This time, it was James who apparated them away from Cokeworth, taking himself and Lily, who was still teary about being snubbed as her sister's bridesmaid in favour of Marge Dursley, home to his parents. They appeared in James's bedroom, their arms still around each other, so close to his bed they might have tumbled into it if Lily hadn't caught herself on the post.

"What are you playing at, Potter?" she said, blinking in the dim light.

"Sorry, I just thought of taking you home and it ended up," he smoothed her hair with his palm, "like this."

She boosted herself onto her toes to kiss him chastely on the mouth. "Plan a wedding for me first. Then maybe we can talk honeymoon."

They found Effie and Monty in the study on the main floor, a huge hot fire on the hearth. "Here's Jimsy," Effie beamed as James let himself in. "And the sweetheart."

"It's Lily, Mum."

"I know that, of course," she laughed, taking both Lily's hands. "But she's our sweetheart for life. Aren't you dear?"

Lily smiled and stammered just as James lunged toward Monty's desk, talking much too loudly. "No, not again, Dad. You've got that flaming star chart out."

"Yes, laddie," Monty said. "We've got plans to make, haven't we? You and the sweetheart need marrying."

James made no answer, shrugging and gaping at Lily. She took it over. "Yes, we've been considering it for weeks, and we've talked about it with the headmaster and agreed it would be for the best."

Monty accepted it with a nod and with a savage jab of his wand against the parchment of the chart, almost sharp enough to tear it. There beneath his wand was a dark, ugly smudge, like a scorch mark from a dirty flame. "He's attacked you. Tom Riddle, that monster. He's raised his wand to my boy."

James hung his head. But Effie's hands were on his face head, lifting it and stroking his hair and cheeks. "But he's alright now, our Jimsy."

"Yeah," he said. "But if it hadn't been for the swee - for Lily, it might not have gone so well. So it's better if we're together, always."

"But that's not it," Monty said, reading again from the chart. "That is not the why of the wedding."

James heaved a great sigh, weary like one of Remus's. "Right, Dad," he looked to Lily. "Dad wants us to admit that they were right, that we're soulmates."

She nodded. "Consider it admitted."

Effie moved to Monty's side and took his hand, patting it as she said, "And they'll be happy together, for the rest of their lives."

"And after," Monty added in a choked voice, more like a sob. "And ever after."

A rare thing happened, rare to James's knowledge, at any rate. Monty lifted Effie's hand and kissed it as she bent an arm below his chin and kissed the jumble of thin white hair at the top of his head.

The room felt more funerary than like a wedding planning party. Effie seemed to know it and led everyone out, moving to the drawing room.

"I was thinking," James began, "of having the ceremony in the south rose garden, but the weather might still be too fierce for an outdoor party by next weekend."

"There's the ballroom," Effie said. "Lots of cobwebs at the moment. It will take some cleaning but - "

"No, Mum. we want a nice wedding, but it won't be a big one," James said. "It's still a secret. For guests, there'll be just you two, some teachers, the lads, and maybe a friend of Lily's who's already in the Order of the Phoenix."

Effie winked. "Order of the Phoenix, eh? You leave it with me, Jimsy." She turned her big, spectacled eyes on Lily. "No Evans guests?"

Lily's chin quivered. "No, I'm afraid not. My parents aren't ready, and my sister and I have just fallen out."

Effie hummed. "I understand about your parents. But as for your sister - don't waste any time being at odds with your loved ones."

James was moving them away from the issue Petunia as quickly as he could. "We'll need four sets of matching dress robes for the lads. That's easy. But what can we do about a dress for Lily?"

"That is none of your business, Jimsy," Effie said. "That's for the sweetheart and I alone. What else do you want, deary?"

"Cake," James said. "A marvelous cake. No cabbage."

Effie chirped. "Cabbage? Whoever thought of a cake with cabbage?"

"Just making sure," James said. "What else, Lily, speak up."

"Pictures," she said. "Muggle pictures, in full colour, without any movement. I'll want to show my parents some day…"

She was sad again, so sad James pulled her into his lap and closed his arms around her waist in front of his parents. "Yes, all the pictures you want," he said. "I'll take care of it. Remus's mum is a Muggle. She'll have a camera we can use, and she'll know how to get the pictures out of it."

Monty had seemed to be dozing but he raised his head now, settled his glasses onto his nose. He looked across the room, to where James sat holding the sweetheart. Once upon a time, it would have been a bit racy for Monty, but tonight, he gave a slow nod and half of a smile.

"Worth it," Monty said. "Yes, it will be worth it."

The snow was nearly gone as the seventh year Care of Magical Creatures class made its way to the edge of the forest. Peter was eager to shake off the lads in favour of Alice Fortescue for the next hour. It had been an odd weekend with James gone away for most of it, planning a wedding with Lily and his parents, while Sirius and Remus had handled each other with a strained coolness Peter didn't understand.

"A camera," James was saying to Remus. "One that makes Muggle pictures we can give to Lily's parents when the time is right. Does she have one? Your Mum?"

"She should. That must have been how they got baby pictures of me to send to my Gran," Remus said, glancing over his shoulder again.

Sirius laughed. "Oh, come off it, Remus," he said. "You don't expect us to believe you were ever a baby. Not you."

Remus did not return the laugh. "I was, actually. It may surprise some people to know, but I have all the same feelings and desires as anyone else."

"Right. What is going on between the pair of you?" Peter demanded. "Whatever it is, I can't bear another round of it. When I get back, you'd better be back to normal." With that, he set off to join Alice.

James frowned, confused. "What's he on about? Did something happen?"

"No," Remus said.

But at the same time, Sirius said, "When I met Narcissa to return her cloak, I told her to leave Remus alone. And he's not too keen on that, apparently."

"What I'm not too keen on," Remus said, hissing, whispering to keep the rest of the class from hearing, "is you laying down the law about what and I can do and with whom without consulting me. Just because I'm - you know - it doesn't mean you can treat me like a pet."

Sirius was shaking his head. "Padfoot's having none of your treated-like-a-pet talk. And I have no regrets about scaring off Narcissa. None at all. And I'll tell her the same again if she tries to partner up with you today."

Remus groaned and turned in a circle.

"No, you need guidance," Sirius maintained. "And protection. You've got no experience with girls, no idea what crazy, irrational things they can get you to do."

"There you go again. Treating me like a mindless animal. Girls making people crazy - nonsense. James, say something."

James raised his eyebrows. "I may not be the best person to ask."

They fell quiet as Grubbly-Plank started class by expressing her disappointment in everyone for the mass exposure to Hodag powder. "So as penance, as a service to the school, and to guarantee at least one class with no disasters, for today we will embark on a labour with no risk at all - hardly any. The fifth years let all but three of our Bowtruckles escape into these woods, and they need to be retrieved. By you. This afternoon. So partner up and get to work."

"It's on, mates. Here she comes," James said, watching over Sirius's shoulder as Narcissa approached, coming to claim a partner.

"Right," Sirius said, spinning toward her instead of away from her this time. "Come on, coz. Let's make gathering Bowtruckles a family affair."

Narcissa wouldn't look at him. "Not today," she said. "If you recall, I'm with Lupin."

"Fine," Sirius said, hauling on James's arm. "You don't want me? Have Potter."

"Potter." She had a way of saying his name that made it sound like she was swearing. "No thank you. And don't bother threatening me with disgrace, Sirius. This is a public setting. Completely," she said, smiling up at Remus, "completely innocent."

Sirius scoffed. "Tell it to someone else - "

"Look," James interrupted. "There's no need for you two to fight over him. Just tell her no, Remus. That'll be the end of it."

Narcissa had yet to take her eyes from Remus, her head cocked to one side now, as if she was sweet when truly she was daring him to try to send her away.

He hadn't seen her all weekend, not since he'd barely kept himself from devouring her against the door of the prefects' office. Maybe it was the sunlight diffused through the haze in the cold air and dappled through the leafless trees, but she was prettier than he remembered. Not that it mattered. Her force was magnetic, pulling at him with an attraction beyond what she looked like. He couldn't be alone with her, but she was right about this being a public setting. Here in the sunshine, halfway through the lunar cycle, Moony was unreachable. It was the best place, the only place Remus could risk being near her.

And Sirius deserved to be put in his place.

"No," Remus said. "I will exercise my power to choose for myself, as an adult, and I say we all stay with the partners we had last time. Happy Bowtruckle hunting, lads."

"Actually," Remus said. "I will exercise my power to choose for myself, as an adult, and I say we all stay with the partners we had last class. Happy Bowtruckle hunting, lads."

Narcissa smirked over her shoulder at Sirius as she followed Remus into the trees. "Well, isn't this nice?" she said. "In the forest together again."

Remus said nothing, trudging ahead of her, past the thickets where pairs of students were already searching for Bowtruckles, little magical creatures who looked almost exactly like broken, leafless tree branches, which was what everything looked like in February.

"Wait up, Lupin. Grubbly-Plank said to find Bowtruckles, not Centaurs," Narcissa called after him. "I've never been this deep in the forest untransformed."

"Will you be quiet about transformation?" he said, stopping so she could catch up to a distance where they could talk quietly. "Anyone could hear you."

"Why would that matter to you? I'm only speaking for myself," she said. She stopped partway down a slope, amused to find it brought them to the same height. "I can transform into a creature. I may as well shout it. No one believes me but you."

He looked into her face. "Is it possible for you to stop baiting and tormenting me for a little while? Can we please just fill this time being normal?"

"This is normal for us."

"Well, I don't want this to be normal," he blurted. "If you can't be natural then talk to me like - like I'm interviewing you for a newspaper."

She laughed. "That is definitely not natural."

"Isn't it though?" he asked. "Your kind is always on the society page, giving insipid answers to banal questions."

She rolled her eyes and edged sideways down the slope. "Please. All they ever want to know about is my engagement."

"Fine," Remus began, leading out again. "What kind of stone is in your engagement ring?"

"Opal." She said, holding her hand out, as if she expected Remus to look at it.

He didn't look, attending instead to the cracking pile of twigs he was sifting through. "Opal? Are you mad? Is there a stone that's more frequently cursed than that?"

She breathed a laugh through her nose. "So cursed, so pretty. Precisely what makes it a perfect tribute to my union with Malfoy."

Remus kept up his interview. "When's the wedding? Four or five years from now?"

"This September," she said. "September second. The day after my nineteenth birthday. Almost exactly a year since we struck the agreement. Struck the agreement - doesn't that sound romantic? Our fathers signing prenuptial contracts in the study before signalling to Malfoy to take me out on the terrace and propose in the moonlight."

"Things can't be that bad between you," Remus said, stooped to the ground now, pushing low, dirty branches aside to look for Bowtruckles. "The pair of you look like a matched set."

She scoffed. "Everyone says that, but all they mean is the hair."

He glanced up from the thicket. "No, it's more than that."

"It is," she admitted. "There is a tolerable compatibility between us. At least he's tall. I like tall. And kissing him isn't as repulsive as I had feared."

Remus meant to answer with a disinterested hum but it came out as more of a growl.

She went on. "Well, in looking alike, I suppose we can presume to know what my Malfoy children will look like. Can you imagine? Gorgeous little monsters."

"Half-monsters," he corrected.

She dropped to squat beside him. "Remus Lupin, did you just make a joke about my being a creature? A joke about something so serious? Right to my face? You?"

He pivoted on his heels to face her. "See, you hardly know me. The lads and I are silly with werewolf jokes. If you and I were anything like real friends, you'd know that."

She scoffed. "I don't have to be a friend of yours to know you better than just about anybody. I know all of you. How many people can say that? Those three best mates of yours, and I would assume your parents. Who else?"

He stood up. "This my interview. You don't get to ask questions."

"Well, I am going to ask one anyway. An insipid one. What's your favourite class at school?" she said, rising to her feet again.

He laughed. "What are you, eleven years old?"

"Just answer."

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," he said without any more hesitation.

"Interesting. That's mine as well."

He was scoffing now. "Really? Well, look at us. How's that for irony?"

She frowned. "I don't follow."

He looked up at her, one eye closed, squinting in the sunlight coming from behind her. "You sitting in DADA class every day, eating it up, bold as brass wearing your Death Eater's opal ring."

She moved to where her shadow shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun. "Ah, you mean that because of what we are, you, a werewolf and me, Malfoy's dear one, that class is not for us. Well, I disagree. I say people like us appreciate that class most of all."

"No, we agree completely," he said, his brow smooth, his eyes wide and dark in her shadow. "It's ironic, not wrong. If I could work anywhere, I'd teach the subject here someday. Explaining to kids about the dark magic all around us, all through us, but without so much hate and fear of it." The twig in his grip snapped as he handled it. "Though that's not likely to happen."

Above his head, he heard her sigh. "I'm not studying defense as a possible profession either," she said. "The DADA skill I'm best at isn't even taught in school. Father's been supplementing our training at home for years. Mine and Bella's and Severus's too, since our sister Andromeda left."

His shoulders twitched. "Severus? He's taking private DADA lessons with the House of Black?"

"In Occlumency. Yes, we all are," Narcissa said. "Father says it will help us if we're ever called upon for reconnaissance."

"Spying?"

"What have you, I don't care about any of the politics," she said. "My concern is personal. It's about being able to live without fear but with Death Eaters coming and going from under my roof at Malfoy Manor. If I can't close my mind to them, I'll never have any peace. Occlumency is not an easy skill, but I'm quite good at it. A natural sneak, two-faced. Ready to fake my way through a sham of a happy marriage."

It was then that it struck him - her frustration, her grief, how awful it was, how scared and hopeless she must be when she thought of her future. He rose to standing, his face suddenly in her space. "Narcissa, that's - "

"A blessing in disguise," she finished, not backing away. "Mastering Occlumency means whatever my Veela gets up to, Malfoy will never have to know." She was pretending to be flippant, falling back on teasing, on flirting with him when they came too near what hurt her.

Remus wouldn't let her deflect it, his tone staying grave and quiet. "If it's like that, don't marry him. There must be some way - "

"There isn't," she said. "My Veela is real. Lucius can't see her. When I tried to talk to my father about finding someone who could, he wouldn't even let me finish explaining. He said the Dark Lord himself had sent the Malfoys to us to propose an arrangement, years ago. It was never truly negotiable."

"Riddle's behind your betrothal?" Remus said. "Stars, Black. What more do you need to know to be able to tell it will never make you happy? Riddle gets a lot of things done for a lot of people, but making them happy is never one of them."

She was shaking her head, backing away from him until a tree trunk at her back stopped her. "No, there's no point in arguing. Bella's in on it too somehow. And no one ever says no to Bella. Certainly not our father."

Lupin scrubbed his face with his hands. "I honestly don't see how your marriage can be any of these people's business."

"How can it not be?" she said, pushing herself off the tree trunk to face him again. "Marriages are massive family affairs. Always. And this one is like a train on rails. No, my engagement to Malfoy can't be rerouted."

"But that can't - "

All at once she was shushing him, gripping both of his arms, her head bowed. "Don't move."

"What?"

"Bowtruckle."

"Where?"

"It's in my hair. I can feel it creeping around." She shuddered. Her voice sounded calm but she said, "I am about to scream. I am going to lose my mind if you don't get it out for me. Now. Lupin, help - "

"It's alright. You're alright," he said, twisting out of her hold and making a slow, sideways step behind her. "It must have been on that tree."

"Hurry."

"I am. Keep still." Remus could see nothing in the thick sheaf of platinum hair falling down Narcissa's back. Carefully, he closed his hands around it, feeling through its silky lengths for the thing clambering inside it. "I can't see it, so it can't be very big," he said, meaning to reassure her.

She jumped. "You can't see it? It's still there. I can feel it. I swear - oh, get it out!"

He hushed her, a stuttering, almost whistling sound like he'd use to signal for Padfoot to behave. Her shoulders were heaving and trembling as she held her panic back. Remus lifted her hair to inspect the bottom layer of it. There it was, a long, thin, light coloured Bowtruckle, like a stick insect only oversized and inclined to claw people's eyes out when perturbed.

"Here we are," Remus said, crooning, gentle.

"Get it, get it," she whispered, fumbling to open the bag Professor Grubbly-Plank had distributed to collect the creatures.

With delicate fingers, Remus untangled Narcissa's hair from the Bowtruckles hooked hands. "There we have it," he said, reaching around her to drop the creature into the bag.

She let out her breath as she clamped it closed. "Thank the stars."

He laughed at her softly, almost affectionately as he let her hair down, easing into place against her neck. At the moment, she didn't look like the luminous, shining Veela his senses knew. Yet still, before he took conscious thought of it, the edge of one of his fingers had indulged in grazing the fine skin of her neck as he released her hair.

She spun around, catching his hand, capturing it against her neck, keeping it half hidden in her hair. "Don't mistake me for someone scared of creatures," she explained. "I just can't abide anything alive in my hair."

"Alright then," he said, pulling at the hand she held.

"Wait," she said. "Leave it one more moment. Don't you feel my pulse? It calms me down. Touching. Having you touch me."

His hand burned in her hold, his arm tensing as if to pull her close and run away with her again. Remus's throat was dry, difficult to speak through. "Calming? I'm afraid your touch has quite the opposite effect on me."

This was it, the remark that succeeded, at long last, in drawing a blush from her. She let Remus's fingers slide out of hers. But he'd already felt her pulse in her throat surge against his palm as he'd spoken. It tuned him in to her heartbeat, so strong he thought could hear it, faint in Moony's wolf ears even after she let him go.

The bag in her other hand twisted in her grip, the Bowtruckle eager to escape. She pointed behind herself, in the direction of Professor Grubbly-Plank and a line of classmates. "I'll turn this in, shall I?"

"Right," he said. He stooped to the ground again, going through the motions of looking for another Bowtruckle. It was too late for that. Class was almost over, and even if it wasn't, how could Narcissa come back to work with him now, facing him again after he'd said - whatever mad thing he'd just said?

Once she had a respectable head start, he stood up to walk back, watching her hair swing against her back as she moved ahead of him.

Later that night, while James sat with the lads in the common room, Lily went to the Potters' manor to meet with Effie Potter alone for the first time. They were in Effie's private quarters, the beds and tables strewn with gowns. "I'm old enough to know some Muggle traditions," she said. "And you don't want Jimsy to see you in your finery until you're marching up to marry him. Isn't that right?"

Lily smiled, still a little self conscious about standing on the rug in James's mother's room dressed only in a thin ivory slip. She hugged her own bare freckled arms. "Yes, that is how it's usually done."

"Then that's what we'll do. Now what would you like for a dress?" Effie said, pawing at the mounds of white satin and lace all around them. "I had the shop send up a little bit of everything for you to try."

Lily scanned the room full of dresses, overwhelmed. "Oh, I'm not sure."

"What did your mother wear to her wedding, dear?"

It seemed like an odd place to start, but Lily swallowed and said. "She dreamed of dressing up like Grace Kelly. But then they got pregnant with my older sister. So she just borrowed a dress from a friend. I never saw it in real life. Just in pictures. It had a boat neck and a wide skirt a little longer than her knees. She was so young, and so beautiful, it didn't matter what she wore."

"As it will be for you," Effie said, patting her hand. "Now, how about this one? The girls from the shop said you'd like it. Very trendy."

Lily sighed. "It is. It looks just like my sister's wedding gown."

Without saying anything more, Effie pursed her lips and produced a different dress, one with a high empire waistline, snugged just under the bust.

"It's lovely, but what if someone sees the picture and mistakes me for pregnant in it?" Lily said. "They're all going to assume I am anyway. It would be nice to defy their gossip rather than encourage it."

"So there is no baby yet?" Effie asked as Lily's eyes widened. "The stars say it's still too soon," Effie went on, "but from time to time, the stars can't be trusted in these things, as they couldn't be trusted for Monty and me when our Jimsy came."

Lily was shaking her head. "Oh no," she said. "No, James and I - we've never. It's not like that for us - yet."

"Of course, dear," Effie said, not sounding particularly convinced. "Well, I do believe I know just the dress. The perfect opposite of a high waist."

She held up a dress curving like an hourglass through the bust and waist before bursting into a low, full skirt, like a mermaid's tail.

"James would like it. But it's a bit too dramatic for me," Lily said.

"Then I don't imagine you'd care much for this one," Effie said, struggling even to hold a massive tulle ballroom skirt topped with a high-necked lace bodice with puffed sleeves.

"Maybe if I was taller," Lily said.

"Well, there's nothing for it but to try this one," Effie said.

Lily stepped into the next dress. Effie eased the sleeves over her shoulders and got to work on the long row of tiny buttons in the back. Lily turned to the mirror. "The Great Gatsby," she said.

"Hmm? What's that dear?"

"This sheer organza, with the silk V-neck shift underneath it," she twisted to see her profile. "And the little sleeves, and the way the bodice falls to bit of a dropped waist, and then blooms into this lovely flared skirt. And this delicate cape hung from the shoulders - it's like something from the 1920s."

"Yes, exactly. It was already an antique dress when we bought it," Effie said. "It's mine."

Lily gasped. "Yours? Madam Potter, you should have told me. What if I'd said something awful about it?"

Effie laughed. "Then I would have brought you another dress without a word. I didn't want to pressure you, dear. You shouldn't have to worry about my feelings when choosing your own wedding dress." She was rifling through a jewelry box now. "Since you're enjoying it, try it with these. They're meant to be worn together."

She held up a choker, tiny diamonds all the way around. "A wedding gift from Monty. Wear it while you can, sweetheart. As we grow old, that nice taut skin on the neck is the first thing to go."

Lily lifted her hair as Effie clasped the necklace behind her. When she was finished, she steered Lily to the full-length mirror as she marveled at the beading on the lower edge of the bodice. "There you are, dear."

Lily stared breathlessly at her reflection. "It's nothing like I imagined for my wedding. And it's perfect."

Effie stood at her shoulder, gathering Lily's hair in her hands. "We'll need something for your head. Not a veil. Can you let James's old mother have that? No veil. It's too much like a shroud."

In the mirror, Lily thought she saw a shiver run through Effie's shoulders. She was still thinking of it as she stood on a stool as Effie's wand marked the hemline for the skirt. She didn't want to ask, but she had to.

"Madam Potter?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Why is it that so many people take the news of our wedding as if it's sad? I understand we're very young, and it is rather grim that we live in a world where James and I need each other to be safe. But," she paused, "but I love James. I want him for my husband. Finding a soulmate is what everyone wishes for newlyweds, isn't it? So why does everyone feel sad for us?"

Effie straightened up from watching the hemming, her hand in the small of her back, her face pained. "There is more magic you may need to stay safe," she said. "Obscure, controversial magic I don't know myself. But I will obtain a book on it for you. A rare one. I'll ask James's godmother, Bathilda, to make hers a wedding present to you. Learn it, my sweetheart girl. That's the best I can do."

Lily wasn't the only one away from Hogwarts that night, visiting a parent. Remus was in Cardiff fetching his mother's Muggle camera for James's wedding. She sat next to him on the sofa, patiently explaining how to use the contraption as he nodded and looked very worried about the whole thing.

"And when you're finished - this is very important, Remus. You could ruin everything if you open - " she stopped mid-sentence. "You know what, just bring it back to me when you're finished. But that means you can take only twenty-four pictures. Mind the counter on the back, and be careful. Especially if what you're photographing is something important. Is it?"

Remus heaved his huge sigh, the one he learned from his father.

"It is important," Hope concluded.

Remus Lupin was never anything but forthcoming with his mother, and as always, he told her everything. "It is. James is getting married."

'What? At eighteen? And still in school?"

"Yes, Mum. There's a bad movement afoot in the magical world - "

"So I've heard."

"Yes, and James's contribution to stopping it is to marry his soulmate."

Hope clucked her tongue. "We should all be so lucky. But how does that help?"

"I'm not sure, Mum. It's Professor Dumbledore's idea," he said. "It can't be too far off."

She clucked again. "Honestly, the trust you people put in that character. I don't always understand it. And why do wizards all want to get married so young?"

"You're one to talk," Remus smirked. "You and Dad had a quick engagement, and me right away."

She shifted in her seat on the sofa next to him. "That was different. That was your father. He's - "

"Just like the rest of us," Remus finished, laughing gently at her.

She batted at his arm. "The rest of them except for my son, the werewolf monk, forsworn to a life of study and chastity."

Anyone else might have missed it, but a tiny wince flitted over Remus's expression as she teased him. She was suddenly serious. "Unless I'm much mistaken, that is." She paused, giving him time to protest. When he didn't she poked a finger into his side. "What's happened, Remus?"

"Hardly anything, Mum."

"That's not nothing," she pounced. "And I was joking, of course, about you spending your life alone. For years I've been thinking you and Sirius - he can handle you at your worst, and as for the social stigma of two men - well, it's a controversial lifestyle, but more accepted than ever right now."

"Mum, please," he said, his head in his hands.

She sat back, waiting. "You can tell me, darling. You'd better tell me."

He began, still slumped forward, his elbows on his knees. "I do adore Sirius. No one's a greater comfort to me. And I've had the thought of us together too, as a long shot. But then - " His head sank into his hands again.

Hope sat closer, linking her arm through his, still waiting.

"Mum, there's a girl," he said. "And what I feel for her, with just a look or a word from her - I didn't know that kind of thing existed. I wish I still didn't know."

"Darling, darling," Hope was saying. "This isn't sad. This is wonderful. You've had an awakening, just as I thought none was ever coming."

"I don't want it, Mum. I wanted to live alone, cuddle with my animagus best friend once in a while, and count my life successful if I'm able to get through it without ever eating anyone alive."

She let him talk, rubbing his back as if to help him get it all out.

"And then this girl at school, Sirius's estranged cousin who I've known for ages, one day she tells me she has creature magic too and from there - " He stopped to rake his hands through his hair. "She's seen me transformed, Mum. And I didn't hurt her. My werewolf - he'd never hurt her. He liked her before I did. And how could we not like her? She's smart and witty and interesting and tragic and - stars, Mum, she's so beautiful."

Hope rested her chin on his shoulder. "Of course she is, darling. What is the problem? Does she not like you?"

He sat up. "I think she might. She definitely likes Moony, at any rate."

"Stop," Hope said. "You've got to stop talking as if there are two of you. Moony - don't say that name. I've always said, the best hope you have for overcoming this curse, or whatever it is, is to find a place where you can meet the werewolf and control him, become one with him, master of his violence and urges. Everything your world does to try to control this condition involves separating the two sides of you, moving them farther and farther apart. No one listens to a mere Muggle, but as your mother I'm entitled to some inspiration, and I've always felt you need to run into the werewolf, not away from him. And if this cousin of Sirius's - "

"Stop, Mum," Remus moaned. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because she's engaged, alright?" he said, nearly shouting. "She's from an old, evil, aristocratic family that's already signed her over to someone else. It will be an arranged marriage to a man she doesn't trust. If she leaves, they'll disinherit her, and she'll be left with nothing but me, corrupt and listed on the werewolf registry, educated but unable to make a living, dragging her down to my level, and ruining her."

Hope sat back, rubbing at her eyes, determined not to let him sense her tears. "You don't get to decide what this woman does with her future, Remus John Lupin," she said. "I can't tell you what to do with yours either. But don't treat this girl like her father has. Whatever has been happening between you, let it finish happening. Let her decide if she'll love you. Be your beautiful self, all of your selves, and let yourself wait for her, if that's what you want."

As he came back to the school, after a cup of tea and an uneventful chat with his late-arriving Dad, Remus wasn't sure if he felt any better. He felt different - raw, needing something, but he wasn't sure what. Whatever it was, it wasn't in the Gryffindor common room where James sat in an armchair, nose to nose with Lily, and Peter sat at a chess board, sulking over his remaining pieces as Frank Longbottom enjoyed some astounding beginner's luck.

"Winning already? Why is it always you, Longbottom?" someone observed as he took Peter's last rook.

Remus didn't have the nerves for any of it and made for the stairs to their room. He opened the door, and there, stretching on the rug, just getting up as if he'd been listening for Remus's footfalls was Padfoot.

Remus sunk to his knees on the rug. "They say you're James's best friend. And they may be right, but you're mine too." He took the dog's face in his hands, scratching the underside of his chin as he leaned his forehead against the ridge over Padfoot's eyes. "You're mine more. And I know you do what you do because you love me. Whether you're right or wrong, you love me."

Padfoot seldom did it, but his pink tongue flicked out from between his jaws and laved Remus's cheek. Remus grinned and wiped his face dry, and hugged Padfoot around his neck. "Yes. There's a good lad."

That night, James and Lily were the last to leave the common room. They were speculating about what Professor McGonagall would show them the following afternoon, when they met to see where they'd be living together after the wedding.

"I wonder if, after that, it will finally feel real," James was saying.

Lily huffed. "Just wait until you're the one spending an evening trying on wedding clothes. Wait until you see yourself dressed up as Mr. Lily Evans."

He laughed against her throat. It would never fail to make her shiver.

"This book from your godmother though," Lily pressed on. "I wish your mum had just told me the title. I'd go downstairs and look it up myself."

"You don't know Bathilda," James said. "She's got books no one else has ever seen, let alone read. Old, rare books Pince would give her wand hand for."

"Grisly," Lily frowned.

"All I'm saying is that we'll have to wait to see what Auntie Bathilda's got," James said. "And as for the gloominess around our wedding, I'm too happy to let it touch me."

Lily kissed his forehead, smoothing his eyebrows and pushing his hair back into the mess on top of his head. "I have a sense," she said. "Maybe it's a gift of seership, but I can usually tell when something is a mistake. There's this dread that comes over me. And I have none of that when I think of our wedding. No matter what anyone else feels, for me, I sense only hope, like something vast is opening in front of us, and everything we ever wanted is in it."

At first, Lily thought James had coughed. But as she looked at him, she saw that he was fighting not to cry. "James?"

"It's alright," he said. "I'm not a seer, not on my own. But I know just what you mean."

They fell to whispering then, words spoken between kisses, words that look trite when written, but sound whole and true when spoken right, and to the right person.