Teddy Lupin angrily stabbed his eggs with his fork, his hair a bright red. The days before the full moon were a bit uncomfortable for the boy, though nowhere near as painful as they had been for his father. Still, he would become an emotional wreck—any little thing could set him off. It was something that most of the Potters had some to get used to and respect: for three days a month, you didn't mess with Ted. Still, one member of the Potter clan had a very difficult time remembering (or following) said rule. James Sirius Potter began to sing.

"Loopy, loopy Lupin," he crooned. "Loony Moony—"

"You finish that song," Teddy growled, "I finish you." His eyes had turned crimson to match his hair. He didn't like being called 'loony,' and he certainly didn't like being called his father's old nickname.

Harry sighed, stirring his coffee idly with his wand. He knew how this would end—he'd seen it enough times. Teddy and James were the best of friends, but they got on each other's nerves like brothers. "Boys," he said lazily. "Stop."

James grinned and continued, ignoring Teddy and his father.

"Loopy loony, loony Moony, loopy loopy—"

"SHUT UP!" Teddy yelled. "SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT. UP." Spittle flew from his mouth, his lips pulled back into a snarl, nearly growling with anger. James simply continued grinning, though his eyes were slightly wider than before.

"Oh, so the wolf comes out—"

Teddy knocked over his plate of eggs as he leapt onto the table, spilling Harry's coffee. The commotion would likely be enough to send Ginny down in a moment or two, and an angry Ginny was not what Harry wanted to start his day with.

"James!" Harry yelled. "You stop—"

"Try me," Teddy snarled, taking out his wand and pointing it at James' forehead. "See how far you can push me before—"

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Harry yelled, knocking Teddy off the table as his wand flew in the other direction. The 19-year-old boy glared at his godfather, picking himself off the floor and dusting off his jeans.

"James Sirius Potter," Harry said angrily. "We. Do. Not. Taunt Teddy the morning of the full moon. Nod if you understand me." The 14 year-old-boy nodded silently. He knew better than to upset Teddy, but it was fun seeing how far he could push the boy's buttons. "And you," Harry glared at Teddy, swiveling his heads. "I don't care if you are an adult or not: we do not hex family. Do you understand?"

"James started it," Teddy grumbled. Harry's eyes flashed.

"I don't care you started it," he said firmly. "But I am ending it—got it?" Teddy simply stared right at Harry. "GOT IT?" Harry yelled. Teddy shuffled his feet.

"Yes, sir. It's just that bloody song—at home, at school. I already know I'm crazy, especially now. I don't need to be reminded about what I am by others," he muttered, glaring right at James. The boy looked at him sheepishly.

"I didn't know—"

"Bullocks," Harry interjected, rolling his eyes. "You knew what you were—"

"I didn't know it made him feel bad about being part werewolf!" James yelped. "I wouldn't have sung it I knew!"

"Well it's a shitty song," Teddy spat. "And if I hear it again…"

"You won't," James said coolly. "Are we good?" The young Potter asked. Teddy nodded.

"We're good."

This was a fairly regular event in the Potter household—just as it had been a fairly regular event amongst the Marauder boys.

"Loony, loopy Lupin," James Potter sang quietly, lying on his stomach in the Gryffindor common room, reading his notes from class. Remus, looking like death incarnate underneath his giant blanket in 'his' armchair, narrowed his eyes and shivered. He had been reading for pleasure, and quickly closed his book with a thud.

"You want to continue singing, James?" Remus asked calmly, raising a single brow. Sirius, who was doodling on his notes in the corner, chuckled.

"If you insist, Remus," James grinned. "Loony, loopy, Moony Lupin—"

"James," Remus began testily. "No."

Sirius snorted.

"You heard the professor—no singing the Loony Lupin song," he quipped. James rolled his eyes, continuing to sing.

"Loony loopy—"

Remus sighed and pulled out his wand, giving it a little flick. In a moment, James' singing was cut off. He could have sworn he was still trying to make noise, but nothing seemed to be coming out. In fact, James attempted to speak, and nothing came out either. Sirius let loose one of his roaring laughs.

"Nice one, Moony—really shut him up good," Sirius said. Remus tried his best to smile but was in a great deal of pain.

"The number one way to deal with gits is a nice silencing charm—should keep him at bay for at least a bit. Now, James," Remus began coolly. "You sing that song again," his amber eyes flashing, "And someone else picks it up…" He shook his head.

"For now, we're good. But don't test me," Remus warned.