Remus' parents had (begrudgingly) agreed to Sunday dinner with Professor Questus, and Remus wasn't sure how to feel about that.

Remus' mother and father, however, knew exactly how to feel about it: they didn't like it one bit.

"Are you sure he wants us there?" asked Remus' father stiffly. "He didn't seem to want to live next to us much."

"He was surprised," said Remus. "So was I. That's why I didn't want to come downstairs. It's a bit jarring, learning you live next to a former Hogwarts professor, and I'm sure he felt the same way about living next to a student."

"Do we need to bring food?" said Remus' mother anxiously. She was a little embarrassed about bringing food, Remus knew. Even though the Lupins had significantly more money than they'd possessed before Remus had left for Hogwarts (the potions that Remus often needed after the full moon were expensive, so things cost a lot less when he was away), it wasn't as if they could cook a gourmet meal.

"I don't know," said Remus. "Seeing as he's the one inviting us over, I don't think it's expected. He doesn't care much for social conventions anyway."

"I'll just bring over the sandwiches you made for lunch," she said. "There are extras."

"Great," said Remus. "Stop stressing, Mum. It's gonna be fine."

"I can't help it!" she said.

And, as Remus watched conflicting emotions fly across his mother's face more quickly than James could fly on his broomstick—first fear, then anxiety, then excitement, then confusion—Remus suddenly realized that he'd had more social interaction than his mother over the past year.

He'd never been around people his age. He'd never had friends. But his mother had stayed with him for years—ever since she'd quit her job when Remus' father had realized that he wasn't suited to be a stay-at-home father. She'd hardly left the house, and she'd stayed with Remus nearly twenty-four-seven. Remus suddenly felt horribly selfish for disliking Madam Pomfrey's visits—she was the only friend that his mother had from whom she didn't have to keep secrets.

Remus' father had visited Remus' uncle Bryson; he'd worked at the Ministry; he'd run errands... but Remus' mother, who so loved talking to other people and going out—she'd stayed at home with him. She'd given that up for him. Remus' mother had once been the social butterfly of the family, but now she was entirely and utterly unused to meeting new people.

"It'll be okay," said Remus. He wasn't really sure what else to say.

"I hope so."

"It'd better be," said Remus father, still grumpy. "Questus was sacked from the Auror department the first time because he insulted Orion Black, you know."

"I know," said Remus, smiling. "Sirius was very happy about it. He doesn't like his father much."

"But who's to say he won't insult us? I didn't get the impression that he was particularly polite."

"He insults me all the time. It's called a joke."

"Hmph," said Remus' father.

Remus patted his father's hand in a comforting sort of way and then went to his room, where he pulled some socks on and found his best jacket (the one without the hole in the right sleeve). "I hope you know what you're doing, Professor Questus," he muttered.

They walked over to Questus' house together, and Remus raised his fist to the door to knock. But, just as his hand was about to make contact with the door, the door opened more quickly than Remus could say the words "easily startled". He took two steps backwards to steady himself, nearly tripped over a sizeable rock, and had to grab onto the banister to steady himself.

Professor Questus was standing in the doorway, and he looked very much as if he wanted to poke fun at Remus. He didn't, although his twitching lips signified that he was holding back. "Good evening... Lupins, plural," he said.

"Er, hi," said Remus. "Where did that rock come from? I've never seen it before."

"Dumbledore gave it to me, if you can believe it," said Questus, rolling his eyes. "I'm not putting it in my house, no matter what he says. First the houseplant, and now this. A rock. Honestly. Does he expect me to talk to it or something? He must think that I'm desperate for company indeed." He turned to Remus' parents. "Well, I suppose I am," he admitted. "Evening, Lupin's parents."

"Evening," said Remus' father, his tone flat.

"I wasn't sure if I needed to bring anything," said Remus' mum tentatively. "It seemed to be the polite thing to do, but we just didn't have anything available, so I brought some of the sandwiches that Remus made for lunch..."

"That's fine," said Questus with a wave of his hand. "Lupin's a right decent cook, isn't he? He's got some good sense about him, at least." Remus looked at the ceiling in protest of the thinly-veiled werewolf-senses reference, but he didn't say anything. Questus winked at him imperceptibly. "Why don't you come in? It's unpleasantly hot out today."

They sat down at the dining room table, which Remus had never seen before; he and Questus had only ever stayed in the kitchen and sitting room. "You'll have to excuse the mess," said Questus, gesturing to a small pile of boxes. "Haven't purchased any furniture as of yet, so I'm using the boxes as cabinets. And I'm afraid supper isn't very glamorous; Pomfrey brought over pasta yesterday..." He grimaced. "It's harder to cook in this state than I would have liked to admit."

Remus grinned. "So much for being a wizard."

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Questus jested. "Lupin. Could you..."

"Sure," said Remus, scooting his chair back with a small screech. Questus winced. "Sorry, Professor."

"Call me that one more time and I'll throw my houseplant at you," said Questus. "Or perhaps the rock, and that'll do quite a bit more damage. You know where the plates are, correct?"

"Yes, sir," said Remus. He went to the kitchen and pulled out four plates, a couple of forks, and the pasta that Questus was keeping on the counter.

"Your son is far too respectful for his own good," he heard Questus say, and Remus' mother laughed.

"Since when is respect a bad thing?" Remus called.

"When one is so respectful that it borders on disrespectful."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Remus, but he certainly didn't intend to do so. With that, he brought everything into the dining room and set it on the table. "Here," he said, and resisted the urge to say "Professor" admirably.

"It is vegetarian," said Questus, glancing at Remus. "Pomfrey made sure of that."

"Thanks," said Remus. "I can get some for you if you'd like." He gestured towards the pasta (he was trying to be awfully polite in order to make up for anything impolite Questus might or might not say), but Questus shook his head.

"I've already eaten. I've been feeling nauseous lately—it's on and off. So I figured I'd eat in the afternoon when I was feeling all right. I suppose you know how that is?"

Remus froze. He glanced at his father, who was frozen, too. He glanced at his mother, who was looking at her lap. Remus caught Questus' eye and shook his head as inconspicuously as possible. Questus grinned, and Remus thought for one horrifying second that he was going to keep going. Remus didn't really want to see his parents all worked up; not here, not now...

But Questus did not keep going, thankfully; he merely changed the subject. Remus breathed an inaudible sigh of relief, and Questus looked at him with a Dumbledore-esque twinkle in his eye as if he had heard it.

"How have you three been?" Questus asked. "Pomfrey told me you seemed to be functioning when she last visited."

"We've been all right," said Remus' mother. "Work has been stressful for Lyall lately, but he's..."

"Hope," hissed Remus' father.

"Dad," hissed Remus.

"Remus," hissed Remus' father.

"Lyall," hissed Remus' mum.

"About the attack in Peebleton?" asked Questus, evidently unamused by their antics. "I heard about that."

Remus' father's tone was clipped as he spoke. "It's been causing quite some trouble. But I suppose you wouldn't have heard the details, since the Prophet was so..."

"Wrong," finished Questus, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, I know it was wrong. I automatically assume that any Prophet information pertaining to werewolves isn't entirely accurate."

Remus glanced at his father's face, which had gone ashy at the mention of werewolves, and imagined hexing Questus within an inch of his life.

"However, I have some acquaintances in the Department who were more than happy to fill me in," Questus continued, oblivious to the fact that Remus was internally turning his ears to radishes. "Everyone underestimates the power of a corrupt media, don't they? There's not enough distinction between what we need to know to be safe and what the Prophet wants us to know so that we think we're safe."

"Exactly," said Remus' father, sounding surprised. "You know, typically, Aurors are on the Ministry's side."

"Well, that's why I was sacked the first time," said Questus. "The only side I belong to is the side that'll protect the most people. I belong to the moral side," he said, stealing a glance at Remus, "and morals don't stem from society. Thank goodness, since this society is completely corrupt when it comes to werewolves. I can think for myself, thank you very much."

"Completely corrupt," echoed Remus' father. "So what do you think of the war, then? If you're not on the Ministry's side? They don't seem to think it's going to amount to anything much."

"Getting into politics pretty quickly, aren't we?" said Questus, grinning. "It's all right; only makes sense seeing as we both worked at the Ministry. Well, the war is already upon us, and I believe it has potential to be worse than the one with Grindelwald. I remember that war pretty clearly—I fought in it—and I know the signs quite well. According to my vast personal experience, the war will reach its height right around the time Lupin leaves school." He gestured at Remus, who shrugged. Remus didn't know a thing about war, so he couldn't contribute much to the conversation. "And let me just say: if the current children at Hogwarts are the future of the wizarding world, then we're in trouble. Idiots, the lot of them."

Remus' father looked even more surprised, and Questus smiled. "Not yours, of course," he said, as if the small kind phrase made up for the fact that he'd just called ninety-nine percent of his former students—mere children—complete idiots. "Lupin's got outstanding marks and was top of the form. And many of the first-years are rather promising. But the seventh-years... the sixth-years... and definitely the fourth-years... leave something to be desired. We'll see what happens, though. No sense in predicting when it's too early to predict. We'll just have to take it as it comes, hm?"

"Take it as it comes," repeated Remus' mother fervently. "You do think Remus is going to be okay? Lyall says that the Ministry tends to crack down on werewolf laws when there's trouble..."

Remus was uncomfortable.

"He'll be fine, I'm sure," said Questus. "Trust me. I've taught him for a year, and he'll be fine. More sense than half of the staff combined, that one."

Remus was still uncomfortable.

"Enough about that, though," said Questus, who was being rather merciful now. "What do I need to know about the area? Chances are that I'll be living here for quite a while."

Remus' father, oddly more comfortable after discussing a war, responded. "Well, we moved here because it's secluded—village is about a mile away. There used to be another house on this hill, but it was taken down a while ago after a lightning storm. Roof fell in completely. There's a small pond to the left, past the clearing, and there are some fish—what kind, Remus?"

"Only minnows," said Remus, "but there's also a Grindylow."

"Really?"

"Yep. I've named him Nolan."

Remus' father closed his eyes. "See, if you had told me that, I wouldn't have let you go down there so often."

"That's why I didn't tell you," said Remus. "It's fine, Dad. It's about three feet deep. I couldn't drown in it if I wanted to."

"Pretty unusual for them to be found in ponds, Grindylows," Questus commented.

"I think that maybe a past resident kept it in the pond as a pet," said Remus. "Grindylows can't be tamed, so it was a stupid decision, really. But there are enough minnows and plenty of algae in there to keep it alive."

"Oh, how wonderful," said Questus sarcastically, and Remus' father laughed.

"Remus Lupin, if you ever find a Grindylow again..."

"I'll put it in the pond with the other one and call it Jasper," said Remus, and his father laughed again. Remus was inordinately relieved to see the man relaxing. Maybe dinner with Questus wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"Speaking of odd pets, Mr. Lupin," said Questus, "your son told me you keep a Boggart at home."

Remus' father's eyes lit up. "Oh, yes, I've had it for a while now. Found it in Newborough when Remus was one. I brought it home in the lunchbox that Hope gave me to take to work, and she nearly threw a fit."

"Did not," argued Remus' mum.

"Oh, yes, you did. I locked it up in the cupboard, and it would rattle whenever one of us walked past. Then I named it Garrison. Hope didn't stop throwing fits for months."

"Did not," she said again.

"Yep. You did. And then there was that time that it rattled violently when you walked past and you nearly barreled me over trying to escape..."

"Did not!"

"You did. Remus loved it, as expected. He'd toddle back and forth in front of it and laugh hysterically when it rattled. We wouldn't let him anywhere near it, of course, when it was out of the cupboard... my Boggart was a Lethifold back then, remember? And Hope's was a snake. Anyway, Remus used to do a lot of accidental magic as a child... honestly, I'm not convinced it was accidental. So he opened up the cupboard while Hope was gardening and I was folding clothes—I don't know what he saw, and Remus doesn't remember, but the Boggart managed to get upstairs. So the next hour was spent searching for it while Remus 'helped' his mother garden..."

"He pulled up all the tulips," Remus' mum sniffed, and Remus laughed.

"I don't remember that at all," Remus said.

"Well, I couldn't forget if my life depended on it," said Remus' father with a smile. "Anyway. I've been doing a few experiments on the Boggart in my free time—Remus is quite good with it, too."

"His first nonverbal spell was the Boggart-Banishing Charm," said Questus.

"Remus told us. Doesn't surprise me one bit. We used to practice with my wand, turning Garrison back and forth into different things... Boggart Catch, we called it. He was pretty good with the spell before going to Hogwarts... and a few other spells, hm? He could achieve some pretty interesting hexes with a bit of practice. That trunk you were working on all summer?"

"I couldn't cast them reliably, though," laughed Remus. Indeed, he had hexed his trunk in the summer before his first year in case in anyone tried to snoop, and it had proved useful in the case of James and Sirius.

"Tell me more about the experiments with the Boggart," Questus prompted, and Remus' now-quite-talkative father was all too happy to oblige.

Remus' father and Professor Questus ended up getting along very well, to Remus' amusement.

They were both interested in Boggarts, they had both worked at the Ministry, they were both frustrated by the Ministry's inability to give out reliable information, and they were both often impatient with other people. They ended up talking nearly the whole time—Remus' father would detail his experiments, Questus would ask intelligent questions, they'd occasionally debate certain topics, Remus' father would grill Questus on what it had been like to be an Auror... and Remus and his mum sat and listened, occasionally making amused and/or bored faces at one another. Usually the latter.

After about two hours, they moved to the sitting room, where Remus sat on the couch with his mum and listened some more. It was nice when Remus wasn't the one talking. Professor Questus even managed to bring up werewolf laws with his father, and there were no mental breakdowns from either of his parents. Sometimes, Remus' mother would join the conversation: even though she was a Muggle, she knew quite a bit about wizarding things, especially Boggarts. And Questus had questions about how they affected Muggles, which Remus' mum answered eagerly.

Remus had no desire to be a part of the conversation at this point. Truth be told, he was sort of exhausted. Professor Questus didn't look too well, either, but he looked too happy with the rare conversation to say so. Remus felt his vision swim in and out, and he leaned his head against his mum's shoulder to rest his eyes for a moment...

"Hope," said Lyall, stopping mid-sentence. "Is Remus asleep?"

Hope looked down. "I think so. Thank goodness. I don't think he napped today at all."

"Are you sure? He was pretty quiet."

"Well, he was up early writing to his friends, I think. And then he made lunch, and then he... I don't even know what he was doing in the afternoon. But he wasn't napping. He came down three times to get water, and he was pacing a lot. I think he was doing his Astronomy assignment for the fifth or sixth time. And we played some chess around noon, but you know how bad Remus is at chess... I think I beat him nine times before he gave up."

"I was thinking about taking him to Diagon Alley next Saturday," said Lyall. "Poor thing seems so bored."

Questus nodded. "Book lists should come out this week. Dumbledore's already found a new Defense teacher."

"Who is it?"

"I don't know. I'm not on the staff anymore, remember? But he did mention that she didn't mind about Lupin."

Hope blinked. "She... didn't mind about him? What's that supposed to mean?"

"He's a werewolf," Questus deadpanned. "Not sure if you knew. But some people tend to mind."

Lyall blinked, surprised at Questus' bluntness, and Hope's eyes met his. "Oh," she continued. "Do the other teachers... mind about him, then? Remus said that they didn't treat him badly at all..."

"Of course they do," said Lyall. He looked at Questus. "They do, don't they? Remus would never tell us, even if they did. But they do."

Questus snorted. "Most of them try not to, but they're not trying very hard. Mostly avoiding him like the plague. Lupin seems to think it's warranted..."

"What? Warranted?"

"I have never seen anyone so complacent about being treated like a leper. Goodness. He's more mature about the whole thing than I ever will be. You should know it's happening, though. No mistreatment; only prejudice among some of the staff members... the staff meetings were always rather interesting. But everyone likes him—as a student, at least. He gets good marks. Quiet. Respectful. There's nothing to dislike."

"What do you mean, warranted?" Lyall repeated.

Questus paused before answering. "He knows it's hard to overcome ingrained prejudice, and he respects the fact that they're trying. He's infuriatingly understanding, but I know it still bothers him. He's getting through, even though he has to ignore his own frustration on occasion."

"That shouldn't be necessary," sighed Hope.

"No, it shouldn't," agreed Questus. "But that's the way it is, and there's nothing we can do about it. You know, maybe you three should be getting home. It's about nine pm, and your kid is sleeping."

"Nine pm? Already?" said Lyall, glancing at his watch. "Yeah, you're right. Look, Questus, I..." He fiddled with his robes. "We... can't thank you enough. You've been good company, and Remus... Merlin's beard. Remus needs to get out of the house and talk to people. You'll have to excuse us; we're a little overprotective sometimes, but... for what it's worth, I'm glad it's you who moved here and not some psychopath who hates werewolves. We really don't want to have to move. Did enough of that when Remus was little."

"A compliment of the highest caliber," said Questus dryly. "And you needn't worry. I'm sure he'd be very good in an emergency. Shaping up to be a right decent duellist, for a first-year."

"I'm going to wake him up," said Hope, staring at Remus. "Er... Lyall...?"

Lyall coughed. "Oh, this is always unpleasant."

"What's unpleasant?"

"Waking him up. He's always very... jumpy. Remus? Remus, love..."

Remus didn't stir.

"Fiddlesticks," said Lyall. "Hope, why don't you just stand up and see if...?"

"No, he'll panic," said Hope. "So sorry, Questus, this is always hard to do. When we touch him to wake him up he... he goes into... fight-or-flight, sort of. And we hate to bring back... er, certain memories."

"I know," said Questus. "Allow me."

"Wait, no..." said Lyall.

Questus raised his wand and cleared his throat.

"Oh, don't use a Rousing Charm, that's never the ideal way to wake someone up..."

"I wasn't planning on it. Expelliarmus."

Remus' eyes suddenly shot open and he reached to pull out his wand, but he wasn't nearly quick enough in his half-asleep state—and he didn't even have it on him to begin with. He looked around, thoroughly discombobulated. Months of duelling lessons had apparently rewired his brain completely. "Professor!" he said. "That's hardly fair."

"Life isn't fair," said Questus. "Don't call me Professor. And would you rather have been woken up in a different way?"

Remus rubbed his eyes. "S'pose not. Sorry for falling asleep."

"It's all right, dear," said Remus' mother. "Here, let's get you home. Thank you so much for dinner, Questus."

"Not at all," he said. "Do let me know if you find another Grindylow, Lupin."

"Will do," said Remus. "See you..."

"Tomorrow afternoon, if that's all right," said Questus.

Remus' father nodded. "Yes, it would be wonderful to get Remus out of the house for a bit."

"Am I that annoying?" said Remus in mock indignance.

"If I have to hear the floorboards squeaking as you pace in your room for one more hour—"

"If I had my wand, Mum, you'd be in trouble—"

"Threatening your mother? You're in for it, young man—"

"Help me out, Dad—"

"If you help him, Lyall, you're in for it, too—"

"Sorry, Remus, I'm scared of your mother—"

"You traitor—"

"It's very clear you're related, you know," said Questus. "Do enjoy your evening."

"Absolutely, Professor," said Remus.

"Don't call me Professor."

As Remus and his family made the trek back to the Lupin residence, laughing all the way, Remus decided that having Questus as a next-door neighbor was maybe-kind-of-not-so-awkward after all.

Never mind, it was still awkward.

But now it was a teensy bit more comfortable-awkward instead of painful-like-knives awkward. Remus' friends had no idea what Remus was, so Remus couldn't talk to them about anything that mattered. And Remus' family didn't feel comfortable talking about werewolves, so Remus couldn't discuss things with them, either. So Remus was happy, at least, that both Questus and Madam Pomfrey were willing to provide some semblance of the type of honest relationship that Remus was missing out on with his family and peers.

Even though it was awkward sometimes.

AN: Happy holidays 🎄🎅❄️ ️(Did you know that you can both bold and italicize emojis?!)