Saturday June 28th, 1986

Mary had barely finished painstakingly painting the irritatingly delicate little flower on the handle of the mug when a loud crashing sound at the door made her jump. She dropped the mug in fright and barely managed to catch it just before it hit the floor. It's the third time this hour; her nerves are shot and her patience is wearing dangerously thin.

"Right, that's it!" After carefully hanging the mug on the drying rack Mary marches over to the door. She swings it open to see the remains of a pot plant scattered all over the doorstep, roots and leaves intermingled with the soil and ceramic shards. There's scattered patches of soil all over the yard, as well as a random array of objects: a frying pan, the cats water bowl, nearly all of Violet's toys, as well as a rather large pair of ugly woolen socks.

"VIOLET TYRELL!" Both Violet and Harry jump in surprise, both at her voice and sudden appearance. Violet nearly falls off her training broom, barely managing to catch herself in time. Any other time Mary would have been mildly impressed by her daughters seemingly inherited flying skills, but not today.

"Mammy!" she greets, a deceptively innocent smile on her face. Harry beams as well, but the guilt is more evident in his eyes. He furtively glanced around him as he hovers almost five feet above the ground.

"Don't 'mammy' me," Mary snaps, watching the two kids exchange wary looks. "What is the meaning of this mess?"

"Oh, we're playing a game called Jarveys and Dragons! It's so much fun. We made it up all by ourselves, and we collect-"

"Violet I'm glad you're having fun, but I have told you time and time again, I need to finish that project today! You know that. I can't keep working if you lot keep exploding things every ten minutes!"

She had tried her hardest to keep her tone even, but it had been a wasted effort when her temper had gotten the better of her by the end of the sentence anyways. Harry looks chagrined but Violet looks annoyed. She dismounts, practically throwing her broomstick to the ground. Mary opens her mouth to reprimand her, only for Violet to get there first.

"It's not fair! It's not fair! It's not fair! It's not my fault you have to work all the time!" she bursts, her little face screwed up with emotion.

Vi is practically trembling with anger, and she even punctuates her sentence with a stomp of her foot. She has such a furious expression for a four year old. It almost makes Mary want to laugh at the sheer wonder that this little child she carried and raised is old enough to feel emotions with such passion. To express them so strongly. She knows her daughter well though, and her pride would not withstand such a reaction. Instead she bends down so they are eye level, holding in her anger and focusing on getting through to her.

"Violet, I know you're upset, I understand."

"No you don't! Mam, I-"

"Violet, I do. I mean it. I don't want to upset you. But you know my work is important. It's the reason we can afford to buy these broomsticks; to clothe us and feed us, as well as Madra and all the cats and to buy all your toys." she fixes her daughter with a serious expression, refusing to drop her gaze.

Violet falters, and Mary feels a flicker of guilt for being so serious with her daughter, for potentially damaging the naivety of her youth, her innocence; but she needs to make sure she understands. Most likely, their lives will always be this way, a delicately balanced act of working and living, prospering and struggling. It's the harsh reality of being a single mother. The harsh reality of their lives.

"I may need to take a few days off this week, so I need to work harder than ever to get everything finished." Unbidden, Sirius' face comes to her mind once more. He seems to loom larger in her mind this last week than he ever has before, from any passing thought, around any corner. He'd be easier to avoid if he was actually here.

"Yes, but-but-we don't have to be quiet if Uncle Remus is here! He could mind us! He could floo here and play with us!"

Harry's face had brightened at the mention of Remus' name, something Mary would be sure to try and tell Remus later. It had been nearly a week since she had reintroduced the two, and told someone from her old life about Violet, about all that she had hidden and protected for so long. It felt like it had been far longer than that.

Remus had been back a few times already, and had even managed to take care of both of the children unassisted while she had met with Professor McGonagall at the Ministry one day. They'd spent hours combing through the reports and articles from Sirius' arrest to see if there was anything that would help them-him.

She had to keep reminding herself to do that. To separate the two of them in her mind. Just because she was his-what was she to him? Was she still his girlfriend after all this time? It felt like too juvenile a word to describe what she and Sirius were to each other, and yet premature to presume he would still feel the same way about her. She doubted they were going to pick up right where they left off. Even if they shared a child (and a godchild). For all she knew he could be angry, furious even.

(You should have done more, you could have helped him-)

"Mammy!" Violet interrupts her inner monologue of self-loathing by tugging on her sleeve. Once she's satisfied she's gotten her mother's attention she clasps her two hands together as though she's praying and says, "Please, please, please, please please!"

"Could Uncle Remus come over?" Harry pipes up more earnestly and hopeful than Violet could ever manage to be.

"Oh guys, I don't know, he might be working today. He was here just two days ago, and-"

"He said he would come back when the weekend was on!" Violet interjected, then her gaze darts towards Harry, doubt creeping into her expression. "It is-it is the weekend now?"

"Yes," he assured her with a bright smile. "Saturday and Sundays are the weekend."

"Yeah!" Violet turns around again, all doubt forgotten and looking triumphant. "He promised!"

"I'm sure he did love-"

"He promised!"

"Violet, it's not nice to keep interrupting people." She lifts her eyebrows at Violet until she is wearing a suitably abashed expression. Mary sometimes wonders if she may be fighting a losing battle trying to instil some manners in her daughter. Violet always seemed to act first, think later.

"Sorry," she says hurriedly, sounding anything but. "But Mammy, he promised! You said never to break promises!"

Shoot. She certainly had her there. She knew it too if her satisfied little smirk was anything to go by. Mary had always instilled in her the importance of being true to your word. Honesty always had been something she valued so highly. However Mary couldn't let her know that she was going to give in this easily, otherwise she'd never be able to convince Violet to do anything ever again.

"I will ask him, if -" she raises her voice to be heard over the children's cheers. "If you two clean away most of this mess and manage to play quietly for at least ten minutes. Only if you can do that will I Floo Uncle Remus and ask him."

You'd have thought she had promised them an early Christmas based on their jubilant reactions. She'd barely waved her wand at the broken flowerpot, its contents and fragments zooming back together when the two of them were stumbling towards the main house, their odd assortment of pilfered items clutched between their arms. Mary bit her lip to keep from smiling.

They reappeared with coloring pencils and reams of paper, their hushed whispers and giggles floating across the yard. Mary started to feel guilty for snapping at them earlier. They were only children after all-even if Violet was more stubborn than both of her parents combined (and if possible, more confident too). It wasn't their fault they were all in this situation. They both should have had proper homes, with two parents. And anyways, after Tuesday they might have-

She turns off the train of thought immediately. Thinking like that isn't helpful. It isn't going to do anyone any favours if she gets her hopes up, especially after all this time. Dreaming had not served her well before, and it would not now. Instead she buries her feelings of guilt into giving the kids a small plate of biscuits to tide them over while they set to work drawing.

By the time Remus arrives, a bright smile on his face and a fine layer of ash coating his moss green cardigan, they've actually managed to keep their focus for nearly thirty minutes. He set off with them to the adjoining field to play and it was only hours later; after a surprisingly productive session in her studio and a somewhat late lunch, that they set up the kids artwork inside the gallery section.

Remus makes a wonderful audience for their impromptu gallery show, oohing and ahhing in all the right places and soon their round little faces are shining with joy. Even Harry, who rarely likes to be the centre of attention seems especially proud of his drawing of their owl Talia, who had been a surprisingly willing subject. The bird rarely warmed to anybody, but Mary's ancient owl seemed to have something of a soft spot for Harry. Mary had often seen the little bird land on Harry's shoulder out of the blue, sometimes just pausing to give him an affectionate nip on the ear, but occasionally she had spotted Harry walking around the garden with the owl.

"And this is the day we went to the beach, and we played sandcastles, and we had that ice cream even though it was cold and-" Violet kept babbling as she explained her pictures to Remus, whose soft and encouraging replies only served to buoy her confidence even further.

It was nice to watch them together. Remus was exactly who she'd always wanted to be Violet's godfather. Having grown up with a shoddy excuse for a father figure herself, Mary had always wanted any children of hers to grow up with a positive male figure in their lives. Quietly confident, witty, and sharp as a tack, Remus was exactly that. He could teach Violet (and Harry of course) many things, magical and otherwise.

The image of Sirius, doting on Harry with pure love and adoration burst to the front of her mind, and the searing pain was more than she could bear.

How could she ever doubt him? Why didn't she try harder-

Drowning in her own guilt and incriminating thoughts, and assured the children were safe and happy under Remus' care, Mary longs for the solitude of nature and quietly escapes out to the garden. She slips off her shoes, padding through the wild lawn between the house and the stream.

It's so peaceful here, only a small breeze rustling the trees to make her feel less alone. She walks until the voices of her loved ones fade away, her twisted thoughts leave her mind and all she's left with is the sound of her own beating heart and the soft rustle of grass and the leaves and twigs crunching underfoot.

Mary is sitting under a large frond tree, their cat Miko snoozing at her feet when Harry appears. The expression on his face tells her that he's been looking for her. He's more hesitant than he was earlier, deep in thought with a furrowed brow. At Mary's wave he quietly settles in next to her, only to be affectionately greeted by the cat before they can even exchange hellos.

Several minutes pass, Harrys hands stroking Mikos fur and Mary was nearly certain he wasn't going to say anything at all when he blurts:

"Do you like to work?"

Slightly confused by his question (and suspecting this isn't what he's really asking) Mary answers. "Yeah, most of the time. I like all the things I make and I like that sometimes they make people happy because they remind them of the ocean, or of Kerry. I like that I can afford to take care of us all and still have fun. Sometimes I wish I had more time to spend with you lot though." she ruffles Harry's hair but he barely seems to notice, only looking more confused.

"Mary?" he chews his lip, looking up at her earnestly. "Maybe I can get really good, and do more drawings, and then i can help! And then you won't be so unhappy! Then you won't have to work so much!"

"Oh, no. Harry love, of course I'm not unhappy. Not in the slightest." Mary replied, aghast. "And that's not your job to worry about. We'll be just fine. We always are."

"But it is!" he insists, her words doing little to comfort him. His expression is so anxious that his glasses slip a little down his nose. "I want to..stay. Here! I don't want to be a burden. I won't be!"

"A burden? Mary repeated, a pit of dread forming rapidly in her stomach. "Oh Harry, of course you're not a burden. Anything but. Why on earth would you think that?"

The long pause is deafening in its answer.

"They, they… said I was a burden, and tha-that I had to earn my keep, and-" Harry gulps nervously.

They. That was always how Harry referred to his rotten relatives (for lack of a better term). He had grown out of calling them aunt and uncle fairly quickly, and instead on the rare occasions he did speak of them it was always with a ripple of fear in his voice. An undercurrent of doubt that just didn't seem to go away.

Unrelenting, neverending love and kindness worked, but inch by painstaking inch.

"Harry.." Mary isn't sure how to fix this. Simple words weren't going to fix a fear so deeply rooted. For the umpteenth time Mary is furious at these people for even existing, for damaging this sweet and wonderful little child. This boy she loved so fiercely he might as well be her own.

"I don't want to be sent away!" he blurts, then clasps a hand over his own mouth as though expecting to get scolded for speaking.

"Harry," she repeats, with a firmness that causes him to look at her with apprehension. "You are not, and could never be a burden."

She holds his gaze for a long moment, refusing to look away, refusing to let him see even a flicker of doubt in her words or tone. Eventually he breaks their eye contact, looking down at his little shoes. He drags his shoe through the soil, and the little sign of anxiety makes her heart sink.

Mary scoots closer to Harry, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close to her. He relaxes into her embrace, his little arms wrapping around her waist. Harry looks up at her a moment later, his face so achingly vulnerable. When she speaks again she keeps her voice firm and steady, wanting Harry to feel as assured as possible.

"Harry, if I had to sell every single piece of clothing, every inch of this land, every plant in this garden," (at this, his eyes widen adorably behind his round glasses). "I would do all of that before I would ever, in a million years, get rid of you."

"A million?" he repeats.

"I would do anything." she vows. "Harry, you're so important to me. You're a big part of my life, of why we moved here. I would never want you to go away, and I would never let anyone take you away either. Do you understand?"

He looks so uncertain that for once she sees nothing of his parents (so fierce, so confident, so loving) in him, and her heart sinks a little further.

"I think so."

That wasn't good enough.

"Harry, do you know what a pinky promise is?" she lifts her eyebrows at him. He looks up at her with curiosity.

"I know what a pinky is," he says slowly. "And what a promise is. Can it be both?"

"Exactly," Mary praises. "Good job. Its a combination of the two. All promises are important, but a pinky promise is one that is bigger than any other."

"Okay.."

"So," Mary rolls her shoulders back, pulling away from Harry so she can proffer the appendage to him. At her nudging he hooks his pinky with hers, looking slightly apprehensive.

"I, Mary Eleanor Tyrrell do promise that I will love Harry James Potter for at least one million years. I will care for him, feed him, teach him how to play Quidditch, sometimes scold him if he's been really naughty. But I will always want him to be a part of my life."

She half expected him to giggle, but his little face was solemn. He stared at her for a moment, and when Mary looked deep into his green eyes she didn't just see a mixture of her two beloved, departed friends, but she saw Harry. Harry, who was sweet and impossibly kind. Who seemed to find solace with the nature here, who she had seen growing and healing and thriving. Little Harry who was so funny with his own clever comments and dry sense of humour.

As soon as she separates her hand from his he wraps his little arms back around her, burrowing into her embrace and Mary feels her throat narrow dangerously. She runs her hand through his hair gently, and he hugs her so tightly its almost uncomfortable.

"You know, I remember the first time I ever met you." Harry doesn't respond, but he's still enough so she knows he's listening, so she continues. "You were this tiny little thing, with loads of black hair-messy, just like now-and your mum and dad were so happy, I thought they would hurt their faces from smiling. I was one of the first people to hold you, and as soon as I saw your little face I knew I would always love you. No matter what happened."

"I love you too." Harry murmurs, and Mary has to blink rapidly at the tears that threaten to fall.

They sit there for what feels like an endless moment, blanketed by the lush greenery and warmed by the summer sun. It's been an unusually warm summer, and it's practically made the garden double in size. A few tourists have seemed almost overwhelmed by the sheer size and opulence of it. Mary on the other hand feels comforted by the grandiosity of it, as though the towering trees and blooming flowers can protect them from the rest of the world. She has a feeling that Harry feels the same way. They spent most of their time in the countryside, occasionally foraying into the nearby villages. They'd only been into one of the bigger towns once, around Christmas, and with the rush of the crowd and busy streets he had reverted back to being jumpy, anxious. It had made her heart ache. Here, he seemed to feel safe. And that was all she had ever wanted.

It's only when Violet comes out giggling, swinging off Remus' hand does Harry get up and bound over to her, an extra spring in his step that doesn't escape Remus' eye. As the two go off in search of the dog, Remus settles in next to her, his joints cracking and popping as he stretches.

"Did we interrupt?"

"No, no, everythings sorted now." Mary dismissed, unsure if she wants to say anything more. Remus doesn't immediately respond, instead sitting quietly beside her. Reassuring. Steady. Which emboldens her to continue. "Earlier I was stressed and I made the mistake of mentioning that I need to work so we can afford everything, and Harry.. He was worried he was a burden. Worried that if times got too tough, I would send him away."

"Oh." his voice sounds as soft as the tinkle of breaking glass. Then without any preamble, "Families really fuck you up, don't they?"

"I wouldn't even dignify them with such a term." Mary's voice is caustic. "Oh Remus, it just was so.. heartbreaking."

"But you made it better."

"I mean, I tried my best-"

"Give yourself more credit than that," Remus expression brokers no argument. "You're wonderful with Harry. You're exactly what he needed."

"I don't know about that." her own self doubt is choking sometimes in its strength. Mary can feel Remus' penetrating gaze on her, but she doesn't want to elaborate. She doesn't want to dwell on the difficult moments, the anguish and the difficulty of raising stubborn (but wonderful) children. She'd rather focus on the bittersweetness of that moment with Harry, of his ability to show affection.

"You did more than I did."

A glance at Remus reminds her that she's not the only one who has a conflicted sense of self worth. Remus-who looks thin and worn beyond his 25 years-who must have been on such a rollercoaster of emotions this week. She wonders how much of that is Lycanthropy, and how much is grief and loneliness. Sometimes it seems like when he looks in the mirror that's all he sees. The mistakes, the sorrow, his 'affliction'. He doesn't see what she does, what all of their friends did; his compassion, his clever sense of humour, innate sense of decency, his ability to make one feel heard.

"You're here now. That's what matters."

He smiles, the warmth reaching his eyes. It surprised her sometimes that little sentences like that could transform someone's face. It even made her feel a little better about her own worries. His smile got even brighter as the two kids rushed back in, their excited voices overlapping.

"Please, can we-"

"-the ocean? I want to look for-"

"Mammy we could-"

"Hang, hang on"- she interrupts them softly, holding a hand up. "One at a time please, I can't hear you."

The two children turn to exchange looks with each other, silent communication passing between them. Harry nods, and Violet turns back to them.

"Mammy, Uncle Moony, can we please go to the seaside?"

With her beaming smile and light eyes as bright as ever even if Vi hadn't managed to be remarkably polite there wasn't any reason Mary would've considered refusing her. The rush of the ocean and the broad open skies would probably do them all some good.

"Of course we can." she smiles, then turning to Remus. "You up for it?"

"Absolutely."

Despite all her fears earlier that day, her worries and her guilt, the warm and happy atmosphere lasts well into the evening. Laughing and chatting merrily, they traipse up and down the sandy shore, the salty smell of the sea accompanied by wind whipping against their faces and hair. After a rather impressive sandcastle competition (where Harry and Violet come up with a surprisingly detailed impression of a castle) and a wander through the billowing dunes, they settle in to eat fish and chips from the restaurant right on the beach, the childrens 'treasures' spread out at their feet. Handfuls of bright seaglass, sticks of bleached driftwood, oddly shaped shells and smooth stones. They stay until the sun sets, watching the pinks and reds spread and merge across the horizon and the first of the stars start to appear, their brightness mesmerising against the black-blue sky.

It takes a while to bundle Harry and Violet into the car. They both insist they aren't tired, but within moments of being strapped in they both succumb to sleep, their dark heads bowed together.

"Thank you for this." Remus says, sincerity laced through his words, as they speed through the mountains and into the darkness. A journey so similar and yet so different from the one they set out on last week.

"For what?"

"For reminding me how this feels-to be a part of something. To be.. Happy."

It's only later, when the kids are safely tucked into bed and she shows a tired Remus into the spare room that she is reminded of the upcoming trial and the darkness that looms over all of them. Both of their eyes sweep across the room, but neither mention the trunk tucked in the corner. Locked and long untouched, a cloak of dust guarding its secrets and the faint scratching of initials.

*~*

In her dreams she is flying. Darting and diving through the clouds, the broom between her hands thrumming with energy. She heads down, down towards the goal posts. Here the grass looks green, the pitch blanketed by rolling hills and crisp lakes of silver blue. Then in the blink of an eye;

A flicker of red.

The sun glinting off a pair of glasses.

A flash of green.

Everything spins and Mary loses her grip, she's caught in the wind, at its mercy and under its power. She tries to regain control, but everything feels so lost. Deep, dark and deathlike.

Below her is Sirius. He's standing on the ground, anchored. He is laughing. He's crying. He's so far away from her.

The distance only grows.

He's a storm amongst the stars.

Mary wakes with a start, drenched in sweat and shaking. She looks around her room, lit softly by moonlight; but as always she is alone, with nothing for company but her fears and her solitude.

By the time the sun's morning rays have crept through the windows and are shining over half the room Mary knows there's no point attempting to sleep any longer. She throws back the duvet, sliding out of bed and stepping into the adjoining bathroom.

A haggard looking woman stares back at her in the mirror. Dark shadows below her eyes, hair messy from her constant tossing and turning, her youthful skin now sickly pale. What a miserable sight to behold.

She's nearly dressed when there's a tentative knock on her door. No child here would ever dream of knocking, they'd already have barged in with their requests or complaints. She already knows who it must be when she pulls a comforting lilac jumper over her head and calls out, "Come in!"

As expected, Remus appears as the door swings open, two steaming mugs of tea floating alongside him. It's' such a welcome sight she doesn't have to force the smile that appears. He sets one cup on her bedside locker, rotating it slightly so the handle is nearer to her and then sits down on the armchair by the door. Mary sits back on the bed, tucking her legs underneath her.

"Good morning." Remus greets, taking a cautious sip of his tea.

"Morning," she replies, holding her own mug in her hands. It's too hot to drink just yet, but she finds the warmth comforting, soothing. "It's been a long time since I was greeted with a cup of tea in the morning, so thank you."

"Anytime." Remus regards her for a moment with a soft frown on his face. "Did you sleep all right?"

"One never sleeps well after they have kids." Mary evades, her eyes focused on the loose hem of her jumper. She wonders if she could unravel the whole thing this way.

"Mary.." says Remus knowingly. She looks up to see him watching her and the concern evident in his face both touching and near downright irritating. She's worried she'll either start crying or bite his head off, so Mary avoids saying anything by taking a large sip of her tea. It burns her mouth so she swallows it quickly, hoping Remus doesn't notice her wincing.

"If you don't want to-"

"I keep dreaming of him." Mary blurts, interrupting Remus' attempt at backtracking. He stops, lowers his mug to the floor, and stares at her. He looks distinctly uncomfortable, and it hasn't escaped Mary's notice that he still seems uncertain about the pending trial, about Sirius in general really. Most of their time together had been preoccupied with Harry and Violet, or with spending time catching up. It has been remarkably refreshing, spending time with someone who just.. Got you. Who understood you, at your core. Your history and your odd habits and quirks. Someone you didn't need to explain yourself to, someone you didn't need to hide parts of yourself with. A real, true friend.

"Bad dream I'm assuming?" he asks, despite his obvious discomfort.

"Yes, usually. Sometimes it's just unsettling, but other times they can be downright awful, and-"

"Wait, this is a frequent occurrence?"

"Yeah, every night for almost a week now.." Mary felt a blush rise in her cheeks. It was almost embarrassing, discussing a nightmare. She was twenty six for Christ's sake. "It's stupid, just forget it."

"If it upset you its not stupid." Remus corrected gently.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, dreams are usually our subconscious' way of speaking to us. Their way of expressing what we try to repress, what we try to ignore."

"Well it's annoying." She said childishly. "It feels like four years of these emotions and conflicted feelings just…" she gestures vaguely with her hand, but Remus nods.

"I keep dreaming of him too. Of all of them."

A flicker of red. A flash of green.

Grief feels neverending.

They share a sad, familiar smile but sit quietly to drink their tea. The silence of the morning is comforting. It's stable, steady.

They've barely begun to speak once again, more of a gentle chatter, when the door slowly swings open. With tousled hair and sleepy eyes, Violet stands in the doorway, her eyes lighting up with delight when she spots both her mother and Remus. She stumbles across the room and Mary reaches over to help her up onto the bed, Violet eagerly curling up into her mother's lap, still warm and soft with sleep.

"I missed you." Violet murmurs into her hair, and Mary feels her heart swell as she rubs gentle circles into Violets back.

"I didn't go anywhere." she reminds her daughter. "Just to sleep."

"People are different when they sleep." Violet argues through a yawn. "That can take you far away."

"Oh yeah? Where'd you go so?" she challenges her daughter, sharing an amused look with Remus.

"I was in a big scary house, and everything was black and smelt like-like the attic. There was a mean elf and a lady who kept screaming."

Even though Violet sounded remarkably calm, it sounded like a somewhat frightening dream. Something must have woken her this early after all.

"At you?" Remus asked, concerned.

"No." she shook her head, her dark curls flying everywhere. "At the man. He was funny. He argued with the lady in the painting and had lots of drawings on his arms."

"Sounds like an interesting dream." Mary says, although she can't quite shake the eerie feeling that has abruptly settled over her.

"It was. I don't think we should live there though." she said seriously.

"I think we'll stay here, if that's all the same to you." Mary says, although Violet misses her joking tone.

"Good. I don't think Harry would like it there." Then, as though she hadn't said anything at all. "Can I have pancakes for breakfast?"

"Of course you can. Do you want help getting dressed?"

"I can do it." she says eagerly, clambering down from the bed and toddling off to her room. Up until this summer she and Harry had shared a room, partially because Violet was still so small, and partially because Harry had been frightened of sleeping alone. The first few weeks he had lived with them the three of them had slept in one room, lit by an array of candles until he had gradually become more comfortable in the dark. Shortly before Violets birthday it had been Harry himself who had suggested painting and decorating the room for her. It had been an extraordinarily sweet gesture (even if she did find that one of them had crept into the others bed during the night now and then).

After a quick check to make sure Harry is still sleeping soundly, the three of them head to the kitchen, Remus bringing down Violet behind her. Mary has just about managed to shake that eerie feeling from before when she spots a familiar figure stalking across the yard. She turns to Remus, who also noticed.

"What's McGonagall doing here?" he queries. She presumes he hasn't seen her in a long time, and wonders if her presence invokes a strange mixture of sadness and familiarity for him too.

"Not sure. Especially on a Sunday.." she trails off, turning to Remus once more. "Would you mind getting the door while I get a start on breakfast? Vi will be intolerable otherwise.."

"Absolutely."

She hears him open the door and begin exchanging a somewhat awkward, but genuine greeting with their former Professor. Violet follows her, climbing up onto her usual chair and watching as Mary pulls out the various ingredients for their breakfast.

"Can I help?" she asks. She'd been exceptionally sweet this morning, most likely due to her fun-filled day yesterday. It wouldn't take long to change her mood though, and she hadn't exactly warmed to McGonagall last time. Perhaps keeping her busy would be the best thing.

"Why don't you go round up the cats and feed them? Madra too?"

"Okay!" she agrees, her face lighting up at the mention of their many animals. Honestly, it had started out with two cats, and now look at where they were..

She doesn't return for quite a while. By the time McGonagall and Remus are seated at the kitchen table with cups of tea Mary can hear her chatting away to the animals through the open window. She turns to face the other two.

"Now, I have two things I wish to discuss with you." Begins McGonagall brusquely. "In order to resolve the Magical registrar issue I have registered Violet under the surname Tyrrell, with Maire Tyrell as her mother. For the moment I have left her father's identification blank. Of course you may change this if Tuesday goes accordingly, and-" she breaks off, staring at Mary, who feels as though the rug has been jerked out from under her.

"Thank you." she doesn't want to imagine what her face looks like right now, her nails digging into her thigh at the mention of Tuesday.

"Of course."

"What was the second thing?" Remus asks abruptly, his expression oddly intense.

A beat, and then.

"Yes. I went to Azkaban yesterday and was able to meet with Sirius and inform him of the trial."

Oh.

Remus makes an odd choking noise, almost as though the air had been knocked from him. Everything else fades away.

"You met with Sirius?" she blurts, feeling lightheaded. "I-I-what? How-? I couldn't-" she stammers, her heart beating wildly. "How is he?"

Silence.

A cacophony of noise is rushing in her ears, her skin feels tight and uncomfortable and is it always this hard to breathe? Oh god, oh no, poor Sirius-

"Azkaban is about as charming as you'd expect." Minerva answers finally. "But on the whole, he was better than I expected."

"Is he-Did he recognise you?"

"Yes, he was remarkably coherent. That's really what I wanted to discuss."

At this Mary looks up so quickly she feels a crick in her neck. Minerva's expression is sincere, but it doesn't stop the tangle of emotions from crawling up her throat. Sirius. Minerva has seen Sirius. Sirius. Her Sirius and-

"He's ok?" her voice breaks, but she has to ask, has to know.

"He certainly is now." Minerva takes a deep breath, Mary can feel her anxiety surge to new heights. "I wasn't granted much time. But I told him about the trial, and I asked him if he had sold out Lily and James-"

"And?" Remus demands, his tone as fierce and impatient as she had ever heard it. It would be bordering on rude if it wasn't for the topic at hand.

"He expressed guilt over their death, but no-" Minervas own voice breaks in time with the pain surging in Mary's chest. "No, he was adamant he would never. He said he wasn't the Secret Keeper on All Hallows Eve."

Remus swears loudly. Mary feels a rattle in her chest as she struggles to take in a breath. Her emotions surge beyond comprehension. Like flames, dangerous and all consuming, roaring to life. The handle of her mug splinters and cracks. Minerva cuts off mid sentence at the sound.

Embarrassingly, unexpectedly, Mary's eyes are burning. The pain swells. Both McGonagall and Remus are staring at her with concern.

"I'm fine." she said, her voice sounds distant, even to her own ears. Nobody had asked. She backs up, her movements jerky, bumping into the doorframe and wincing in pain.

"Mary, I-"

"I'm fine Remus." she dismisses, turning to flee only to be stopped in her tracks by Violet and Harry, the latter still in his pyjamas. Both children stare at her, confusion evident on both of their faces.

"Mam?" asks Violet, taking a hesitant step forward, her eyes wide.

Breathe. Breathe.

She has to focus, she has to rein this in. She has to reassure her daughter. Reassure Harry.

"Remus will finish your breakfast darling." She barely has the time to look over her shoulder to receive a confused nod of agreement from Remus before she flees.

Next thing she knows she's in the sky, higher on her broom than she would normally dare. The damp clouds floating past and through her, nearly indistinguishable from the moisture on her face. All we know is distance. We are close and then we run.

It's all too much and yet it's not enough, not nearly enough.

Now she's the one who's crying. Who's laughing.

"Peter."

Remus jumps at the sound of her voice and the thump of the broomstick landing on the grass beside him. He looks up at her, his brow furrowed. Mary throws herself down onto the grass beside him. She knows she's being a little too brusque, but she isn't quite sure how to handle this situation delicately.

"I believe you've mistaken me for someone else.. My name is Remus actually. Remus Lupin." he said mildly, glancing back down at his book.

"Hilarious."

"I know, aren't I?" any semblance of a smile fades as he leans in, his eyes soft. "Are you alright?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Fair enough." Surprisingly he doesn't push the topic. Most likely because he's still grappling with it himself. "Peter. What about him?"

"Well Minerva, where is she by the way? She said that S-that he, he said he wasn't the secret keeper. I'm presuming it wasn't you, so-"

"It certainly wasn't me. I've been wondering the same myself." Remus puts down the book that had been clutched between his fingers. "Minerva is minding the kids. She's surprisingly.. Sweet with them."

"Ah she's a softie deep down," Mary dismissed. "She let you lot away with murder back in Hogwarts after all."

They both share a brief grimace at her choice of words, before Remus reluctantly steers them back towards her original topic.

"We mourned him."

"Peter? Yeah, I know. His mother was-" inconsolable was too small a word, especially now.

"Do you think-"

"What d'ya reckon-"

They exchange a tired smile when they both try to start speaking at the same time. It's crossed her mind dozens of times over the years, Peter Pettigrew. Could it be? That simple and that horrible in equal measure. This is normally the point where she'd shove those anxious, niggling thoughts to the back of her mind, reminding herself that nothing can be done, that she's powerless, and alone, and-

But she's not alone. Not anymore. Remus is here. Constant, understanding, and as lost and confused as herself. Minerva is also here. Minerva, who seems to be almost as on board with this as Mary herself. A sharp contrast to her life just over a week ago. And in just 48 hours, everything could be different once more.

"I think it's certainly a possibility." she says softly. Remus doesn't argue that, which is more than she had hoped for. In a way, this is easier for her. Of course she'd always pick Sirius if it came to believing one over the other. Sirius was her- hers. Or at least he had been. She'd never been comfortable with the narrative they had been presented with. Remus on the other hand, had been close with both Peter and Sirius, in different ways. How does one choose between two brothers? Especially when one has been responsible for the death of another brother. It's an unenviable burden.

"I just can't wait until this is over." Remus admits, drawing a hand through his shaggy hair. The sunlight catches his pale scars, and combined with his anxious expression he looks more vulnerable than usual. Her heart aches a little for him. "We won't really know anything for certain until Tuesday."

Mary is dreading that day, the trial, with equal amounts of dread and anticipation. Anxious for it to go the way it should, and yet anxious for the fallout if it does. She can't even begin to truly comprehend what will happen if they send him back to.. Or worse, if he really did-

"Remus."

He turns back to her at the sound of her voice, her tone sharp. She falters, unsure how to voice this. Unsure about her future, her daughter's . Remus is good, and kind, and yet.. There was a reason she kept her daughter's existence from the Magical World and nearly all those in it.

"No matter what happens, no matter what, we-"

"It won't change a thing." Remus reaches over to clap her hand with his. "I'm here. For you. For all of you. That won't change, no matter what the truth holds for us."

Mary lets out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding, and squeezes Remus' hand tightly. He was a far better person than she had given him credit for, far better than she was really. She was much too hotheaded, too brash. Remus, of all people, deserved happiness. She wondered if someday he'd ever let his guard down enough to meet someone. He deserved that type of happiness.

Mary hears the sound of Violet's pending arrival before she sees her, barely getting a chance to look up and see her run out of the house and straight for her.

"Mammy!" Mary lets out a small oof as Violet crashes into her. Violet grasps her mother's face, looking at her studiously.

"Yes..?"

"Mammy, did you know people can become.. Aminals? People like.. Like us, can turn into aminals! " Mary tried not to smile at her daughters overexcited mispronunciation.

"I did know that." she confirmed. "You learn about it at Hogwarts."

"You didn't tell me?" her blue eyes widen, almost accusing.

"There's so many things you learn at Hogwarts, when would I have the time to tell you about all of them?"

Violet sucks in a breath, "Well-" she cuts off suddenly, leaning back to appraise her mother as though properly looking at her for the first time. "Mammy, why is your hair so crazy?"

"Hmmn, is it?" Mary reaches a hand up to pat her hair. It feels frizzy and windswept. Based on her daughter's incredulous expression she must look a right sight. "I was flying."

"That doesn't happen when you fly with me." Violet insisted.

"Maybe she flew into a tree." Remus suggested, his tone soft and teasing.

"What?" Violet's little gasp is adorable. "Did you, did you mammy? Oh that'd be ever so silly."

"Hey, I'm a good flyer." Mary scoffed, mock offended.

"Kind of," said Violet dismissively. "Maybe you just wanted to see what kind of birds it had!"

"Kind of? Kind of?" Mary repeated, narrowing her eyes at her daughter. "That's it." She reached over and hoisted her up into the air by her waist, flipping her upside down.

Violet giggled and giggled as though nothing funnier had ever happened to her. Mary could feel her daughters joy and delight leak into her too, until her own smile felt genuine once more.

"Mammy, put me down!" she eventually managed through her laughter.

"Sorry Vi-its the only known cure for naughtiness!" she reached over and tickled her. The three of them were laughing so much they didn't hear another person's arrival.

"It's good to know you do discipline your children." said Minerva stiffly, although the corners of her mouth were twitching and her eyes were warm. Harry's eyes were alight with happiness, and Mary couldn't help but notice he seemed far more comfortable in Minerva's presence than he had the last time.

Once she let Violet down, the two of them made a beeline for Remus, asking him more questions about magic. He looked in his element explaining things to them. Something which gave Mary an intriguing idea. She noticed Minerva drawing closer and pushed that thought to the back of her mind.

"I'm sorry.. About earlier." she said, somewhat sheepishly to Minerva. Her emotions, although not lessened were certainly further from the surface now, and less volatile. She could just about manage to keep a lid on them with only the odd incapacitating moments of panic every now and then. It was like she was numb, almost frozen.

"No apology necessary. Perfectly warranted."

She raised a brow, surprised. "Under the circumstances?"

"Yes, of course. Under the circumstances."

They shared a wry smile before delving into a surprisingly interesting conversation (that veered carefully away from all things to do with Sirius). Having Minerva speak to her like she was an equal was slightly confusing, but considering her admiration for the older woman it was certainly welcome. She doubted anyone else could have gotten Sirius a trial within a week.

She watched the joyful children she loved scamper and play around the yard, undisturbed in their peaceful little world. Remus was right, they wouldn't know anything until Tuesday, not for certain anyways. As long as they focused on this, on the happiness and joy of these wonderful little children-and themselves-then hopefully, everything would work out alright.

Tuesday, July 01st, 1986

They were ready.

They'd researched, prepared, endlessly discussed and deliberated, (tried to keep their wildly fluctuating emotions under check). They had this.

Everything except the tabloid journalists.

How had they not seen that coming?

Mary had barely stepped out of the Floo, her thoughts still with Violet and Harry, when the flash and pop of the bulb impeded her vision. She blindly reached out, grabbing an arm that she hoped was Remus'. The next thing she knew she was being propelled along at a quick pace, her legs barely keeping up.

By the time her vision cleared, she was directly in front of the lifts, an irate Remus at her side and a pack of a dozen journalists all yelling and shouting excitedly over one another as they raced towards her.

They might have been asking her questions, but Mary was too baffled to even begin listening to them, let alone comprehending. The lift doors slid open and Remus tugged her inside, the metal door clanging shut in one of the journalists faces.

"Sorry." he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, turning so she was shielded from them. As the lift speeded backwards, she saw him tuck his wand back onto his cloak sleeve.

"Thank Merlin for your quick reflexes." she muttered. Without him she'd probably still be at the floor, at the mercy of someone horrible like Rita Skeeter.

"You alright?" he asked gruffly.

"I just wasn't expecting…" she still felt a little lightheaded. Remus didn't look much better. She'd been a nervous wreck all morning, which wasn't helped when she had to leave the kids with a friend of hers. She trusted Millie as much as she trusted… anyone really. She knew they would be safe. But still, her hands feel empty without them at her sides.

Far quicker than she had expected, they've arrived, and this time the dark stone halls are even more ominous in their silence than the echoing and clanging of the journalists, so many floors above them now. They're whisked into the courtroom by Minerva, and the high ceilings make her shiver despite the amount of people stuffed into the room.

At the far side is Dumbledore, uncharacteristically anxious and pale. He's not a fool, she knows that. Even he must be wondering if he had made a mistake. Venomously, she hopes the grief eats him alive.

(He won't be the only one).

They seem to wait an age, Remus tense and coiled tight like a spring at her side and her own thoughts a dizzying mixture of apprehension and cautious, overly optimistic hope. Mary is so distracted she almost misses when Sirius finally does arrive, if not for Remus' sharp intake of breath catching her attention.

Flanked by an assortment of guards and a pair of Dementors, he looks smaller than she's ever seen him. His clothes tattered and filthy, the deterioration of his body far worse than five years could entail. It doesn't feel real. It doesn't even look like Sirius-

And then his head swivels around the room, only stopping as his eyes lay upon her own. The anxiety in his face flickers and fades away. She feels a weight upon her chest, as though she can't breath. Her eyes stay focused on his own-his eyes, unchanged and unforgettable-and something passes through them she can't quite name.

They begin to read the charges, the details, the facts and figures. The morning passes by in a blur.

A Pensieve. The blooming of a scene so ghastly and horrific. Bodies eerily still. The crying of an infant. A familiar wand, alight with the memories of spells cast. A trooping of witnesses. Then. His voice, croaky yet determined; a mixture of half truths-still nobly protecting Remus' secret, even if it might lead to his own damnation-and throughout it all, his eyes remain fixed on hers. Dark and deeply evocative.

It's only Remus' hand in hers, Minerva's grasp on her other wrist that keeps her still. She doesn't know what she would do if they let go. Perhaps she'd run. Away from here? Or to him?

The Wizenmagot gather their ostentatious cloaks and silly hats to reconvene in a room away from the chamber, and the crowd has barely begun to buzz with whispers when Sirius is obscured by the guards, both human and Dementor. And then everything feels bright, echoey and distant and the ceiling looms ever closer, crowding in- and before she knows it she's standing in the hallway, gasping for breath, the cool morning air a relief upon her face.

"Breathe Mary, breathe." Remus coaxes, his own face pale and drawn.

His grip is tight on her arms, holding her up. She chokes down some water, her trembling hands splashing her dress and cloak. She's grateful for this odd little alcove, away from prying eyes. He turns to lead her back inside and the fear rises up and begins to suffocate her once more. It all feels too much. Too much. Sirius, and the memories, and the sorrow and the pain-

"Mary." his voice is scolding, surprising enough to make her freeze. "You need to. You owe it to yourself. To Sirius."

Remus looks so worn that Mary feels something like shame slip and slide its way down her insides. How could she be so selfish? This is not solely her pain. She takes a deep breath. Another. And then-

"Let's finish this."

Her head is held high amongst the dim and uproar of the crowd clamouring both within and outside of the courtroom. They slip into their seats as the Wizenmagot file back in, their faces impassive.

Sirius is stiff, his fear and tension evident in every feature of his body. He isn't looking at her anymore. Maybe he's afraid. She certainly is.

Please, please, please, please. Mary prays. Maybe it wouldn't be enough, maybe she should have taken more account of those Muggle Gods, maybe-

The judge rises. Everything is stagnant. Like the silence before a spell is cast.

Mary can hear a crack in Remus' hand as she squeezes it. The next moment seems to last an age before they finally hear their fate.