This will be a four-parter. I hope you enjoy it, because the future subjective tense is a pain in the backside to write!

If: Summer

June

If they had lived, they'd have found the first weeks and months of the new world difficult. Tonks would have insisted that she needed to go back to the Ministry to help Kingsley, who was now Minister of Magic. Lupin would have thought that it was too early for her to go back to work after having a baby, especially as the situation at the Ministry was hectic and stressful. Due to their experience and intel over the past three years, the Order of the Phoenix would have been vital in the restructuring of the wizarding world, so their roles in Ministry were therefore onerous. But Lupin would have known that his wife wouldn't have listened to his suggestions that she stay home with Teddy for a few more weeks, so, wishing to avoid an argument he knew he wouldn't win, he wouldn't have brought it up. His own experience of the Order's role in both wizarding wars would have been essential, and he'd have been required to assist with investigations into Greyback's werewolf pack. The Ministry didn't anticipate that any trials would take place until the new year, and Lupin would have been expected to serve as prosecution witness in almost all of them. He wouldn't have been looking forward to that.

On top of their work at the Ministry, the Order of the Phoenix would have had private meetings back at the Burrow, where everybody would share stories about what had happened over the past year. Lupin would have been concerned about how Harry, Hermione and Ron were re-adjusting back into the world, on top of dealing with their grief for Fred, Colin Creevey, and the others who had died. Given how much there was to do, Tonks and Lupin would have reached a compromise in which every day one of them would go to the Ministry, and the other would look after Teddy. The next day they would swap. That would have been the routine every day for the first few weeks of the new world. There was so much to do that neither of them would take a Sunday off. For the first month of Teddy's life they'd both been at home all day, living in a bubble where they didn't have to do anything apart from look after and marvel at their son. It would have been a shock to the system to go from that to working long hours at the Ministry and only seeing each other and the baby in the mornings and evenings, and when Teddy woke up in the night (after Teddy was born, Lupin and Andromeda would have swapped beds; Andromeda would now be in Tonks' childhood bedroom, and Lupin would have moved into the double bedroom with Tonks. That meant that they'd be able to cuddle as they fell asleep, and both be close to Teddy during the night). Andromeda and Molly would both have offered to babysit so they could go back to their flat for a night or two, but all their paperwork would have been at Andromeda's house, so Lupin was worried that spreading all their documents across two homes would have led to a file getting lost. Plus, he'd have been concerned that going home would have made them lose momentum, and it was momentum which would have carried him through the first few weeks. He'd have told himself that it was alright he wasn't seeing so much of Tonks, because at least he was spending every other day with Teddy, and Teddy was the most important thing now. Besides, he would have reminded himself, they had time now. He didn't need to cram in hours with his wife, because they were going to have forever together now. No matter how many times Lupin told himself that, he wouldn't have truly believed it.

At thirty-three minutes past six on the morning of the fifteenth of June, he'd have been hurrying downstairs in his pyjamas, with Teddy strapped to his chest in a sling. The baby would have been crying.

"Shh, alright? Give me ten seconds and then I'll have some breakfast for you," Lupin would have promised, pushing open the kitchen door. His wife would have been sitting at the table, already dressed in ripped jeans and a black t-shirt, with her Auror robes hanging off the chair behind her. She'd be shovelling cereal into her mouth with a spoon, and would have already spilt coffee over the kitchen table.

"Wotcher," she'd have mumbled through a mouthful of cornflakes.

"Morning,"

"Wotcher, Teddy. You hungry for breakfast? Today's a bottle day. Sorry, mate,"

Officially, you were only supposed to start bottle-feeding babies at six weeks, although whoever came up with that rule obviously hadn't ever just won a major wizarding war and been needed to return to work in the government. On days when Lupin looked after him at home, the baby drank bottled breast milk.

Lupin would have opened the fridge door with his wand and summoned a bottle into his hand. He'd have pressed the nozzle against Teddy's mouth, and after a few moments of coaxing, the baby would have opened his lips to drink.

"There we are. That's better, isn't it?" Lupin would have said, wiping a tear off Teddy's face. Teddy could be fussy about feeding, and didn't always start suckling this calmly.

"God, you're cute with him," Tonks would have murmured, watching. Lupin would have looked up and winked at her, and she'd have giggled. She'd have thought dreamily that he was the most amazing father, and their son had made him so delighted, and as well as being cute he looked dead sexy in rumpled pyjamas with uncombed hair.

"Do you think if I drink coffee continuously all day, I'll be awake enough tonight for the three of us to do something tonight?" she'd have suggested.

Lupin would have yawned. "Maybe,"

"By 'something' I mean I'll stay awake watching you be the world's most adorable dad," she'd have continued, "I know it sounds bad to say, but I kind of miss when the war was happening and it was just you and me and him,"

"That's not a bad thing to say. I miss that. I miss being with him every day, and I miss being with you for longer than five minutes in the morning like this, or when we're falling asleep,"

"Or when he wakes us up," Tonks would have pointed out.

For the hundredth time, Lupin would have wanted to tell her that she was allowed to have a day off work. Kingsley would understand. If she wanted, then she could skip whatever she was meant to be doing today and stay home with him and Teddy. But Tonks would have already pulling her Auror robes on and waving her wand to send her empty cereal bowl into the sink.

"Or when he wakes us up," Lupin would have agreed with a sigh.

Tonks would have stood up and walked over to him. She'd have kissed his jaw, then peaked into the sling and stroked a finger across Teddy's cheek. She'd have slid a finger under his chin to tickle his neck. The baby would have smiled while drinking his milk and his parents would have smiled back at him.

"Totally mental that we made him, isn't it?" Tonks would have whispered.

Lupin would have put his arm around her. "Yes. Totally mental,"

Tonks would have wanted to leave on that note, but her husband would have needed nagging about something important: "Please take him outside today. I am literally begging you. Me and Mum went shopping with him yesterday and he was fine,"

Lupin wouldn't have replied.

"Remus," she'd have prompted.

"I know, I know," he'd have muttered. Lupin would have been nervous about taking their baby into the outside world. The battle was over, but there were still Death Eaters free, and werewolves were even more despised now the wizarding public knew about Greyback's involvement with Voldemort. Lupin reckoned that if he happened to meet somebody who despised him for being a werewolf, they weren't likely to be convinced by insistence that he was actually trying to help bring werewolves to justice. He'd have concluded that it was better to avoid that risk all together, and keep Teddy home where he could ensure that his son would be safe.

"I swear, nothing's going to happen," Tonks would have intoned seriously, "Teddy, tell Daddy that he's being silly. You want to go to the park, don't you?"

She'd have tickled his neck again to make him smile.

"See?" she'd have grinned triumphantly.

"I'll think about it," her husband would have mumbled.

Tonks would have known that she should leave soon, but she allowed herself a moment to touch Teddy's cheek again, and press her face into Lupin's pyjama shirt to breathe him in. She'd have started keeping one his jumpers in her desk drawers so she could take out to smell during the day, although only when no-one was looking.

Perhaps it would have been the reassurance of her husband's solid body, or perhaps it was the feel of Teddy's soft, smooth skin. Perhaps was exhaustion, or most likely it was a combination of all three which led to the tears prickling behind her eyes. And then suddenly she'd have been sobbing, clinging onto Lupin while she pushed her face further into his chest.

"Dora? What's wrong?" he'd have said, sliding his arm off her shoulder and using it to tilt her chin up to look at him, "What is it?"

"Dad," she'd have mumbled, "He'd have told you to stop being so stupid about taking Teddy out. He'd have been here and he'd have wanted to…he'd have loved all this. The baby and everything, and it's… I wish he was here but he isn't, and he's never going to be here again,"

Lupin's insides would have wilted. "I know. I'm so sorry," he'd have murmured, knowing that this was a hopeless comment.

Tonks would have realised she was in danger of squashing Teddy in the sling, so she'd have moved around to lean against Lupin's side and squeeze his hand. She'd have taken a few deep breaths and rubbed her face with her first. She wouldn't have wanted to get upset- she had to leave for work soon. But she also wouldn't have been able to help blurting out: "I thought I'd done, you know, grief, but maybe I didn't do it at all, or properly, or whatever, 'cos there was everything else to worry about. It was like war war war winning winning winning. And now we've won it's like whumpf, a big avalanche of Dad's dead Dad's dead hitting me,"

Her voice would have cracked again on the word dead. Her father was dead. They had won the war, but too late for her dad, who had gone away in September and wasn't ever going to come back. She would never see him again. All his clothes and tools and magazines and stuff were still in the house. They were all that was left. Ted Tonks was gone.

"I'm sorry," Lupin would have repeated, but she'd have cut him off before he could say anything else.

"Yeah, but sorry isn't gonna being him back, is it?"

Her hand would have gripped his harder, hard enough to hurt.

"No," Lupin would have agreed.

They would have stood side-by-side in silence for a moment. The only noise would have been Teddy sucking on his bottle, which Lupin's free hand would be holding in position against the baby's mouth. The noise, Lupin thought, was reassuring.

Then, Tonks would have murmured, "I didn't think winning would be like this. Did you?"

"Yes,"

"Did it feel like this before?"

"No,"

Lupin would have wanted to add that when the war ended after James and Lily died, he had lost everything. He had been entirely alone. And this time the war had ended, he had a wife and a healthy baby, so of course it was different. Forget the government restructure and public explanation and the fact that the trials would take months, not days to come to court. The real difference was that this time he was not alone. And if he managed to protect Dora and Teddy, he would never be alone again.

"I should go to work," Tonks would have sighed.

Lupin have let go of her hand, rummaged in his pocket and taken out his handkerchief. "Here. Keep it for today,"

She'd have wiped her face on it, and given him a watery smile. "I love you. I'll love you even more if you bloody take Teddy outside today, alright?"

"Alright," he'd have sighed, and neither of them would have entirely believed him.

She'd have kissed them both, told them she loved them again, and that she would miss them both today, before waving and apparating away.

Lupin would have looked at the spot where she'd been standing for a moment. Then he'd have looked down at the baby in the sling.

"So, young man," he'd have asked, "What shall we do today?".


July

At the start of July, Kingsley would have announced that the Ministry would be closing on Sundays.

"We're working ourselves to the ground," he would have explained, adding that although the situation in government remained urgent, safety of Ministry staff was urgent too. Kingsley would have stated working as hard as the new government had been for the last few weeks was not conducive to staff safety and wellbeing. Which would have meant that on Saturday 11th July, Lupin and Tonks would have gone to bed and not set an alarm clock for the following morning. They'd have been woken by Teddy anyway though, first because he was too hot, then because he needed feeding, then because he'd dirtied his nappy. Since Tonks had fed the baby, Lupin would have got up to change Teddy's nappy, shushing the baby quickly and trying to change him as quietly as possible to avoid waking up Tonks. It wouldn't have worked though, because once he'd placed Teddy back in his cot and climbed back into bed, Tonks would have shuffled over and whispered, "What time is it?"

Lupin would have squinted at his watch. "Ten past one,"

Tonks would have taken him by surprise by propping herself up on her elbow and leaning down to kiss him. The kiss would have been loving and lingering, and she'd have repeated it twice over. When she pulled away Lupin would have blinked up at her, befuddled.

"Happy anniversary," she'd have whispered.

"Oh," he'd have realised, "Right,"

"You forgot!" she'd have accused.

"It's the middle of the night!" he'd protest. Tonks would have cuffed him on the shoulder then kissed the same spot. Then she'd have laid back down half on top of him.

"Is it parchment?" she would have asked, propping her chin on his chest.

"What?"

"You know, the name of the anniversary. Fifty is golden, sixty is diamond. I think the first one is parchment,"

"Easy present, then," Lupin would have mumbled. This would have been a joke- they'd agreed a few weeks ago not to buy each other anniversary presents. Tonks would have bought him one regardless. Lupin would have bought a card and then not known what to write in it. He'd have known that anniversary cards were supposed to contain messages of love and hope, appreciation and gratitude. But he'd have been trying to get better at saying things like that to his wife. To write it down would have been nice, but it also would have seemed a bit of a backwards step. He'd have asked Arthur, his go-to source for husbandly advice, what to do. Arthur would have told him to write from the heart, but in the end Lupin would have filled the card with in-jokes and silly cartoons. He'd have been too busy to draw lately, and would had forgotten how much he enjoyed cartooning. He'd have kept the card at the back of his sock drawer, which would have felt strange. He'd hidden plenty of his thoughts and emotions from his wife before, but never anything physical.

"Anyway, happy wedding anniversary," he'd have said.

He'd have run his hand down her spine and thought how bizarre it was that he, Remus Lupin, was having his one-year wedding anniversary.

"Maybe Mum can look after him tomorrow," Tonks would have suggested, "And we can go back to the flat. Spend all day in bed, how does that sound?"

"By all day in bed, you mean-"

"-sleeping,"

"Oh, thank goodness," he'd have said with relief, and she'd have giggled.

"Been a bit of a year," Tonks would have yawned after a pause.

"Just slightly," Lupin would have agreed.

"Maybe stuff'll be calmer this year," she's have suggested.

"Calm? With you around?" he'd have answered, "Don't be daft".


August

Lupin would have been standing over the sink in the bathroom, washing his face. He preferred to be clean before a full moon. Everything about transforming felt dirty and in the morning he'd be covered with mud and grime, so the least he could do was make himself clean beforehand. Tonks would have been leaning against the bathroom doorway, fiddling with one of Teddy's broken dummies, and watching Lupin.

"I hate this," she'd have sighed.

"I know,"

"I keep saying to Kingsley "When's it going to happen, when's it going to happen?" but he doesn't know,"

"You shouldn't pester him, Dora,"

"To keep you safe, I will pester him until the cows come home," she'd have replied stonily, "I know there's other priorities, I know it's expensive and complicated and only about two people in the country can make it, but we need it. You need it,"

Wolfsbane wouldn't be readily available yet, and nobody was sure when it would be. Tonks would be getting increasingly frustrated. It wasn't fair that her husband had to get ill, go through the painful and humiliating transformation, and be out of his mind and in danger for the night. What was the war for, if not to make life safer for people like Remus? Nobody would have started work on re-organising the Werewolf Register yet so they'd still be classified as "Beast" by the Department For The Regulation & Control Of Magical Creatures, and the laws prohibiting employing a werewolf wouldn't have been overturned. Plus, with Greyback and his followers awaiting trial, public opinion on werewolves would have been lower than ever. Nothing would have changed in the last three months, and change didn't seem to be coming soon.

"We need to be patient,"

"It's hard to be bloody patient when we have to live with it! When we have to go through this every month, you getting sick and weak. People don't realise that there's a reality of this, and the reality is you needing me to haul you out of bed this morning, and you coming back tomorrow with cuts all over, and us being away from Teddy for tonight-"

Lupin would have grimaced. He wouldn't have liked his condition being mentioned in the same breath as his son. Lupin and Tonks would have gone back to her flat every full moon night, so right then Teddy would have been back at Andromeda's house, or perhaps he'd have gone to stay at the Burrow. Ginny would be going back to school in September, so it would have been nice for Teddy to spend some time with his godmother before she went away.

"- and the way you'll reek when you get home in the morning, and how scared I am when I'm waiting for you, and how you're all cold and then you're hot and then you shiver. It isn't fair, and people don't realise any of this, they just read their stupid bloody headlines about Fenrir bloody Greyback. And they think you shouldn't get help or get medication, or that it isn't as important as other stuff, or that it doesn't matter, and I'm totally effing sick of it,"

People read the headlines and they want me dead, Lupin would have thought, they don't want me on medication because an untame werewolf is more likely to get himself killed. He'd have known this for years, but the situation would have felt different now that he was a parent. It would have been impossible to view these opinions outside from the perspective of Teddy, and the fact that people- many people, who otherwise had ordinary and unextreme views- wanted Teddy Lupin's father to die, hurt. It hurt a lot.

Lupin have known that Tonks knew all this. This was exactly what she'd been feeling towards him for years, so he didn't say it out loud. Instead, he said wearily:

"Kingsley understands the reality,"

"But the bastards at Regulation Of Magical Creatures don't! What the hell have they been doing the last three months?"

She'd have had an unpleasant suspicion that the Magical Creatures department didn't trust Remus, despite all he was doing for the Greyback trials. That would have made Tonks even more outraged. Why did they still have to keep in the shadows? Why was there still something apparently wrong with him, legally as well as in people's opinions? Why was he still not getting help? It would have made her want to punch a wall.

Her husband would have held out a clammy hand to her and, slightly grudgingly, Tonks would have taken it.

"I know. But it'll be soon, I promise," he'd have vowed. That would have made Tonks feel worse, because Lupin was the one reassuring her, even though it was him who needed comforting now.

"Fine," she'd have mumbled.

He'd have squeezed her fingers, then let go and stretched his arms upward. Tonks would have averted her eyes, knowing that she'd get more irate if she let herself see how red Remus' bite-mark was glowing and how sallow his skin looked tonight. She'd have known that she had every right to be furious, but that getting angry would only going to set Lupin on edge, and that wasn't fair to him.

"Do you want me to get you anything?" she'd have asked, to change the subject.

"No, thank you," Lupin would have answered. Then he'd have added softly, "Stay here, if you don't mind. Keep talking. Tell me a story,"

He didn't want her indignant, relentless defence of him. He wanted her to be being silly and sweet and bonkers. He wanted to hear about the offbeat way she saw the world and the daft thoughts which whirled round her brain. If she kept talking he could lose himself in what she was saying and just concentrate on her for a while, and not on what was about to happen. She could make him forget. She could make him smile. She could make it hurt less.

"You got it,"

She'd have wanted to press a kiss to his cheek, though it was always best not to touch Remus when he was getting ready for the full moon. Instead, she'd have hopped up to sit on the toilet's cistern, and began, "Once upon a time, there was a house. No, a castle. No, an igloo,"

Lupin would have smiled, because she knew that this was exactly what she needed. "Which one?"

"A teepee. And in the teepee lived a knight, and her prince, and their Pygmy Puff. And maybe a cow or something too, 'cos the prince likes milk in his tea,"

"Right,"

"And the knight woke up one morning and the Pygmy Puff had gone missing. It left a note, but the note was in Swedish, so nobody could read it,"

Tonks would have rambled on with the story, making it increasingly random and nonsensical, because she knew that would make Lupin laugh. But making him laugh was a brief, short-term improvement to the shitty situation they were trapped in. Tonight would be horrible for her and hell for him. Tonks would have been irritated with Remus himself, too, for being so characteristically stoic and patient. For once, could he not be polite and uncomplaining. Couldn't he admit how hard lycanthropy made his life? All werewolves needed Wolfsbane to stay safe, and Remus of all people deserved it after everything he'd done. He was a war hero for goodness sake. There'd been talk of Order of Merlins which, Tonks would have thought, was bloody typical. Get a fancy medal but be refused medication. How much had changed since the end of the war, really? They'd risked so much and were working so hard, but was there an end in sight? How many more people were suffering? The Weasleys were grieving for Fred and trying to help Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny cope with everything that had happened in the last year. Hogwarts was re-opening next month, though the building was in disarray, the school's reputation even worse, and plenty of students were too traumatised to return. Dad, Mad-Eye, Sirius and Dumbledore were still dead. The British wizarding community was bruised and bewildered, and Muggle-borns were still missing. And Remus was hunched over the sink, half an hour away from turning into a werewolf.

"It was worth it," Tonks would have declared loudly.

"Pardon?" Lupin would have replied.

"Sorry, I know I was in the middle of a story, but I just had to say it,"

"What was worth it?" he'd have questioned.

She'd have squirmed uneasily. "Don't worry. Nothing. I had to make myself say it, to remind myself that it's true," Tonks would have muttered. She'd have paused, then added quietly, "To convince myself that it's true".