A/N: Here we are. After some lagtime we are writing again. Joy, joy, happy joy! And yes, we're having a load of fun.

We also realised that we'd made a stupid mistake. If the timeline is going to work as we've intended, nine years have passed since Sirius was curtainivored, and seven since the war ended. We're really sorry about this, and since I'm the real potternerd (and was doing the math), I take full responsibility.

Chapter Three

Amazing Grace

Two months later, Dora woke up in the middle of the night. At first, she couldn't figure out why, but then she noticed that her sheets were soaking wet. Clambering into sitting position, she felt her heart start to race in panic. The water had broken. It was starting. Oh bloody, bloody hell…

"Remus!" she whispered urgently, almost frantically, shaking him rather brutally in hopes of waking him.

"I… what? Dora?" He rolled over, regarding her with sleepily unfocused eyes. Then he frowned, patting the mattress. "It's… wet? What the…?"

"The water, Remus. I need to get to St Mungo's at once."

Remus' eyes widened in comprehension, and he bolted from bed, starting to pull clothes on. Dora slowly waddled to follow suit, but he shook his head and threw her a thick cardigan. "No need. I'll call a cab."

They couldn't floo, because there was always a risk of tumbling into the walls, and that could prove fatal to the child. Apparation was out of the question, too. Since the body changed so much during a pregnancy, the risk of Splinching was greater and the consequences a lot worse. A broomstick wasn't even to think of. They had to use muggle means of transportation.

Of course, normally, wizards went to muggle hospitals for deliveries, or had Healers brought to their home. But this wasn't a normal case. This child was the offspring of a werewolf, and although Teddy had clearly not been a carrier of the syndrome, there was no way of guaranteeing that this child would not. Dora could see Remus' hand shaking as he motioned for her to follow him, and knew that he hadn't forgotten. Once more there was that dark and terrible fear in his eyes; that barely stifled panic; all those horrible 'what if's clouding his vision.

What if it has it?

What if I brought this on my own child?

And she knew that if she started to think about it, if she allowed herself to understand how much that would affect her child's whole life, then she too would start to panic, panic from fear instead of anxiety. And then this was going to be a lot more complicated, and maybe something would go wrong.

Wearing a look of grim determination and a halfway pulled on sweater, Nymphadora pushed the thought aside and followed her husband down the stairs. She looked down at her hand and saw that she was gripping the railing so tightly that her knuckles stood out in their bony whiteness against her flushed skin. That was not a sign of fear, she decided. That was a sign of her controlling her fear. Yes. That was it.

Fine.

The man driving the cab deserved some kind of award. He just cast one look on Dora's big belly and Remus' white face, before turning to the wheel and damn well flooring it. The ride was an inferno of flashing lights passing by outside, little tinkly sparkles all over the murky city night. Dora watched impassively with both arms protectively around her belly, letting Remus do the panicking for her. She'd get time for that later, about when she'd be certain that she was trying to give birth to a walrus rather than a human infant.

And then there was cold night air around her for a short while, before she was herded through the camouflaged entrance and swarmed around by Healers determined to take control of the situation. Since Dora didn't feel like she'd had much of it to begin with, she gladly handed it over along with herself and rather sternly demanded a cup of tea.

They were rushed to a secluded room and swarmed about by all kinds of experts. She noticed that a lot of them were avoiding Remus or referred to him among themselves as 'the werewolf', and this would probably have made her upset if she hadn't been convinced by then that her own womb was going to kill her by the sheer pain of it.

Then there was a lot of people running about, and pain, and blood, and someone put a charm on her that made everything look hazy and faintly pink, and every time she managed to find Remus' face he was looking paler, and people shouted for her to push, and she pushed…

"It's a girl," a Healer announced, smiling tiredly at her. But the baby wasn't given to her or Remus. She left the room in the arms of another Healer, while others were already examining her with various spells. Dora closed her eyes. After all this effort, it seemed rather unfair that she wouldn't even get to hold the kid.

Remus' hand was cool against her forehead. "I called Harry. He's bringing Teddy here tomorrow. She should be back by then." Even though his voice was soothing, she could clearly hear how strained it was. Dora only nodded, not wanting to waste precious energy on speaking. There was a short silence and the faint sound of Remus shifting position, and then she felt his lips against her cheek as he kissed her and then rested his forehead against her temple. "Sleep now. You need the rest."

She didn't need to be told twice.

"Mrs Lupin? Mrs Lupin?" Somebody was shaking her gently by the shoulder. She opened her eyes, and then clenched them shut again and hissed in pain as the sunlight made her brain split open. And then she moved, and felt her whole body throb like a giant bruise; her hips were a melting-pot of dull pain. She heard the swish of curtains, and when she opened her eyes again the light was at least bearable. She looked up at the Healer, and then let her eyes slide over to the chair next to her bed. Remus was asleep, leaning his head against the bedside.

"My daughter?" she mumbled, her voice hoarse from screaming.

"Right here." She looked up, and another Healer, standing behind the first one, was holding a small bundle wrapped in a pink blanket.

"Well?" She gave them an impatient look. "Give her here!" As she raised her voice, Remus stirred a bit in his chair, but didn't wake up. The Healers looked at him uneasily, exchanging glances.

"There has been some… complications."

Dora closed her eyes. She had been ready for this. Or at least, she had thought she had been ready for this. But it was worse now, when it actually happened. "She is a werewolf?"

More exchanged glances, more meaningful looks at Remus. "Well… no. Not exactly."

"Not exactly a werewolf? What, she's got a tail? Little fluffy ears?" Dora was losing what little patience was left in her spent body.

"No. But the spells tell us she's partly a carrier of the syndrome. Not enough to ensue transformation, but enough to show. And well… there's her eyes."

"Give her here." It was an order, using the voice of command you were taught on the very first day of Auror School. The Healers obeyed, bus hesitantly, and they handled the girl as if… what? Expecting her to bite them?

Looking down upon the pink face surrounded by folds of fabric of a lighter pink, she smiled. Her baby. Wow. And then her eyes opened and yes, Dora had to admit she was a bit startled. She knew enough about babies to know that they were born with dark blue eyes. Of course, in the case of Teddy, they had quite soon turned bright pink, matching her hair, but he'd still looked normal from the beginning.

The girl had eyes that were… sort of yellowish brown. They could've belonged to anyone, they could've been perfectly ordinary, perfectly human, but the impression was still, somehow, animal. That couldn't be denied. But that was all. A pair of strange eyes – and god knew that their family was strange enough to accommodate some more strangeness – in an otherwise perfectly ordinary baby face. And when she opened her mouth, she emitted a perfectly ordinary wail of baby rage. Nymphadora gave her the breast and smiled at the Healers.

"That will be all, thank you."

"B-but…"

"It's not a problem. Look, a friend of our family sports fangs and eats his meat raw. He's more of a werewolf than she is, and if his wife can handle that, and I can handle my husband, then her eyes are not a problem. Thank you."

"There will be other symptoms while she grows up."

"Really?" Nymphadora said sweetly. "What?"

"We don't know just ye-"

"Well, then, it won't matter until it happens, right? And when it does, we'll deal with it. I already told you. We'll be fine. Can you leave now? I need to speak to my husband."

And they left, looking disapproving and a bit miffed. As soon as they were gone, Remus' eyes opened, his face taking on a look of deep anxiety. "How… how bad is it? I woke up while you were speaking, and…"

Dora shrugged, grimacing a bit as her nipple was manhandled. "She's got funny coloured eyes. And they say there will be other symptoms, although what that may mean is anyone's guess." She smirked. "I'm still hoping for that tail."
Remus frowned at her. "This isn't very funny, Dora. She's carrying the syndrome. That means anything could happen-"

"Yeah, anything. So let's not assume the worst, shall we? Besides, they said there would be no transformations, and that was what worried me the most. As long as there'll be no pain…"

"There are other things that hurt just as badly," Remus said darkly.

Dora rolled her eyes, "Yes, yes, I know. But who will know, besides our closest friends? Unless she actually sprouts a tail, that is. And then we can always say she had an accident with a wand or something." She sighed as Remus looked away, his face still clouded. "Look, it's not that bad. Actually, it's not bad at all. You've had a baby, for fuck's sake, look like you're happy about it!"

Remus looked back at her, shocked, and then laughed despite himself. "Of course I'm happy."

"Then act like it. Moron." Dora slapped him over the head, grumbling a bit even as he caught her hand and kissed it, squeezing it tightly in his.

"I just don't want her," his gaze rested on the girl with almost painful love in it, "to… to have something destructive in her that she got from me. That she's diseased because of me."

"She's not diseased. She's just not entirely like others. And I can't see why that should be such a bad thing."

"Being different from others means that others treat you differently."

"Well, I've always managed. I'm sure she will as well." She smiled down at her daughter. "By the way, I've come up with a name for her."

Remus frowned. "Didn't we already have some names?"

Dora waved her hand impatiently. "Of course we did. But I'm impulsive and creative and stuff. And I've come up with a name."

Remus' eyebrows did an attempt to jump off his forehead, but he smiled nonetheless. "Very well. Let's hear."

"Elvendork."

Remus snorted with laughter. "Please tell me you're not serious."

"Of course not. That's your old boyfriend, remember?"

She dodged a slap, and he growled at her. "Not funny."

"Sorry, sorry. Anyway, the name's Grace."

Remus tilted his head to the side, considering. "I have to admit… it's not bad."

"Not bad? It's a stroke of genius, and you know it."

"Fine. It is."

"Good, then that's settled."

Remus opened his mouth, a bit startled, and then closed it with an exasperated smile. "Why do I even try? Fine then, it's settled. At least it's not Elvendork."

When Harry, Ginny and Teddy arrived, Remus and Dora were eating breakfast. Grace was asleep in a cradle next to her bed; the strange eyes hidden she looked like any other baby, and Remus and Nymphadora didn't say anything. Harry and Ginny would probably understand it in time, and probably better than the Healers had too.

Teddy was fascinated. For about five seconds. Then he went away to be fascinated by something else. After all, it was just a baby. He'd seen babies before. His parents just smiled at this. Soon enough he'd realise that having a baby sister was rather special after all, and probably not only in good ways.

Ginny rather quickly found a chair and sat down; her belly was just big as Dora's had been just twelve hours ago. "So, tell me a lie, why don't you?" was the first words out of her mouth.

"Sure. It doesn't hurt one bit," Dora said, grinning crookedly. Ginny sighed and gave her stomach a sceptical look.

"I'm the size of a narwhale. How am I supposed to get this out through that tiny opening?"

Dora grinned. "Tiny? Poor Harry." And she laughed good-naturedly as Harry blushed like a schoolboy. "But to answer you question: Twinkly fairy magic, of course. And oh, it smells of roses and hyacinths."

"Hah," Ginny laughed hollowly. "And try to make my mother understand why I'm panicking. She's so used to giving birth by now that she could probably do it in her sleep. She just told me that, 'it'd come to me', and then it will all seem natural." Nymphadora snorted, and Ginny nodded. "Exactly. And afterwards, dad told me that she had vowed to kill him sixteen times before Bill finally wriggled his way out. So I have a feeling that it only comes naturally after four or five test runs."

They all laughed, although Harry was looking distinctly nervous. Dora comforted him with that he would never be worse than Remus was during Teddy's birth, since he'd been on the brink of an aneurysm and had ran about so much that the Healers had to take him out of there, which earned her a not very serious scowl from her husband.

The laughter had barely died in their throats when, suddenly, Teddy said:

"There's a man in the door."

Remus looked up, and then shot to his feet with a curse, sending his breakfast tray flying.

It was Sirius.

Sirius reached the door, and stopped at the sound of laughter from the room. Carefully, he positioned himself so that he could have a clear view of the room without being too painfully visible. There was Harry and Ginny, sitting next to each other and holding hands. There was Nymphadora, looking rather worse for wear with her hair, now a rather normal brown, sticking up at odd angles. There was a cradle, supposedly containing the new child. And there was – his heart contracted painfully into a hard lump of concentrated longing – was Remus, his eyes aglow in a way that Sirius remembered from their youth. He was smiling a real Remus smile, not like the bleak once he'd managed during the war, but broad and warm and heartfelt, containing affection for everyone around him. But especially – and his heart shrunk even more, growing icy and sharp against his ribcage – for the woman in the bed, whom his eyes never left for long.

He didn't know how to sort his emotions out – they were just a big tangle of anger and disappointment and love and longing and regret – so he didn't even try. And since he couldn't decide if he wanted to scream or cry or smile or kill himself, he did neither, but stood motionless in the doorway. Mechanically, he moved his gaze away from the agony of the scene in front of him, looking desperately for something to rest his eyes on.

He found it.

It was a small boy, with dark blue hair and green eyes, meeting his gaze steadily. His face was doubtlessly reminiscent of Remus', but the stubborn, sharp little chin was clearly from Nymphadora, as well as the colour scheme, and there was something distinctly Blackish about the somewhat angular eyes. It was Remus' son. Nymphadora's son. Sirius didn't know his name, and felt bad for not knowing. He should've asked. But when? When they were shouting at each other? When Remus told him he didn't love him anymore?

The boy tilted his head to the side, opened his mouth and said, in a clear, carrying voice, "There's a man in the door."

Damn.

Remus was on his feet in seconds, making something fall to the floor with an awful crash, and he was staring at Sirius with eyes that burned right through him.

There was no lapse between thought and speech, or more correctly, Remus wasn't really aware of either process.

"Get out."

He wasn't sure he regretted the words, not really, but he knew that had he been able to, he would have stopped them from slipping out.

Sirius backed away, looking hurt and shocked, like a puppy receiving a kick from his loving master. "I just… wanted to… see…"

"Remus, for the love of Jesus, Allah, Buddah and friggin' Bob, what are you doing? If he wants to see the baby, he can fucking see the baby! He's our friend, remember? And considering the fact that I just spent a buttload of fecking painful hours delivering said baby, I think that I have more say than you right now as to who should be allowed in this room." Nymphadora was outraged, what the hell was her dearly beloved husband on about? Granted, she didn't exactly feel comfortable with Sirius' presence either, but it had obviously taken a huge effort out of the man to come there and that showed that it was important to him that they all knew that he still cared. No matter how awkward she felt, Nymphadora had never pushed someone away that genuinely cared about her, and she wasn't about to start now.

Remus stared blankly at a random space somewhere between Sirius and Dora, unable to say anything. As usual, his nutcase of a wife was far more sensible than he was, could ever hope to be, no matter how britishly repressed and desperately controlled he tried to pass himself off as.

Sirius lowered his eyes, trying not to reveal how much it stung to have Dora, of all people, defending him against Remus. Especially since hearing her speak like this, he was suddenly reminded of how much he had truly liked her, once – or actually, just a few weeks ago. It was easy enough to resent her when she was only 'the person that stole Remus from me', but now, suddenly recalling that she was a person whose company he had actually enjoyed, it made the whole thing a lot more complicated.

So he tried to smile at her – or at least to impose a non-scowl upon his face. He didn't think it really worked, but maybe she would understand that he was making an effort. "Thanks. May I…?" He looked over at the cradle in the corner.

"Of course," Dora said with a stern look at her husband. Remus gave her a beseeching look, but opted for silence and sat back down, staring intently at the mess on the floor created by the knocked over breakfast tray.

Awkwardly, aware of the gazes following him, Sirius walked over to the cradle and stared down. A small, wrinkly pink being, a tuft of weasleyishly red hair on its head. It was lying still, but its eyes were open, staring somewhere far off. They looked a bit odd, those eyes, but asking about it would set Remus off like anything, he understood that.

"Can I… can I hold it… uhm, him or her?"

Remus looked like he was about to speak, but Dora silenced him with a fierce glare. "Sure you can. Her name is Grace."

Sirius felt, to his surprise, the muscles in his face ease into a small smile as he lifted her, remembering how it had felt when he had first lifted Harry, marvelling at how alike the feeling was. "Little Gracie, eh?"

"Come here, Harry."

He looked down at her face. She was doing some kind of complicated grimace, as if trying to decide if there was something she ought to cry about. His smile widened a bit. He wasn't sorry she was born. She was a baby. You weren't sorry about babies. And she wasn't Remus' daughter with Sirius, but his daughter nonetheless. It counted for… a lot.

"She didn't feel so little coming out…" Dora muttered, lifting the right corner of her mouth in a wry half-smile. Remus couldn't help but smiling a little as well. Trust his darling wife to turn even the most unbearably tense situations into something with dramatic value akin to a tea party in some old aunt's garden.

Sirius almost laughed. Almost, but not quite. He was still far too edgy. But he gently put Grace down again, and then turned and found the blue-haired boy with his gaze. He was watching the grownups apprehensively, as if unsure whether this was one of those situations when it was best to not bother his parents.

"And what's your name?"

The boy gave him a direct look. "I'm Teddy," he said, and then, after some afterthought, "look what I can do." His hair turned orange, and his nose swelled and then retained its normal size. The boy giggled at his own achievement, looking at Sirius expectantly. Sirius tried to look duly impressed.

"That's a good trick. I have a trick too, you know. Want to see?"

Teddy nodded eagerly. "Sure I do!"

Sirius smiled and shut his eyes, and then there was a faint inrush of air as a dog stood where he had been. He padded over to the boy, butting him with his head.

Remus didn't see the transformation, he'd turned to check how everyone else in the room was coping with the situation, sharing tense smiles with Harry and Ginny. Therefore he reacted purely on instinct when something moved towards his son. Sure he knew that the war was over, that they were all safe, but in his heart of hearts there was still that very primal, lingering fear that it had all just been a huge fake out and his life, family and happiness would get ripped away from him. It was that fear that sometimes made him wake up screaming in the middle of the night, and it was that fear that propelled him towards his son in a distinctively protective motion before he realised that it was alright, it was only Padfoot.

About when Remus realised this, it was too late. Padfoot backed away, turning into Sirius in mid-motion, a Sirius that was positively livid. "You actually think that I would hurt your son?" he hissed, so angry that his arms shook with the effort of not pulling his wand, or attacking Remus, or something.

"No, Sirius, I'm sorry… it was a misunderstanding." He knew it wouldn't suffice. Sirius was about to have one of his temper tantrums, and chances were slim to calm him down even under the best of conditions. As it were, conditions were so far below bad a word for adequate description had yet to be invented.

"Yes, of course it was," Sirius snarled. "And I'm just being silly and stupid, am I? But thank god Reasonable Lupin is here to save the day."

Had conditions not been of the unparalleled level of fuck-up that they were, Remus might have been able to live up to Sirius' accusation. But they were, and Remus was neither reasonable nor capable of saving anything.

"You know what, last time I checked 'I'm sorry' didn't mean 'You're being silly and stupid', but that's just me being all reasonable, so why bother listening to what I'm saying? Better to just invent an insult and stick to your guns and behave like a complete fucktard!"

Remus hadn't meant to be loud, but somewhere along the way from brain to mouth the intended hiss became a shout.

Dora hid her face in her hands, too tired to make another intervention. She'd given birth, she'd watched her baby rest in the arms of the man who wanted to take her husband from her. She was completely and utterly spent, and honestly didn't want to spend what precious little energy she had left on trying to make two grown men see what they should be able to see for themselves, namely that the room was taking on a definitive air of kindergarten.

"Well, maybe I feel like being a bit unreasonable, like mortals like me do from time to time, but I'll just leave and not bother you with it shall I?" Sirius was angry with himself for being on the verge of tears once again, but he couldn't help it. Even though, deep down, he knew that he was being epically stupid, he just let the brunt of all the pain that had built up during these weeks spill out like so much hot, boiling steam out of a pressure cooker. "I mean fuck it, since you so obviously don't want me here, in you new wonderful life, I'll just go! It's not as if all those years of friendship matters, is it? After all, I was only your boyfriend, so I suppose it's quite okay to not care about what else we might've been for each other once you got over me, right? I was only your best friend, after all."

Remus laughed. A bitter, mirthless sound almost reminiscent of a bark. "Right, because that's what you're after. Friendship." Remus' lips curled around the word like it was distasteful. "I don't believe you. In fact, I don't think you even believe yourself!"

Sirius swallowed down a sob, his voice ragged as he spoke again. "No, of course it isn't what I want. But I would be glad for it, if that is all that you could give me." His face twisted in equal bitterness. "But it seems I'm not even worth that, am I? I'm yesterday's garbage, and should be treated as such. I'm sorry that I ever expected as much."

"Oh, enough with the melodrama! You should have been an actor, this was most definitely an Oscar winning performance for best retard!"

"ENOUGH!" Ginny was at her feet, her eyes flashing, the bulk of her protruding stomach creating a barrier between the two combatants. She had her arms crossed above it, and the way she glared at the two men had her mother written all over it. "I've had it with the two of you! I can't believe this! First of all, if you hadn't noticed, there's a baby in this room. Would you mind terribly keeping your voices down? Secondly, Sirius, this is not the time and place, and before you get high and mighty about it, Remus; thirdly, I'd like to remind you that you're not doing a heck of a job at being even a jot better. Now, you sit nice and quiet, or I swear to god you're out of here! I'm a pregnant woman, I should not have to handle this." That being said, she backed away and sat down, waiting.

Dora thought: I could kiss her. Lesbianism has never been so tempting. Men!

Sirius sighed, suddenly lacking even the energy required to be annoyed. He was just… not up for it. For anything.

"It's probably best if I leave, nonetheless. I see that I only ruin things for you. So if it's better for you, then fine." He turned his gaze to Harry, who fidgeted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry about this. You too, Nymphadora. I'm sorry. I didn't mean… anyway, I'll be going home. Bye." And he left.

Remus went over to the crib, tracing his daughter's pudgy little cheek with his index finger. She was the only one he really felt comfortable with looking at. Anyone else, and the embarrassment would kill him.

"I'm sorry, my little angel. Daddy's not making a very good first impression, is he?"

Her little foggy baby gaze focused somewhere around the general are of his face and he thought that one didn't have to think of her eyes as the ones of an animal. One could think of them as golden. And for some reason that thought gave him the strength to face his family and friends.

"Grace isn't the only one who deserves an apology, I'm really sorry you all had to see that. It was beyond disgraceful." He knew that he should apologize to Sirius as well, and he would. But this was his daughter's birthday and as much as he cared for his former lover, he had already wasted enough of it trying to act like a normal person around him to realise that he didn't want any more of it. He wanted to be with his wife, son and beautiful baby daughter. If Sirius couldn't understand that then… then perhaps he had changed too much for them to ever find a way back to any kind of relationship.

And as if life wasn't screwing Sirius over enough, Severus Snape was standing on Harry's doorstep, looking ever as insolently smug as he always did, if a bit confused as well. He kept pressing the doorbell, glaring at it when nothing happened.

"They're not there," Sirius said, pushing past him.

"Well, well, well if it isn't Black Beauty, the wounded stallion. Had a rough day did we?"

"Go and stick your head in a cauldron." He fumbled with the keys, anger and disappointment botching up both his motor skills and vision. A slim, white hand picked them out of his grasp, putting the right key in the lock and twisting it.

"Your insults decline in elegance at a pace proportionate to your decorum, I see." Sirius directed a mutinous glare at him. Severus smirked. "Sorry, I keep forgetting that when communicating with you I need to restrict myself to a more limited vocabulary. Let me clarify: The angrier you get, the less capable you are of managing even a passable insult. You suck, Black, and not in a positive, life affirming way." He smiled rudely and left Sirius to splutter and wish that he had never gotten out of bed that morning.

A/N: That's all for this time, folks. You might be wondering where we're getting with this story, but don't fret, we'll try not to take too many detours. A good buildup is always nice, and since this isn't a Hollywood movie, and the audience won't get bored unless something explodes within the first five minutes, we prefer to take our time.

And no, yours truly couldn't resist the Elvendork gag. Nor the serious/Sirius one. Please forgive me.