a\n: this is post-battle, and Remus lived. It's very AU besides that, but the Weasleys are obviously Ron, Hermione, and their kids, and the Potters are Harry, Ginny, and their kids. This first chapter is very general, but vague in some spots. It leaves gaps, even craters, in the plot...it's a bit of a test-run, and I hope I get enough reviews to want to continue. Enjoy, and let me know if you are curious enough to want more of the story.

They lived just a little ways from England; a couple blocks down from the Potters, and four houses down from the Weasleys. They had much enjoyed their quiet life, never finding anyone fit to replace her mother; his love. Like every morning, Remus stumbled from his bedroom to the kitchen, bleary-eyed and yawning, opened the window to let fresh air enter, and then began brewing his tall mug of black coffee with a splash of chocolate. He haphazardly grabbed his coffee when it was finished, swishing a gulp of it onto the counter, staining the wood brown for a moment before he pulled out his wand, and set the color of oak back to normal. Remus sat and gazed out onto the pastures in front of him. They owned too much property for their own good, but it didn't hurt Remus to own something valuable for once in his life; something, dare he say, luxurious, for his child to grow up in. Remus knew Mella wouldn't be up for a while still; she had become accustomed to sleeping late, only staggering downstairs for an hour at best when Hermione came bearing gifts of chicken noodle soup, and the love to ask how she was feeling. She would fall asleep quickly, agitatedly, and once she was in her normal, fitful slumber, Remus would have to carry her upstairs, long brown hair dangling over his arms, and him worrying if he was pulling it or not. He figured he never did, because she never woke. Her sleep was fitful, but sound; agitated, but deep. It scared Remus half to death. Every time he laid her in bed, and pulled the covers over her head, he'd stop for a moment, mumbling a prayer, or an 'I love you, princess', before resting a hand gently against her neck. His hands were always cold, and shaky, so he'd blow hot air on them first, rest one against her skin, and once he felt her pulse, he'd turn off her light, and leave quickly; quietly. Shutting the door behind him, sometimes he'd want to clear his thoughts by rushing down stairs and emerging himself in a good book; and other times he would just sit outside her door, as silent tears rolled down his cheeks, hitting the cheap, blue carpeting of their floor. Could he once have simplicity? Normality? But he cleared his head, ready to slap himself for being ungrateful. This was normality. Having a child, or becoming close to someone in general, and bad things happening was normality. Caring about someone so much that you never wanted to lose them, was normality; it was something everyone went through, and Remus knew he would much rather have loved and lost, than to not loved at all. He knew he had endured it once, and he would...God...forbid, endure it again. Remus could, though, turn that sentence around, the constant thought echoed in his mind: would he be able to endure it again? Once he cleared the thoughts he wondered every night, he would shut his book or wipe his tears, and walk to bed. Usually, he could fall asleep knowing he was being foolish. She was always still there in the morning...but sometimes he couldn't help but wake in the middle of the night, laying outside of her door with a pillow and small blanket; the wolf protecting his own. He'd leave early in the morning, back to his bed so in her sleep daze of waking up, she wouldn't trip over him. This, though, was just a precaution: he knew it was a rarity for her to leave her bedroom. In fact, he wouldn't see her all day unless he went up to her room first, which he normally did. He'd bring her snacks that she'd simply nibble at, and he'd bring her extra pillows because her others one would become flat with her frame sinking into them for so long. Mella wanted to see her father; she wasn't a brat who ignored him at all costs, she just had no strength anymore; her weakness was so strong, walking a few steps she would normally run, just over-exerted her. She wasn't the same, and hadn't been for a long time.

Remus pushed all those thoughts aside for now, though, ad re-grouped himself. It was a new day, and he would much rather focus on getting his daughter up, and prepared for the strenuous day ahead: shopping for her schools supplies, and then her first doctor's appointment since the inception of treatment. Remus thought a silent prayer, then went upstairs to wake his child. Bright sunlight was shinning through her cracked blinds, and he opened them just a tad more before sitting on her bed. Crisp, pressed sheets crinkled beneath him, and he pulled the covers off her face gently.

"Mel, it's time to get up. It's already 9:30."

His daughter stirred, and he rested a hand against her shoulder in attempt to rouse her to understand she wasn't dreaming: it truly was time for her to pull her bum out of bed so they could begin the tasks they had known they had at hand all week.

"Dad, please, 5 more minutes."

"Ah, ah, ah, child, last time you asked for '5 more minutes,' you fell back asleep for 30 more minutes and we were late."

Mella knew she was fighting a losing battle, so rubbed her eyes and began pulling herself up to a sitting position. Remus jumped to help her, and she fell back on her weight.

"Dad, please don't 'jump to my rescue', I can do this...alone, okay? I can sit up."

"Not too quickly, you'll be sick," he warned, before backing off and letting her bring herself to a sitting position, leaning only slightly on her pillow. After a few moments, she yawned, then stood, slipped on her slippers, and followed Remus downstairs.

"What would you like for breakfast?"

"Sausage and eggs,please. Oh! Don't we have that new bacon as well? Slice some of that, Dad!"

Remus grinned. Full moon was approaching, and although he was worried how it would affect her health, he was pleased to see the wolf in her still held an appetite. Although he couldn't STAND meat this time of month, he eagerly began cooking up sausage, bacon, and a slice of ham for his little girl. After the bacon was brought to a sizzle, and the sausage to a light brown, he flopped them onto a plate and added an egg and cheese in with the ham.

"How did you sleep?" Mella asked abruptly, and Remus stopped mid-whistle to reply.

"Fine, why? How did you fare the night?"

"Alright. No nightmares."

"Well, that's wonderful, darling."

Mella always had vicious nightmares of her first transformation, and the first time she watched her father transform. Though, lately they had been assuaged by a simple potion Remus had learned to brew after Hermione offered up the idea.

"Dad, I heard you outside my door again lastnight."

"How do you hear me? You're always dead to the-"

The tea kettle whistled furiously and Remus was thankful it had spared him the awkward eye contact him and his daughter had embarked on. She shot her head down quickly, staring into her lap, and Remus mentally kicked himself. For quite some time there was silence as he finished her breakfast preparation and poured her tea, but finally he sat down next to her, and vowed he wouldn't ignore her any longer.

"Look, Mel. This is hard, but we're going to get through it...we don't have to shy away from those...words. When I was first bitten, I was awoken everyday for a week in the hospital, to my mother sobbing, and the only coherent words that I ever heard leave her mouth were ones like, 'dying'. They scared me to no end, but I learned to embrace them, because I knew by hearing them, I was still alive. You will get through this," he rested a hand on her's, entangling them in a fatherly grasp. "You're strong. You've got my blood, and I've endured those words."