To my reviewers…all three of 'em!

Bob-chan: Thanks so much for letting me borrow off your fic, and for all the inspiration you've given me! I dunno if this is a masterpiece in the works…maybe a masterpiece for the seriously mental ;-) Oh, and thanks for the squirrels.

LunasStar: Thank you for your sweet reviews. I feel sorry for Remus, too (although I don't know where the goldfish mini-theme came from, exactly)…he suffers so much!

I'm going to take some time out and check out your stories: they all look very promising!

Yosh: Darling, I will see what I can do for you and your wanting a giant bear-like dog (and his human alter ego) for a pet. It's a romantic comedy, after all…

Severus sings? And yes, Peter in a nunnery. I'll have to refer back to that, it has promise.

This chapter is a little centered on Remus's plight, but the next one really takes off with James, Lily and the absence of a wedding planner.

-----

Another Name for Azkaban

-Chapter Three: It's "Only Dinner" if…-

"Don't worry so much, Remus," Creidwy had soothed, laying a delicate hand over his with an uncommonly gentle smile. "It's only dinner."

Yeah. It's "only dinner" if you're not hyperventilating!

Unfortunately for Remus, it was more like disaster with complimentary refreshments. At least something good had happened. Well, it was good in Creidwy's point of view. Sick of too much work and not enough pay, she had foisted her job as Potions Mistress off on Severus Snape and was thrilled at the prospect of spending more time on her music. To Remus, this only meant that she had lopped a huge part out of their income.

He was already starting to picture the little goldfish he would buy himself. It would live in a glass bowl with blue pebbles at the bottom. He would feed it everyday, change its water on Thursdays and buy it little fake plants and treasure chests so it could be happy. It wouldn't be as skilled at brewing the Wolfsbane potion as Creidwy, but that was OK with him. He could get more potion from the black market.

But the goldfish! The cute, bobbly-eyed goldfish! It would never send them into debt because of a dinner party, something he was afraid had happened that very evening. It would never scream or hiss with rage, make him feel bad by crying, or coerce him to stop being angry with it with offers of make-up sex…offers he had never been able to refuse. Of course, now he could refuse them, if the goldfish even could make offers.

Which it couldn't.

Its name, he decided, would be Blubber the Second. And it would NOT meet its untimely death by leaping into an evil Muggle toaster, like Blubber the First.

"So, ah, Lupin," Lucius Malfoy began, obviously making an effort to play nice for his friend's sake, "what is all this junk –this stuff–," he corrected himself hastily, "all over your…charming…flat?"

Remus looked around at all the Muggle artifacts he had everywhere, including a toaster (the source of the Blubber the First problem), an ironing board that he had picked up solely because it had made him and Creidwy laugh, and a crashed Volkswagen Beetle that took up most of the space in the living room.

"Muggle artifacts," he admitted, disliking Malfoy more with every minute. "I don't like the toaster so much anymore, though."

Deep breath, play nice, play nice.

It was disturbingly clear to him that Bellatrix and Narcissa found him cute. Snivellus and Lucius, on the other hand…well, he would be happy to drop in and say hello on the next full moon.

"And are you employed at all, Lupin?" Snape asked him silkily, his emphasis stressing the underlying meaning of the words. "What's your…profession…exactly?"

Remus shifted in his chair slightly. ". I used to work at Flourish and Blotts, but it didn't exactly pan out.  Now I'm…well, I'm helping Creidwy manage her singing, you know, looking for auditions and things like that. I'm looking for something additional, though, since you took over her job as Potions Mistress."

"I asked him to," Creidwy said quietly, shifting her weight forward so the neckline of her robes plunged a little more, hoping to mesmerize him into not saying anything stupid. "Three years teaching was enough for me."

"Anyway," Remus continued, "I want a job where I can take care of animals."

That way, he could have all the goldfishes he wanted, and a flat to himself.

-----

"Don't worry so much, James," Lily soothed, rolling her eyes at her fiancé and grabbing his hand. "It's only dinner!'

"Dinner with your weird sister," James retorted. "She's creepy! I think she hates me."

 "Petunia hates everyone," Lily interrupted, "unless they're celebrities she can gossip about, and she probably actually hates them because they're better looking than she is. And you've met my mum and dad; they're really nice! So STOP WORRYING."

James kept right on with the worrying, though. Actually, he worried like a pro.

He had no doubt that they would be thrilled that he was marrying their daughter and wouldn't hesitate to give their blessing, but he had heard horror stories about mothers and weddings, and wasn't sure he was ready to test the waters on whether or not they were true. In addition, he hated Lily's creepy sister with a passion, though he usually managed to quash his revulsion by remembering how much he adored Lily. It made a sort of balance in his suffering mind.

The sight of the Evans' house at the end of their travel from Hogsmeade was reassuring, at least.  It was a pretty, quiet looking house in a pretty, quiet country location, surrounded by old oak trees, gently sloping hills, little rivers, some more trees, and all the other kinds of junk usually reserved for Thomas Kincaide paintings. Really, though, it seemed nice and even comforting. With any luck, Petunia would be gone, dinner would be short, and he and Lily might have some time to go swimming in one of the creeks and even take some time out for a little fun in the sun…or in the shade, to protect his fiancée's delicate complexion.

In itself, the house was what most females he knew generally referred to as "cute": a moderately sized country cottage where everyone left their shoes outside on the porch and walked around a bright, clean house in their stocking feet. There were even a few household pets that could be seen from the front walk:  a dog and cat asleep on the porch, and a goldfish on the windowsill. A little statue of a squirrel sat motionless on the porch, and James poked curiously at it. He'd rarely met a statue that didn't move.

"Mum!" Lily cried delightedly, gently twisting the door open. "We're here!"

Quickening footsteps announced the arrival of her parents. James found himself face to face with a pretty blonde woman who resembled, if anything, a much friendlier, slightly older Narcissa Malfoy. Lily had gotten her looks, then, from her father. Mr. Evans was on the tallish side, topping out at around six feet even. He and Lily shared the same green eyes and Irish Setter colored hair, but she'd gotten her mother's eyebrows, nose and mouth.

A cursory glance behind them revealed a long-necked, surly-faced blonde in her early teens. That little troll, James realized, must be Petunia. She'd changed since he saw her last, and the awkward teenage years really didn't suit her. As a little kid, she'd been cute, if incredibly nasty. Now, she vaguely resembled something he would feed to a certain werewolf when the full moon was high.

"Come on in, James," Mrs. Evans said busily, ushering him into the hallway. "We're delighted to have you!"

Lily's father smiled genially and asked him a few questions about Quidditch, obviously not understanding most of what his future son-in-law said, but enthused anyway.

Only sullen Petunia (and Vernon, the equally awkward walrus-human half-breed standing beside her) seemed determined not to have a good time.

-----

"So tell us exactly how you two came to this decision," Mrs. Evans began as Lily and Petunia helped clear the dinner dishes and her husband served up dessert. "It seems like a rather sudden decision for two kids to make, although we couldn't be more pleased!" She smiled kindly at James and continued. "Lily told us it was rather a shock to her."

"It was?" James asked, confused. "I'd been leading up to it for who knows how long."

Lily blushed and smiled sheepishly. "Well, James…er, you know how women are! These things are always a shock to us!"  Especially when we've been tuning you out for who knows how long because you talked for an hour about Quidditch beforehand! She thought, frustrated. Men and sports. Men and SPORTS.

She didn't understand it.

"Is it gonna be some kind of weird wedding?" Petunia asked suspiciously. "Like with the rest of your freak friends?"

Scowling, Lily turned to join her parents in berating her sister.

Now less absorbed in eating and making conversation, James was able to take his first real good look at the interior of Lily's parents' house. It wasn't bad: decorated with what he suspected women's magazines referred to as "tasteful, neutral, shabby-chic appeal," whatever the hell that meant. They had a television, something he had heard Lily talked about before, that sounded like it would be a lot of fun despite most likely also being more complicated than necessary. Muggles never did anything simply. In the room across from the dining room, he could see three large cherrywood bookcases packed with…a bunch of Muggle books.  On top of each of them, he noticed a little squirrel statue, exact copies of the little statue that sat on the Evans's front porch. There was another statuette sitting by the table lamp. Next to him, clustered around the floor lamp, were about five stone squirrels.

Rubbing his eyes, James checked again. Yep, still there. There were some in the kitchen, too…over the stove, on the windowsills and the baker's rack…the salt and pepper shakers. Everything. The bloody curtains were patterned with bloody squirrels!

Suddenly, he was seeing squirrels –stone or otherwise– everywhere he looked. It was exactly like an invasion. A fucking HAUNTING. Of squirrels.

Lily and her mother were talking about "precious" looks for the bridesmaids and flower girl. James covered his eyes and put his head in his hands. Why did he have a feeling that squirrels would somehow make an appearance at his wedding…and they wouldn't be part of any "hillybilly exotic" entrée?

-----

The Slytherins were gone, but not until it was too late. They had left at around three in the morning. By that time, Remus's little dream goldfish was living in palatial splendor and he had mentally evicted the redheaded Creidwy Caliban, her cauldron and her vocal chords and sent her off to find a new manager.

"Right," he said smartly to himself. "She's just a woman. I am impervious to her tears, her rages, her perfume and her offers of sex rampant enough to please Sirius black for a month running. I, Remus Julien Lupin, AM GETTING A GOLDFISH. She always favored Snivellus in Potions class, anyway…"

That was only somewhat a lie. In her days as Professor Creidwy Caliban (Miss), she had favored Remus, but had despaired over the fact that he was complete trash at brewing more than a cup of tea.

"Come tomorrow," he told himself firmly, " that guppy is mine!"

Resolutely, he stepped into his –now their– bedroom, intending to drop a huge bomb and then run like hell.

"Creidwy Musetta," he started, using her first and middle names, then stopped just as abruptly as he had begun.

She was sitting cross-legged in his chair, her hair in two braids for sleep and a decent amount of slender leg showing beneath the hemline of her casual nightgown, looking about five or six years younger than she really was. It was probably the braids.

The expression on her face was slightly forlorn, which, if it was another woman, would probably be explainable within the space of a few words. Since this was Creidwy, however, he was fairly sure that something had died in there house, something illegal that shouldn't have been there and he hadn't known had been there, and now she was having real problems getting rid of it. Whatever it was.

It probably wouldn't be easy or fun. And since she brewed quite exotic potions, the thing was probably still poisonous after it had been dead and festering in his walls for a few hours.

"Creidwy Musetta," he started again, "er…whatever dead thing's in our walls, I want it gone."

"Dead thing?" She looked confused. "What dead thing? Oh! No, Remus, this isn't a repeat of two months ago."

Well, thank Merlin for small miracles. Two months ago, he had bought the tragically-fated Blubber the First, but the poor fish hadn't lived long enough for Remus to throw Creidwy out and bring the goldfish in. The toaster had seen to that, and Creidwy had atoned for her sins.

Well, that wasn't happening this time.

"Look, Creidwy, I wanna get a goldfish," he said by way of explanation, mentally smacking himself. Oh, good one Remus. Smooooooooooth. That sure as hell explained a lot.

"A goldfish?" She replied, cutting her eyes at him slightly. "A goldfish? Remus, it's three in the morning. You canNOT go get a goldfish now. Tomorrow."

He opened his mouth to speak again, but she cut him off. Foiled!

"I'm really sorry about tonight," she said simply. "I know you hate my friends, and with good reason. Thank you for not ruining everything." Rising from her chair, she touched him lightly on the back of the hand. "You should sleep sometime within the next forty-eight hours. Full moon's next week."

Damn, damn, damn! Blubber the Second's little aquatic palace was diminishing to a glass bowl, and even that was fast disappearing. He'd forgotten how kind she could be to people she favored…even fun to be with, even if her company sometimes brought the level of risk in life up to Seriously Not Worth It. He could go without a goldfish for at least another few days…or at least one more night. He grinned evilly.

"So I should sleep sometime within the next forty-eight hours?"

She nodded, not making much of it. "Yeah."

"Not necessarily tonight, though," he added. "You said forty-eight hours."

She smiled and loosened the top of her nightgown. "Still like me?"

Forgetting the goldfish (well, not entirely, but at least putting it in the very back of his brain), he pressed his lips to hers.

What could he do? For now he loved her.

He would love her even more once that stupid nightgown came off.

-----

In her wedding dress, Lily looked beautiful. James could only gape at her like, well, a goldfish, waiting for Albus Dumbledore to tell him he could now kiss the bride.

As he waited for it, he noticed a fat gray squirrel go running across the lawn in front of them.

Strange, but to be expected with an outdoor wedding. Trying to focus once more on Dumbledore and on Lily, James turned away from the squirrel as it reached a knot of more fat, gray bushytailed rodents.

It was unfortunate about the bridesmaids, James thought. They were all wearing little brooches shaped like squirrels. Maybe it was to match the decorations?

"You may kiss the bride," Dumbledore told him with twinkling eyes, and James forgot about the infestation. He turned to Lily, lifted the veil from her face and beheld not his bride, but a gigantic red-haired stone squirrel head.

It was their god. Their cutesy, bushytailed god.

James awoke nearly maddened by his nightly visions of bright-eyed, nut-chomping monsters.

Just a nightmare. A pre-wedding nightmare caused undoubtedly by pre-wedding jitters.

Well, that was one down, about ninety-two thousand to go.