Author's Notes: This fic's one year anniversary was December 24th (pathetic, it's so short and it took me so long) and it received the #18 spot on HPANA's top 20 fanfics of the year...at which I promptly died. And finished it, finally. So this is it folks. Whoever's reading this anyway. All reviews are very appreciated!

Disclaimer: HP is not mine... Socks is. xD

Epilogue

Nearly 12 years had passed since that fateful Halloween night. Things had had their ups and downs, but as a general whole, things had smoothed out. Remus had managed to publish a few articles for a wizarding magazine, and was still working happily in Tom's bar. Things had become easier for him financially, but he was far from wealthy. Socks had died peacefully in June, and was buried in the backyard of the flat he had been able to buy with a handmade marker.

Remus was absentmindedly washing up the supper dishes one night in July, when he heard a tapping on his window. Surprised, he looked up. He usually did not expect mail, as he had discontinued receiving the Daily Prophet years ago. He quickly let the tawny owl –the owl that brought his letter all those years ago had been tawny- into his home, only to see that the letter it bore had the Hogwarts crest stamped into it –oh the déjà vu- just like it had over thirty years ago.

His hands shook as he opened the envelope and pulled out a letter on thick, yellowish parchment –just how he remembered it- with emerald ink.

Dear Mr. Lupin, he read:

I am pleased to offer you the Defense Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts this year. I would be most honored if you would accept, as I know you to be extremely proficient in this area. Please consider it, and let me know.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Remus was shocked. This was a huge opportunity – he made enough to support himself working for Tom, but a teaching position… he wasn't sure if he could handle it, but then he remembered how he used to help his friends with their homework –and this time the memory didn't hurt- and how Peter would always need Transfiguration explained and how James and Sirius would always ask them to check over their essays, and he knew he could.

He pulled out a spare piece of parchment and sent his reply, watching as the tawny owl grew smaller and smaller against the bright blue of the cloudless sky.

It was not until after he sent the owl that he realized.

He would be teaching James' and Lily's son.