A/N: To answer the questions on if this is going to be a triad pairing, I wasn't planning on it becoming that, but it does seem to be. They are only children at this point, so nothing is going to happen until they are older. So for now, you'll have to wait and see.
He felt old, Cyra was already eight years old now, and she had begun to hit what McGonagall called, 'The Independent Milestone'. His old head of house was kind enough to mail a book to him that explained what was to be expected in these next occurring years. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he panicked when Cyra began pulling away from his affections, writing quickly to McGonagall for advice, asking what he had done wrong.
She wasn't going to be as clingy anymore, beginning to create her own bubble, and craving more privacy. Not only that, but she was emotionally developing. The other week, she had accidentally left her chocolates by the window, coming back to find them all melted by the sunlight. He wanted to comfort her so bad, but he had watched as she worked through the frustration, her facial expressions changing rapidly as she was fighting the tears. Then, it was as if it had never happened, she just simply got a different candy and moved on.
He was immensely proud, but at the same time, terrified. He never felt more ridiculous than when she sat him down to have a discussion, though he really wasn't intimidated by a little girl still clinging to her dog plush, even if he tried to keep a straight face. She had recently decided to start calling him by a parental name, but wanted to know what was acceptable. He felt like he was in a conference meeting, was his daughter seriously asking him what name he consented to?
He almost lost it when she brought out a list, proceeding to read off the names she had written down on sparkly pink paper. The decision was 'Papa', a name he found absolutely adorable to hear coming from her. When they were finished, she thanked him for coming before going off to go play with her potions set. This was his house, and she thanked him for coming.
She had truly begun to grow before his very eyes. Though, he had wondered if she would ever break out of her shyness. She was not bad around the crowd of people that they knew, but she instantly shrunk back into herself the moment it was somebody new.
He was happy to see her spend time with Harry, who seemed to gain a bit of courage by speaking with her. It wasn't until the day that he took her to the park and he didn't show up, that she had her first tantrum. Not her usual fits, but an actual tantrum. She seemed to have adopted Harry as a little brother, he tried not to think of the irony that one marauder child was instinctively protective of another.
But, no matter how many times they visited, he never returned. Cyra refused to give up, returning there every Friday until her eighth birthday came around. She had sulked around the cabin for some time, not wishing to speak to him or anyone else. He honestly did not know what happened, he worried that Dumbledore caught on and hid Harry someplace else. Perhaps Harry's guardians caught on that he was missing each Friday? He would never know. All that mattered is that Harry was safe, which the last time he inquired to Dumbledore, he was.
Letting out a sigh, he threw his head back on the couch, running a hand over his face. There was one last thing that he was dealing with. A problem that he didn't even know he had until Mrs. Weasley had notified him. Apparently Cyra had a staring problem. She watched Mrs. Weasley each time she baked, and at first the woman had found it adorable, but now she was being thrown off.
She had believed it was because Cyra wanted the sweets she was making, but no, she even watched the clean up as well. No child cared about the mess. But his Cyra did, apparently. He didn't notice it, but how could he? He cooked all the time and not once did she ever stare like Mrs. Weasley described. To experiment, he decided at random to make brownies. He announced it to Cyra like he typically did before he made a meal. But this time, it was as if he triggered something.
Next thing he knew, he was stiffly stirring the batter, feeling uncomfortable under the child's gaze. She said nothing. It would have been better if she at least spoke. He tried to form a conversation with her, but she simply gave short answers before continuing her staring act.
He understood what Molly had meant when she told him it was like she was looking right through you. It was as if he was a ghost that she couldn't see. There had to be something up. He really hoped it wasn't something related to trauma. He had done his best to help her, reading muggle child psychology books. They learned coping mechanisms, some he even administered to when the full moon was arriving. It was all very helpful.
Once the baking and cleanup was over, she had snatched up a brownie and retreated into her room. It wasn't until her door had shut with a click that he sagged in relief, grateful to be from under her piercing gaze. Now he sat here, wondering what in merlin was going on with the child.
"Papa?"
Jerking out of his seat, he snapped his head in her direction, eyes wide. When did she sneak up on him? Cyra stood before him, amber colored eyes staring into him much like she did the day he was baking. Feeling a bit uncomfortable, he glanced away, "What is it love?" Merlin, why does she stare like that? What was she seeing exactly? He didn't understand what could make an eight-year-old look so intense.
"I want to learn how to bake."
What? He turned back to his daughter in shock, unsure if he had said that out loud. She shuffled her feet for a moment, her eyes still piercing into him as she repeated herself, "I want to learn how to bake, Papa." He didn't look away this time, looking into the eyes that matched his own. That's what it was. Determination. She had been staring at them this entire time with the desire to learn what they were doing, how they were doing it.
But she didn't ask to help, which was curious. Was she scared she'd be shut down? He would have preferred her offering to help over being creepily stared at for two hours, but that was in the past. Giving her a reassuring smile, he reached over to take her hand, "Very well. Let's get you a recipe book." Her intense vibe softened instantaneously, squeezing his hand with excitement, "Thank you!"
Though he had given his blessing, he was very worried. Should an eight-year-old be allowed to bake? While Cyra was getting ready for their trip to the bookstore, he had quickly scribbled a letter to McGonagall. By the time they had arrived back, so did the owl. As Cyra began flipping through the book, he snatched up the letter and read through it quickly.
Dear Remus,
Yes, this is very normal for her age. There is nothing to worry about. During this time, they want to begin doing things by themselves. Though I find it curious that she's taken an interest in a hobby like baking. This could be a very good skill for her to achieve. But, do not leave her alone in the kitchen. She must be supervised at all times. Allow her the freedom to create something, but still hover in case something goes wrong. As well as be sure to offer her assistance if she may need it.
-Minerva McGonagall
Letting out a sigh of relief, he tossed the letter on the dining room table before he followed the small child into the kitchen, "So what have we decided upon?" Cyra turned to him with that intense stare once again, the creepy factor already worn off now that it had meaning behind it.
"I should start small. Build up. I'm going to make cookies."
Yes, that was very reasonable. He couldn't help but feel proud at her thinking process. He simply stood back as she began to gather the ingredients, adding in, "If you need any help, I'll be here." Her only response was a hum, gathering up the supplies in her small arms.
Placing the large bowl down, she soon realized her height disadvantage, her head barely grazing the counter. Remus bent down to grab the climbing stool he had gotten for her, placing it next to her. Cyra's eyes lit up as he gave her the solution, shooting him a quick, "Thank you Papa!" Before she climbed up and began working.
Despite McGonagall's comforting words, he was still worried, watching her adamantly to make sure she wasn't getting hurt. During his parental watch, he realized something. Cyra was very good about following instructions. She measured the sugar and butter evenly, making sure to double check the recipe book before proceeding each time.
The only thing she struggled with was the egg. Despite her many efforts, she just could not get the egg to crack and stay together for her to plop in the bowl. Her hands were now covered in the buttery mix, making it even more difficult to grasp the eggs.
Seeing the mess of yolk on his floor, he was tempted to help her, but he restrained himself. He had to let her do this on her own, or choose to ask for his help. With an agitated huff, she took the last egg in the carton, taking her time as she cracked it on the edge of the bowl. It was a gentle tap, then another with bit more strength. Then he heard it, the crack. He waited with baited breath as she slowly brought it over the bowl and broke it open, all the insides pouring into the bowl, and no shell.
"Yes!" He shouted without realizing, causing Cyra to jump and whip around to look at him. She didn't seem angry though, the smile bright on her face as she held the shells triumphantly. After that, she did everything herself, buttering the cookie tray, placing them 2 inches apart like the book said. The only time she asked him for help was when she needed to place them in the oven, too scared to touch it while it was hot.
He happily accepted, taking the tray of cookies and sliding them in. Once the time was set and ticking down, he watched as she began the cleanup. Though she didn't ask for his assistance, he may have used his wand to vanish the yolk off the floor.
Once the cookies were finished, Remus took them out and placed them on the stove top to cool. Two showers and some new pajamas later, the cookies were ready for them to eat. He allowed her the first bite, wanting her to savor her first time making something. She was nervous, bringing the large cookie to her mouth before taking a soft nibble. He saw it instantly, her eyes lighting up with delight before she took a larger bite. Eating his, he felt his heart swell with pride. The cookie was delicious. It was just a plain chocolate chip cookie, but it tasted like the best damn cookie he ever had, and it was all because Cyra made it.
Needless to say, the cookies definitely did not last long. But Cyra's love for baking grew, and Remus refused to stop her. Plus, the sweets were really good, so who was he to complain?
"No, absolutely not."
Cyra's face fell at his rejection, tugging on his hand once again, "Please Papa!" Remus looked away from her sad eyes, letting out an irritated sigh, "Cyra, I love you. But no, you absolutely cannot spend the night with the twins!" With that, she was silent, no more whining or pleads. Well, that was rather quick in his opinion. When he was a child, he would go on for much longer.
After a couple moments of silence, he risked a glance down, seeing to his surprise that she was gone. Where on earth did she go!? Looking around the room, he spotted her by the couch, sitting herself down with one of the recipe books she possessed.
Narrowing his eyes, he waited, there had to be more to this. She couldn't possibly be just letting this go? Just like that? But, after the clock had ticked past 5 minutes, he realized that was it. Cyra had simply just given up. It was then that Remus began thinking back on his words. Was he perhaps too harsh? She seemed to really want to go.
Maybe he had been a bit blinded by his protectiveness. He knew he didn't really want her to go because there would be almost nothing but boys there. Granted, the twins were only eight, but that didn't excuse them putting the moves on his daughter every chance they got. Not to mention the little crush on one of Molly's older boys, oh she thought he didn't notice, but he did. He saw those little moon eyes she made at him when he spoke about dragons.
At first, he had figured she was really into dragons, another hidden passion maybe? But when he had tried to strike up a conversation about them, she didn't seem that interested. No, it was the boy. That sneaky little boy who dared to ensnare his pup. Now, the rational side of Remus understood that this infatuation would disappear with time. She'll realize that boys are gross and hopefully stay single until she was at least thirty. He couldn't wait for those days.
Coming over to sit beside her, he basked in the silence for a moment before speaking, "Fine. One night." Cyra slowly looked from her book, raising a brow at him in a very similar fashion to his own. Sometimes he hated how much she acted like him. He shot her a raised brow back, waiting for an answer. With that, she closed the book, placing it carefully to the side. She took a breath to speak, before deciding to simply just hug him. It was the best answer she could supply.
Before he could say more, she was off, snatching up Snuffles from the table. Ah, she had to pack for the sleepover, of course. That made sense. Her sleepover, with the twins. In the same room. Just then, it finally hit Remus what he agreed to. Hopping up from the couch, he almost shouted for her to come back, but he knew it was too late. He agreed. She didn't even put up a fight, and he just agreed. What kind of game was this child playing, and how did he fall right into her tiny hands!?
"This is going to be great, Cyra!"
"Yeah! I can't believe Mr. Lupin agreed to let you stay!"
Cyra stood off to the corner, watching the twins as they pushed junk around their room in an attempt to clean up. They were positively beaming with delight, and it wasn't until she noticed they were moving the nightstand from between the beds that she spoke, "Why are you moving that?" In unison, they both turned to her, attempting their best to look innocent.
"Why, to push our beds together, of course!" Fred replied, his twin simply nodding along. When Cyra said nothing else, they went back to scooting the nightstand across the wood, causing the most horrible squeaks to invade Cyra's hearing. With a wince, she covered her ears, pushing herself against the wall in hopes of being further away from the sound.
Once it was over, she looked over the mess that the twins had created. The nightstand was now off to the side against the bookcase, their beds pressed clumsily together, and dust flying everywhere. Taking a step closer, she noticed the scuff marks on the floor, knowing Mrs. Weasley would not be pleased. As if reading her mind, the boys threw some articles of clothing over the marks before turning away as if they didn't just hide the scene of the crime.
Taking her luggage, George placed it on the nightstand, giving it a gentle pat. Fred came behind her and took Snuffles from her arms, ignoring her cry, "Calm down, Cyra! I'm just putting him on the bed!" She responded with a huff, letting him do as he pleased. That was just the easier way to go about things, letting the twins get their way.
She was very excited, though, despite all the ruckus. She still had no idea what had caused Moony to agree, but he did. She had simply seen it as a lost cause, but perhaps he wanted her to behave before he allowed it? The answer was not very clear to her, but she was happy she was here nonetheless.
"So," She began, looking at the boys expectantly, "What first?" At that, they seemed to be at a loss, realizing that they hadn't planned much further than her getting to the Burrow and the room ready. "Well, what do you wanna do?" George piped up, motioning over to her to take the lead. Oh, but she wasn't very good with that. She much preferred to follow.
Looking around the room once again, she wracked her brain to come up with an idea, but nothing seemed to really spark anything. What could they really do? Usually when they had their play dates, they were either being taught by Mrs. Weasley, playing card games, or plotting some kind of prank on an unsuspecting victim. It was then she had an idea, "Let's play pretend!" Yes, she remembered those girls playing it. Though she refused to play with them due to their nasty nature, she was very intrigued by the game.
The boys shared a look before turning back to her, "Pretend?" She gave a quick nod, now feeling very sure of her idea, though she didn't entirely understand how it worked, "It's a muggle game! You pretend to be something you're not!" To that, they nodded along, though they were still obviously confused. Trying to figure out how to explain it, she rushed over to pick up a book, "Like this! I'm a bookstore owner, and this is a book that I keep in my store!"
That's when it finally dawned on them, "Oh!" Fred looked around the room before taking his toy broom from the pile of junk on the floor, "I'm the world's best beater, and I'm about the win the world cup!" Following his brother's lead, George picked up the fake wand from the pile, "I'm an Auror!" Cyra nodded excitedly, hugging the book to her chest, "That's it!"
And so, they played pretend for quite some time, all with three very different backgrounds. Somehow the librarian had started a little baking shop inside of her already formed book shop, with the Beater and Auror being her customers. They didn't complain however, as they were actually being served sweets from Cyra's stash.
"Kids?" Mrs. Weasley popped her head in, seeing them all huddled around the nightstand that had become a makeshift dining table. It was so cute to see them all playing, though she had absolutely no idea what was going on. The adorableness did not last long however when she had seen the mess of the room, her face quickly turning stern, "Did a typhoon blow through your room!? How on earth did it become even more of a mess? And why are your beds together!?"
Even though the anger wasn't directed at her, Cyra still flinched back with the twins, looking away from the woman's harsh stare. The twins however, hid their fear by pretending they didn't see a thing, looking around the room in false confusion.
"Whatever do you mean, mum dearest?"
"Yes, our room is squeaky clean."
"Our beds have always looked like that."
Shockingly, Mrs. Weasley did not buy the boy's act, her hands on her hips as she looked down on them in disapproval. Cyra edged herself away from the nightstand, wanting to be the farthest away from the woman's steely gaze. However, Cyra wasn't invisible, and Mrs. Weasley had immediately caught sight of her backing into a corner.
"Oh now dear," Her voice had switched to a softer tone, "Of course I don't blame you. I'm sure it would have been much worse if you weren't here." Cyra knew that wasn't the truth, she let the twins get away with quite a lot, despite how high Mrs. Weasley's opinions seemed to be of her. But, playing along with a nod, Mrs. Weasley's furious stare soon went right back to the troublesome two.
At the end, the boys had been forced to clean their room, though Mrs. Weasley had allowed their beds to stay together. Perhaps she had forgotten to mention it during her house rattling shouts, but since it wasn't said, they decided to leave it.
Dinner was a very eventful occasion, and it was one that Cyra wasn't entirely used to. Dinner with Moony had always been quiet, both of them curled beneath a blanket as they watched the telly. Here, the whole family gathered around the table, each a designated spot. Cyra even surprisingly had a seat that was between the twins, they probably thought with her in between, they'd be less lightly to cause trouble. A reasonable approach, but useless.
As everyone was joyfully shouting amongst the table, Cyra was the odd one out, silently eating her food. Occasionally, she'd spare a glance over to Charlie, seeing him converse with Bill about some event that happened at school. Everyone seemed to have their own thing to talk about, and then there was her.
She began to miss the comfortable quiet of home, the static in the background as they dug into their meals. She began to miss Moony. Letting out a sigh, she picked a roll from the table and began nibbling on it. As she got lost in her thoughts, she felt the faint brush of something on cheek. Turning to the source, she saw George, his hand returning to its original spot after tucking one of her curls behind her ear.
That's right, it was only one night. One night with her dearest friends. Shooting him a smile to show she was alright; she took a more vigorous bite of her roll. Though, she didn't have much of an appetite after seeing Ronald speaking from across the table, food still half chewed and spilling from his open mouth.
"Alright Cyra?"
She turned her head to her left where the voice came from, her eyes adjusted to the dark, "Yeah, are you George?" He gave a shrug, shifting the blankets as he did. After a moment of silence, he sat up to look over to her right where his twin laid, "Fred?"
"Yeah, I'm alright." He spoke into the pillow, sounding almost half asleep. Cyra couldn't resist the laughter that bubbled from her. George flopped back down on the mattress as he joined her in the laughing fit.
"Wha? Why you guys laughing?" Fred slurred once again, trying his best to hold his head up. That only incited their laughter to continue, leaving Fred to eventually join in. He didn't get the joke, but he wouldn't pass up the chance for a good laugh. After some point, their laughter had died down and was replaced with soft snores.
A light soon entered into the room as the door was cracked open to reveal Mr. and Mrs Weasley in the doorway. They watched the children as they slumbered, sharing a look between them both before they shut the door back without a single word.
"So? Did you enjoy your sleepover with the twins?"
Remus was almost too nervous to ask, but the glowing faces that Molly and Arthur had that morning seemed to prove that nothing awful happened. As well as one quick look over, Cyra had no extra scars or injuries. He never knew what to expect anymore.
"Yes! We got to play, and Mrs. Weasley made this large feast!" Cyra was a ray of sunshine that evening, nearly skipping as they returned to the cabin. Remus followed after her, heading into the kitchen to prepare her lunch, "Is that so?"
"Yep! But I really missed you, Papa."
His hand stopped, hovering over the jar of jam, "I-Is that so?" Was he dreaming? Feeling the arms wrapped around his hips, he realized very quickly he was not. Oh merlin, his heart felt like it was melting. How could he be so lucky to have such an angel of a daughter? Maybe this sleepover was good for her, she needed to be shown independence at this age. Even if that meant she had to leave her dear old dad. It was to prepare her for when she went off to other places, like Hogwarts. As well as to build her bond with the twin brothers, who he was sure would protect her through those many years to come.
"Yeah!" Cyra cheered, releasing him to go get the bread from the pantry, "I also missed having a bed to myself. Fred and George snore in their sleep." Remus let out a chuckle as he opened the jar, "Yes, well, I find it easier to sleep by myself as w-" Wait. The smile wiped cleanly from his face as her words sunk in, his grip tightening on the glass.
"No more sleepovers."