Sunday 18th November 1979

Marauder Flat, 09:00

"Owwww," was the first sound that Remus heard that morning and it didn't come from him.

It came from next to him, or rather, under him.

"Shhh," he responded sleepily, not even opening his eyes.

He didn't want to wake up yet. He was tired and his limbs felt heavy and he was now just becoming aware of the pounding in his head. Moving did not seem like it would be a good idea. No, staying still and cursing last night's activities was a much better plan.

Well, that had been his plan. Apparently, it wasn't someone else's.

"Geroff me."

Then he felt some very ineffectual pushing on his chest done by small hands. It was then that he realised that there was an actual person in bed with him. Why he didn't realise that before now was beyond him but now his was fully aware of it. Shock coursed through his body, making him jump out of bed like electricity had gone through him.

There was someone in his bed and he had no idea who it was. A female person. Like, what.

He stared at the bedcovers, just seeing a person shaped lump in them. And then they moved and a tuft of brown hair poked through them, brown hair that was slowly turning blonde. Wait, turning blonde?

"Dora?" Remus gaped in amazement.

Dora was in his bed? In his bed, with him? Asleep? What? How? When? It was Dora, wasn't it? Nymphadora Tonks? He didn't know of any other Metamorphmagus or even if there were currently any in the country (that was something he was going to have to ask Dora, actually - he didn't think he'd ever asked before). Or maybe it was someone who was under Polyjuice? That could happen, couldn't it? Though why would someone use Polyjuice to sleep with someone...? Wait! Had he slept with a Death Eater last night?

It was last night, right? It had to have been from last night. Last night... last night. What had he been doing last night? His head twinged again and he winced. Yes, he was very aware that he had been drinking last night. That was something he didn't need to be reminded of.

Oh, wait. That was right. They had both been at the bar together and then they were outside of it and then he vaguely remembered Apparition them both home and everything was kind of blurry after that. He just remembered a lot of tangled limbs. And a lot of happy thoughts. Very happy thoughts.

"Morning, Remus," she said sleepily and then her eyes shot open. "Remus?"

Oh, thank Merlin and whoever or whatever else was watching over them. It was Dora. Thank Merlin.

He gave her a small wave. "Hi."

She blinked at him and then gave him a sleepy smile. "It wasn't just a very nice dream then."

Remus felt his cheeks heat up at that, even though he also learned that last night wasn't just a dream. It was nice to realise that good things happened outside of wishes and dreams.

It was also very nice that this was definitely Dora and not some Death Eater like he had briefly thought. That would have been horrific. But, then again, he would also probably be dead by now.

Merlin, what sort of thoughts was he having this morning? Just what exactly had he drunk?

"Oh, and I get a very nice view this morning as well," Dora interrupted his thoughts in a slightly more awake voice as she propped herself up on one elbow and raked her eyes up and down him.

Remus also looked down at himself and it was at this moment that he realised that he wasn't wearing anything. Not a shirt. Not any underwear. No socks. Nothing. He proceeded to let put the most ridiculous sounding yelp and yanked his duvet off his bed to cover himself.

"Hey!" Dora complained. "I was enjoying the view!"

"You still can. Just with a little... less view."

Hey, the duvet was only covering him from the waist down.

She pouted at him. "But that was the best part of the view."

"Seriously, Dora?"

"What? We slept together, Remus," she said matter-of-factly. "And I don't know about you but I enjoyed it."

Uh. Yes. He quite vividly remembered all of the very... Happy noises she made last night.

"Er, yes. You were quite vocal about that," he fumbled over his words as she stared expectantly at him.

At least now she was blushing as well.

"I enjoyed it as well," he offered because he realised, he should at least admit to that.

Because that was the truth. He had enjoyed it. More than enjoyed it, if his slightly hazy memories were anything to go by.

"Then you'll know that we both saw a lot more than what we have been showing," Dora pointed out. "So can you drop the duvet?"

He really didn't want to, it made him feel like he was on display.

"Is it because I'm wearing a top and you're not?" She asked, sitting up suddenly and wavering when she did that too fast. "Wow. Um. Yeah. Uh. Oh yeah, wearing a top. I can take it off, if you want?"

"No!" Remus lunged forwards as Dora hooked her fingers under the hem of her t-shirt. "No! It's good. You can wear your top."

She pouted at him. "But then we can be all matching."

"Are you still drunk? I think you're still drunk."

I am not drunk," Dora denied.

"Are you sure? Sober people don't try to take their tops off!"

"I'm pretty sure they do and, trust me, I'm not drunk because I am very, very, very hungover."

Remus winced and then a bit of panic and guilt shot through him.

"I didn't make you do anything..." he trailed off.

It just wasn't right to do anything with a person when they're hungover. Not just wasn't right, it was wrong!

Dora chuckled and waved her hand dismissively. "No, you definitely didn't. I definitely wanted everything last night. Everything."

The raking look she gave him made him blush all over again and tighten his hold on the duvet around him.

"If you're sure..."

"Oh, I am. Like I'm sure I won't mind taking my shirt off right now," she offered.

"Dora...no..."

"What's your problem?"

"I don't have a problem, I-" Remus stopped and ran a hand down his face. There was going to be no point in arguing with her until they had both got some food into them. Food! That was a good idea. "Just... just keep your top on."

Whatever Dora was going to share in return was interrupted by a massive yawn basically splitting her face in two as well as a rather loud grumble coming from her stomach. Or was that from his.

"Food first. Talk later."

"Sounds good," Dora agreed amicably. "Not that there's much to talk about. We are both adults and we were definitely both consenting last night. And it was great."

Remus rolled his eyes and gestured at the door. "Food. And please keep your shirt on."

That got him a raspberry blown at him. And she said she was an adult? He idly wondered how many adults had to tell who they slept with to keep their clothes on?

"You might want to drop the duvet if you want to come into the kitchen," Dora said from the corridor, laughter in her voice.

Wednesday 21st November 1979

12 Grimmauld Place, 15:00

It felt wrong doing this. Really wrong. But there was no way he could have said no, there just wasn't. You didn't say no to the Dark Lord. You just didn't. And you didn't ask questions either, no matter how much you want to.

The Dark Lord wanted him to provide an Elf. A great honour. Even if Regulus didn't feel like it was anymore. And he was going to do it anyway. Of course, he was going to do it.

Now he just had to pick an elf. Oh, who was he kidding, it was going to have to be Kreacher, wasn't it? That was the safest option. He hoped. If there even was a safest option.

That and he doubted that his mother would allow him to use any other one. She was rather fond of them when they were competent and this current one, Regulus didn't know its name, was quite competent. But, then again, they all were when one had just had its bead freshly removed.

"Mother," Regulus found her in the parlour.

"Regulus," she greeted warmly.

He pressed a kiss to her cheek, the dutiful son he was, and shook his head when she bade him to sit down.

"I'm on business for the Dark Lord." He said, getting right down to business

That earned him an approving look.

"I need an Elf," he continued.

"Pick any," she said immediately. "Just not my personal one."

The Elf in question appeared with a low bow.

"Will mistress be needing anything?" It asked.

"Of course not, you miserable creature!" She snapped. "Did I call for you? No. Now leave and punish yourself appropriately for wasting our time."

"Yes, mistress," and it vanished with a 'pop'.

"I'll deal with him more later," Walburga said with a smile. She always did enjoy torturing the Elves. But yes, Regulus, please take your pick. Anything for the Dark Lord."

Regulus gave her a short bow and thanked her before leaving. He resisted the urge to take the stairs two at a time to get to his room.

"Kreacher," Regulus whispered as soon as he closed his bedroom door.

As usual, the elf appeared before he even finished the second syllable.

"Master Regulus," Kreacher gave him a short bow. "How mays Kreacher be serving you?"

Regulus' mouth went dry. How was he even supposed to say this? Oh, he knew it was simple enough to order a House Elf to do something, he had been doing it all his life, after all. But this was different. This was Kreacher. His... his... his friend. He didn't want to put him in danger. And he knew he was going to be in danger because he was going to place him in the care of someone who, well, who didn't care.

Haltingly, Regulus explained that the Dark Lord needed him for a task. Why was this so difficult? It was just Kreacher. A House Elf. He shouldn't be caring this much. Another way how he failed.

"Wills I be returning to Master Regulus' service?" He asked.

Regulus couldn't help but wince at that question. He knew that Kreacher was really asking whether or not he was going to be the Dark Lord's House Elf bow but Regulus couldn't help but think that it sounded like if Kreacher was asking if he was going to be alive after his task.

And he was, going to be alive that was. Because he had asked the Dark Lord that. Of course, he had asked in a way that implied that he didn't want to lose a competent servant but still, he had asked.

"Yes, you will."

Sunday 25th November 1979

Mulciber Manor, 14:30

"I want you to meet someone," Reginald said with a smile on his face. "I think you'll like them. Or her, rather."

"Her?"

That made Peter come to a standstill. He wasn't exactly good around girls. He wasn't like James or Sirius, all charming and flirtatious. Or even like Remus who was quiet and flattering. He was just plain awkward and he never knew what to say. And girls didn't like that. Didn't like him.

"I've been invited over for afternoon tea and they said I could bring a friend," Reginald explained, paying no mind to Peter's reaction.

See? This is why Reginald was a good friend, there was no teasing or pushing him to do something. He just took it in his stride.

"Don't people usually mean that to be your girlfriend?" Peter asked.

That's how those went, wasn't it? Though, if he was being honest, he still didn't understand all the subtleties of the pureblood nobility. He wasn't a part of those sorts of circles and therefore would never understand. You had to be born into them, like James and Sirius. So, Reginald could be saying something completely different that was just going over Peter's head.

"Not necessarily," Reginald replied with a shrug. "Friends do get together to socialise you know."

"Oh, yes. Right. Of course." Peter hated the fact that he stumbled over his words like that but he just didn't want to come across as uneducated or uncultured.

It wasn't like most of his socialising with friends involved wither alcohol or doing something stupid or both at the same time, not afternoon tea.

So, he let Reginald side-apparate him to a very fancy looking house. Just as fancy, if not fancier, than the Potters' Manor. There were a lot of decorative columns. They were ushered in by a House Elf and brought to a sort of parlour room place.

"This is Leila," Reginald was saying.

Peter frowned. He recognised her from somewhere, he thought but he couldn't remember where. Or was his mind just playing tricks on him?

"Hi," he said shyly and was quite proud of the fact that he didn't even stutter!

She was very pretty with her long, dark hair and pale skin.

"Reginald Rosier," this Leila person scolded. "You did not warn me that this would be the Peter you have been telling me so much about."

"Well, I wanted it to be a surprise. And so, you didn't scare the poor man off the bat, Leila."

Peter felt warmth blossom inside of him. Reginald talked about him? To other people? And in a good way, from the sounds of things.

"As if I'm scary," she scoffed and then she turned to him with big, wide eyes. "You don't find me scary, do you Mr Pettigrew?"

Peter gulped and blushed. "Later," he stuttered out. "Call me Peter. And no. You aren't scary. You seem to be nice."

She flashed this beautiful, big smile at him which made him smile right back.

Thursday 29th November 1979

Potter Manor, 21:00

"Do you want a big family?" Lily asked, staring at the ceiling as she kay in bed.

James propped himself up on an elbow and gave her a curious look.

"I don't know. Why?"

"We're going to have children at some point, aren't we?"

"I hope so," James said honestly.

And not for the whole heir to the Potter Family thing, though that was important. More because, well, he wanted kids. A son. A daughter. He didn't care. He wanted to raise a family.

"I've never given it much thought," he admitted. "Except, you know, having at least two."

Because he loved his parents, he really did, but he really, really would have loved a sibling growing up. It sounded like it would be so much fun.

"Two would be nice. Maybe three."

He knew she was thinking of her own family, her sisters specifically. She got on well with Chryssie but unfortunately still didn't with Petunia, even after both of their weddings. Which was a shame. He didn't understand how siblings could be like that but, then again, he had never had any but he wanted his non-existent child to have one. At least.

"Three would be good," he agreed.

Any number would be.

He was just daydreaming of possible children when he found himself being pulled forwards by his wife who then began pressing kisses down his face and down his neck.

"Want to practice?" She asked sultrily.

Well, he wasn't about to turn that down, was he?

Monday 3rd December 1979

Hog's Head, 22:00

"What's going to happen to them?" Kingsley asked suddenly in the Order meeting.

Everyone stopped talking about Fabian and Gideon's funeral, which most of them had attended a few weeks ago. Nearly a month ago, actually. The rawness of their death had gone away them but the Order still felt their loss. How could you not? They felt the loss of every single person that... that...

Kingsley still couldn't think of the word. It was stupid. It was childish and he knew it didn't change anything but he still couldn't bring himself to say or even think it.

"What do you mean?" Emmeline asked roughly.

She had always been close to the Prewett twins. Very close actually. Kingsley had to wonder...

"To the people who did this," he said. "To the people, Death Eaters, who-"

"Killed them," James finished for him. "What do you mean?" He repeated Emmeline's question.

"We know who they are," Kingsley pointed out.

Which was more than normal, considering that the normal way for people to get killed these days was to suddenly disappear and then have their body turn up a few weeks later.

"Indeed, we do," Dumbledore agreed. "Or at least a good number of them."

"So, are they just going to walk free?"

They couldn't let that happen, could they?

"Indeed not, they should be made to face justice," Dumbledore told them.

Kingsley was pretty sure that it was James and Sirius who muttered something about "battle justice" But he wasn't going to bring attention to it. Mainly because he didn't want to see Dumbledore's disapproving frown. But he fully agreed with them.

This, of course, made everyone start talking about what they knew of the Death Eaters in question and what they would like to do with them. Kingsley jumped as a pain shot through his hand and looked down to see nail marks in them. He had been clenching his hands in an effort to control his anger.