31 December, 1926:
"All right, love, one final push, and that'll do it!"
Merope shook her head, sobbing, "I can't! I can't do it!"
"Don't be silly, dear. You're almost there. Just one more push, and baby will be here. So you squeeze my hand as tight as you need, and push!"
The pain was unbearable, but Merope was no stranger to pain. Her whole life had been pain, of every kind imaginable. So she let out a howl and pushed.
As the baby slipped into the hands of the old woman who was waiting between her legs, Merope's howl died out. And in its place were the cries of her newborn child.
"It's a boy!"
A boy. Merope collapsed back onto the bed. Her son. Tom Riddle's son.
Once the umbilical cord had been tied off, the baby was placed in his mother's weak arms.
So small and so delicate. But healthy. And she knew, without a doubt, magic flowed through his veins, through the inherited blood of Salazar Slytherin.
But there was only one name she could give him.
"I want to call him Tom, after his father," she told the two Muggle women who had helped her deliver the child. "And Marvolo, after mine." She smiled down at her crying son. "Tom Marvolo Riddle."
A name was all she could give him. Merope had nothing else left to give. She was growing weaker by the second as the life left her body.
'Live.'
Merope stared at the baby. Her little Tom, who she would be leaving in this cold, dark world all by himself. Without anything but the name of a father who had rejected him, and a grandfather who would despise his very Half-blood existence.
'Live.'
No, Tom had nobody but her. He was entirely hers – the first thing in her life that was. But not for long. Not if she didn't fight for her life.
'Live.'
One day, Merope Riddle would die. But it would not be that day.
1 September, 1971:
"Gryffindor!" roared the Sorting Hat.
Relief filled Remus Lupin as Professor McGonagall pulled the Hat off his head. He was in the same house as his dad. He went over to join the table that was applauding loudest, looking for a spot to sit. Another First Year, a girl with dark red hair – he thought Evans was her last name – smiled warmly at him, and tried to make room for him on the bench.
"Here!" Another First Year boy with dark hair and a grin, who was a couple of spots down from Evans, patted the empty space next to him.
Remus gave Evans, who had cleared some room for him, an apologetic look, and took a seat next to the boy. "Thanks."
"No problem. I'm Sirius."
They continued to watch the Sorting. After a boy named Pettigrew was sorted into Slytherin, the next name called was 'Potter, James'.
Remus noticed that Sirius seemed to be holding his breath as James walked up to the Sorting Hat. Barely a second after the Hat was placed on his head, it shouted, "Gryffindor!"
Sirius loudly whooped, and a few others at the table also appeared delighted. Remus wondered if 'Potter' was an important name in Wizarding circles. Although his father was a wizard, Remus hadn't spent a huge amount of time among other wizards and witches. In fact, he hadn't been around many other people at all. His father didn't think it was wise for a young werewolf to do much socialising, which was why he had been apprehensive when Albus Dumbledore had shown up on their doorstep a few months ago to personally offer Remus a place at Hogwarts.
James had made a beeline for Sirius, who gestured for Remus to move up a bit. The new house member happily plonked himself down on the other side of Sirius, and the two boys high-fived.
"'Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!'" recited James. "That's us, mate!"
"My parents are going to be so mad!" announced Sirius, sounding ecstatic. "My cousin Narcissa has already been giving me the stink-eye for a solid ten minutes." He indicated towards the Slytherin table, at an older blonde girl who was glaring at Sirius. In response, he cheerfully waved at her, then stuck up his middle finger.
"Do you reckon you'll get a Howler tomorrow?"
"Probably," replied Sirius, shrugging. "That should be a laugh. Oh, this is Remus."
James peered around Sirius to see Remus properly, and brightly smiled at him. "Hi. I guess you're going to be stuck with us for the next seven years."
24 December 1975:
"And you still haven't found a single lead on who her parents might be?"
Amelia Bones shook her head. "Absolutely nothing. Blood tests haven't yielded anything, except to confirm that she is a witch."
Tom Riddle, prolific author and expert on the Dark Arts (as well as several other more obscure branches of magic), glanced down at the crib which contained the baby girl he had found inside the gates to his estate two and a half weeks ago. He and Madam Bones, the Ministry Official who had been assigned to the abandoned newborn's case, were currently in a private room at St. Mungo's, where Tom had taken the child upon discovering her.
A few months ago, he had bought the house and its surrounding lands in the Yorkshire moors from the Lestrange family who, through a series of bad investments (and just generally poor fiscal management), had lost all their money and consequentially had to sell their only remaining asset. It was his friend Valeriya Dolohov – the sister-in-law of the current head of the family – who had suggested to Tom that he purchase the place. Tom's mother had died at the beginning of the year, taken by Dragon Pox, and he'd been looking for a new place, preferably somewhere large so he had plenty of space to store the many artefacts he owned, and a decent-sized workroom and study.
Then, on the evening of the 7th of December, the alarm of one of his protective enchantments had gone off. Investigating the disturbance, he had found the baby, wrapped in a plain white blanket and lying in the snow, without any sign of how she had gotten there.
"What happens to her now?" he asked Madam Bones.
"There aren't a lot of precedents for any guidelines to have been established," she admitted. "Magical children who are abandoned are usually left in places like Muggle orphanages, not on the doorsteps of other wizards and witches, so we don't usually identify them as ours until they are eleven. I suppose our next step now is to look for any Wizarding families who are willing to adopt a baby – and find one as quickly as possible, because she can't stay here much longer without an official guardian. It just isn't practical."
Tom looked down at the baby. She was silent, but awake, gazing up at him with curious eyes. The healers who had been looking after her had told him she was an unusually quiet infant, rarely crying. But she was infinitely inquisitive – which was demonstrated to him now, as she reached a tiny hand up to him. Entranced, Tom let her grab his forefinger. And when she touched him, he somehow just knew her name was Lena. And she was supposed to be his daughter.
He looked up at Madam Bones. "So, how does one go about adoption?"
Sunday 14 May, 1978:
The sound of their dormitory door being flung open woke Remus, who instinctively pulled the bed-sheets further over his pounding head. 'So, this is a hangover,' he thought vaguely. 'Good to know.'
"Remus! Remus, wake up!"
It was Lily's voice, and that made Remus curious enough to peer over the sheets – which he immediately regretted as Lily pushed aside the bed hangings, allowing the morning sunlight to directly hit his sensitive eyes.
"Ugh," groaned Remus, turning away from her. "What are you doing, Lily?"
"Lily?" That was James. "What are you doing in our dorm at..." There was a pause, as he looked at the time. "Before nine a.m.?"
They hadn't gone to bed until three o'clock in the morning. The Gryffindor team, led by James, had won the Quidditch Cup yesterday, and the celebrations for the entire house had lasted until midnight. Then the Seventh Years had convinced everyone else to go to bed, and Sirius had brought out the Firewhisky.
"I've got some important news you'll want to hear," Lily told them.
"Can't it wait until later?" croaked Remus.
"Yeah." Sirius' voice was muffled by his pillow. "Like, this afternoon."
"No." Lily held up something. "Look, Remus!"
Remus squinted. She was holding up a copy of today's Sunday Prophet, showing him the front page. The headline read, 'WIZENGAMOT PASSES WEREWOLF ANTI-DISCRIMINATION ACT'.
His headache suddenly dulling, Remus sat up and grabbed the newspaper from Lily. "No way," he breathed, scanning the article.
"What?" inquired James. Remus heard him pushing his bed-hangings aside. "What happened?"
"They passed it!" replied Lily excitedly, jumping onto Remus' bed. "The Werewolf Anti-Discrimination Act is going to be in effect from the beginning of June!"
"Seriously?" James pulled open the hangings on the other side of Remus' bed, grinning at him. "That's fantastic!"
It was as though a weight had been lifted from Remus' shoulders. He would be employable. Alongside James and Sirius, he could train to be–
"Brilliant!" exclaimed Sirius, also jumping onto Remus' bed. "We're all going to be Aurors!"
A small shadow of doubt crossed Remus' mind. "Only if I pass my Potions NEWT," he pointed out. "I barely managed an E for my OWLs."
"Don't worry," said Lily, putting an arm around his shoulder, "I'll help you. It's going to be fine." She planted a kiss on his cheek, making Remus blush.
"Oi!" said James indignantly. "You can't kiss Remus before me! I'm your boyfriend." He leaned across Remus, trying to reach Lily.
But when his mouth was a few inches away from her, she wrinkled her nose and shoved him back. "Brush your teeth first," she ordered. "Then I'll consider it."
Sirius snickered. In response, James smacked his shoulder. In less than ten seconds, it had escalated into a wrestling match between the two shirtless teenage boys.
"Well," murmured Lily, observing them keenly, "this is an added bonus."
Despite his lingering hangover, Remus grinned. It was going to be a good day.
Friday 25 January, 1980:
"Dad?"
"Yes?" responded Tom distractedly, continuing to write. His publisher had set his latest book deadline five days away, and Tom had barely started the final chapter.
"I think something went wrong."
Sighing, Tom put down his quill and turned around to look at his four-year-old daughter. "What are you- sweet Salazar, what have you done to your hair?"
"I tried to plait it, but I don't think it worked."
It certainly hadn't. Lena's attempt at styling her hair had resulted in an enormous tangle of long, black hair, something akin to the Gordian knot.
Tom suspected he wouldn't be writing any more tonight. "Come here," he told Lena, a little exasperated.
She came into his study, and Tom picked her up, placing her on his lap. Inspecting the mess that was her hair, he realised this was a problem that wasn't going to be solved by magic, so he began to carefully unknot it by hand.
It would have been easy to believe that Lena was Tom's biological child. Not just because he appeared at least a decade younger than his fifty-three years, but because they looked so much alike – the same dark hair, pale skin, prominent cheekbones. The only thing that stopped Tom wondering if he'd had an amorous encounter with a woman five years ago that he had somehow completely forgotten about, was the fact that Lena was not a Parselmouth.
"Is this the book about minds you're writing?" asked Lena, peering at the manuscript on his desk.
"About the studies of Legilimency and Occlumency, yes," replied Tom absentmindedly, as he gently pulled a lock of hair out of a knot.
"When can I learn them?"
Tom momentarily paused his untangling. "They're very complex skills, Lena. Lots of grownup wizards and witches never learn them at all."
"So? I'm me."
It was a valid point. She was an extraordinarily intelligent child, and unusually focused. Tom wasn't sure how much of it was his parenting, or just inborn ability.
"Well, maybe we can discuss it again in a few years," he said evasively, and resumed his work on her hair.
Although he couldn't see her face, he knew Lena was pouting. She wriggled forward slightly, curiously looking at everything on his desk. After about thirty seconds of silence, she spoke again.
"Why don't I have a mother?"
Once again, Tom paused. Where had that come from? 'The photograph,' he realised, looking at his desk. In the left corner was a picture of him and his mother, taken just after he had graduated from Hogwarts.
"Not all children have two parents," he explained. "For instance, I didn't have a father."
"Oh." Lena considered this for a moment. "Do people ever start with just one, and get a second later?"
"Sometimes. In your case, that is very unlikely to happen. But if something were to happen to me," he added, wanting to reassure her, "your Aunt Valeriya would look after you."
He felt Lena tense. "What do you mean, 'happen' to you?"
"Well, if I were to get sick, or if I was in an accident–"
"Aunt Valeriya would take care of me until you got better?"
Tom hesitated. "Yes... or if I didn't get better, and...went to the same place my mother is now."
Lena whipped her head around, her young face very serious. "But you're not allowed to die."
"I'm not exactly thrilled by the prospect either," replied Tom drily. "And I sincerely hope it's not for a very long time. But, Lena, one day, everyone–"
"Not you."
He gently pushed back a lock of her hair. "Yes, even me."
"No," said Lena forcefully. She reached up and grasped either side of his face, and made him look her directly in the eyes. "You don't understand. I won't let you die. Ever."
Tom stared into his daughter's blue-grey eyes, and a shiver ran down his spine. Because for a moment, it had not felt like the sweet, precocious, four-year-old child looking back at him. It had been something very old, very Dark, and very, very frightening.
And for the first time, Tom wondered if it had not been a simple matter of parental abandonment that had left her alone at his gates four years ago. Maybe she had been left there for a reason.
Perhaps she was not even entirely human.
Tom blinked a few times. 'What a ridiculous notion,' he told himself. 'They ran every test imaginable on her at St. Mungo's. And all they found was a perfectly normal baby girl.' His baby girl.
Nevertheless...
"On second thought," he murmured, turning her back around and recommencing the untangling, "perhaps we could start looking at Occlumency together once I've finished this book."
27 February, 1990:
Remus stared at the portrait of his father that had been set out for the wake. Behind him, he could hear his mother talking to Dumbledore. The calm tone of her voice made him almost forget how she had broken down while giving the eulogy. He'd had to step in and read the rest of her words for her.
In the picture, his father genially smiled back at him. Remus remembered how not quite twelve years ago, just after he'd graduated from Hogwarts, his father had sat him down in this very room and explained to him the circumstances that had led to Fenrir Greyback biting Remus.
Learning that it was his father's prejudice that had provoked Greyback to attack him had strained the relationship between Lyall Lupin and his son. Perhaps it would have been even worse if conditions hadn't been improving for werewolves. As it was, Remus had been finding what excuses he could to avoid visiting his parents over the last decade and a bit. Now, he didn't need any more excuses to not see his father. Death had taken care of that.
"Remus?"
He glanced at his mother, who had finished speaking to Dumbledore and was standing beside him.
Hope Lupin gave her son a small smile. "He was so proud of you, dear. Not just because of how well you're doing as an Auror – Mr Moody told me before that you're a wonderful asset to the team – but of the man you've become."
"Mum," muttered Remus, unable to meet her eyes. "Please don't. We both know I wasn't... wasn't as good a son as I should have been."
She cupped his face with her hands, forcing him to look at her. "But you came back in the end. You were with him in those last moments." Her eyes were getting wet again. "And he understood, sweetheart. He did. He wasn't hurt. Just proud." She sniffed, and let out a tiny laugh. "Although, he had started to mention something about wanting grandkids..."
"Mum!" He gently pulled his head back out of her reach.
"What?" she protested. "He showed me that study someone did a few years ago about lycanthropy not being hereditary, so you can't use that as an excuse anymore."
He shook his head, exasperated. "That doesn't mean I–"
"You're going to be thirty soon. Isn't it time to think about settling down?"
Remus sighed. "Do we really have to do this now? Mum, I'm an Auror, I don't have time to–"
"James and Lily have been married for ten years, and are raising a son," she pointed out. "Surely you have time to meet a nice girl."
"It's no use, Hope," interrupted Sirius, walking up to her. "I've been trying to set him up on dates since we were thirteen. The longest any girl's lasted has been four months, and that was because she didn't understand the first three times he tried to dump her."
"Hmm... well, what about a nice young man?"
"Mum, how many times have I told you, I'm not–" Remus broke off as the other guests turned to look at him. He smiled awkwardly at them, and lowered his voice. "That's not the issue," he hissed at her. "And for Merlin's sake, this is a funeral!"
"Technically, this a wake," countered Sirius. "Which makes this conversation much more appropriate. By the way, did you even ask out Annette? You know, that witch in Magical Transportation I told you about?"
"No, Sirius," answered Remus, his teeth gritted, "because I was a little preoccupied with my father's death."
His mother patted his arm. "That's all right, dear." She paused. "But maybe when you're feeling up to it–"
Remus groaned, covering his face with his hands. There was more to why he was so hesitant to enter relationships, but it wasn't exactly something he wanted to discuss with his mother.
At school, his heart had never really been in it on the rare occasions he had gone out with a girl, because he'd been scared of them finding out he was a werewolf. But after he had graduated, and the general feeling towards people like him had begun to shift, a new issue had arisen.
There were certain people – mainly young women – who were very interested in werewolves. 'Interested' in the sense that it was something of a fetish. And every time Remus met one of these fetishists, he felt extremely uncomfortable.
During first dates, at least five women had asked if he would bite them. Remus had left very quickly after each of those, but in all honesty, he preferred their forwardness to the girls who would wait until they were back at his flat to make certain... desires... apparent.
Naturally, these experiences had made him somewhat apprehensive about dating. And besides, he'd never met a women who just felt right – not in the way James always talked about Lily, or how their fellow Auror Alice Longbottom talked about her husband Frank, the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts. In fact, he barely even liked most of the women with whom he'd attempted relationships.
Remus knew, firsthand, that raising a child could be much more challenging than anticipated. He hated to imagine what his childhood might have been like if his parents hadn't shared such a strong love. And he could never bring himself to settle for anything less – no matter how unlikely it was to ever happen.
Friday 24 December, 1993:
"Eleanor Rigby
Picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been;
Lives in a dream.
Waits at the window,
Wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door;
Who is it for?"
It was not the happiest of songs, but Remus welcomed the change to the Muggle Christmas music he'd been inundated with while shopping that morning as he entered the Muggle bookshop. He'd been working non-stop for almost a month, due to the Gilderoy Lockhart case (he and James had finally apprehended the serial memory-modifier the previous evening), and was now faced with the challenge of completing all his gift-buying in one day – a situation made even less ideal by the fact that tonight was a full moon. He had to be finished by three o'clock.
It was half-past one now, and he had just one present left to get – something for his mother. All in all, he had timed it reasonably well.
There were about half-a-dozen people at the front of the bookshop, but there were less as Remus went in further. He was browsing the crime section when a sound on the other side of the shelf caught his attention. It was a female voice, humming along to the music played over the shop's speakers.
Remus couldn't see the mysterious hummer, but he could hear that she was gradually moving to her left, and he subconsciously started walking to his right, continuing to inspect the books. As he reached the end of the shelf, he stepped forward to walk around the other side. But as he did, his way was suddenly blocked.
"Oh!" said the young woman in surprise. She was about half a head shorter than him, and wearing a white knitted hat. Her long black hair was split into two low pigtails, and a green scarf hung loosely around her neck. She wore an open black overcoat, a white woollen dress, black tights and boots. She had a bag slung over one shoulder, and was carrying a thick tome under the other. And she was looking up at Remus with an expression that had very quickly become curious.
Remus had never believed in love at first sight. To him, the idea was completely ridiculous and, frankly, shallow. Falling in love took time, because it was about learning and accepting what lay within – at least, having never actually been in love with someone, that's what he imagined it was.
But at that moment, Remus was staring back at her like he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.
Because he hadn't.
"Well," said the girl, after what felt like an eternity, "at some point, one of us is going to have to move."
Remus snapped out of his trance, a faint blush tinging his cheeks. "Of course, excuse me," he said, stepping to the side and trying not to knock any of his many bags of shopping into her.
"Looks like you've had a busy day," she commented, eyeing his purchases.
"Yeah, it's all been a bit last minute," he replied, trying to sound like a normal, sane man and not some lunatic who was infatuated with a woman he had literally met less than twenty seconds ago. "But only one more, and I'm done." He turned away, worried if he spent another second in her presence he would do something incredibly stupid. Like proposing.
"With a whole three hours to spare before the full moon."
His heart skipped a beat as he looked back at her. "W-what?" he stammered. "I don't... why would you–"
He came to an abrupt stop as the girl held up a hand. But she wasn't silencing him. Behind him, one of the books in the children's section wriggled itself loose from its tight shelving, and zoomed into her hand.
Remus stared at her, wide-eyed, before furtively looking around. But there was nobody else in sight. Looking back at her, he said in a hushed voice, "You're a witch."
She smiled at him. "Yes."
"But..." he shook his head slightly, still stunned, "... what are you doing here?"
She arched an eyebrow. "The same, I assume, as you – looking at books." She glanced down at the book she had wandlessly Summoned. "Matilda," she murmured, reading the title. "Never heard of it."
But Remus had. Someone had bought it for Harry when he was eight, and he could remember the boy telling him about it. "Somewhat ironically, it's about a girl who can move objects around with her mind," he said.
"Really?" She let out a little laugh. "Well, that is a strange coincidence. Perhaps I'll get it as a little present for myself." She put it with the much thicker book she was already carrying, allowing Remus to catch a quick glimpse at that one's cover – The Complete Works of William Shakespeare.
He was about to mention that his mother was finally making her way through all of Shakespeare's plays when she spoke again.
"Will you love me tomorrow?"
Remus felt as though the breath had been knocked out of his lungs. "What?" he managed to choke out, once again staring at her.
She made an indistinct gesture. "The song," she explained, and Remus realised she was talking about the music playing over the speakers, which had moved on from The Beatles. "Its title is Will You Love Me Tomorrow? I just didn't recognise it at first, because it's a different version to the one I usually listen to." She closed her eyes for a few seconds, listening. "Must be Carole King."
Remus listened to it too.
'I'd like to know that your love
Is a love I can be sure of.
So tell me now and I won't ask again,
Will you still love me tomorrow?'
He swallowed. "That's... rather beautiful."
"Yes," she said, nodding slowly, her eyes locking with his. "Yes, it is."
They held each other's gaze for a while, until Remus remembered something.
"How did you know I'm–"
"Your scars," she said softly. "I recognised what creature gave them to you." She lifted her hand, but hesitated. "May I..."
Her request surprised Remus, but before he knew what he was doing, he had inclined his head, and she reached up her hand to his face. Gently, her fingertips traced the three large scars on his left cheek. And at her touch, Remus learned an absolute truth.
He needed to be with her. For the rest of his life. Because without her, everything would be meaningless. There could never be anyone else. And it was imperative that he told her all of this at that very moment.
But first, there was one more thing he needed to learn.
"I don't even know your name," he whispered.
She smiled. "Lena. Lena Riddle."
In the Present:
"James?" said Remus, staring at his friend. Could it really be him?
The bespectacled man furrowed his brow. "You alright, mate?" he asked, sounding a little concerned. "You look like a ghost just went right through you."
Something clicked into place in Remus' mind. "Yeah, sorry," he replied. "Just feeling a bit off this morning. What's up?"
He felt like somebody needed to give him a good shake. Why had he been so shocked to see James? For Merlin's sake, they spent five days a week working together at the Auror office.
James dug into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. "You left this at our place last night," he told Remus, holding it out.
Last night... yes, he and Lena had gone back to the Potters' house after the funeral. There hadn't been an official wake, but James and Lily had held a little get-together at their place. Most people had left after lunch, but they had stayed until eleven p.m..
"Right." Remus took the wallet. "Thanks for dropping it off."
"Remus?" Lena's voice called out from the kitchen. "Who's there?"
Before Remus could respond, James poked his head through the doorway. "Morning, Lena!" he shouted back.
"Oh, hello, James!"
He turned back to Remus. "I can't stay," he said. "We couldn't get that stain out of the carpet from that bottle of Valerian essence Sirius knocked over, so I've got to head to Diagon Alley to find something that might work." He took a small step back, readying to Disapparate. "But we'll see you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow, yes. " It was his and Lena's turn to host Sunday lunch. "See you then."
"Catch you later." He disappeared with a loud pop.
Remus shut the door and locked it again. He still couldn't understand why he had initially been so surprised to see James. Not counting Lena, he and Sirius were the people with whom he spent the vast majority of his time. It had been that way since they were eleven years old. Even now at the Ministry, some people referred to them as 'the Three Musketeers' – a reference Lily had to explain to them.
He wandered back to the dining room, absentmindedly fiddling with his wallet. As he entered, Lena came out of the kitchen with his cup of tea and the leftover omelette.
"What did James want?" she asked, setting them down on the table.
"I left this at their place last night," answered Remus, showing her the wallet as he sat down.
"It must have fallen out of your pocket," murmured Lena, taking it from him and wandlessly Banishing the item to their bedroom.
'She does it with such ease,' thought Remus, watching his wife sit down again and pick up the newspaper. 'She uses wandless magic like it's as simple as a flick of the wrist.'
But that was Lena through and through – impressive was her norm. He'd realised that the first time they met on the train.
'Train?' Remus, who had been reaching for his tea, paused. 'Why on earth did I think that? Lena and I didn't meet on a train.' He gazed at her as she read the Daily Prophet, deep in thought. 'We met at the bookshop.'
It had come as something of a shock to discover the beautiful young woman was the daughter of Tom Riddle. Remus, as an Auror, had met the man on a couple of occasions – and prior to that, used several textbooks at school that were written by him – and for all his charm, had found him an incredibly intimidating presence. And of course, he knew the vague origin story of Lena – how she, as a newborn baby, had been abandoned on the grounds of Riddle's estate, where he had found her. It had also startled him to realise just how young she actually was – still in the middle of her final year of Hogwarts at the time.
Nevertheless, he hadn't been able to resist agreeing to meet her again a few days after Christmas. It was as though some higher power had compelled his infatuation.
They'd had lunch at a Muggle café, where Remus learned that in addition to loving Muggle literature and music, Lena was an accomplished Occlumens, had received an Outstanding for all of her OWLs, and was Head Girl at Hogwarts.
He also learned that during her Sixth Year, she had dated a girl called Gemma Farley who had broken up with Lena because although she was 'physically present in their relationship', she was also 'emotionally unavailable'.
Remus knew all about being 'emotionally unavailable'. On the rare occasions he hadn't been the one to initiate the breakup, it was the reason he was given for being dumped – and it was always completely justified.
But his emotions were readily available to Lena, as were hers to him. After they'd finished lunch, they had continued to pour their souls out to each other as they went for a walk together, then had tea at a different Muggle establishment, then continued to meander around London before they had ended up in Berkeley Square as night fell, where – unable to help themselves any longer – they had kissed each other passionately. It was only after that they, with the greatest reluctance, had finally parted from each other, as Lena's father was expecting her back home.
Of course, the next morning reality struck, as Remus was thrust back into work, trying to track down a wizard who was importing illegal goods from America, and he didn't get another chance to see Lena before she returned to Hogwarts for the new term.
So they had exchanged letters. Initially it was one or two a week, but by the end of February, it was nearly every day. And by this stage, there had been a certain... intensity to the letters. Nothing sexually explicit. The subject matter of the letters were primarily an exchange of academic ideas, with occasional mentions of whatever was going on at Hogwarts or the Ministry. But when Remus wrote his letters, something would build up inside of him that could only be released by reading Lena's responses.
They didn't tell anyone else, knowing people might find the relationship between a girl still in school and a man of thirty-three in law enforcement... inappropriate. But the night Lena had graduated, she had turned up at Remus' flat just as he was preparing to leave to meet Sirius at the place they went for his transformations. It had been risky, but the urge was irrepressible...
Having both found their release, Remus detached himself from Lena and rolled onto his back, breathing heavily. Beside him, Lena flexed her long limbs, sighing contentedly.
When he had his breath back, Remus moved onto his side to properly look at her. Her makeup was smudged, and her hair – which initially had been pinned up neatly on top of her head – had half fallen out and was damp with sweat. As far as Remus was concerned, she looked fucking gorgeous.
Running a finger down between her breasts, he murmured, "I wish I could just stay here with you forever."
Her mouth twitched in amusement. "That sounds lovely in theory, but I suspect we'd both get tired of our surroundings quite quickly... not to mention the smell."
Remus shook his head. "I think you're underestimating how in love with you I am."
"I think you're underestimating how much I perspire."
He chuckled. "You're incorrigible," he muttered, leaning down to capture her lips.
They held the kiss for a little while, then Remus reluctantly pulled back. "I really have to go." Sitting up, he checked the clock on his bedside table. "I've got less than half-an-hour until–"
"Can't I come with you?"
He glanced down at her, frowning. Was she crazy? "Absolutely not. How could you even think I would let you put yourself in that kind of danger?"
Lena sat up too. "But he won't hurt me, Remus," she said earnestly. "Let me show you." She put her hands either side of his face.
Remus stared into her eyes, confused. "What do you mean–" He broke off as a strange sensation washed over him. And suddenly, his mind seemed to split in two. One part – his part – was pushed to the back, and the other took control.
Moony felt dizzy. He was waking up, but without the pain he usually experienced. But something was still wrong. He looked down at himself and realised why – it was the wrong body. Instead of four legs and fur, he had two arms and bare skin.
He sniffed. His nose felt strange too, like he had to work harder to focus on and identify the smells filling it. At the moment, there was one scent in particular–
"Moony?"
His head snapped up. Sitting in front of him was what looked like a female human. For a split second, he prepared to lurch himself forward to attack the easiest prey he'd ever stumbled across. But then the scent became clearer. It was... not prey. There was not an ounce of fear in this human. And now, he wasn't even sure she was a human. His body tensed. What was she?
"Moony," she repeated, and stroked the side of his face.
And Moony had his answer. She was Lena. And he was hers.
Still not entirely sure of how to use this body, he tried to move closer to her, releasing a sound that emanated from the back of this throat – somewhere between a growl and a purr. Clumsily, he clambered on top of her, pushing her back against the soft surface they were on. In response, she emitted a noise he didn't recognise, but he could tell it was pleased–
"Remus?"
He jumped in his chair, brought back to the present. Lena was looking at him, her head cocked.
"You've been staring at me for three minutes," she continued. "Is everything all right?"
"Yeah, I was just remembering the first time we... met."
But Lena could tell he was fighting back a blush, and smirked. "Do you mean the first time we met, or the first time we became intimately acquainted?"
"Both," admitted Remus. He took a sip of tea, and was relieved to find it hadn't gone cold while he was reminiscing. "It's a little strange to think it was only a few years ago that Moony and I hated each other."
When Lena had separated the two personalities, it had finally given Remus the chance to properly communicate with his wolfish identity, which had improved the relationship immensely. Not to mention Moony was a lot more amenable when he was allowed to take control of their body a couple of times a month outside of the full moon, and indulge in his and Remus' common interest – sex. With their wife.
Lena stood up. "Well, I'm just glad that my boys get along now," she said, and kissed him on the forehead. Stretching, she added, "Unfortunately, I can't really spend time with either of you today. I missed out on an entire day's work yesterday, and this article is due on Monday morning."
Professionally, Lena had taken after her father. She'd still been at Hogwarts when her first academic papers appeared in scholarly publications, and had written her first book – a study on the magical properties of reflections – when she was twenty.
The Wizarding tabloids liked to label her as the 'it girl' of British Wizarding society. Lena liked to burn any copy of them that found their way into her hands.
There was a bit of a lull in work at the Auror office at present, so Remus spent the day reading one of the books he'd been given for his last birthday that he hadn't had a chance to open, and doing some additional baking for the Sunday lunch. It was something that had become a bit of a tradition over the last few years – a way for him, James and Sirius to spend time together when they weren't preoccupied with work. There would be slightly more of them than usual tomorrow, as Harry had finished his school year – a little earlier than usual, due to Dumbledore's passing – and Remus' mother was coming too. Mr Riddle, to Remus' relief, had declined his invitation, being committed elsewhere. Lena's father was never anything but courteous to his son-in-law, but Remus still found him slightly terrifying, which seemed to amuse his wife.
After dinner, Lena went back to her study to continue working and Remus had his shower. But as he came out of their en suite, he paused, looking around the bedroom. He had been able to put aside the feeling of wrongness throughout most of the day, but now he was back here, it was building again. And it was starting to overwhelm him.
'Just what the fuck is it?' he wondered, frustrated. 'What the hell is going on?'
He could hear it again. That familiar, yet unfamiliar sound.
Remus closed his eyes and tried to isolate the sound from all the other noise – the wind outside, the screech of tyres from a far-off car, his own breathing...
Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum.
There it was. The sound of a heartbeat. But it was not his own, because it was coming from under the bed.
Now, Remus felt wholly unnerved. Either he was not well in the head and was imagining things, or there was something alive down there. Neither of those were very attractive options. But he needed to find out which it was, so he knelt down, drew in a deep breath, and lifted the edge of the bedcover so he could see underneath.
The only thing there was a rectangular brown case.
Remus frowned. He didn't recognise the case. Perhaps it was Lena's. But how long had it been there? And why was this noise coming from inside it? Filled with curiosity, he lowered himself a little more and stuck his arm out, reaching for the case–
"Remus? What are you doing?"
Startled, Remus snatched back his hand and turned around to look at Lena, who was standing a few feet behind him, wearing a puzzled expression.
"I was just..." He trailed off, and scratched his head. What had he been doing? Why had he been looking under the bed? 'You're losing it,' he told himself. 'Totally losing the plot.' Aloud, he sighed and stood up. "Doesn't matter," he muttered, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
Lena sat down next to him, resting her hands over his, and once again looking at him anxiously. "Are you still feeling unwell?"
"No, I... I don't know," admitted Remus. "All day, I've just... felt..." Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know to describe it, other than 'off'."
She put a hand on his cheek. "It only started today?"
He nodded. "Since the moment I woke up."
"Could you have been exposed to something at work this week? Some kind of Dark magic that's slow to take effect?'
"I don't think so," he replied, after a moment's consideration.
"Hmm... maybe we should cancel lunch tomorrow, and get you to St. Mungo's for a check-up."
Remus gently removed her hand from his cheek, but kept a hold of it. "Let's just see how I feel tomorrow morning first. Maybe all I need is a good night's sleep."
"All right." She kissed him on the cheek and stood up. "You get into bed and turn the lights off. I'll have my shower, and try not to disturb you when– mmph!"
She was cut off by Remus pulling her onto his lap and kissing her fervently. He knew it hadn't been that long, but it felt like ages since he'd last made love to her.
Lena started to return the kiss, but then pulled back. "I don't think this counts as 'a good night's sleep'."
Remus smiled. "What do you mean?" he murmured, letting his hands slide down from her back to her bottom. "I always sleep better after you've tired me out."
She arched an eyebrow. "Yes, but sometimes we don't reach that point until the sun is almost up again."
His fingers curled around the hem of her shirt. "All the more reason to get started now," he said, sliding the garment up.
Lena rolled her eyes, but helped him pull off her shirt. "You're incorrigible," she muttered under her breath, dropping the shirt on the ground.
"Takes one to know one."
The next morning, the feeling of wrongness had subsided to a tiny niggling at the back of Remus' mind that there was still something not quite right. But not wanting to worry Lena, he ignored it and told her he felt completely fine. After all, if he kept telling himself that, surely he would soon start to believe it.
Other than that small discomfort, the world seemed relatively at peace over the next few weeks. At work, Remus was on desk duty. At home was domestic bliss. Weekends were spent among friends and family. It was a summer of blue skies, sunshine, and pleasant warmth.
On the 27th of July, it was Remus and Lena's turn to host Sunday lunch again. After they finished eating, Lena and James cleaned up in the kitchen while Lily and Sirius squabbled over which record to play. Remus, meanwhile, sat down at the table for a chat with Harry.
"Seventeen in four days," he said, shaking his head a little in disbelief. "I can't believe it. Seems like just yesterday we were celebrating your first birthday."
Harry raised his eyebrows. "I hope you're exaggerating," he commented. "Because when I was one, Lena was five."
Remus inwardly cringed. He often forgot that Lena and Harry were much closer in age than he was, and their time at Hogwarts had overlapped by a few years. It must have been so strange for Harry when Remus had told the Potters that he was in a relationship with Lena. It had certainly startled Lily, who had been Lena's Potions teacher for seven years.
"Yes, well, obviously a lot has happened since then," amended Remus, rubbing his neck awkwardly. "I mean, just in the last year alone."
"Yeah," muttered Harry, looking down at his hands, which were fidgeting in his lap. "Tell me about it."
Remus wondered whether he was referring to the loss of his headmaster, or his short-lived relationship with Ginny Weasley, the younger sister of his best friend. She had been Harry's girlfriend – his first actual girlfriend – for a grand total of eight weeks before things had fizzled out.
"Have you seen much of Ron these holidays?" he asked, a little too casually.
Harry gave him a knowing look. "He's not mad at me," he told Remus. "And there's no, you know, ill-feelings between me and Ginny." He shrugged. "We liked each other for a while, we tried giving it a go, it didn't work."
Remus nodded slowly. "But there's something on your mind, isn't there?"
Biting his lip, Harry hesitantly began, "Well, there is something I–"
He was interrupted by the opening notes of Bruce Springsteen's Born to Run blaring out of the next room.
"Ah," said Remus. "Sirius must have won the fight with your mother." He listened to the song for a moment. "Merlin, I hope this isn't the start of another Springsteen phase for him. You should have seen him in '82 – he didn't wear anything but flannel or denim, with the sleeves cut off and everything."
Harry grinned. "Bloody hell. I wish I could remember it."
Remus chuckled. "Don't worry, I've got a photo album somewhere..."
The dark back garden of 4 Privet Drive was a truly absurd sight. Not only were there fourteen people mounted upon broomsticks, winged horses, and a motorbike with a sidecar, but seven of them looked exactly the same – bespectacled, messy black hair, a scar on the forehead, and wearing precisely the same clothes.
"Good luck, everyone," shouted Mad-Eye Moody, over the roar of the motorbike. "See you all in about an hour at the Burrow. On the count of three. One... two... THREE."
Everybody took to the air, and Remus felt George's grip on his waist instinctively tighten. Hair whipped back by the sudden wind, and his eyes starting to water, they climbed higher and higher into the sky–
And they were surrounded by at least thirty hooded figures, suspended in mid-air. There were screams, and blazes of green light from every side. Remus threw his weight to the left to move out of the way of a Killing Curse, as behind him, George fired off a Stun.
Spotting a gap between the Death Eaters, Remus accelerated, and he and George shot off. But half a dozen of Voldemort's soldiers gave chase, and they had to duck and weave another flurry of curses. George continued to fight back as Remus concentrated on flying. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the Death Eater's hoods fall back as they dodged one of George's counterattacks.
It was Snape, and amongst his panic, Remus felt a surge of rage. If only Sirius' prank at Hogwarts had worked, and Moony had ripped the slimy traitor to pieces when the boy had stumbled upon the transformed werewolf–
There was a gasp, and George's grip slackened. He'd been hit, and was starting to slide off the broomstick.
'Fuck,' thought Remus, reaching an arm behind to hold the nearly unconscious Weasley twin. 'Fuck. Fuck.'
He couldn't fight back. All he could do was keep a hold of George and keep flying, as curse after curse came towards them, getting closer and closer–
Remus' eyes flew open. His heart was beating rapidly, and he was sweating. A dream had never felt so real, and his mind was racing with questions. Where was 4 Privet Drive? Why had there been seven people who all looked exactly like Harry, except they had scars on their foreheads? Why had they all been going to the house of the Weasley family? What were Death Eaters, and who was Voldemort? The whole dream had been so absurd and nonsensical, but not in the way they usually were. There had been a clarity to it that other dreams and nightmares lacked.
He turned to look to Lena, but the other side of the bed was empty. However, there was light shining out through the crack between the closed en suite door and the floor. Wanting to talk to her about the strange dream, Remus waited for her to come back out. But after five minutes, the door was still closed.
Remus frowned and got out of bed. He lightly knocked on the bathroom door and softly called out, "Lena? Are you all right?"
Ten seconds later, the door slid open. Remus had to blink a few times to adjust to the bright light which flooded the bedroom. Then he refocused his gaze on Lena. She had a dazed look on her face, and held a hand over her stomach.
"Sweetheart, are you feeling okay?" he asked, concerned.
Lena's eyes became less glazed over. "Yeah. Yes, I'm–" She broke off, biting her lip.
Remus reached out to her, opening his mouth. But before he could make a sound, Lena spoke again.
"I think I might be pregnant."
Hope you enjoyed the chapter, the beginning of the Deathly Hallows section! As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts :)
Thank you to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter; your lovely words and encouragement really mean a lot to me.