Chapter 11: Good Reasons

Accompanied by a sense of déjà vu, Remus paused at the gate in front of Diana's house. The house was still in a poor state of repair, and now a growing pile of rotting autumn leaves added to the general sense of neglect, but there was something different, something that took him a minute to put his finger on.

The house looked warmer somehow. The glow from the windows seemed to have a heat that had not been present last time—perhaps it was because it was colder, wetter, windier and darker than it had been last time, or perhaps because Remus' own expectations were different. Last time, he'd come prepared for a romantic evening. This time, he'd come armed with chocolate raspberry ice cream that Edward had not asked for and a much more realistic expectation for what was to happen.

He lifted the latch on the gate and stepped into the yard, closing the gate behind him. He wasn't halfway up the walk when the door opened and Edward came barreling out into the cold, barefoot and without a jacket. Remus was almost prepared when the boy slammed into him full force and wrapped his arms around him. Remus returned the heartfelt embrace with a little more restraint and ruffled Edward's hair, but before he got around to saying hello, Diana's voice came through the open door.

"Edward Murphy! Get your bum back in here! Running out like that with no shoes. Remus doesn't want you plastering yourself against him every time you see him. Can't you learn to shake hands?"

Remus chuckled and guided Edward back towards the house with a hand on his back. The scene was much like last time—Robbie peeked from behind Diana's knees, left hand wound into her robe, right thumb planted in his mouth. Diana held the door with one hand, stepping out of the way as Edward darted inside past her, her other hand occupied with steering Robbie as he persisted in his clinging.

Unlike last time, she didn't appear to have spent the time getting ready for the evening. Her hair hung down her back in a sensible braid, her robe was more practical. The smell wafting from the kitchen was more savory.

"Good evening," she said, closing the door as Remus stepped inside.

"Good evening," he replied. An awkward moment of silence passed between them as they stood in the hallway, but Robbie's tolerance of the silence seemed short.

He gave his mother's robe a firm tug. "Mummy!"

"What?" Diana asked, looking down at him.

Robbie's lower lip was protruding, a distrusting gaze directed at Remus. "Up."

She picked him up, and he leaned his head against her shoulder, thumb in his mouth again.

"You know," Remus said, looking at the child, "I don't think you like me."

"Robbie doesn't like strangers," Diana replied, gesturing towards the kitchen.

The table was already set, and something was simmering on the stove. Diana lifted the lid and peered inside, a fragrant steam surrounding them. She poked a spoon into the pot and stirred, trying in vain to put Robbie down. Robbie refused to let go of her, and her efforts to disentangle her robe from his hands proved an exercise in futility.

"Let go," she urged as she eased his fingers open, but he was having none of it; he wrapped his arms around her knees. "Mummy needs to finish dinner."

"No dinner."

"Don't you want to eat?"

"No."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Remus asked, placing a Chilling Charm over the ice cream and setting it on the counter. Robbie's head snapped towards him as he spoke, his mouth pursing into a frown. Diana looked at her youngest son, then at Remus, and nodded as she picked Robbie up again.

"Will you put the soup on the table?" she asked. "I seem to have something attached to me."

Remus chuckled, and moved the pot of soup onto the table. "Anything else?" he asked.

She smiled over the top of Robbie's head. "No," she replied. "Thank you." They lingered again, and this time the silence wasn't so awkward, but it was interrupted by the door opening and Edward bursting in.

"Can Remus sit by me?"

"Ask Remus if he wants to sit by you," Diana answered, waving her wand to dim the lights.

Edward 'asked' him by grabbing one of his hands and pulling him towards the table, pointing at a chair. "You can sit by me," he proclaimed, and Remus noticed that Diana was avoiding his eyes as she settled Robbie into a high chair. Remus held her chair for her, earning himself an odd look from her and a considering look from Edward as she seated herself.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're quite welcome," Remus replied as he sat in the chair Edward had indicated.

The soup turned out to be much more palatable than the roast had been, and Remus was quite thankful for that. He was all too aware that he was eating under the scrutiny of an eight-year-old, and it was an odd sort of knowledge. He'd never been a role model for anyone, and he wasn't sure he was up to the job, but given that Edward hadn't consulted him before deciding to try and emulate him, Remus felt he had no choice but to be on his best behavior. He made a conscious effort to keep his elbows off the table and not to talk with his mouth full.

Except for the food, most of the meal was very similar to the previous—Diana's time was spent coaxing bites into Robbie's mouth while Edward took it upon himself to entertain Remus. Remus, for his part, was more willing to be entertained by an eight-year-old and found himself laughing at jokes that weren't funny and talking about things he hadn't talked about since he was eight years old. Edward was quite capable of a one-sided conversation, and he never seemed to notice when Remus' part in it lulled.

After dinner, Remus mentioned in a casual voice that he'd brought ice cream for dessert, and the grin that broke out across Edward's face was like the spring sun breaking through winter's clouds. Edward wanted to help serve it, and Remus held the carton while Edward dipped hollow, crescent-shaped scoops into bowls. After they finished the ice cream, Diana took Robbie to bed, and Remus and Edward cleaned the kitchen.

"Mum likes you," Edward announced as he dipped the remaining soup into a bowl.

"Does she?" Remus asked as the sink filled with water.

"Yep. She practiced this soup three times. She said she didn't want it to turn out as bad as the roast did."

Remus felt a pang of guilt over that. "There was nothing wrong with the roast," he protested.

Edward's expression of frank disbelief told Remus everything he needed to know about his opinion of that statement, but he shrugged after a moment. "Do you like my mum?"

"Yes…" Remus said, choosing his words with care. "She's very nice."

"But do you, you know, like her?"

Remus turned his attention to the dishes. "I'm not sure I know what you mean," he answered after a hesitation. That was the truth. An eight-year-old kid couldn't know—

"You know, like are you gonna hug and kiss her and stuff?"

So maybe an eight-year-old kid could know more than Remus was giving him credit for. He almost dropped the bowl he was washing. "I'm not sure I know your mother well enough yet."

"Well," Edward said, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "if she tries to kiss you, just pretend to sneeze. Works every time."

Remus had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. It would seem that Edward still harbored a bit of confusion on the matter, and Remus felt it was far from him to straighten the boy out. "I'll keep that in mind," he said when he trusted himself to speak without laughing.

They worked in silence for a few minutes before Edward continued with the awkward subject. "Mum says someday I won't mind it so much. I don't think I'll ever like it, though."

"I wouldn't count out the possibility," Remus replied. "Mums have a way of turning out to be right."

"Do you like it?"

Remus hesitated before nodding. "Yes," he replied, deciding once again that honesty was the best course of action with the boy.

"Why?"

This time, Remus couldn't help but laugh a little. He half-turned to see the expression of befuddled horror on Edward's face, and that added fuel to his mirth. "Because it feels good," he replied. Vague honesty was the best course of action.

"Really?"

"Really. Don't you like it when she hugs you?"

Edward seemed to consider this for a moment. "I guess it's all right sometimes," he replied at length. "Like maybe when I'm scared or something."

Remus nodded. "Yes. A hug certainly feels good when you're scared."

"Do you still get scared?"

"Of course. Everyone gets scared."

"What scares you?"

Such a simple question, yet one that seemed almost impossible to answer. Most of the immediate responses he came up with seemed unsuitable to confess to a child—the fear of spending the rest of his life alone, the fear that he might endanger someone when he wasn't in control of himself, the fear of disappointing the people who meant the most to him, the fear of losing those he cared about. At the same time, he wanted to do the question justice and not brush it off. This wasn't the first time Edward had asked him something similar, and Remus wasn't sure that the question was innocent.

"I'm terribly afraid of seeing people I love suffer," he offered at last. "Sometimes I'm very much afraid of what might happen." He dunked the pot the soup had been in into the water. "What scares you?" he asked.

Edward didn't answer right away, and when Remus looked over his shoulder, Edward was sitting at the table, his arms wrapped around his knees. Remus dried his hands and went to sit beside him.

"You can tell me," he said, hoping he sounded more reassuring than he felt.

"I'm a werewolf because another werewolf bit me, right?" Edward asked after a moment.

Remus nodded. "That's right."

"Is that how come you're a werewolf?"

"That's how all werewolves become werewolves."

"Have you ever bit anybody?"

"No."

"How do you know? I can't remember what happens when I'm a werewolf. The werewolf that bit me—do you think he knew it?"

"I doubt that he knew," Remus replied, hoping he sounded more sure than he felt. After all, he knew with great certainty that the werewolf who had infected him had intended to do just that, and he had no way of knowing whether the same was true of Edward. Remus' conviction to be honest had reached a limit, though; eight years old was far too young to carry that particular burden. "And I know that I've never bitten anyone because I've been very careful. You have to be very careful, and you have to take it very seriously."

Again, that wasn't the full truth; he could not say with great certainty that he'd never bitten anyone. He'd been irresponsible with his condition when he was young, and even as an adult, he'd not managed it perfectly. He doubted anyone could ever manage it perfectly. There would always be the dose of Wolfsbane that he might forget, or worse still, the full moon that might slip up on him. He knew that the consequences for irresponsibility were high, but knowing did little to change anything. That was knowledge that an eight-year-old didn't need, either. Edward needed to believe with all his heart that if he was very careful, he had nothing to worry about.

"It scares me when I wake up after a full moon and I can't remember what happened. I used to always wake up in my bed, but since I have to go to the Ministry, it's worse."

Remus wasn't sure what to say to that, or if he should say anything at all, and once again his response was slow in coming. "You don't have to worry about what happened," he said. "That's one of the reasons there are so many rules for werewolves during the full moon. We make sure we can't do anything we'd regret."

"I don't want to go to the Ministry again."

Remus offered a sympathetic smile. "I know." He was saved any further struggling for the right thing to say as Diana returned, pausing in the doorway to look back and forth between them.

"Edward, are you pestering Remus?"

"No!" Edward protested.

Remus chuckled. "Not at all," he replied, standing again.

Diana reached for Edward, but he ducked away from her, darting towards the door. "Can I go play?"

"Yes," she said, gesturing at the door. "Go play and stay out of trouble."

As the door slammed behind Edward, Remus grinned at Diana. "Do you think he'll stay out of trouble?"

She snorted. "Oh, sure," she replied. "As soon as the sun starts rising in the west." His eyes lingered on her for a moment as she rolled up her sleeves and plunged her hands into the dishwater. "I wish you wouldn't do this, you know," she said, waving her hand at the clean dishes.

"My mother would have beaten me half senseless if I'd ever not offered to help clean up after a meal," he replied as he gathered the last of the dishes and carried them to the sink. "It's the least I can do."

She craned her neck to look up at him. "Well, if I ever see her, I'll tell her what a good job she did then. Where does she live?"

"She died during the last war."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Remus shrugged. "That's what happens during wars," he replied.

After they finished in the kitchen, he followed her into the sitting room, which was dominated by an elaborate structure of building blocks in the middle of the floor.

"He's been working on that for three days," Diana said with an apologetic smile. "I didn't have the heart to tell him to put it away."

Remus crouched, looking at the project. It was almost three feet tall, and despite being constructed from square blocks, it looked like a spiral that flared towards the top. "No," he assured Diana as he backed away from it again, careful not to breathe on it for fear it might fall. "Not at all."

"He loves those blocks," she murmured, bending to pick up a discarded one. "That kid has more blocks than any three should need, but it keeps him amused."

Remus sat on the sofa, still staring at the structure. "Did he come up with that himself?"

Diana nodded. "I think he'll be wonderful at working with his hands when he gets older," she said. "He's more coordinated than I am. If I try to stack five blocks together, they topple." She sat on the opposite end of the sofa, smiling a bit.

"Maybe you have an architect on your hands, then."

"Maybe so."

When they fell into silence this time, Remus found his eyes lingering on Diana's hands. She was turning the block over and over, her fingers stroking the edges of it. She had long, slender fingers, and if her hands hadn't been so chapped, they might have been elegant. When he'd first seen her, Remus had thought Diana looked half-starved, and she hadn't added an ounce since then as far as he could tell. She didn't look as worn tonight, though. She looked delicate.

When she leaned over to put the block aside, she craned her neck, and he was awarded with a glimpse of pale, slender throat, and as she settled against the sofa again, he found his eyes lingering on her breasts. He forced his eyes back to her face, and felt a blush creeping into his cheeks as he realized that she was watching him as well.

"You're looking at me," she said with a smile.

He cleared his throat. "I should go," he said, standing. "I've—"

"Don't go," she whispered, reaching for his hand. His fingers curled around hers before he thought about it. "I don't mean to keep scaring you off." She tugged at his hand, and he sat again.

"You're not scaring me off."

"Are you sure? I was just teasing, you know."

"I know."

"If you want me not to, say so. We're both grown-ups. Surely we can be honest enough with ourselves and each other to just say it."

Once again, he felt he was treading on dangerous grounds, though why he felt that was beyond him. Something told him not to burn bridges he might later want to travel, though. "Say what?" he asked, striving for nonchalance.

"You don't want me to flirt with you?" she suggested.

"I never said that."

"I know. You were just going to leave again."

"Am I that transparent?"

"Sometimes." Her eyes held his for a moment. "Sometimes no. I can't tell if you do want me to stop or not."

"I do," he replied without thinking. With an apologetic smile, he inclined his head and shrugged. "And I don't.

"You mean you do, but think you shouldn't."

He sighed. "Diana," he began, trying to ignore how pleasant her name felt on his lips, "I'm not the sort of man you want. I have nothing to offer you, and it would be heartless of me to pretend that something could come of it. I can't do that to you. I won't."

"Isn't it supposed to be the woman who's thinking about the future?" she asked with a smile. He looked away. How could he explain to her that he had no choice but to think about the future? His life existed around the future—the next appointment with the Ministry, the next full moon, the next dose of Wolfsbane. He couldn't remember ever having lived in the present.

"I won't lead you on like that," he repeated.

She drew her feet up, tucking them under her and propping her elbow against the back of the sofa. Watching him, she leaned her head against her hand. "Do you think perhaps I know more about what I'd be getting myself into than most women do?" she asked.

"Diana—"

"Just humor me," she interrupted. "Do you think perhaps I'm better-prepared to decide if it's worth it?"

He sighed again. "Yes," he conceded, "but—"

"I have no delusions, Remus. None. I know what Edward goes through, and God knows I know what it's like to not have money. Those are your two objections, aren't they? You're a werewolf and you don't have a job?"

Her blunt assessment made him feel all the more inadequate. He nodded, afraid he'd make a fool of himself if he opened his mouth.

"That's a chance I'm willing to take," she told him. "We're being honest adults, right?"

"Of course."

"There you go. I've thought about it. I've asked myself if I wanted to encourage you or not. I hadn't decided when you came in tonight. Do you know what made me decide I do?"

He shook his head.

"Edward. Edward adores you."

"Edward," he repeated, feeling as though she'd punched him in the chest. He hadn't been prepared to hear that answer, and the implications were enough to make him feel ill. "I passed whatever tests you had for surrogate father, then," he said, trying to keep the indignation from seeping into his voice.

"I don't have the luxury of not thinking about that," she replied. "I come with two children, and any man who would be unsuitable for them is unsuitable for me as well. But no, actually, that wasn't what I meant at all. Edward practically hero-worships you, Remus, and when I see him hanging on your every word, I always want to see if I can see what he sees. I always do. He's too young and too genuine to worry about anything except that he likes you, and that's an excellent place to start."

"Do I get a say in this or have you and Edward already planned the next twenty years?" Despite the harshness of his words, he'd let go of some of his offense already.

"No one's talking about the next twenty years," Diana replied her tone softening as she reached for his hand. "No one's talking about the next twenty years except in the sense that something that would be impractical in twenty years is impractical to pursue now. That's what you're saying, isn't it?"

"Yes," he replied, feeling that he ought to pull his hand away but leaving it for the moment. "That's exactly what I'm saying. And what you see right now is as good as it gets. I'm only going to age faster, die younger, have a harder time finding a job as I get older. There's no hope for me."

She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward, grasping his chin between her fingers. "Look around," she said. "I live in a house that my sister-in-law bought for me and I feed my sons off the stipend she gives me from my late husband's restaurant. Do you think it gets any worse than this? I'm not looking for a ticket out of this dump, Remus. Believe me, if I were, I would be looking in other departments at the Ministry. In fact, I haven't been looking for anything. I happened to find you. You know what else? I'm not after a gold ring and another march down the aisle. I just want you to stop running off. Stop making excuses. I want you to stay and talk to me for a little while longer so I can remember that there is a world that doesn't need me to pick up its toys and pour its juice. Anything else that does or doesn't happen is of little importance, so don't worry. There's not a hook in your soup bowl." She let go of him and sat back again. "If you want to go, go. If you need to go, go. But don't go because you're afraid that in twenty years one of us might regret your staying now."

Infuriatingly, now that he'd managed to kill the mood, the desire to kiss her was almost overwhelming.

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered, his eyes locked to hers as though secured by a magnet.

"Good," she whispered.

It was well after midnight when Remus returned to headquarters, so he was surprised to find a light still burning. Shutting the door quietly behind him, he peered into the drawing room. Arthur looked up from the book he was reading and smiled.

"Have a good evening?"

"Yes, I did," Remus replied, settling into one of the chairs. "You weren't waiting up for me, I hope."

Arthur chuckled. "I was, actually. You're getting harder to catch, you know."

Remus smiled sheepishly. "I suppose I'm restless lately."

"This new friend… A woman?"

A flush creeping into his face, Remus nodded. "Her name's Diana," he offered, feeling ridiculously like a teenager. He was almost starting to get used to that feeling.

"Is she the same one you had dinner with a couple of weeks ago?"

"Yes." Some of his discomfort must have shown on his face because Arthur suddenly waved a hand dismissively.

"I'm just being nosey, Remus. You're a grown man and you can always tell me to bugger off. Just a point of interest."

Right, Remus reminded himself. Friends take an interest in each other's lives. "I don't mind," he said.

"Good, then I'll keep being nosey." Arthur smiled and winked at him. "How'd you meet her?"

Remus propped his feet on the coffee table. "At the Ministry, actually. She, er, has a son who is a werewolf."

"Young?"

"Not quite eight."

Arthur shook his head. "Such a pity," he said.

Remus shrugged. "In some ways it's probably easier. I don't remember ever not being one, so it's just a matter of course for me. I expect he'll grow up the same way."

Arthur looked uncomfortable, but nodded. "And the boy's father…?"

Remus narrowed his eyes. "Sits there at the dinner table with us and approves of all of it." Arthur raised an eyebrow, and Remus snorted. "He died. At the same time Edward was attacked."

"And how long ago was that?"

"A few years," Remus replied. "Can we go through all this another time? I have to be at St. Mungo's tomorrow morning at seven."

"St. Mungo's? Why?"

"Weekend dose of Wolfsbane," Remus replied.

"I suppose I understand that someone has to be able to verify your taking it, but it does seem an awful lot of trouble." He shook his head, as though trying to dislodge a thought. "Actually, I wanted to ask you about the Ministry. Have you heard anything through the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?"

"What kind of anything?" Remus asked.

"Oh, we hear buzz every now and again. It's probably nothing, you understand, but the latest gossip is that Davis is trying to—er—have werewolves declared beasts again."

"No," Remus muttered. "I haven't heard anything about that."

"My understanding is that he's of the opinion that the Ministry is spending too much money on Werewolf Support Services and the department isn't getting as much accomplished as he'd like."

Remus folded his arms and exhaled sharply. "I was wondering how long that would take."

"What's that?"

"We get reclassified at least every couple of years." He sighed and hugged himself tighter. "As beings, we cost the Ministry almost three times as much as we would as beasts. As beasts, we come out of the same budget as Magical Law Enforcement instead of Social Services. Fudge moved us to being status because he wanted more money for the Aurors. I'd hoped some of this shuffling was going to stop since Support Services and Registry were consolidated under the same department, but that was really an unreasonably high hope anyway."

"Is it much worse being classified as a beast?" Arthur asked.

Remus shrugged. "I suppose it doesn't actually change much. It's harder to look in the mirror and know that the Ministry classifies you as a beast. It's bad enough being a creature, but at least when we're beings, the Ministry acknowledges that we're capable of thought."

"But the regulations don't change?"

"Regulations change faster than I can keep up with, and whether we're beasts or beings, we're always a liminal group. As Lara put it, the Ministry will classify us as beasts or beings as they see fit so that they can persecute us more effectively."

"Lara said that?"

"Not in so many words."

Arthur fell silent, rubbing his finger over the spine of his book. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be," Remus said, waving off his concern.

After a few moments, Arthur stood. "Well, I'm calling it a night. I'm sorry I kept you."

Remus shrugged. "No worries."

Arthur placed a hand on Remus' shoulder, squeezing firmly. "Are you staying down here for a while or…?"

Taking a deep breath, Remus stood. "I'm heading to bed too."

"You know, Remus, whatever the Ministry says, your friends know you for who you are. We're going to be here for you regardless of which terminology Davis favors."

"Thanks," Remus said with a smile.

"Good night," Arthur said, squeezing Remus' shoulder again.

Remus placed his hand over Arthur's. "Thank you," he repeated. "It means a lot to me to know I'm not alone."

"You're never alone," Arthur replied, turning to draw him into an embrace. "You're as good as family as far as Molly and I are concerned."

Remus leaned against the wall and watched as Arthur went upstairs. As good as family, was he? It had been a long time since he'd felt like part of a family, but the closest he'd come in his adult years had been with the Weasleys.

A/N: I always feel so proud of myself when I update this one. It's kind of ironic, actually-- If I let TWMD go a month without an update, the next chapter comes with profuse apologies. If I update this one once a month, I'm thrilled for being on top of it.

cecelle: Very much a one-step-forward-two-steps-back dance. looks at chapter And I think Diana did a little better this time around. Advance notice makes all kinds of difference, doesn't it?

duj: Wonder what it would take to get the Ministry to get that? It is quite a matter of one werewolf/group of werewolves giving the others a bad name.

HumanTales: Thank you! I do love to make my readers feel emotion, and frustration with one of the characters works very well for me ;) Provided, of course, that it isn't actually frustration with me for writing him so crappily. As for the bites increasing, I'll get to that :) There's a reason. Thanks for the comments!

jensco: Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying.

excessively perky: I was laughing as I read your comments about Magical paperwork not changing since 1066. Very true!

DiscombobulatedDrummer: Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying and I appreciate the comments.

HatakeKakashi22: Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying. I hate to admit how long I usually let it go between updates, but I do always come back to it.

Thanks to everyone, as always, for taking the time to read and review. Your comments make it fun to post!

Also massive thanks are in order for LariLee, beta extraordinaire. This was one of a stupid number of chapters I dropped in her mailbox this weekend.