1 May 1998

Remus bit his lip as he stared out of the nursery window, and up at the darkening sky. He frowned, unable to shake the suspicion that somewhere, something—something—had gone wrong. Sliding his pale hand into his cloak, Remus reflexively fingered his wand, dimly contemplating whether or not its use was necessary.

Sighing heavily, Remus turned around and padded softly across the threshold, towards the crib in the center of the room, barely distinguishable through the darkness of the hour. And there, inside, lay his son, all of two weeks old, gazing up at him with his round, gray eyes. At the sight of his father, Teddy gave a longing wail, squirming impatiently, and Remus's lips twitched as he reached into the crib and scooped the little boy out, gently smoothing the wisps of green hair upon his tiny head.

"Hello," Remus murmured. He pressed his lips to the infant's forehead. "What're you still doing awake, Teddy?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

Remus swiveled around.

His wife was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning lazily against the door frame. Smiling, she shuffled forward and shook her bright pink hair out of her eyes.

"Mum'll have our heads if she finds out we're still awake," Dora chuckled, reaching up and clumsily patting her husband's cheek. "You know how touchy she's been these days about us getting enough sleep. I reckon we should get to bed."

But she made no indication of moving.

"I like this," Remus muttered, after a moment, half-smiling as he gazed out of the window once again. This time, the feeling of unease that had been plaguing him earlier, before his son and his wife had arrived upon the scene, seemed so far away, almost as though a figment of his imagination. "I like it when it's quiet like this."

"It's rare in this house," Dora laughed, turning around and taking a seat upon the windowsill. Then, she leveled her cheek to the cool glass and closed her eyes, smile fading slightly. "Nothing's ever quiet anymore."

Remus grimaced, shifting Teddy into a more comfortable position. "It'll be all right, Dora," he said quietly. "We'll be…we'll be all right. It won't be much longer, I promise."

Dora simply shut her eyes more tightly, as two large tears slipped down her cheeks and into her lap. "I know," she said thickly. "I just—I miss it, Remus. I miss Daddy, and how Mum used to be—she's so quiet now, I just can't—I can't take it! I haven't heard from Kingsley in weeks, and Mad-Eye's gone, and—and Harry—" she broke off, burying her face in her hands.

Remus was silent for several moments. Then, tentatively, he sat down next to his wife on the windowsill and laid a hand on her knee. For a long while, nothing was heard but for Teddy's soft breathing, punctuated by his occasional snuffle.

Finally, Dora sniffed, "I'm sorry…I know I'm being stupid. I—I shouldn't be so emotional—"

"There's nothing stupid about being emotional, Dora," Remus said softly. "You've lost a parent, your mum's lost her husband…and neither of you has had any time to grieve." He paused, trying to phrase his thoughts in a way that wouldn't upset her. "Just…for now…try and be strong, for Andromeda."

Dora gave a quick nod, looking up and meeting his gaze at last. Her eyes were very bright. "Remus…you don't know how many times a day I thank Merlin you came to your senses."

Remus looked down, a familiar knot of shame twisting in his gut. "Dora—"

"No, Remus," she interrupted, moving closer to him. "I reckon I'd have driven myself insane if you hadn't come back."

"I think that ship sailed a long time ago," Remus joked gruffly, and Dora swatted his arm. Slowly, Remus got to his feet and lowered a now-sleeping Teddy back into his crib, beaming as the baby's hair turned bright pink, the exact shade of his mother's.

"I love you, Remus," Dora whispered, standing up and resting her chin on her husband's shoulder as, together, they watched their son curl up in his tiny cot.

"Dora, you know full well I love you, too," Remus said exasperatedly, slipping an arm around his wife's small waist.

"I know," Dora giggled, and without warning, she flung her arms around Remus's neck. "I just wanted to hear you say it."

Remus rolled his eyes.

Still smiling, they leaned forward in unison and kissed. It was soft and gentle, as though both were afraid that anything even the slightest bit more overbearing would break the other. But it was warm and comfortable, and in that moment, both were blissfully unaware of all else; Death Eaters and Voldemort—what did they matter, when they had this?

After what seemed to Remus like a pleasant eternity, they broke apart, their arms still around each other and their foreheads still touching.

"Few more months," Remus mumbled, eyes still closed, willing himself to believe it. "Just a few more months, I swear. And we can finally be a proper family—no wars, no Vol—"

"Remus," Dora warned.

"Oh—right—You-Know-Who. It'll all be over in a few months. Neither the Death Eaters nor the Order will be able to hold out much longer, anyway."

"I'm willing to wait, Remus," Dora sighed, gently holding her husband's face in her hands. "I don't care when this is over, as long as it is, eventually. And we can raise our son in a world where we won't have to fear for his life, every time he leaves the house."

Remus stared at her, his stomach clenching slightly.

Suddenly—and as if on cue—something large and silver came gliding in through window. Graceful and gleaming, the familiar lynx landed lightly upon the windowsill. Remus and Dora stepped forward simultaneously, eyes widening. Then, the Patronus's mouth opened wide.

And Remus felt his heart plummet to his feet, as the loud, deep, slow voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt informed them, "Hogwarts. Now. Final battle."

Author's Note:

SORRY IF YOU GOT THIS EMAIL TWICE. Something was wrong with the previous link, so I had to post the story again. Anyway, this is for Lolaaaa's "Last Kiss" Competition.

Ari