was my mum. She was supposed to take of me.' XxXxXxX Remus glanced at the horizon, searching for the rising moon. His eyes darted around the clearing, looking for Matthew, Maurice, and Phillip. He felt a twinge of guilt about the three of them and attempted to repress it. He hadn't returned to live at the farmhouse since Dumbledore's death, preferring to stay with Dora in her cramped flat. He thought they felt he had quite abandoned them. Shrugging in resignation, Remus doffed his traveling cloak, and began to unbutton the cuffs of his shirt. He had divested himself of most of his clothing when a trio of people, muffled in dark cloaks emerged from the growing shadows. One of them shook the hood off his head and Phillip's nose lifted, tasting the air. He gave Remus a long look, and a wry smile flitted over the man's face. 'Deserted us for birds, eh?' Remus started, scraping his hand on the buckle of his belt. 'No,' he muttered. He couldn't help but add, 'Just one.' Maurice paused in the act of pulling his jumper over his head. 'Is she worth it?' Remus hesitated for the briefest of moments before he replied, 'Yes.' He tucked his wand into his cloak and waited, eyes closed for the inevitable, agonizing transformation, shifting restlessly from foot to foot. Easy… he told the wolf. Just a few minutes more… The wolf clawed at him with feral delight, anxious to run about freely in the woods. But the wolf desired more than that, and it manifested itself in an ache deep in his loins. XxXxXxX A cloaked and hooded figure appeared in the crags above Hogsmeade in the gloom of early morning. He carefully picked his way down to the High Street, staying within the shadows, until he came to a particular building, and tapped the door with his wand. It opened in silent admission, and the man soundlessly slipped inside. He lightly ran up the stairs, feeling the tug and pull of exhaustion at his limbs, but the anticipation of what – or rather who – awaited him in the small flat at the top of the stairs sent a surge of energy through his veins. Remus waved his wand at the scarred door, and it sparkled for a moment, then the doorknob turned of its own accord, and

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he went inside. He raised his trembling hands to his throat to unfasten the cloak, and let it fall to the floor at his feet, then toed off his shoes. It was only then that he saw Dora standing in the flat's tiny kitchen, moving with unusual grace between the stove and the table, clad in one of his older shirts. The early morning light shone through the worn fabric, clearly outlining her body. She'd rolled the sleeves past her elbows, and the hem hung halfway down her thighs. She didn't seem to have heard him, but Remus knew Dora was too good of an Auror to have missed his entrance. She turned her head at the sound of his approaching footfalls and smiled at him. 'Sit yourself down. I'll have breakfast ready in a mo.' Remus grunted in reply, but yanked a chair from the small table and dropped into it, propping his elbows on the table, eyes following her every move. She must have showered shortly before he arrived. Her hair was still clinging damply to her neck, and the scent of her shampoo made his nose twitch. Remus' hands curled into his bunched thighs. From his fourth or fifth year at school, he always on edge the morning after a full moon, and previous to this morning, had been blissfully unaware of exactly why. He fairly quivered with attempting to calculate how long he would be able to engage in polite conversation before he could have her. She placed a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of him, then took the seat next to his. She didn't talk very much, as she ate her own breakfast. It was as if she was aware of his mood. How could she not be? He was more than a bit surly, picking at his food, which was unusual in of itself. Normally, the morning after a full moon, he was ravenous. Remus' attention was on every move Dora made. He nearly came unglued when he caught her innocently licking a smear of jam from the side of her thumb in a mindless gesture that suggested it was a habit, rather than a provocative action. 'Tea?' Remus tore his gaze from the shadowed valley between her breasts, exposed by the opening of the shirt. He blinked uncomprehendingly at Dora, holding out the battered brown teapot. Fragrant steam wreathed his head and Remus coolly accepted the teapot from Dora and gripped the handle for a split second before he flung it across the room, spattering the wall with tea and broken crockery. To her credit, Dora's head merely cocked to one side and one expressive brow rose. Not caring about the waste of food for once, Remus swept both his and Dora's plates to the floor, then stood, looming over her. He gripped her upper arms in his hands, and hauled her on top of the table. The shirt's hem rose considerably when she was in a sitting position, Remus noticed, with more than a bit of grim satisfaction. One of his hands disappeared under the hem of the shirt, while the other gripped the table with such force, he thought he might have splinters embedded in his fingers. Remus slowly resumed his seat and looked up at Dora. 'No, thank you,' he managed to growl. 'I don't fancy tea just now,' he choked before his senses were overwhelmed by the scent of her. His head bent and he began to nuzzle the skin of her inner thigh, following the heady aroma. Remus snarled in impatience as Dora began to move in response to the onslaught of his lips and tongue. His arms wound around her hips, holding her still, triumphant in the tremors he felt under his palms. Single-minded in his task, he didn't feel the foot that rested lightly against his chest. Dora suddenly pushed him away, eyes bright and glittering with something Remus couldn't recognize. 'Oh, it's like that, is it?' she all but cooed, and slid off the table, padding toward him, adroitly avoiding the mess on the floor. One hand drifted to the side, and she picked up her wand from its place on the counter near the sink, and swept it at him. The buttons of his shirt slid through the buttonholes, and the shirt itself slid from his shoulders. His belt slipped from his trousers and slithered to the floor with a clatter. She ran her hand down his bare chest, nails raking over his pale skin hard enough to leave a mark. From then on, things were a blur to Remus. Stacks of books were knocked over, coffee table overturned. The small throw pillows from the sofa had been tossed in abandon about the flat. Even the curtains covering the one window were torn and hung askew. What clothing that had remained on their bodies after the initial rush, was soon ripped off and cast aside. He had tried at one point to drag Dora to the bed, but in the furious battle of wills between the two of them, they had merely slid to the floor in a jumble of bedding and pillows. Enough, the wolf howled, panting for the long-awaited release. Remus' hands locked around Dora's wrists, spreading her arms away from her body. He was mindless in his struggle to have her, blind and deaf to everything except that singular purpose. The climax seized him in an iron grip, leaving him gasping and shaking, reason and sense slowly returning to his fevered brain. He was dimly aware of Dora's legs wrapped around his hips, and of the self-satisfied smirk on her face. He wearily lifted his head, intending to mumble that they ought to try and make their way into bed, when he saw something on her shoulder than made his blood freeze. A single bite mark, each of his teeth perfectly outlined in her ivory skin. He pulled away, seeing for the first time her disheveled hair, the marks his hands had left around her wrists and thighs. The deep purple smudge on the slope of her breast and under her ear. Even her swollen mouth made him recoil in horror. 'Oh, God,' he breathed. 'Oh, God… I'm sorry…' He scrambled away from her, stumbling in his haste, tripping over the scattered books and furniture. He paused long enough to snatch his cloak from the floor, feeling for the wand inside its pocket, and darted from the flat, overcome with shame. file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

XxXxXxX Remus huddled on the bare mattress of his narrow bed in his London flat. He was exhausted, but unwilling to sleep, images of bites and scratches marring Dora's skin flashing through his brain. He shivered, despite the Warming charms he'd cast in his bedroom, and one of his shabbiest sets of clothing that had been left behind last autumn. His hands clenched around the edges of the cloak, drawing it closer to his body, effectively cocooning him. He grunted as something hard dug into his ribs. Frowning, Remus pulled the hard-edged object from the inner pocket of his cloak. It was his journal. He held in balanced in one hand, considering. He had no one else in which to confide. XxXxXxX 21 July 1997 What did I do? I nearly raped her, didn't I? I'm no better than Greyback. I do not dare attempt to imagine what might happen if I thought I could have a real future with her. I hurt her badly. What will happen in the next full moon? Will I go too far next time and take her against her will? Will I maim her? And what happens when she realizes that she's managed to find herself in a situation that she cannot control? She will come to resent me, even if she claims she will not. The desire to create havoc was beyond my control. This is not the kind of life I envisioned for Dora. Nor for myself. XxXxXxX He jerked at the sound of someone breaching the charms he had set on the door, ink splattering over the page. Remus launched himself from the bed, flattening himself to the wall, wand held loosely in his hand, ready to send a hex or jinx at the unknown intruder. Dora strode down the short corridor, empty hands held out, so Remus could see she was unarmed. The handle of her want peeped out from the back pocket of her patched jeans. Remus' hand dropped and his wand fell to the floor. 'Go away,' he said harshly. 'Why?' Dora hovered just inside the bedroom door, one hand reaching for Remus' hand. He pulled it away as if he'd been burned. 'I hurt you,' Remus said flatly. 'Now do you see why I'm too dangerous to be with you?' he hissed accusingly. Dora bit her lip and glanced down guiltily. 'It wasn't you.' 'It was me,' he insisted. She shook her head. 'I didn't set out to seduce you,' she allowed. 'Well, not consciously.' Remus snorted in disbelief. 'Oh, all right,' Dora sighed. 'I was going to seduce you after breakfast.' She crossed her arms defensively over her chest. 'I'm not upset that it turned out the way it did,' she maintained stubbornly. 'Because it proved I can handle whatever you can throw at me.' Remus' head shook from side to side slowly. 'No, you can't,' he beseeched her. 'I saw the marks and bruises.' Dora lifted her chin. 'Nothing I can't heal.' She tilted her head to the side. The marks he'd left on her neck were gone, as were the abrasions on her wrists. 'I did leave one thing,' she said impishly, pulling the neck of her t-shirt aside, revealing the bite mark on her shoulder. 'Marking your territory, if you will,' she added lightly. Remus gaped at her . 'And if you'll stop being such a self-centered git, you'll recall I was an active participant.' She eyed him appraisingly. 'I'll lay odds that you haven't so much as glanced in a mirror, either,' she told him. 'No…' Remus raised a hand to his hair, and ran it through the thick strands, as if he were trying to restore order to it. Dora rolled her eyes and pulled her wand from her pocket and lazily waved it in front of his face. A small hand mirror appeared and floated before Remus. Three parallel scratches ran from the side of his neck, disappearing into the threadbare fabric of his shirt. His mouth was still a little puffy, and a dark purple smudge marked the base of his throat, throbbing with his fluttering pulse. Slowly, her fingers worked their way down the buttons of his shirt. There was no allure in her actions now. Dora gently lifted the shirt from his shoulders and worked it off his arms.

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'So?' she asked softly. Remus studied the reflection in the mirror, twisting and turning a bit. His back stung with the movement, and he carried the mirror into the small bathroom, his back to the mirror over the sink. Bright pink welts and scratches crisscrossed the alreadyscarred flesh. A few were outright gouges, just beginning to scab over. They were too regular to have been inflicted by shrubbery. He traced the deep tooth marks in his own shoulder and let the mirror fall to his side, suddenly wearier than he ever had been. 'It's too much of a risk,' he said in one last attempt to argue. 'Everything's a risk,' Dora countered. 'My parents, who didn't even have half the issues you and I do, consider their marriage a risk.' 'I could…' 'You could. But I could get hit by a bus tomorrow, and it would be a moot point, no? Do you want to spend the rest of your life constrained by what might happen?' Dora tugged the shirt over Remus' unresisting arms and proceeded to do up the buttons. She rose on her toes, pressing her lips to his. 'Come home with me,' she urged, against his mouth. Remus' gaze was fixed to the floor between the toes of his shoes. He wanted to say no, needed to pull his hands from hers, but instead, found himself nodding in assent. XxXxXxX Remus stood numbly next to Dora in a drab Ministry office, finding himself repeating a lot of improbable words. Taking a ring from his trouser pocket and slipping it over her finger, then watching in near disbelief as she slid a plain band on his own. Inwardly cringing as her parents witnessed their union. Signing his name to a registry, flinching a little as his name flared briefly, signifying the completion of a magically-binding contract. Dora clutched his cold hand in her smaller one, posing for a requisite photograph. Her face glowed brightly in the flickering light, as the bored Ministry official began to intone his rote congratulations, choking them off as he realized just to whom he was speaking. They left, Remus glancing over his shoulder, as if he expected someone from the Werewolf Registration office to apprehend and arrest him for marrying Dora. He knew he should have felt something. Joy, perhaps, recalling the rather blissful expression on James' face when he married Lily. He should have felt something other than this all-encompassing fear that he had just made a horrible mistake. He had proposed to Dora in a moment of vulnerability the previous morning, still reeling from the aftereffects of the full moon and coming to terms with what it could possibly mean for him to have any sort of long-term relationship with her. Remus could scarcely breathe. He had to find some way to leave, and make her understand it was for the best. And with the war coming rapidly to a head, it wouldn't do for him to live openly with her. He could offer his services to Kingsley and try to infiltrate the werewolves once more. He would have to ask Kingsley to sneak into the marriage registry and make that page of the registry book vanish before Voldemort and his Death Eaters made their next move. Some Gryffindor you are, the wolf mocked savagely. Coward. 'Yes, I am,' Remus murmured. 'Did you say something, darling?' Dora asked. Remus shook himself imperceptibly. He attempted to smile at her, and squeezed her hand. 'Let's go home, eh?' XxXxXxX 23 July 1997 Nymphadora Lupin. A name, I fear, that will live in infamy. Anything she might accomplish will be overshadowed by her marriage with me. She was so jubilant this morning. Pale, but jubilant. She hasn't looked well the past few weeks. Refused breakfast more often than not. Claims exhaustion. And yet… And yet she looks… Radiant is the only word I can possibly think of to describe it. It is completely at odds with the shadows under her eyes and the nausea. Perhaps it is merely the initial elation of marrying me. And everything else is just stress.

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It is not seemly to take pride in her wedding ring. It's hardly anything, really. But I rather foolishly spent all I had to procure it for her. As for me, my newest accoutrement feels odd on my hand. As if it weighs me down and links me to her until my natural life span should end. XxXxXxX Teddy slumped in the memorial corridor at Hogwarts. A seventh-year prefect had whispered the password to the portrait hole at dinner, and Teddy took the opportunity to slip away during the feast. Heretofore, his father's journals had been comforting, even familiar. Teddy was well aware of Remus' struggles to make sense of his feelings for Nymphadora. His entire life he'd been told how much his father had loved his mother, and vice versa. For the past year, he had appreciated Remus' honesty, as it gave him a chance to discover who his father was underneath the legend of the man who had been a war hero. But now he didn't know who his father was. Teddy felt his father had been a man of honor and integrity. And if this was true, how could he have entered into a marriage that was built on nothing more than a moment of weakness?  

TWENTY SIX – 28 July 1997

Zachary Williams settled into his usual chair in the staff room. Minerva McGonagall insisted on weekly staff meetings, just to keep a casual hand in. He didn't mind them, for the most part. They were useful to a point. Students' progress was discussed, problems presented and solutions offered. It helped connect their lessons, especially when a particularly recalcitrant child demanded to know why they needed to know something. Nina Sinestra often helped Neville Longbottom plot when to cultivate and harvest specific herbs based on astronomical cycles. Neville, in turn, could explain to Williams exactly why certain herbs were more potent when harvested during this phase of the moon, as opposed to another. It made them all better teachers. Except for Binns, Williams thought with a grimace. Damn ghost's been teaching too long… needs to go haunt some nice library… Oftentimes, the meetings weren't too long – less than an hour in most cases. But the look on McGonagall's face forced him to suppress a sigh. It was what he privately termed "the Headmistress has got something in her teeth and won't let us go until she's got it figured out" look. The rest of the staff trickled into the room in fits and starts until they were all seated or sprawled in the various chairs and sofas around the staff room. Promptly at ten, McGonagall began the meeting. 'Let's get started, shall we?' It wasn't a question. 'How are your lessons progressing?' Gareth Shacklebolt went first. His fifth-year Defense class was a bit behind, but it wasn't something that would throw off the rest of the schedule. The sixth-years were having difficulty with non-verbal spells, so he needed to shift a few things around to spend more time on it until they managed to demonstrate a level of mastery with the skill. Rafael Moreno needed more books from the Restricted Section for his seventh-year Arithmancy class project. Neville's classes were going as well as could be expected, considering the Venomous Tentacula was teething. Greenhouse Four was off-limits to students for the time being, until it had finished. And so it went, each teacher giving McGonagall a quick update of their classes. There was a slight lull in the conversation until Neville spoke up. 'I'm a bit worried about Teddy,' he began. 'As am I,' added Flitwick. He brandished a teacup in McGonagall's direction. 'The boy's marks have gone steadily down from the end of last year. And he was one of the best students in my class of his year.' He wasn't the only one with concerns. In fact, all of Teddy's teachers expressed unease about his marks in their classes, not to mention his behavior. The meeting stretched to lunchtime, and McGonagall dismissed them, saying they wouldn't reach a solution that day. As the teachers filed out of the staff room, her attention honed in on the Potions teacher. 'Zachary, could I have a moment of your time?' Williams' stomach protested at the delay, but he nodded. 'Of course.' He took the chair next to McGonagall, wondering what she was about. She might be old, but she's cagier than roomful of goblins… 'I was wondering if you could speak to Lupin.' 'I could try, but I'm not sure I'll get anywhere with him.' Williams shifted his books and scrolls. 'I don't know his family very

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well…' 'That's exactly why you should be the one to approach the lad,' McGonagall interjected. 'Most of us here taught his parents and godparents. His parents were members of the Order. His father was his godfather's mentor, of a sort. And if I recall, you started school the autumn after the war ended.' 'Yes.' 'So you have no personal connection at all to Remus or Nymphadora Lupin, nor Harry or Ginny Potter.' McGonagall smiled thinly. 'You're neutral, you see.' 'But he's not in my House.' 'Do you really think that matters?' She leveled a look at him that could freeze the Black Lake. 'No, Professor McGonagall, it does not. I just thought…' Williams sighed resignedly. 'I thought Teddy might be more comfortable speaking to someone he trusts.' 'Have you done anything to prevent the boy from confiding in you?' 'Not that I'm aware.' 'The thing is, Zachary, Lupin's afraid we're going to send a multitude of owls to his godparents and grandmother. Or that anything he tells us will be colored by our memories of his parents. He feels anything we might have to say about his parents will be viewed through the rose-colored glasses.' Williams snorted softly. 'Told you that, did he?' McGonagall wheezed in soundless laughter. 'He didn't have to. When you've done this as long as I have, Zachary, you learn a few things. Lupin's second year, he would have been in the greenhouses with Neville, talking the man's ear off. He hasn't set foot in those greenhouses, save for his classes. But he always finds an excuse to spend extra time in your classroom.' 'I'm just helping him scrape together an Acceptable on his O.W.L.' McGonagall stood. 'If that was all he needed or wanted, he'd spend a little extra time in Callie's classroom, as well,' she scoffed. 'I expect a report on the matter before the meeting next Saturday, hmmm?' With that, she swept regally from the staff room. xxxxxx The scent of her lingered in the back of his throat. It was different. Heavier. Muskier. Richer. It was so faint; he hadn't noticed it in the dash of the last full moon and their marriage. He'd noticed the signs, of course. They all had. Her mother had pointed out how pale she looked on the morning of their wedding. Nausea arose at odd times of the day. He'd dismissed it all as stress. As had she. But that scent. It had finally dawned on him where he'd encountered it before. Lily. Right before Harry's birth. It had driven him to the edge of madness, to the point where he'd had to excuse himself for fresh air for a few minutes, lest he forget himself. The wolf had loved the idea of a pregnant woman. The scent of Lily had been so thick in the air the last few weeks of her pregnancy, Remus couldn't help but wonder how Sirius and James missed it. He bent his head toward the curve of her neck and shoulder, and inhaled deeply. There it was. The underlying scent of her, hovering underneath the scent of her soap. It was still faint, and yet entirely unmistakable. But Remus was not a man to rely on his senses alone. He was a man who relied on the calendar. Who believed in the calendar. He carefully slid from the bed and stepped to the small calendar, quietly pulling it from the wall. He settled in the windowsill, flipping it back idly. There it was in June. June the twenty-fifth. A circle around the number. And one in May, then April, March, February, January… But July? She was two days past the day where she should have circled the date. To Remus, coupled with the information his senses file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

gave him, it was all the confirmation he needed. He slowly replaced the calendar, and began to pace the small flat, throwing glances to the bed where Dora slept peacefully. In spite of the warm sunshine streaming into the room, Remus shivered. For the first time in fifteen years, he desperately wanted James to be alive. Just so he could ask if James had been this terrified to discover he was going to be a father. Remus sat down hard on the small sofa, cold sweat glazing over his skin. He fought the wolf's triumph, battering it down by strength of will. Werewolves didn't mate. Werewolves didn't breed. None had ever done so before, so therefore no one knew just what might happen should a pregnancy continue to its conclusion. But Remus had an idea. That the fetus might react the same way he did to a full moon, once the pregnancy advanced far enough. It was as if he'd plotted to murder her with his bare hands. Bile rose in the back of his throat, and Remus bolted for the bathroom, jabbing his wand at the door to muffle the sounds of his retching. He would let her sleep for now. xxxxxx Remus stroked a light forefinger down the side of Dora's cheek. 'Dora…' he said hoarsely. 'Wake up…' She winced away from the insistent finger tracing down her face. 'I have tea,' he cajoled. Dora's face scrunched and she stretched, rubbing her hands over her face and through her matted hair. She held a hand out for the mug of tea Remus offered, and he pressed it into her palm, fingers curling around the handle. Without opening her eyes, she sipped the tea, frowning in dismay. 'There's something wrong with this tea,' she rasped. 'How so?' Dora cracked open an eyelid and glared balefully into the milky liquid. 'This is decaf.' Remus started guiltily. 'What makes you say that?' Both eyes were now open and glowering at him. 'It tastes different,' she stated. 'You're imagining things,' he said smoothly, burying his nose into his own mug, inwardly swearing. Remus had often scoffed at the idea of someone being able to tell the difference between regular and decaffeinated beverages before he all but needed a better method if introducing caffeine to his bloodstream than by drinking it. It appeared Dora was one of those kinds who survived off caffeine, as well. He set his mug on the night table and settled on the edge of the bed. 'We need to talk.' Dora's grumpy expression shifted into wariness. 'The last time you said that, things didn't end well.' Remus' left hand twitched, the weight of his wedding band feeling more pronounced. 'I thought perhaps you might stay home tonight.' Dora lowered the mug. 'Why?' Remus sighed. He knew she would instantly take offense at being told to stay home, Auror that she was. 'You haven't been feeling well,' he offered, when all he wanted to do was scream, Because I think you're pregnant! 'I'm fine,' Dora said shortly. 'It's going to be dangerous,' Remus began. Dora surged from the bedding, standing over him in a ratty oversized t-shirt. 'I am an Auror,' she stated flatly, cutting him off. 'This is what I do. And a little nausea or exhaustion isn't going to keep me from doing my job.' 'But you could…' He stopped himself. She didn't know yet. Perhaps it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if she were to… He left the thought unfinished.

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xxxxxx Kingsley huddled around the Burrow's scrubbed wooden table. 'We'll split up, and seven of you will take Polyjuice so you'll look like Harry.' He glanced at them solemnly. 'If you want to back out, now is the time to do it.' 'I woul' like t'…' 'Shut it, Mundungus,' Mad-Eye growled. 'You're doing it and furthermore, I'll have you paired with me, so you can't weasel your way out of it, you bleeding coward.' Kingsley cleared his throat. 'As I was saying, Hagrid will take Harry –' 'Fleur and I will go together,' Bill interjected. 'Fine,' Kingsley sighed. 'Arthur, you've got Fred. Lupin, George. Tonks, you'll take Ron, and Hermione will go with me.' Hermione whimpered a little, paling even more than she already was. 'We'll be on a thestral, Hermione,' Kingsley assured her. 'The rest of you will be on brooms, except for Hagrid, who's got the motorbike.' 'And us,' Bill said lightly, inclining his head toward Fleur. 'We'll need a thestral.' 'Harry's not going to take this very well,' Hermione stated evenly. 'That's just too damn bad,' Mad-Eye swiftly rejoined. 'If he wants his pretty face to remain pretty he'll do as he's told.' Remus sidled around to Dora. 'Use one of the thestrals,' he whispered. 'The broom will be fine.' He felt sick dread in his stomach, wavering as he was between wanting to protect her and the baby, and teetering on the verge of hoping she'd miscarry. What kind of sick arsewipe does that? he demanded of himself. Remus cornered Kingsley. 'Switch Ron and Hermione,' he suggested. 'Ron is perfectly capable of defending himself,' Kingsley returned calmly. 'And Tonks is a brilliant Auror. Mad-Eye trained her.' He gave Remus an odd look. 'Get your head back where it belongs, Remus. The only thing that matters is getting Harry safely to the Tonks'. Your only job tonight is to keep the Death Eaters away from Hagrid and Harry.' The grooves bracketing Remus' mouth deepened. But you don't understand… Mad-Eye checked his watch. 'Let's get this over with.' Remus wound through the milling members of the Order and found Dora. He tugged on her sleeve, and she looked up at him. His hands cupped her face, thumbs stroking over the smooth line of her cheekbones. 'Don't do anything rash,' he cautioned. She grinned. 'Don't do anything stupid, you mean,' she said cheekily. 'Do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred pounds,' she teased. He rested his forehead against hers with a sigh. 'Don't do anything ill-advised.' He kissed her then. Less than a seduction and more than a mere brushing of his mouth over hers. 'The same to you,' she rejoined. 'I look peaky in black.' 'Anything to keep you from looking peaky.' One more kiss. 'I love you.' She laid a hand against his face. 'I love you, too.' xxxxxx Remus stood in the back garden of the Burrow, staring up at the sky, waiting. The seconds and minutes felt endless. Harry, Hagrid, George, Kingsley, Hermione... They had all returned. He had tried to convince Kingsley to switch Ron with Hermione. Hermione was much cleverer than Ron. Remus had far more confidence in her abilities to defend herself against Death Eaters, especially when his wife's life was at stake. If Hermione had been with Dora, they would have returned by now. It was unkind, he knew, but there was no place for kindness now. file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/There'll%20Be%20Bluebirds%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:23]

Kingsley paced, his eyes glued to the starry sky, searching for a hint of blue that would signal a Portkey, a flash of moonlight glinting from the hide of a thestral, or even the disturbance of air left in the wake of a broom's passage. Hermione stood to one side of him, as still as a statue. Remus could see her pulse flutter at the base of her throat. She murmured softly, breathily. Her eyes were wide, dark pools in the ashen smudge of her face. Next to Hermione loomed Hagrid, fidgeting anxiously. From the corner of his eye, he saw Harry and Ginny take a position on his other side. Their hands were twined tightly together, as if they drew strength to face what might have happened to Ron from each other. Unconsciously, they shifted closer and closer together, until her shoulder bumped into his arm. As for himself, his thumb twisted the wedding ring around his finger. Over and over the simple band rotated, giving rhythm to his soundless prayers. Oh, God, please… Something streaked across the horizon, and presently, Dora and Ron swooped to the ground. Remus didn't spare a thought for Ron, but made for Dora. She lurched off the broom and half-fell into his arms. 'Remus!' Remus' arms wound around her waist. He pressed his face to the juncture of her neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply, knees nearly buckling in relief. Under the tang of fear and worry, it was there. The back of a hand brushed over her stomach, pressing slightly just under her navel. Warmth curled to his hand, warmer than the surrounding flesh. Under the rush of his own pulse, he could hear Dora nattering about how Ron had skillfully Stunned a Death Eater. It didn't matter. All that mattered was she was back. Alive and uninjured. He pulled away slightly, hands around her upper arms in an iron grip. 'So what kept you? What happened?' He willed himself not to shout, but he could nonetheless hear his voice ringing in the Burrow's back garden. 'Bellatrix. She wants me quite as much as she wants Harry, Remus, she tried very hard to kill me.' Dora's face hardened. Remus got a fleeting impression of a lioness protecting her cub. 'I just wish I'd got her, I owe Bellatrix. But we definitely injured Rodolphus…' She began to shake and Remus gathered her closely. 'Then we got to Ron's Aunt Muriel's and we'd missed our Portkey and she was fussing over us…' Her voice caught slightly. He nodded. It had been close. Too close. And he knew once Bellatrix heard about the baby, very little would stop her pursuit to eradicate what she viewed as unnatural. xxxxxx 28 July 1997 To lose Alastor Moody just a month after losing Dumbledore is a terrible blow to the Order. It was a horrible loss for Dora – he was her mentor in the Aurors – constantly pushing her to be better. It won't do to dwell on the deaths, but the list grows lengthy. And it shall increase much, much more in the days to come. I wonder if there might be a point where it won't make us feel like the earth has shifted under our feet. On the other hand, I am not certain at all that I would want to be in such a state. Rather diminishes our humanity, does it not? I was very proud of Harry tonight. He has proven himself to be his father's son in far more than his looks and his Patronus. Just as James would never turn his back on Wormtail (despite Sirius' and my reservations), Harry will never believe Hagrid would have it in him to betray him. One merely has to look at the reactions of Hagrid where Harry is concerned. Harry's always held a special place in Hagrid's heart and I sincerely doubt Hagrid could live with himself if he knowingly betrayed a confidence. And unlike Wormtail, Hagrid is capable of feeling remorse in greater proportions than his actual transgressions demand. I believe Dora is carrying my child. Our child. And she does not realize it yet. Perhaps it is too early for her to suspect. By my rather crude calculations, she is not quite a month gone. Not that I know a great deal about the timing of the conception of children, considering it was on the list of things I would never do. All of her symptoms: the nausea and exhaustion can be contributed to the current situation in the magical community. I find I am of two minds about the pregnancy. On one hand, I already have beyond what I ever hoped. I have Dora, who is far more than willing to cope with my affliction than I am. Having a child of my own is indescribable. But… There is a reason why werewolves choose to live apart from society. Why they choose to live in isolation. Because of what we are capable to doing during a full moon. And no werewolf, as far as I know, as ever conceived and birthed a child. Is my furry little problem imprinted on my DNA, lurking in my very essence to pass down to a child as I would give him or her my name? There are too many unknown factions for me to feel any sort of joy in the knowledge of my child.

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It's a fallacy to even consider bringing a child into the world, especially when we might lose the war, or it might last for years, as the last one did. xxxxxx Teddy trudged into the empty Potions classroom. 'Professor,' he mumbled. 'Good evening, Teddy.' Williams gestured to the table in front of his desk. 'Shrinking Solution tonight.' Teddy sat at the table with a put-upon sigh. 'Make sure your daisy roots are cut into small, even pieces…' 'One rat spleen, a peeled Shrivelfig, sliced caterpillars, but make sure they're sliced thinly, and only use a tiny bit of leech juice,' Teddy droned in monotone. 'Don't add the leech juice unless I'm watching you,' Williams told him. Teddy made a small noise in the back of his throat. 'Something you'd like to say, Teddy?' Williams asked mildly. 'No, sir.' Williams picked up a stack of sixth year quizzes, and began to grade them, keeping one eye on Teddy's progress. 'Lovely job on the daisy roots, Teddy.' Teddy grunted, his attention focused on the caterpillar he was slicing. Williams waited until all the ingredients were assembled and in Teddy's cauldron. 'Just a drop of leech juice, mind,' he cautioned. Teddy scowled and with exaggerated care, let a small drop of leech juice fall into the cauldron. 'Am I allowed to light a fire under the cauldron, Professor?' 'Yes. Let it simmer for a while.' Williams ran his quill down a column of answers, marking several of them wrong. 'Is someone bullying you, Teddy?' Teddy shook his head. 'Everything all right at home, then?' 'Yeah.' Teddy gathered his silver knife and took it to the sink in the corner to wash it and his sticky hands. 'Of course it is. My grandmother only got rid of me for most of the holiday.' 'I highly doubt that.' 'She's just like…' Teddy bit his lip. 'It doesn't matter.' 'It does if it bothers you like this.' 'She's just like my parents,' Teddy rumbled. 'Didn't want to bother with me.' 'And how did you come to this conclusion?' Teddy sat in his chair and tilted it back on its rear legs. 'I was only two weeks old when they died. They both left me to die in that damn battle.' 'You're not the only orphan from the war, Teddy.' 'I'm the only mongrel,' Teddy scoffed. 'How many other half-breed werewolves are out there?' He shoved the chair back and snatched his bag from the floor. 'They were stuck with me. They didn't want me.' He stalked from the classroom, leaving a perfectly brewed Shrinking Solution behind, throwing acid green lights on the low, dark ceiling of the dungeon. xxxxxx Some dialogue is taken from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Scholastic paperback edition, pgs. 76-77.  

 

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