Author's note: Enjoy!
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the canon, world, and characters portrayed below and you can tell I'm not J.K. Rowling because #transrights
Hogwarts: Assignment #10, Oceanography Task #2: Write about someone feeling "in too deep" about something.
Warnings: Canon character death; grief; loss of a spouse/child/parent; anxiety about child custody
That Can Be Reason Enough
He felt like his bones were weighing him down as he got up to fetch Teddy from his crib, which he had moved into the bedroom days after the Battle.
"I hear you, I hear you," he promised the baby–rather unnecessarily, Remus wagered, since the whole building could probably hear his cries. His brain was too fuzzy to tell whether this was the fussy-going-on-frantic crying of a hungry baby, the whiny screech that meant that he needed a diaper change, or the high-pitched cries that meant that Teddy needed attention.
He collapsed in the rocking chair in the corner of the room with Teddy curled up on his chest to give himself a chance to figure it out. Teddy, seemingly, had wanted to be held because the rocking was all he needed to settle down. Thank Merlin. Remus's brain was still foggy–a byproduct of the approaching full moon that made dragging himself to the kitchen, locating the baby formula, and making a bottle impossible.
"There we go," he said, running his knuckles up and down Teddy's back. "There we go… you just want some attention, nothing wrong with that, Teddy. Nothing wrong with that…"
He kissed Teddy's wispy hair, which had been violet when he had put him to bed but could be any colour of the rainbow by now. If he slept particularly peacefully, his hair colour seemed to get away from him and shift as he dreamed. He was like Dora that way–among a hundred others.
Stop, Remus said. You're too tired to start thinking about Dora without falling headfirst down a rabbit hole that you can't manage right now. What good would you be to Teddy then?
It was the last cohesive thought that Remus remembered thinking before waking up, still in the rocking chair, but with light streaming in through the blinds and Teddy… oh God. Teddy wasn't in his arms anymore and the crib was empty.
He bounced to his feet and lunged for his wand, despite his bad shoulder's protest, and did a sweep of the bedroom before running out and bursting into the kitchen. Andromeda Tonks gave a squeak and dropped the teacup she had been holding when he startled her.
"An… Andromeda?" Remus asked breathlessly.
"Nymphadora gave me a spare key a few months ago," Andromeda said, eyes wide as if she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't have. "I… I let myself in when you didn't answer, and Teddy woke up while I was putting away some groceries and… well, you looked like you could use the rest."
Remus's heart started beating again when he saw Teddy, happily lounging in his bouncer on the living room floor. He put his wand down on the kitchen table and went to go pick him up, kissing his Cerulean, ocean blue hair and breathing him in.
"I didn't mean to scare you," Andromeda said.
"It's okay," Remus said. "I did know you had a key, Dora told me, I just…"
"I understand," Andromeda said quietly–which was good because Remus did not particularly feel like explaining. Especially now that he realised that he had burst out of the bedroom wearing only the sweatpants he'd slept in, meaning that Andromeda had seen the scars criss-crossing his chest and… well, even the bike mark where Greyback had clamped down on his shoulder years ago, leaving ugly bundles of white scar tissue that had never quite healed right and that had twisted grotesquely as he'd grown. It hit him that she might be the only person alive who had seen the extent of his injuries. She had been a Healer for too many years to gawk, but he knew the injuries were shocking.
He put Teddy back down in his bouncer, and pulled on a sweater he had left draped on the sofa. His brain was fuzzy. Damned full moon…
"You… you said you had come by earlier?" he asked.
"Yes," Andromeda said. With a wave of her wand, she swept up the remnants of her teacup. "I brought some groceries–diapers, formula, a few other things..."
"Thank you," Remus said, somewhat surprised. He hadn't had to do much of his own groceries since the Battle of Hogwarts; Molly had been channelling all her grief and helplessness into baking and cooking. Since Harry was living at the Burrow for now, Molly sent him over with pots of soup, ham sandwiches, loaves of banana bread, shepherd's pies, tins of biscuits, and whatever else she had made whenever he came to see Teddy. Molly also made it abundantly clear that this was not up for discussion, and Harry repeated it faithfully every time he filled the fridge.
Remus had told Harry, when he had seen how shaky he looked last time they had all been together for one of the funerals, that he could come see Teddy anytime. Harry had taken him up on that offer frequently; they would drink tea and eat some of Molly's cooking while talking about Teddy or nothing at all–which was what Remus suspected Harry needed most. At least he hoped it was, because Remus did not have much more to offer. Since Harry had continued to come around faithfully, Remus assumed that this was working for him.
Andromeda was the other person with consistent access to Teddy–but usually he brought Teddy to her every Saturday, or whenever he woke up to find her owl on the rickety fire escape. It was a good excuse to get dressed in clean clothes, pack a bag full of baby essentials, and leave the flat. It was strange to be in the Tonks's house without Dora at his side, so Remus was thankful that his son loved the backyard so much and gave them an excuse to slip away from the perfectly poised house full of old pictures. Teddy loved being shown all the flower gardens that his namesake had planted over the years, or wiggling around if they laid him down in the grass. But at any rate, this wasn't about Remus. Teddy was short enough on family as it was and Andromeda, even if she had never really cared for Remus and likely wouldn't be here if Dora had died childless, was family.
"I hope you don't mind," she said. "I did some dishes and tidied a bit for you."
"I don't mind," Remus said even if he felt uncomfortable that she had seen his mess. He felt uncomfortable that she was here, in this space that had only been for him and Dora, and which was smaller than the house she had raised her own child–even if it was the biggest place that he could offer Teddy if he kept saving up most of the money they had been getting monthly from the Auror Office since Dora had died. He cleared his throat. "You, ah, didn't have to do that… I know it was messier than usual here."
"It was not bad at all," Andromeda said softly–and she was not usually a soft-spoken woman. She sounded almost as if… almost as if she wanted to reassure him. "My house wasn't clean for the first eleven years of Nympadora's life, and I had an extra pair of hands to help all the while."
Remus stiffened. Ah. So this was what this was about. He had known it would come but did not know quite what to do with it, now that it had arrived.
During the string of funerals that had clouded the month of May, Remus had dressed in the same black robes every time and had always had Teddy in his arms. He had seen the eyes on him; for once people weren't looking at him because he was a werewolf, as the world knew. No, they were looking at him because he was a widower. Because he was alone with a baby that looked oh-so-much like his mother and was oh-so-little to have lost her. Not only had it been a thousand times worse, but Remus had known that eventually the pity would wear off and someone would remember to worry about the little boy being raised by a single, lone werewolf. Someone would remember that since the best part of him had always been Dora, Teddy had officially been left with scraps.
It made sense that it was Andromeda who would worry first.
"I… I am still learning how to do this on my own," he said in a measured tone. "But Teddy always has clean bottles, clean clothes, and by the time he starts crawling the flat will be pristine and safe for him."
Andromeda looked confused. "I… I know."
Now it was Remus's turn to look confused. "You… do?"
"Yes," Andromeda said. She frowned. "What are you..? What did you think I meant?"
"I thought you came because you were worried about Teddy," Remus said. "Because he's… because he's on his own with me."
The words were difficult to say, even if they weren't new, and Remus's mouth felt pasty.
Andromeda looked at him long and hard.
"Remus, I came because I was worried about you, since you were on your own with him," Andromeda said. "It's hard to take care of yourself when you're taking care of a baby, and I know that you're taking care of the baby."
Remus was the one who had to look away as relief flooded his chest.
"Remus, what did you think I had come here to tell you or… or do?" Andromeda said.
Remus couldn't answer, he couldn't even make the words: Take him. Take Teddy away.
"You've seen me make a lot of mistakes," Remus said quietly instead. "I know you have. And I know I'm not enough for Teddy, nobody would be other than her, and you don't have any particularly good reasons to like me. That's all."
"You are my grandchild's father. And you were…" it was her turn to have to take a break before parselling out her words. "You were the love of my daughter's life, no matter how short it was. That… that is reason enough, now."
Remus blinked away tears that were forming in his exhausted eyes.
Andromeda stiffened, folding her arms over her chest and considering her next words carefully.
"You and I got off on the wrong foot," she said. "I know we did. There are things I said to you, or about you, that I… that I would not say again."
It was likely as close to an apology as Remus would ever get, he thought.
"But I do not… dislike you," Andromeda said. "I especially do not dislike you when I see you with Teddy. I did not come because I do not trust you with him. I came because raising a baby alone is almost impossible work for anybody, and you deserve help. You deserve to have someone watching the baby so that you can sleep, or eat a full meal while it's still warm, or take your time showering because you aren't racing against a baby's whims."
Remus took a deep breath.
"I could use a shower," he admitted half-heartedly.
"I can stay and keep an eye on him," Andromeda said.
Remus considered the offer. As the full moon got closer, his muscles were tightening in apprehension and nothing sounded quite as good as standing still under a hot shower for a few minutes.
"Would you mind?" Remus asked quietly.
"Not at all," Andromeda said.
"Okay," Remus said. He cleared his throat. "He'll probably get hungry around 9:00, there's already an open container of formula in the cabinet above the sink. He's still getting used to it and he doesn't not like it, but he latches onto the blue bottles much easier. He hasn't been sleeping in the nursery, but there are extra diapers there if he needs a change and he… he's been turning his hair pink when he wants Dora, and, umm… well, I give him the yellow blanket, and it helps a bit."
Pain flashed across Andromeda's face when he told her–because it was genuinely gut-wrenching. But there was something about the way it flashed across Andromeda's face that called to Remus, because it felt like some of his pain was in her eyes and on her features, in a way that it had never–could never–be when he spoke to Harry or Molly or Kingsley... He and Andromeda didn't have the same pain, to be clear. But it was close enough that… Well, there was kinship in that, wasn't there? Remus was the last one standing in such painful ways: the last of the Marauders, the last of his family, the last of the werewolves who had tried to counter Greyback… but he was not the last person on earth to have loved Nymphadora Tonks deeply and completely.
And maybe, like Andromeda said, that was reason enough for them to be family.
"Okay," Andromeda said, catching herself. She took a deep breath. "I will give him the yellow blanket if he gets fussy."
"Yes," Remus said. "Thank you so much, I… I don't know how to…"
"When she put him in my arms before going to join the fight, she told me take care of her boys before kissing my cheek and darting off into the night," Andromeda said. "She meant you too, Remus. You don't need to thank me for doing that."
Remus nodded. If she had her reasons, and he had his reasons, and they had Teddy… Well, maybe they really could become family.
The hot water on his skin felt especially good as he let it wash over him.
WC: 2266
