Ted jumped inside his skin at the sound. It came from the window, and Ted looked to see that it was just an owl delivering him a letter. He stowed his father’s drawings away in the shoebox and crossed to the window. When he opened it a regal snowy owl swooped inside, dropping the letter on Ted’s desk before looping once around the room and coming to land on the windowsill, where it perched and sat. Ted recognized it as Victoire Weasley’s owl, Mercutio. Why on earth she’d named him that, Ted didn’t have a clue.

One rainy afternoon in April, Remus was returning to the Gryffindor common room after full moon and he came in from the portrait hole to find James, Sirius, and Peter all snoring as they slept soundly over their homework. He shook his head, but he was smiling. He crossed over to them, and was about to wake them up when he noticed a very large book that James was now using as a pillow. It was the title of the book that caught Remus’ interest: Animagi.

Even though the moon was a waxing gibbous, the cloudy night meant that the skies had little light to offer to the dark grounds. Luckily there was a lit torch on an iron bracket on the outside wall just below the window. He caught sight of the shadow moving across the stretch of grass within the dim light. It did not move into the pool of illumination offered by the torch’s flame, but its silhouette was cast upon it, and it was unmistakably the figure of a woman. 
(A/N: Anything you recognize is from the US version of HP and the PoA)

Remus, who was not eating nearly as much as the others were, picked up his wand and began drawing in the air.

“What’re you doing?” Peter asked before popping a cream puff into his mouth.

“It’s a drawing of our path from Gryffindor tower to here,” said James.

“It’s perfect,” said Sirius when Remus had finished his rough sketch floating in midair.
(A/N: anything you recognize is from the US version of HP and the PoA, or based on it)

He could sense the anger and hurt radiating from her as she headed not for the staircase to the dormitories, but for the window. She walked right past him as she did so, still unaware of his presence. He turned in his chair to watch her flop down on the window seat, and folding her arms while she glared out the window. After a few minutes her gaze softened, and he thought he could see—though perhaps it was a trick of the moonlight—tears glistening in her emerald, almond-shaped eyes.

He looked up and saw…the moon, full…a perfect circle in the sky….

It was not long before the worst conclusion towards which he had been sluggishly groping was confirmed.

His very breath and heart both stopped cold as a mournful howl filled the night air, like the blade of a knife being plunged slowly into its victim.

Werewolf….

This time, Remus did not flinch at the sound of the name. This time, no one flinched, save for Peter. This time, it was different. This time, it didn’t matter if no one said the name or not, because the wrath of Voldemort had just touched his own personal life for the first time…the war had spilled its blood onto his family…he would never fear to utter the name again.

Sirius got up, went to his trunk, knelt down, and opened it. After digging around in it a little, he said, “Ah. Here’s one. It’s fairly recent. Taken just this past Halloween.” He handed it to Remus, and Remus saw a small girl with mousy brown hair done up in crazy pigtails who seemed to be relishing in...transforming her actual face into several scary monster faces.

“What on earth is she doing?”

“Oh, I should’ve warned you,” Sirius laughed. “She’s a Metamorphmagus.”

As Remus made his way with Marlene, sneaking through the dark underbrush, he began to feel not just a knot in his bowels. While the knot quickened his breath and made the acids in his stomach flutter and churn, he felt another sensation…a sensation of closeness to his own body. A voice he did not recognize kept whispering softly, comfortingly, in his ears, You might die tonight…you might die tonight….

“You can Apparate out, if you want, and find Lily,” said Remus. “I’ll go on ahead.”

James looked from the depths of the cave, to where the hole in the anteroom ceiling used to be. Remus could tell he was torn, his face twisting in anguish. Then he shook his head, and with resolution and a deep shuddering breath he said, “You’ll need a hand, I think.”

She held herself upright, smiled at everyone, and continued her made-up, wayward ballet step down the aisle, tossing white rose petals from her basket, leaving them in her wake. She even dared to try a few twirls, and only stumbled slightly once. And when she did, she simply straightened herself out like before, smiled at everyone, and continued on her merry way.

As Remus watched Nymphadora go through her flower girl paces, he felt his heart glow despite his troubles, and thought she was the most adorable thing he had ever seen in his life.

She drew a sharp intake of breath, and bent slightly while she swayed a little on the spot. Softening completely, Remus caught her arm and led her into the sitting room, where he helped her onto the couch. “Thank you,” she muttered.

.... “Better?”

Lily nodded. “Physically, yes.”

“What’s…that supposed to mean?” Remus inquired uneasily.

“James has gone missing,” said Lily.

“I love chocolate!” Nymphadora squealed. She accepted his present and threw her arms about his neck before he could stop her.

“Oomph!”

“Thank you, thank you, Mister Lupin.”

After recovering from his initial shock, Remus smiled a little more widely, wrapped his arms around the child and returned her hug. “You’re quite welcome,” he said quietly. “And…Happy Christmas.”

Sirius relaxed visibly.

“How do you feel?” James asked, lowering his wand.

Sirius swallowed. “Not…different….” He looked at Dumbledore.

“The secret is inside your soul now, Sirius,” said Dumbledore. “So I would say, the fate of the Potters rest in your hands, but actually, in a way, it quite literally rests…in your soul.”

They stood in silence a moment, both of them examining their shoes. Then Nymphadora suddenly raised her head with a tiny gasp, and Remus raised his in turn to look at her: this time the girl was smiling even more broadly.

“I’ll bet when their little baby Harry grows up, he’ll look just like his daddy,” she said.

“But with his mother’s eyes,” Remus told her, unable to keep the grin from spreading across his own face.
(A/N: quote on the Potters' grave is from HP and DH)

He slipped in through the front door, and just around the corner to his left off of the foyer was the kitchen, where he could now clearly hear bangs of cupboards and the loud rattle of dishes. He was a bit nervous now because his parents’ wedding china was in there somewhere, and it was a rather beautiful set that he admired. He pushed the door open cautiously and there on the floor, on its hands and knees, digging through a bottom cupboard, was what appeared to be a small child dressed in faded khaki pants torn at the knees.

Before his very eyes it seemed, Ramirus shot up like a weed. As time passed sleepily, Ramirus’ legs and arms sprouted outward, bit by bit, until he was growing into a lanky frame that was uncannily like his brother’s. He’d inherited the bibliophilia...that Remus had inherited as well from their parents, not to mention Remus’ taste for chocolate. When Remus compared photographs of himself from when he’d been a boy to Ramirus as he grew, they were the spitting images of each other—of their father, but both with their mother’s warm brown eyes.

“Mister Lupin!” she laughed fixing her smiling indigo eyes on Remus. “I thought that was you! It’s me, Mister Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks! Remember?”

Remus...merely smiled to show that he did indeed recognize her.

“Miss Tonks, please!” snapped Kwubsley. “This is a court case! I thought Alastor said you were one of the best in his group of trainees?”

“Did he? Oh, wow, I didn’t think...Oh. Erm…sorry. Please, continue with the proceedings, sir."

Remus considered him a moment, and it was only that he really saw for himself the famed lightning-bolt scar on Harry’s forehead, beneath the thin veil of his jet-black bangs—the mark of Voldemort’s attempt on his life all those years ago. And despite this, he could not get over seeing James and Lily’s son...he’d seen that picture in the paper of him with Gilderoy Lockhart, but newspaper photos never compared to the real thing. Nevertheless, he did a good job of not letting his excitement show. He calmly went back to breaking up the chocolate....

He felt the change ripple across his body, and when he looked down, he saw that his skin was as black as pitch night. He’d put on his black school robes, and his hair was black too. Now all he had to do was stick to the shadows, and the only thing that would stick out would be the whites of his eyes, for he’d turned his eyes black too.

The he dropped to his knees and forward onto his hands so that he was down on the leaf-carpeted forest floor on all fours. He nearly had the crazy intention of transforming right then and there and going on the hunt for Sirius with his lupine nose as his guide—if only he could.

And he seemed to be looking for something, hunting about in the grass. Remus watched as he came to the base of a lonely tree on the grounds. Coming around the other side of it though was the dark shape of another four-legged creature. When that and the cat bumped into each other and leapt back in surprise and alarm, Remus got a good look at what the mysterious creature may be, and it sent a chill up his spine when he found it to be extremely canine.

Remus hastily excused himself from the High Table and very discreetly left the Hall. He felt Severus’ eyes on him as he departed, but he did not care. Once out of the Great Hall, he turned left, in the direction he had seen the orange speck streak, followed by the black streak.A/N: Wuthering Heights quote is from Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights, pg. 1.

He leaned in closer. “Listen: Nym-pha-DOR-a. Hear how it rises and falls, almost like a bounce in a happy step or a skip?”

Nymphadora raised her other eyebrow, this time with something like fascination.... "Really...? I still don't like my name but...maybe you've made it a bit more bearable."


(A/N: Heathcliff's quote is from Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights and Silver Kiss is by Anette Curtis Klause)

“It scares me to think there are still people out there who could become another…another V-Voldemort.” Unlike Ted, Victoire had some trouble saying the name, like most of her family did. Harry however had insisted that Ted use the name, and he had insisted it so strongly he’d practically hammered it into Ted’s head. To put it simply, he’d been extremely adamant that Ted not refer to Voldemort as You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named so help him Godric Gryffindor.

Then he remembered that yesterday—Valentine’s Day—had been not only a day for all to celebrate the joys of love, or exhibit a lack thereof, but also Nymphadora’s birthday.

Hermione’s lip trembled and she seemed on the edge of tears. She tried to hide her face, which moved Remus even more to pity. He discreetly conjured a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it wordlessly to her. She accepted it and dabbed at her eyes. But, it seemed, as much as she tried to hold them back, the tears gushed out followed by a cascade of chest-chokes and small sobs and hiccups.

Remus noted that his eyes were grey like Sirius’ too, and that he had one dragon-tooth earring. He knew that Zane had no Auror business down in Hogsmeade, so he had come specifically for the reason Remus knew he had. He didn’t know how he knew—he supposed he just expected it, subconsciously, after what had taken place on his birthday.

“...I’m sorry, it’s…the moon….” He gestured vaguely to the crescent in the sky. “Makes me crazy. Loopy....”

Nymphadora giggled. “I thought it was just the full moon that made you crazy.”
 

...then something grabbed his attention by the very throat.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were not alone.

There was a fourth member of their number now.

A dot labeled….

“Peter Pettigrew”?

There could be no mistaking it though: aside from the bald patches—no doubt caused by stress—the coloring, the teeth—they were unmistakable markings: this rat was Peter. He’d know him anywhere.

Then he caught sight of Harry’s expression: he was looking from Severus, to Sirius, to Remus, and back to Severus, and then he set his face. He crossed the room and blocked the door, the only way out. He even extended a hand to either side of the door, gripping the frame, bracing himself for a physical struggle. 

The roaring started small, as if from the bottom of a well, then grew louder and louder, until it split through Remus’ brain, making his knees buckle. The pain in his stomach shot through him, more violently than it ever had before. All those months of being caged in by the Wolfsbane Potion—the beast was angry.

Harry sighed. “Well, to be honest, I’ve been putting my energies into finding out who jinxed you.”

Ted’s eyes popped. “At the Auror Office?”

“Of course.”

Ted stopped and gripped the handle of the trolley. “When were you planning on telling me this?”

“Well, I’m glad you kept the compass: seems to me you could still use it.”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Do I still look lost to you?”

Sirius grinned, and though it was wicked, it was wicked with the old Sirius shining through. “As a cat in a paper sack.”

Remus looked up at her, into her eyes of ash and snow, and returned the reassuring squeeze she had given his hand. “I hope you’re right, Liane. That one hope is all I have.”

Yves paused in his otherwise incessant pacing and looked over his shoulder at Remus with a hopeful expression. “Will you help me?”


“Help you what?”


“Form an alliance with Greyback?”

"...I’ll say it again, Liane, that I love you, but at this point, I’m afraid it’s either me or him...."

“Tonks…?” Sirius emerged from the kitchen into the front hall and his face cracked into a wide grin. “Is that little Nymphadora?”

Nymphadora put her hands on her hips. “I don’t go by that anymore, you berk! Or didn’t Remus tell you?”

Remus exchanged wary glances with Nymphadora, who was biting her bottom lip.

Finally, Sirius turned away from the fire and kicked the chair aside again. “IT’S NOT FAIR!” he bellowed. “IT’S NOT FAIR AT ALL!”

“I was wondering…what you might know…about what women want…in a man?”

He paused, his ears pricking up at a disturbance that came through the ceiling, one that he alone naturally (or preternaturally, rather) could pick up.

It was Harry shouting angrily at Ron and Hermione.

“Well that would be tragic,” said Nymphadora, snuggling into the pillow. “Not just because she would leave him, but the fact that she would let something like that come between them, that she would stop loving him just because he had lycanthropy.” She paused, and then said, “But surely you don’t think that would ever be the case with someone like you Remus?”
 
 

Nymphadora furrowed her brow. "Who?" She took a sip from her own cup.

Remus lowered his voice dramatically. "Igor Karkaroff." 

Nymphadora jerked her arm away before he could have a better look. “It’s nothing, Remus. I got away, and you didn’t bite me. Let’s not make an issue of this, please?"

Ill fate had taken away the child Sirius almost had with Aurelia, along with his best friend, had taken away the father Harry had, but perhaps in the grand scheme of things, if they could just see this war through, maybe there could be a chance for the both of them yet to have again what they had lost, if only a small piece of it.

Sirius’ voice cracked on the last word, and then died in his throat.

Remus bit his lip, his mind drawing a blank.

And then Sirius said, in a very small voice: “Remus…I’m afraid I’m going mad.”

“To Harry, and his wily tongue,” said Sirius, grinning.

Severus lowered his eyes to the table. “That boy has no hope of learnig Occlumency. I don’t think I’d want to teach him anymore even if he hadn’t wandered into one of my worst memories.”

“Remus, just so you know—if I don’t make it…my will’s in the drawer of the writing desk in the drawing room, and…look after Harry as best you can, would you?”

As he played, he snuck glances at his godfather during pauses, and over the course of the song, the recognition seemed to emerge like a sunrise across his face. He was very still, and as the notes flew off the strings like birds rising up in the dawn, it seemed to Ted that a spirit of sorts was spiraling downward and descending to be with them all.

“And you have found love in Nymphadora Tonks, yes?” Albus held him with his bright blue gaze.

“I have. She has…made me happier, I think, than I’d ever dared to hope.”

“Well, I wish you both very well. But….” A sadness crept over Albus’ brow. “I hope you will not begrudge me then for what I am about to ask of you.”

“I know it’s been hard,” he said to her quietly.

“Yeah, it has.” She swallowed. “But…you should know: it isn’t because of Sirius’ death that I’ve been having trouble with my metamorphosing.”

“You don’t even know what his mission is.”

“I have a good idea. Anything to do with forging ties with Voldemort and his ilk is not something to be encouraged. Unless of course you’re on Voldemort’s side.” Remus raised his eyebrows. “Are you on Voldemort’s side, Ramirus?”

“I’m on nobody’s side,” Ramirus answered coolly. “Except mine. I’m on my side.”

Its light lanced through the red haze and shone so bright and beautiful that Remus, for the first time perhaps in a long time, felt love-struck by it, even as a glimmering thought of Nymphadora clung to his brain.

Perhaps it was a trick of the firelight, but Remus thought they were deviously judging him, like wolves looking out from the hidden branches in a thicket, contemplating some large, cloven-hoofed prey.

“Now, tell me, Lyca, as honestly as you feel comfortable,” he said to her, looking her directly in the eyes with a mixture of concern and no-nonsense, “What exactly is going on between you and Fenrir?”

As they bundled the wood and piled it up with the rest though, they entered the main gallery and were met with thick silence and many staring eyes.

The only real sound was the palpitating of Remus’ heart. Lyca stepped closer to him, and Conrí and Cymbelina clutched his robes discreetly.

Then Greyback broke the pressing silence as he stepped out of the crowd.

“So it’s true,” he said.

“So what, you expected to come here and find me all dewy-eyed at the sight of you and just throw my arms around you, after what you’ve been putting me through?”

“What I’ve been putting us through,” Remus growled.

Nymphadora’s eyebrows knitted, and then she slapped him hard across the jaw.

“Rammy,” Remus moaned, pressing his forehead to his little brother’s cold and clammy one. “Rammy, don’t die…please…I’m so sorry…I tried…please don’t die….”

Remus staggered for a moment, and then worked to contain his swiftly manifested anger at being in this man’s presence. “Wormtail?” he half-choked. “What are you doing here?”

“That’s right, Lupin,” Greyback whispered. “You had it right. Kill me. Give into that animal instinct to rip me to shreds. Free the wolf. You can’t hide from him forever. He’s a part of you.”

Ian jumped and looked around, fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweater. “Oh. Hello,” he said in a small voice. “Who’re you?”

“I’m an astronomer, like you,” Greyback lied. “I just love the moon when it’s full, don’t you?”

“Erm.” Before Ian could really answer, Remus ran up from behind.

“Ian! Get back in the house! It’s a trap!” he shouted.

Remus stuck his hands deep in his trouser pockets, a vindictive mood seeping in like black ink on his heart. “Do you still think about her, Severus?”

“Who?” though Remus knew he knew.


“Lily.”
 

The words reverberated around Remus’ head and heart like a Muggle gunshot, hit him with such a force that caused an exclamation of denial to automatically erupt from his throat upon Ginny’s utterance of those awful and strange words.

He noticed that she was clutching something in her hand: it was the winter rose he had given her: it was still blooming bright scarlet, unwithering.

“You’ve kept it?” he whispered.

Nymphadora nodded. “I couldn’t let it go.”

Remus felt his heart ache a little as he managed a nervous smile. “I couldn’t either.”

He reached up and stroked the side of her face, cupping it in his palm as she leaned into it with a contented sigh. With her own arms laid across his shoulders she asked him, “Now, Remus, be honest: is the wedding going to bother you? I mean…are you…having second thoughts...?"

...it has been determined that a Ministry summons be issued to Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks, with the purpose of annulling aforementioned marriage....

Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister
 

Remus glanced at Nymphadora and sadly watched her expression change to one of confusion at the outrage in this strange woman’s face, so intently trained on her. He could see the discomfort that colored her cheeks in the form of a blush.

“Do you mind not staring at me like that, ma’am?” she asked, annoyance lacing her tone, though she otherwise remained as polite as could be.

The mother appeared to be quivering, clenching her jaw. Finally, she hissed, “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Hermione double-checked her watch, perhaps as a way of fidgeting without seeming like she was fidgeting but instead merely checking the time. “You know, I should probably mention that Harry’s not going to be at all pleased to have six of us turn into him.”

Bill’s lower lip quivered. “Mad-Eye…” he whispered.

Remus let his hand fall away and stooped to collect what he could of Mad-Eye’s broomstick, gnarled like he had been.

At least they wouldn’t go home entirely empty-handed.

“That’s not what I mean!” Andromeda snapped. “I mean about the consequences of having a werewolf for a parent!”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“I think you should have that fetus tested, once it is a fetus that is.”

“Tested for what?”

But Remus answered before Andromeda did, a hollow revelation dawning on him:

“Lycanthropy.”

“No, Tonks. I’m not coming back this time.”

The trees began to thin, and Remus came upon a small and quaint village, and the rain faintly dripped off the roofs of the small huddled houses. In the middle of the town square stood a war memorial, and as Remus wandered hopelessly past it….

James and Lily…and Harry….

He had stumbled his way into Godric’s Hollow.

“Dora, please know that I am so sorry….” His voice rose scarcely above a whisper, and he bowed his head in his shame. “This is my fault—all of your pain, it’s all my fault….”

Remus and Ted’s eyes met again as Remus lifted the rim of the goblet to his lips, and he gave him a look that said, You might as well get it over with, as he only knew too well from experience.

Ted sighed.... “Listen, that isn’t the real reason I thought we should have them for dinner. I have…something to tell you.”

Lee leaned towards the main mike, licked his lips, and began: “Good evening, witches and wizards, that is, those of you that got the handouts—wink, wink, nudge, nudge—and welcome to our first broadcast of Potterwatch...!"

Remus felt Nymphadora bite back a retort, but he made one of his own. “Is that what this is? I said his name, and up you appear? Like daisies?”

“Good way to track Order members, innit? But oh…this is just too good that I’ve finally got you. After all these years…I’ll have my vengeance on you for the sake of my miserable father. Your blessed parents paid for it, and now…it’s your turn.”

Antonin pointed his wand.

“If I could just have some air,” he grumbled.

“Argh, not channeling Sirius’ spirit again, are we?” she retorted after him, and he snapped the back door shut behind him as he went outside to putter in his mother’s garden, which was growing sleepy for the coming autumn.

Pressing his hand in hers and stroking it with her thumb, Nymphadora whispered, “I think now the baby can kind of hear us, hear our voices I mean, when we talk. That’s what the book said it would be able to do now, anyway.”

“Well then,” said Remus, kissing her again in her white hair, “let’s talk.”

Nymphadora laughed softly. “Come here you,” she invited, patting the spot on the sofa next to her.

Remus did as she bid, but not before removing from beneath the tree a parcel he had hidden behind it.

 And then he saw it—though at first he thought he was hallucinating from his weakness and injuries—the image and splendor of a silver doe, bright as the full moon in the dark, and wandering through the wood.

 “They found Wormtail’s body in the cellar doorway below. The silver hand that You-Know-Who had given him…it’d strangled him to death.”

But this time, he and the wolf ruled the night together, as though they had come to a reconciliation of sorts, and the wolf was walking at his side as an equal, rather than overruling him like a vicious tyrant.

And Remus recognized the pale, pointed face and long, greying brown hair through which he had so often run his fingers once—

Liane Géroux. 

His mouth went dry.

His heart stopped.

No. She couldn’t be here.

He’d told her not to come.