A/N: Haven't done anything for ages, and this has been sitting around for just about an equal amount of time... hope you like!

It was near Christmas when Remus had first met the old man.

The old man was quite tall and cut a striking figure, and he had happened to be walking past his house in the moonlit snow as Remus himself was making a snowman on the street. "Hello again, Remus!" the stranger had genially said to him over the gate, a grin flashing on his face, one hand reached out in greeting and another, more abashed hand scratching the white hair on the back of his head. "How old are you now … and why do you look so worried?"

Remus backtracked slightly, staring at him warily in the dark of the evening. The man faltered, grin disappearing. "What's the matter?" he murmured, puzzled.

"Mummy told me not to talk to strangers …" Remus said with a slightly apologetic, but nonetheless scared look. "But I'm 5 years old," he quickly clarified. "Are you a thief?" he asked politely.

"I'm not a thief," he said, chuckling ruefully. "I … I'm actually on my way home," the man said sadly, his eyes downcast.

Remus frowned this time. "Who are you?"

"My name is Ed Luther. My friends call me Eddy. I'll see you soon," the man replied, his already croaky voice becoming even hoarser. He stepped forward, intending to ruffle his hair, but Remus flinched, confused and wary at what he said.

Then the boy's eyes widened in fear, head filled with fears of kidnapping by madmen, and he turned around, ducking past Luther's arms and bolted down the street towards the forest. Luther shouted for him to stop, and after a while, Remus could hear his squeaky shoes on the snow struggling to keep up.

He rounded the corner and stared at the familiar village square. He swiftly planned to himself to run around the big tree, then round the pub, then back home so he could avoid the strange man and get home safely, and all without his parents noticing – he could finish the snowman in the morning.

But that wasn't going to happen, he realised dumbly as he stopped and stared at the large tree he intended to run around, and thought that the old man must have had a sidekick of some sort that was now approaching him menacingly.

And he looked suspiciously like a wolf.

"No … please …" he stammered, stepping backwards. There was a moment's silence as Luther skidded to a stop just shy of the corner, Remus's eyes stared into the werewolf's, and for just a moment, both boy and old man thought fleetingly that he might go away. Then Luther while trying to get closer slipped loudly on the ice.

The werewolf snarled at the noise and swiftly pounced.

Remus screamed in the werewolf's snout and scrabbled to get back up but found himself pinned against the ground, too terrified to even move at the sight of the teeth, the slobber and even the smell of stale blood in his breath. He dimly heard a strangled cry behind him as the werewolf grasped him by the arm and –

"REDUCTO!" the old man shrieked. The werewolf had only just managed to let go of its newest purchase before he was thrown back into the darkness that was the forest. Luther's gnarled hand gripped his wand almost too tightly as he rushed to Remus's side.

"Talk! Say something!" Luther breathed as healing spells flew from his wand, enveloping Remus in a golden glow.

"Please …" Remus murmured, eyes fluttering.

"I'm here, Remus," the old man with the increasingly tortured face reassured. He smoothed down the boy's thin hair, tousled and wet with snow.

"Who?" He struggled. "What…"

"It's Eddy. You've been bitten by a wolf. But you're going to be fine."

Remus drifted in and out of sleep, and as Luther gently laid him down on his doorstep, he hesitated at the doorbell as Remus's eyes fluttered open once more.

"Are you Daddy's friend?" Remus murmured.

"Not really, no." He then flinched, and while drawing his wand, he quickly cast a Sonorus charm, equally quickly thinking of what to say.

"To Mr. John Lupin," Luther clearly enunciated. "Your son is gravely injured, and is by your door. Come quickly."

He bent down to Remus's height, undoing the charm. "Now remember, Remus – I'll always be here when you need me most." He ruffled the boy's hair and had just hobbled out the gate when almost instantaneously a bright white light seemed to erupt around him, forcing his body to bend backwards, head jerked up to face the night sky.

John Lupin and his wife burst outside, she cradling her son while John stared with disbelief at the light.

"The end of a rellevrat," he murmured, awed – and with a choked gasp of pain, the light suddenly diminished, and Ed Luther was gone.

Remus was 10 the next time, and as he wandered into the pub near his house ("The Dawdling Dragon"), he was so shocked to see the bent silhouette of his rescuer that he backed into a chair, loudly knocking it aside.

The man looked up at the disturbance, and his eyes lit up. "Remus!" he said more clearly than the last time.

"You're dead!" Remus squeaked, unable to say anything else.

"Dead?" Luther raised an eyebrow. "I don't think so …"

"You're definitely dead." Remus nodded fervently as he murmured. "Unless you're some sort of – clone, or – a weird talking Inferius – or –"

"A weird talking Inferius?" Luther spat out his Butterbeer from laughter. "I'll tell you now, Remus, that there is no such thing!" He sobered with difficulty, wiping the froth from his smiling lips. "I'll try and explain."

Remus wavered, and having finally made his decision, slowly lowered himself into the chair that was pulled out for him by Luther's wand. "Now, Remus – have you ever heard of a rellevrat?"

"A what?" he said incredulously.

"Spell it backwards." Luther said drily, scratching his head as Remus carefully spelt out the word.

"Traveller. But why…?" the boy stared oddly at Luther.

"I'm travelling through time," Luther finally explained. "I'm from the future – and I can't go back until I, um, die."

"Can't go back?" Remus frowned with concern.

"Well, I work for what you call the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic – something went wrong with some spells, and now you see me here, waiting for the right time to go back to where I came from!" he threw one hand up in the air for effect before taking another swig of Butterbeer. After a moment, he paused. "I don't actually die. It's just my time of death. I disappear."

Remus paused, taking the information in. "Do you get younger every time I see you then?" he winced in attempted comprehension, looking up at his table companion.

Luther paused. "You're quite observant for a boy of …?"

"Eleven, sir."

"Eleven. Yes, the older you get the younger I'll be. How did you know …?"

"You don't have as much grey hair and wrinkles." Remus squinted. "But why is it …?"

"Blue? Well, I'm from the future. Everyone can have blue hair where I come from," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "So you're eleven – meaning that you're going to Hogwarts!"

"Well …" Remus shrugged uncomfortably in a non-committal way. "I shouldn't be – but apparently I am."

"Shouldn't be? Why, thinking of going to Beauxbatons?" he asked sarcastically.

"No, I'm …" Remus hesitated, wary once more.

"A werewolf," he answered gently for him. "I gathered as much from the last few times I've met you. Don't worry too much – you'll have a good time."

Remus was still uneasy, but mustered a weak smile to match Luther's broad grin. The smile then became more curious. "Does that mean you know what's going to happen? To everything?"

An equally wary look passed Luther's features. "Hey, don't get any ideas. Remember?"

Remus frowned. "Remember what?"

Luther looked at him strangely. "Of course. I tell you the next time."

When Remus blinked, Luther smiled reassuringly. "There are many next times, don't you worry; everything will hopefully be explained in our next meeting."

The boy's face remained confused. "And, for the love of Merlin, try not to be too offended when I don't remember you from now next time – oh, now I really must be going…"

"Mr. Luther?" Remus said inquisitively at the hurried figure rushing towards the door.

"I can't be seen!" he whispered loudly. "And it's Ed to you –"

There was a fainter white glow as the Rellevrat disappeared, and Remus was left with the rest of Luther's Butterbeer to sip, and choke on.

Remus was now 15, and as he entered the seemingly empty Gryffindor Common Room, he flinched as he saw the slouched figure of Ed Luther in one of the couches.

The figure turned warily and stood, checking to see if anyone else could see him, before waving heartily at the now pale-faced young man.

"You said I'd have a good time!" Remus raged, storming over to where he could face him properly – for he now matched Luther's height.

"What?" Luther's face was masterfully blank, though Remus knew the signs of when a mind was furiously working something out.

"I thought you came from –" Remus shoved Luther back down to the sofa, where the latter wore a look that was reminiscent of a confused small animal. "– the future!"

"Okay."

The calm voice jolted Remus's anger out of himself, and he folded his arms waiting as Luther caught his breath. Remus noticed that he looked slightly younger than before, as if he were in his fifties. The hair, though still thin from age, was now totally blue, with no grey hairs in sight.

"First of all – don't push me like that, I'm dead clumsy, and I don't want to set fire to your lovely common room sofa just because you caught me unawares." Luther straightened himself. "Trust me. It's happened before. Secondly – what on earth is the matter?"

"Oh, nothing much," Remus began, starting to bounce on the balls of his feet in irritation. "One of my only friends has only just gone and told someone who I was. Who I am. What I am." Remus shook his head forcefully. "I'm only a bit put out that the other two of my only friends don't seem to know what to do, but have resorted to not speaking to me anyway. I'm only just a little anxious that there is a hint of the possibility of me being thrown out of Hogwarts!"

Luther eyed him carefully.

"Don't stand there looking sad and pitiful," Remus murmured dolefully. "You're meant to help me!"

"What do you mean?" Luther started.

"I've read about people like you. Rellevrats. You're the product of a poorly-cast Time Charm – for making Time-turners; and you travel intermittently through time without control of when you'll land."

Luther waited.

"You only have control of where you'll land. Often near a person connected to you somehow. That's your anchor, and they're connected to you somehow. Due to reasons that magic cannot explain, you only land by your anchor when your anchor needs …" Remus coughed uncomfortably. "… rescuing."

A pause, and then disbelievingly, "You read all that from a book?"

"That's what books are for," Remus replied icily.

"He didn't mean it," Luther suddenly said.

Remus took a deep breath, digesting the information. "Didn't he?" he said sorrowfully.

"No." This time, Luther was confident. "And knowing your friends, they're probably pissed off at him, so…"

"Knowing my friends?" he was now curious.

Luther was suddenly conscious that he'd said too much. "Well, one of them had a son. And that son's fairly well-known amongst wizard folk. Doesn't seem the kind of guy to hate on a werewolf just because he's a werewolf."

"Know him?" Remus said softly, after a while.

"I know of him," Luther said firmly. "Very hard not to, he's that famous. Look, this guy – Sirius Black – he's done a lot for you, and you've done a lot for him. Stuff like that just doesn't get forgotten. Okay?"

Remus thought a bit. "It does, though. My dad did a lot of favours for people, and they got forgotten when I became a werewolf."

Luther fidgeted uncomfortably before Remus finally sank into the armchair opposite him.

"Then again, it gets darkest before the dawn, I suppose," Remus acquiesced gently as he smiled faintly at the genial grin that broadened on his companion's face. "So I've seen you three times. How many times have you seen me now?"

Luther hesitated. "How come?"

Remus looked bemused. "Well, it says that the only way rellevrats could go home is by reaching the end of their anchor's timeline, by which point, they 'die'. So when you were an old man, you disappeared, died, even – and you would have gone back home."

Luther blinked. "I do not remember this, but okay."

Remus huffed impatiently. "You're waiting for me to be young, so you can go back home. Which logically would mean that you would have first met me just before I died!" He folded his arms and eyed Luther in an interrogative manner. "So how many times have you seen me?"

Luther smiled before beckoning him over. "Look, Remus, there are a couple of things you need to know about this." He gestured vaguely at the two of them as Remus waited patiently, remaining where he was. "I can't talk to you all that much, because it makes it harder – much harder, really – for me to get back home."

Remus paled. "What?"

Luther swallowed. "No, no – no – not like that. That came out wrong, of course I can talk to you. But the more I tell you about who I am – the future – and the more I really matter in your life's decisions – your past – I've made myself belong in your timeline, your memory – more. And that way, it's physically much harder for me to get back."

Remus still looked pallid. "Get it?" Luther said gently, as the other nodded.

"Oh, god, I asked you so much, and you told me, and I didn't know –" Remus looked distraught, and turned around so he faced the window. "You're going to be in a lot of pain, then – but oh Merlin, I shouldn't even have toldyou that!"

Luther smiled broadly as he laughed. "I don't care, Remus."

He turned around to face Luther's bright expression. "Why?" Remus whispered.

"Because I'm a Gryffindor, like you." Luther gestured around him. "And I'm brave at heart!" He chuckled, before his hand twitched. He sighed irritably, a sudden change in mood to before. "Looks like I'm needed elsewhere."

"I'm so sorry." Remus breathed as Luther appeared to relax. He waited until the Rellevrat had nodded curtly to signal his farewell before slowly heading upstairs to his dormitory. He ignored the brief white glow he saw out of the corner of his eye.

"What was that?"

Remus froze, and turned as calmly as he could to meet his two friends. Three friends, he noticed dumbly as Padfoot's silhouette became visible bounding across the room.

"Was that a Rellevrat?" Peter squeaked, watery eyes furtively looking to the spot where a glow had been seen. "That's good luck, you know!"

If I make myself belong in your timeline, your memory – more, it's physically much harder for me to get back.

"Second-years, actually." The words were instantly out of his mouth, trained at telling flawless lies. "Their Glowing Charm on the sofa must have worn off …" he shrugged in the sofa's direction, ignoring the lump in his throat at its emptiness. "But I see you've decided to talk to me now."

He stopped then at the expressions facing him, slowly becoming more worried (though James if anything just looked determined). He then thought that he didn't really have the heart to get as pissed off at them as he was planning to.

Thanks to Luther, he just wasn't in the mood.

Luther felt the by now familiar pull of magic to Remus's timeline. It didn't feel quite like a Portkey – the process was much calmer, at least until the actual materialisation occurred, when a sudden prickling feeling would erupt across his skin, around his organs, piercing his brain …

Analysing his own feelings didn't get that far though, when he realised that there was a man facing the wall. He wore a coat that looked like it had been worn for a straight month and was caked in mud and dust. The brief glow that his materialisation had given Luther was the only light that he had to observe Remus in his misery.

Luther was 37, give or take, and Remus looked to be around 20.

"Remus!" Luther said hoarsely, still physically gagging from the recent pain.

The other man didn't respond for a while, and as Luther got more desperate, Remus finally turned around.

Luther immediately wished that he hadn't. Remus, from the looks of it, had not slept for a fortnight; his mouth was frozen in a flat line while a scar burnt angrily across his face – doubtless from a recent transformation.

"You shouldn't be here," Remus whispered, feeling unable to do much more. "Dumbledore is coming, I feel."

"Dumbledore?" Luther said incredulously.

"He's worried about me," Remus said too venomously. "'bout the only one at the moment, I suppose."

Luther realised with a jolt exactly when he had managed to get himself anchored.

"I suppose you know what's happened," Remus continued ignoring his companion's reaction. "Voldemort's gone – a momentous day in the history of the magical world, eh?"

"Don't be like that," a flushed Luther suddenly snapped. "Merlin, if you're sad, be sad –"

"If I'm sad?" Remus instantly replied. "Do you think I'm actually sad about Voldemort's death?" He laughed. "I'm not as dark a creature as I'm meant to be, you know."

"Stop it. Of course Voldemort dying is great, but –"

"Imagine, Eddy." Luther stopped at the unexpected use of his first name. "A world without Death Eaters. All because …" and Remus finally petered out, opting to stare moodily at the peeling wallpaper of his slipshod flat.

"Please, Remus, they wouldn't have wanted you to be like this –"

"Then why did they have to leave me?" Remus asked quietly.

Luther pressed his lips firmly while he thought furiously.

"Sirius spread the rumour about me feeling sympathy with the pack. Peter probably lapped it all up. James and Lily would have wanted more time to think about it, except that they didn't get it. Why –" he choked before clinging to the wall, finding a loose nail for his worn fingers to fiddle with. "I'm sorry, Mr. Luther, I'm not being very talkative – you haven't come for years, and now you're here, and all I can do is … is grieve. And try and make my wall more dilapidated than it already is." He smiled ruefully.

"No! Remus." Luther struggled. "Look, so you can't be like this forever." Remus stopped fiddling for a moment. "The worst thing you can do is stay here."

"What do you suggest, Rellevrat?" Remus asked brusquely. "Are you going to tell me my future, stop me from doing whatever the hell I want to? Are you going to say good things? Even more bad things? Are you really meant to be good luck?" he almost scoffed.

Luther looked pained. "Harry's still here." It was Remus's turn to look haunted.

"Mr. Luther, the last time you met me you said you didn't care how much you told me since you weren't afraid of the pain of going back. So, on your conscience, you can tell me. Tell me something." Remus left the nail alone, and his red eyes eyed his visitor calmly, as he stood confused, processing the information. "Please – just persuade me before I do something stupid." Remus sounded more desperate.

"Look …" Luther swallowed, finding his words. "I know so many people who've been through these situations. In many cases, now they've had times when they're happier than they were before they lost them." When Remus looked unconvinced, Luther swallowed. "Harry is one."

Remus looked frantic now as he said, "Is that your roundabout way of telling me that everything's going to be alright?"

"When I die, will I be happy? Through the pain?" asked Luther equally desperately.

"I think so."

"Then I think so."

Luther had barely moved when he felt the familiar pull; the crumbling, but nonetheless slightly relieved face of Remus faded into white.

Remus hadn't seen Luther for a very long while; but even he was surprised to see a bewildered Luther topple out of his materialisation noticeably younger than the previous meeting.

It could only really mean that he was approaching the day of his death much faster than he had thought. Oh well, he glumly thought as he lazily reached for a bottle of aged wine. I suppose I don't have a whole lot that I can do until then.

"Remus?" Luther tentatively said – his voice was a bit different; a bit brighter. A bit younger.

"Hello, Eddy." Luther made a lopsided smile. "Sorry about calling you that," he said as Luther flinched, "you seem much more like an Eddy than a Luther now – and the drink certainly helps." Remus lazily made a 'cheers' motion with his glass before downing it as Luther blinked while looking round.

"Am I …?"

"Grimmauld Place. I'm not meant to be here, but he wouldn't have minded."

"… I see." Luther Summoned a chair and his lanky figure sat itself carefully down at the table, facing Remus's worn eyes. "Er – basically, I've been a bit rubbish at giving advice the past few times, and so please, please don't hate me too much if I get it a bit wrong…"

"Don't worry!" Remus chuckled. "I don't go waiting around, praying for you like some kind of advice bank!"

Luther chuckled hesitantly. "Good. Good. Er – "

Remus laughed again. "Haven't had much experience?"

"Well –" he petered to a stop, then stared at him accusatorily. "That was unprecedented and sneaky."

"Oh, don't pretend you didn't expect it!" Remus admonished while chuckling, taking another gulp.

"Stop it." Luther looked angry, and pained. "Stop all this – I know it's an act, and you feel like curdled goblin piss inside anyway. Sirius isn't the only thing to worry about, surely?"

Remus halted his otherwise regular motions. "'Course he isn't," he said quietly. "Very typical of him, though, to die in place of six, seven other people."

"And everyone else is alright?" Luther tried again.

"Yes – if she'd died I wouldn't know what I'd do –" he mentally clapped his mouth on his hand while to Luther his eyes just widened in realisation of what he'd just said.

"Well, firstly, you'd probably be sitting here with me anyway – and … she?" Luther grinned wickedly.

Remus flushed. "It's nothing. I'm just glad she's alright. That's all."

"Yeah." Luther's smile turned into a broad grin. "So what's she like?"

Remus considered for a moment. "She's …" After a few more moments, he burst out into a hearty laugh, forgetting the wine for now. "Why do you even do this, though?"

"Huh?" Luther replied, still smiling.

"Every time we chat, you embed yourself further into my timeline. Makes it more painful for you to get back. You do it willingly!"

Luther remained smiling, much to Remus's surprise. "You wouldn't understand."

"Wouldn't I?" Remus pressed.

"I'd go through this ten times, even a hundred times, just to make you happier." Luther looked almost ecstatic, yet at the same time there was a slightly dulled look in his eyes. "So – no, you wouldn't." True to his expression, a white glow started quietly gathering around his body, and he managed a quick wave before he materialised out of Remus's timeline.

Remus pondered.

Luther was getting disconcertingly young. He could only have been 27 or 28 – no, younger at this rate. His grin had even less wrinkles, his eyes were brighter, his hair's shocking colour even bluer – but really – anything that was remotely happy just reminded him of her, and what he'd gone and done, and that made him feel even worse.

"So that's why you have a bit of a hard task right now. Do your worst." Remus folded his worn and shaking arms and stared Luther down in the rotten field in Merlin-knew-where.

He had expected a pained look, or a frown, or even Luther averting his gaze. He wouldn't have been surprised if he'd upped and left at this point. What he hadn't expected was the steely gaze that was directed back at him.

"Harry's talked to you already, right?" he said curtly. While Remus nodded, slightly affronted, he continued. "Though your reasons, while inherently stupid, are commendable, it only takes care of some of the long-term issues. And it creates other ones in its wake."

"Like?" Remus was too tired for this.

"Can she really cope?" Luther was really going for full-out accusatory here. "Granted, she has her mother – who is tough as nails and everything – but it's not great that she doesn't have someone who's meant to be there with her – through everything." He stopped, staring at the mud for a minute.

"You're missing the point," Remus said firmly, but wearily. "She'll be with her parents, and I'd frankly be doing my child a better deed by not associating with him."

"Frankly, you'd be doing your child a better deed by turning up and grovelling at his mother's house for a time long enough to be recorded in the Ministry's annals," he said in a deadpan voice with quiet fury. "Do you care? At all?"

Remus paled. "How dare you?" he said coldly, and he looked so stung and hurt that Luther's face instantly crumbled into a more anxious expression. "And do you really think that doing this will persuade them that werewolves have a chance in this world? Especially if they turn out to be one?"

There was an uncomfortable silence as Remus fidgeted – a minute sign of weakness, but Luther latched onto it.

"Do you really think she'd be as great a parent without you?" Remus paled – clearly his defences had crumbled, and as Luther, realising this, grinned and approached his shaking hand, he said, "Told you so." He then Side-Along-Apparated him to a rather more familiar field.

Remus stared up in horror. "This is … Dora's garden."

Luther smiled. "Now," he gestured towards the front door, "go look after your wife and unborn son."

"… Son?"

"Fuck!" The word was out his mouth before he remembered, and he clapped his hand upon his mouth and his widened eyes bulged as his face paled.

Remus beamed. "Do you know him then?"

Luther was noticeably more hesitant this time round. "… Yes." Then, with more prodding: "He's cool."

Remus chuckled, and made to go, but something made him stop. "You know, for that ridiculously audacious thing you just did, you ought to be the godfather. Stopping me from being daft – again. And making my wife and child – son – happy."

Luther looked aghast. "Oh – Merlin – God – no, absolutely not. That confuses me – and no offence, or anything, but … shouldn't Harry be the one? I pop in and out of existence a lot, so he's going to be here most of the time, unlike me …"

Remus considered for a moment, and nodded slowly, but still looked a bit regretful. "Sure?"

"Sure sure." Luther glowed brightly – but not from the ever-present white, but from his smile. An oddly familiar smile. Remus thought it best not to dwell, and made his unsteady way up Dora's garden path as Luther was ripped away from the present once more.

Remus was meant to be having a quick drink at the Dawdling Dragon once more, before he went to join the battle, before he saw a piercing light from the other end of his table. Soon, like a sloppy Apparition, a gangly young man in his early twenties had been thrown out of whatever dimension he had come from and he sat, dazed, in the opposite chair.

"Hello?" he said amusedly. The young man looked up before yelling, and jumping out of his skin. "What's your name?"

As he cowered further against the wall, Remus put down his Butterbeer. "I'm … Eddy. Ed. Edward. Luther. Edward Luther." Luther nodded fervently in confirmation of this very fact.

Remus smiled sadly, knowingly. Ignoring Luther's shocked expression, he continued. "Do you have any idea of what's happened to you just now?"

Luther's eyes flitted from his hands to Remus and back again hesitantly. "I was at work, and then …"

"I'm afraid you've become a Rellevrat. I take it you know what that is?"

Luther looked horrified while he nodded, eyes fixed on Remus's face. "Well, given that, it's evident that these are some of my final moments."

"Well – not – not necessarily – I mean –"

"Your wholly excusable attitude to having materialised for the first time is usually a clear indicator, I'm afraid." Remus smiled lightly. "But I think it most appropriate to dictate your last sentiments to your anchor from the future, whomever that may be."

Luther paled, staring at his new anchor, while Remus smiled. "Well, clearly you were thinking quite a bit of him …" and he conjured a small mirror as Luther gaped, realising that he was the spitting image of his table companion.

"Why do you look so worried?" Remus laughed. "I have nothing whatsoever to say against you, nor your involvement in my timeline."

Luther waited, hands shaking. It was only with real practice that Remus did not even flinch when Luther's hair colour changed languidly – droopily – from a dull light brown to a thick mop of blue – but then back again. "Time displacement," Luther said clinically, dully. "Can't change myself just yet."

Remus gazed back, sorrowful. "No worries."

"I've always been so pleased to see you," Remus began. "Though you may not have been in a position to prevent some of the things that happened in my life, you did your absolute utmost to right myself again after them. And now, even if I die, I'll die happy, because I've understood what matters. Dora and Teddy will be alright, and the war will end properly this time, and –"

Luther stilled. "No." Remus looked up. "She's a bit too devoted for that to ever happen." – and he unexpectedly burst into tears. "Oh, shit, no –" He garbled, hands clawing at his face, attempting in vain to stop embarrassing himself.

Remus stilled now, even as his stomach dropped.

"Then I die still comforted, by the thought that I have made the best of friends. They have clearly cared for my son even after my death – because, like I've said, he's made an extremely positive influence in my life."

Luther looked confused amidst the teary mess that was his face. "I don't understand. I only come when you need me. Why did I come here when you clearly don't? "

Remus frowned. "I did. I've been trying to see everyone I wanted to, and now I have."

"I still don't understand."

"You will," Remus grinned unabashedly.

"… sure?" Luther remained unconvinced.

"Sure sure." Remus got up and after a bit of hesitation, ruffled his hair. After another, even more confused look, he relented and explained.

"My dad used to do that to me, and I've been wanting to do it to you too, but you don't have much hair yet…" Luther remained shocked. "Also, crazy colour alert." Luther's hair was going through all sorts of dull colours – it was gravitating towards grey.

"Oh, my hair – fuck –" Luther, embarrassed, scrunched up his face, successfully shooting slabs of bright blue back where they had been before.

"… And it feels very strange for me to say this, but good luck. I'm an absolute bitch to try and make feel better about myself – which gives all the more credit to you!" Remus waved goodbye, slightly unused to the profanity, and cheeks hurting from his grin, strode out the pub without looking back.

Fate gave Teddy Lupin precisely thirty-two minutes to sort himself out, get his act together and predict (correctly) where he was going to go next before a white glow tore him away.

Maybe a bit too much like Doctor Who ... :(