If: Spring
March
If they have lived, Neville Longbottom would have been sitting at their kitchen table trying to act like this was not weird. But it was weird and, despite the weirdness of the last year, Neville wasn't prepared for this particular kind of weird. When Professor Lupin taught at Hogwarts, Neville had had a few cups of tea in his office. But being in Lupin's home with his wife and baby would have been totally different. The fact that Lupin's wife was Neville's line manager increased the weirdness. When Tonks had invited Neville over, she'd have asked if he'd like Harry and Ron to come too (she would have known them too well to be their line manager, but they all would have seen a lot of each other at the Ministry). Neville would have declined. He'd had enough experience of being alone with Harry and Ron to know that it felt like both you were an outsider on their pair, and an intruder because you were a third person who wasn't Hermione. Neville's friendship with Harry and Ron had changed a lot over the last few months, but the sense of not belonging hadn't. The difference was that Neville didn't mind it much now.
Tonks and Professor Lupin's dining table was in the kitchen, so Lupin was cooking while Tonks was sitting at the table beside the high-chair, feeding the baby mashed broccoli.
"Is he a good eater?" Neville would have asked. That was something you were supposed to ask about babies, wasn't it?
"When he wants to be," Tonks would have replied, "He's getting better,"
"He prefers to put objects which aren't food in his mouth," chipped in Professor Lupin. He looked more relaxed today than Neville had seen him. To be fair, there were three years when Neville had only seen him in a battle, and a few weeks after the Battle where they'd only met at funerals. Lupin would have looked shabby and tired, but would have seemed chirpier here in his kitchen. Neville would have understood that.
When he'd been Neville's teacher, Professor Lupin had had brownish hair, although now it was mostly grey. Neville would have wondered how much older than Tonks he was. Ten years? Twenty? He wasn't good at guessing ages. Sometimes Tonks acted like she was in charge of everything, and sometimes she acted like she was barely older than Neville. She would have been a nice line manager- she would have assured Neville that she understood how overwhelming it was to join the Auror department and she was doing all she could to make him welcome. "I know it seems intimidating," was her favourite phrase. She often followed this with, "But you wouldn't be here if we didn't believe you were capable". Hearing an Auror say that to him was mind-boggling.
"How's that banana tree of yours getting on, Neville?" Professor Lupin would have asked.
Neville wasn't sure if he'd mentioned this to Lupin when they'd met over the last few months, or if Tonks had told him.
"Good, thanks. It grows seeds before it grows bananas so, err, I might get fruit in the summer," he'd have replied. He was experimenting with growing Muggle tropical plants in a magically-enhanced greenhouse.
"You'd better give us some for Teddy, he can't get enough of bananas," Tonks would have piped up, "I was saying to Remus it's dead cool how you breed your own tropical fruits. You could start a business selling them to Muggles,"
"Yeah," Neville would have agreed.
"You should see how great he is with the plants we use for healing, Remus," Tonks continued. The "Remus" thing was strange. Neville wouldn't have been sure if he was supposed to call Lupin that as well. Harry and Ron wold have swapped between the two, although Neville would have reckoned that for him to call Professor Lupin by his first name would have seemed too forward. Aurors tended to call each other by their surnames, and Tonks flipped between calling Neville either.
"That's excellent," said Lupin, then changed the subject by asking, "How's your grandmother?"
Perhaps, Neville would have suspected, Professor Lupin could tell that Tonks going on about how great he was, was making him uncomfortable. Neville could, in his head, acknowledge that he was brave and heroic and deserving of his Order of Merlin, although he still wasn't comfortable talking about it, or hearing other people talk about him out loud in those terms.
"She's fine, thank you," Neville would have answered, then cringed as he couldn't think of anything to add. Why did his mind have to go blank at times like this?
Thankfully, Teddy would have created a distraction by spitting out a mouthful of broccoli.
"Hey!" Tonks protested, "Food goes in mouth, remember?"
Teddy would have beamed, proud of himself.
"No, looking cute will not let you off. Eat your food," Tonks instructed, spooning up a lump of broccoli. Teddy turned his face away.
"One, two, three, open," Tonks would have said. She'd have put the spoon against Teddy's mouth, but his lips would have remained firmly closed.
"Okay, I lied about him getting better at eating," she would have conceded to Neville.
"Let's call it a day on broccoli," Professor Lupin would have said from the stove, "He ate that big yoghurt earlier,"
Tonks would have wiped Teddy's mouth with a wet tea towel, lifted him out of his high-chair and put him into a pen in the corner of the kitchen. She wasn't wearing shoes, which wasn't unusual in her own home, but seemed unusual considering at work she wore knee-high Converse or dragonskin boots or massive Doc Martens.
"You'll have noticed that it's all pens round here," she would have explained to Neville, "He'll be off tearing up the carpets if he gets the chance,"
Teddy chuckled. Neville had heard various people mention that Teddy's hair changed colour, like Tonks' did, although today the baby's hair had remained an ordinary light brown colour.
"Yes, I know you know we're talking about you," Tonks would have told him, then added to Neville, "He's a proper cheeky monkey at the moment,"
"It'll be carnage when he starts walking," sighed Professor Lupin. He would have drained the pasta and tipped it evenly onto three plates, then spooned a chicken breast on each, and added sauce.
"Dinner's ready," he announced.
"You're officially outnumbered by Northerners now, so it's called tea tonight," Tonks teased him. They seemed like one of those couples who were constantly vaguely teasing each other. Now that Ron and Hermione had got together, they were like that, although Ron and Hermione also argued as much as they always had.
Professor Lupin would have put the plates and cutlery down on the table. He'd poured himself and Neville a glass of wine when Neville arrived, and topped up both glasses before they sat down to eat (Tonks had explained that she was off alcohol while she was breast-feeding. Neville could have done without the explanation). They would have chatted about the Ministry and Hogwarts and the Botswanan Quidditch team's appeal after the World Cup final. Professor Lupin kept doing that Professor Lupin thing of turning the question back on Neville and building on Neville's answers. A couple of times the baby would start have shouted and Tonks would have leapt out of her chair, bounded over to him and told him to shush.
"I know we've got a visitor but that's enough showing off," she reprimanded him. Teddy giggled and gurgled. Tonks would have given him an exaggerated pout, then ruffled his hair and left him to it.
Over desert, conversation would have come around to the war. That happened a lot these days. During the last year of the war, Neville had been one of the leaders of Dumbledore's Army. He'd got good at public speaking and explaining what was happening. Now the urgency of that situation was over, talking about the war was difficult again, especially as he'd gone from being a leader to being a new Auror with a lot to learn.
"It wasn't really a decision," Neville would have explained, "People asked if we were trying to be like Harry, Ron and Hermione, but we didn't sit down and agree, it just worked out that there were three of us and some stuff we had to do,"
Tonks, he remembered, was a mate of Ginny's, so she probably knew all this already.
"Can you get your head around Snape actually working to protect you all?" Tonks would have asked.
"Umm. Sort of," Neville murmured.
Momentarily, Professor Lupin would have looked as if he was going to speak but seemed to decide against it. Perhaps, Neville would've guessed, Lupin was remembering how much Snape hated Neville. Lupin had known it from their first lesson, though he'd never mentioned it. That hadn't been unusual since lots of teachers knew Snape had it in for Neville and Harry and none of them did anything about it. Neville had figured that Professor Snape probably had it in for lots of students, so the teachers were used to it. Or, considering how many teachers knew how hopeless Neville could be, they supposed he deserved Professor Snape's ire. Lupin had always been kind to him, though. After the Boggart in their first lesson, Lupin often picked Neville to have the first go at a challenge, or he'd ask Neville to hand out the equipment or collect in worksheets. Dean and Lavender huffed when a teacher made them do that, but Neville had enjoyed having a job. Even if he messed up everything else in the lesson, he'd at least contributed in a small way. A few times, Professor Lupin had invited Neville into his office for a cup of tea and a bar of chocolate, too.
Neville wasn't hopeless anymore. Perhaps he never was, but it had taken years to realise. Snape was unfair to him and that was wrong. Neville knew that now for sure.
"I'm still getting that straight in my head," Tonks would have murmured. Neville knew that Tonks' dad had been murdered by Snatchers about a year previously. Ginny had told him, and Tonks had mentioned it a couple of weeks after Neville started at the Ministry. Though she hadn't yet mentioned her connection to Bellatrix Lestrange. Bellatrix was Tonks' aunt. As far as Neville knew, they'd only met when trying to kill each other. Bellatrix Lestrange had wanted to kill Neville, too.
"Yeah," he murmured.
"This war developed in ways none of us were expecting," said Professor Lupin, "It'll take years to process,"
"And that's just the paperwork, right Longbottom?" Tonks would have chirped. Being an Auror involved a lot of paperwork. It was Ron's favourite topic to moan about.
He smiled back. "Do you ever remember something that happened in the last couple of years that you forgot? I always forget different bits of it?" said Neville.
"It's easy to get mixed up, isn't it?" said Lupin, "I find writing clarifies events in my head,"
"Yeah, I've done that a bit. Just bullet points," Neville would have answered.
"Is it helpful?"
"S'pose,"
"More paperwork," Tonks would have noted, "I'm telling you, Neville, Remus writes more lists than anyone you've met,"
"My wife writes no lists, and so is constantly forgetting things," Professor Lupin would have returned, "Anyhow, we're all processing in our different ways. If you've found a method that works for you then stick with it,"
Neville would have been both perturbed and amused by the fact that Lupin was talking to him in a similar way to how he had when Lupin was his teacher, but they were sat around Lupin's dining table with his family. This, Neville would have thought, was quite a lot to process. Perhaps he should write bullet points about how unexpected and unusual this was.
After pudding, Teddy would have been getting tired and cross, and Neville would have taken it as his cue to leave.
"See you on Monday morning," Tonks would have said, waving him goodbye at the front door of the flat.
"I'm only in on Tuesday," Neville pointed out. Auror work patterns were irregular.
"Jammy bastard," she muttered, then corrected herself, "I mean, valued employee who happens to be lucky regarding work arrangements for next week,"
Professor Lupin would have shot her a disapproving look, although he wouldn't have managed to speak because the baby had started to mewl. Neville would have doubted that Tonks was jealous about himself not being in on Monday- she got irritated by stuff at work all the time, but it was obvious that she loved her job. Neville wondered if he'd ever love being an Auror that much.
"Thank you for having me," he said.
"It's been lovely to see you," said Professor Lupin, holding his hand out to Neville, "I'm sure we'll meet again soon,"
Neville would have shaken Lupin's hand.
"Bye," Tonks would've added. Neville wasn't sure if the situation called for a handshake or a hug, so he was relieved when Teddy reached for her and she took him off Lupin, rendering her hands full. Teddy would have bent backwards, lurching his head towards the floor.
"Yes, we know you're tired," Lupin would have told him.
"I'll let you get on with bed-time," said Neville.
"It's alright," said Professor Lupin, at the same time as Tonks said, "Thank you!"
Neville would have laughed. "Bye. Bye, Teddy," he said, and waved.
Tonks would have flicked her wand at the building's front door to spring it open. Neville would have walked out of the flat, to and through the building's front door, and out onto the street.
It had been a funny old evening, he'd have mused. If he'd been told six years ago, or even two years ago, that he'd one day be having tea with his Defence Professor and his manager at the Auror office, his head would have exploded. The world Neville lived in now was strange, and tiring, and full of surprises. Neville liked it. And, he'd have thought, as he apparated home, he liked himself in this world, too.
April
"And all three little pygmy-puffs went back home to bed. The end," Tonks would have said, closing the book. She'd have been sitting on the living room floor with Teddy on her lap. He'd have whacked the book's back cover with his pudgy hand.
"Do you want it again?" his mother would have asked. When she turned the book over and opened the first page again, Teddy's face would have lit up.
"You like this story, don't you?" Tonks would have murmured, nuzzling his cheek, "Are you going to say a big thank you to Hermione for all these books the next time you see her?"
Teddy would have jiggled, which she would have taken as a yes. Coming as a surprise to nobody, Hermione's present to Teddy on his first birthday had been a stack of picture books. Some were Muggle, some wizarding and some, because Hermione Granger was not one to do things by halves, were in French.
"He's dead smart, Remus," Tonks would have said, "He understands that the story has a beginning a middle and an end, and I'm sure he knows it's going to be the same story every time we read it. Honestly, I reckon our kid is a genius,"
Her husband wouldn't have responded, and she'd have twisted round to face him. Lupin would have been sitting on the sofa, watching them.
"Don't you agree?" Tonks insisted.
"Hmm," Lupin would have replied.
"What's up?"
Lupin would have squirmed and muttered, "He's growing up,"
"I know. Aren't you getting so big and so clever?" Tonks would have said, squeezing Teddy.
"I know he's still a baby, but he's starting to look more and more like a little boy," Lupin would have mumbled.
Teddy's facial features were becoming more defined, and he could do more with them. He sometimes wrinkled his nose as if to say, "Daddy, why on Earth are you going that?". He'd learnt to stand up and take a few wobbly steps clinging to the sofa. He threw stuff and he danced and often Lupin suspected that he was trying to sound out words. There were stories and songs that he liked. Teddy was becoming a person, not just a baby. And that was horrifying.
"Aaw, d'you miss him being all tiny?" Tonks grinned. Lupin would have shivered. She didn't understand. How could she? How could she empathise with the dread that their child was bringing on him?
"I haven't been around a little boy for years," he would have explained, voice rasping, "I'd forgotten what they feel like and smell like. What they are like,"
Tonks would have realised what he was getting at. "You're thinking about yourself, aren't you?"
Lupin would have nodded. Being near a small boy, especially a one who was looking more like him with every passing day, would have reminded him of himself. Of what had been inflicted upon him as a child. For years, Remus hardly remembered being bitten. He remembered the terror and the bewilderment, but previously he couldn't remember the event itself, and in his nightmares it was hazy. The horror and secrecy about what had happened had made him lock the truth away, and that had made him disconnect from himself as a small child. But having a boy of his own had unlocked the door. The memories were becoming less blurred. For years he'd understood what had happened, but now that understanding was changing. That was unsettling enough, but the way in which it was changing was terrifying.
Tonks would have reached over and put her hand on his knee. "Greyback can't hurt you anymore. He can't hurt Teddy,"
In the newly-resurfaced memories, Remus would have remembered more details than he had before: the clatter as Greyback knocked over his beloved toy train set and sent the Flying Scotsman ricocheting into the bookshelf. How at first he had felt puzzled, more than terrified, at the sight of a wolf in his bedroom, and then Greyback had leapt at him, sharp claws hooking into the skin of his back. The blue-and-white check on his duvet cover and the way his blood had dripped over it. How dark the blood had been. Knowing that he was going to die. Dad swearing and screaming at Mam to stay away- now, Lupin could remember Dad's words and tone. Lupin could remember hearing curses blasting around them, but he'd been unable to see because his face was shoved into his pillow, whether from force or terror he still couldn't say. He could remember Mam holding him while he sobbed and writhed and was sick over and over; the hotpot he'd had for dinner regurgitated all over the floor, and when his tummy was empty he'd vomited bile. He was dying, he knew he was dying, and he just wanted Mammy to hug him and make it all go away. Except it hadn't gone away, and that night was only the start.
In those memories, Remus watched it happen through his own eyes. But he'd see other images now, too. Images where he was a witness to the little bloody body on the bed, because the little bloody body was his son. In the last few weeks, as Teddy had got bigger and had his first birthday, the images had invaded Remus' mind more than ever. He would have known that the anxiety was irrational, but knowing it and feeling it were different. The fear would have gripped him, sometimes momentarily and sometimes for minutes at a time. He'd have known he should have told his wife about it, but they'd have been so content these past few weeks. The trials were out of the way, Dora was back at work and he was at home looking after the baby most days. Teddy would have had a lovely first birthday and Andromeda would have seemed to be coming back to her old self. Life wasn't back to normal (Remus wasn't sure he'd be able to identify "normal") but it was becoming calmer and more consistent. He wouldn't have wanted to ruin that. Besides, Remus wouldn't have been sure how to verbalise his fear. He knew what it was to experience misery and isolation and self-hatred and fright, but he's never experienced anything as purely anxiety-inducing as this. At times over the last few weeks, he'd have been more on edge than he had during the war.
Tonks would have been watching him, thinking that she should have expected this. While she'd been pregnant, they'd gone round in circles about how they'd afford the baby, if the baby was in danger, if the baby was a werewolf, if werewolves wanted to hurt the baby. Since the war ended, they'd bickered about if Teddy was ill, or feeding enough, or too cold, or if and when it was safe to take him out of the house. They wouldn't have given much consideration to how a baby would make Remus feel about himself, about the hurt which werewolves had already inflicted on him. Tonks knew that he found it hard to reconcile the fact that the attack hadn't been his fault with the fact that he believed himself tainted and dangerous. He would have stopped being self-loathing recently, but perhaps now it was creeping back.
"Oh, come here," she'd have murmured. She'd have set Teddy into his pen with the book, then climbed onto the sofa and wrapped an arm around her husband's shoulder.
"He will never hurt you again. Understand? I won't let anybody hurt you,"
"Teddy will always be at risk because of us,"
"That's why having a baby with an Auror was a sensible decision, because we're going to keep him safe,"
"My parents believed they could keep me safe," Lupin would have pointed out. During his months at the werewolf camp last year, Lupin had heard Greyback, many times, plan an attack on a family. Choose a child. Explain what he wanted to do to the victim, how, and why it was necessary. Lupin couldn't help imagining Greyback making the same preparations about attacking him. He'd known for years that Greyback's attack on him had been targeted and prepared, but witnessing the preparation process had made it real. A couple of times that year, he'd slipped away from the werewolf meeting and snuck outside to throw up.
"That's what you're upset about, isn't it?" Tonks would have clarified, "You're not scared for Teddy, you're scared for you,"
Lupin would have squirmed. "Both," he said, then added in a whisper, "It feels like the same,"
Tonks would have run a hand through his hair a couple of times, then down his cheek to his jaw, lifting his face up so he was looking directly at her. "I'm sorry it happened when you were a kid. Have I ever said that before? I'm sorry I couldn't protect you then- I swear I would if I could have been. But it isn't going to happen again. Nobody is going to hurt you anymore,"
She'd have put her arms around him and pulled him towards her, whispering over and over in his ear, "You're safe, you're safe, no-one's going to hurt you,"
But, Remus thought, she couldn't know that. She couldn't defend him forever- in almost all the battles they'd been in they'd barely seen each other. The memory of Greyback would eternally be lurking, and the fear of the werewolf would forever hang over their son. It would surely get worse as Teddy grew closer to the age Remus had been when bitten. More memories would return. More anxiety. More of the sick sensation when he looked at his baby. His face was buried in his wife' shoulder, but he could hear Teddy gurgling and shuffling around on the carpet.
For a moment, Tonks would have suspected Remus was crying, which was bonkers because her husband hardly ever cried. But when he wriggled away from her, his eyes were dry.
He swallowed, composing himself. Then he would have announced, "I'm going for a walk,"
Tonks gripped his shoulders harder. "Are you sure? Do you want me to-"
"I want to be on my own,"
He needed air. He needed to get away from her and the baby for a while. He needed to consider this alone. It wasn't bad, it wasn't failure in his attempt to open up more. It was that being in a room with Teddy would have been making him feel worse.
Tonks' face would have fallen, and Lupin would have forced a smile and added, "I won't be long. I just need to clear my thoughts,"
"If that's what you want,"
"I'll go around the block a couple of times. I'll be half an hour at most,"
It was a force of habit that everybody still preferred to tell their families and friends where they were going and for how long.
"Are you alright?"
Once, Lupin would have lied and told her he was fine. Now, he said: "No,"
"Do you want to talk about it more when you get home?"
She'd have wanted to say because we can work through this. I can help you. Teddy can help you. You don't have to be afraid for yourself and him. But often Remus just needed to be listened to. He didn't need her throwing answers and solutions at him, however helpful she thought they might be.
"No. But I should, shouldn't I?" he would have acknowledged.
"Whatever you want,"
"Right," Lupin would have said. He should talk to her about it. He would. But first he needed to get outside for a while.
He'd have started to walk away. He didn't always kiss her hello or goodbye, so Tonks wouldn't have noticed that he didn't do it this time. But he wouldn't have kissed Teddy, and that was unlike him.
Tonks went over to where the baby was chucking his books about on the floor, and picked him up. Now he'd turned one, Teddy would have been heavier and harder to wrangle, and he flailed in her arms.
"Ted, shush," she'd have hushed him.
The baby grizzled and babbled. Tonks would have wished that he hadn't grown out of dummies, because this was exactly the sort of time she'd want to shove one in his mouth. But her husband was almost leaving.
"Remus?" she'd have said.
At the door, he'd have turned.
"Yes?"
Tonks hugged the baby tighter. "Me and him are lucky to have you,"
Remus have tried to smile as he shut the door, though it would have come out as more of a grimace.
"I really, really mean that," Tonks would have insisted as vehemently as she could.
Once, Lupin wouldn't have believed her. Now, he looked her in the eye and replied seriously, "I know".
May
If they'd have lived, the two of them would have been sitting on the sofa at the Burrow, surrounded by Arthur, Molly, George, Fleur, Bill, Ron and Harry. Everyone would be crammed onto chairs or perched on furniture, watching the middle of the carpet, where Teddy would have been wobbling to his feet.
"Third time lucky," Tonks would have said, "Come on, Teddy, off you go,"
The baby would have stood for a couple of seconds, then plopped back onto his bottom. His fluffy hair was dark green today.
"Are you sure you saw him walking, Tonks?" George would have asked.
"I swear to Camelot. Remus, back me up," she'd have insisted.
"He walked," Lupin would have confirmed.
Teddy would have spent the last few weeks staggering along while holding on to a piece of furniture. On Tuesday he'd managed to get to his feet and walk a few steps independently, and he'd done it a few times since. Now he was in front of an audience, however, he didn't want to repeat the performance.
Harry would have held up Teddy's cuddly owl and waved it at him encouragingly, "Here's your toy, Ted. Can you get over here to play with it?"
Teddy appeared to momentarily consider, then decide that he would prefer to whack his hand on the carpet.
"Has anybody got any food?" Ron would have asked.
"Ron, he's not a dog," Bill would have replied.
"When is there not food around here?" George snarked.
"When you boys eat it all," Molly replied.
"Teddyyy. Teddyyyyyy," Fleur would have cooed, waving her arms in front of her to try to summon the baby. Tonks would have rolled her eyes. Teddy wouldn't have moved.
"What if we scared him from behind?" Ron suggested. The mental image of Hermione eyeballing him and groaning "Ron!" would have been obvious enough to everybody in the room that not even Molly bothered to reprimand him.
Lupin stood up from the sofa, sat on the floor about a foot away from Teddy, held his hand out and wiggled his fingers.
"This might work," Lupin would have said.
Teddy took his hand, and Lupin shuffled backwards slowly, pulling his fingers away from Teddy's. The baby looked momentarily confused, then allowed his father to let go.
"Or not," Harry would have said.
"Are you sure you 'ave seen 'im walking?" Fleur would have asked.
"Yes. Obviously," Tonks glowered.
"'E was a little late to crawl, non?"
"He's developing at his own pace," Lupin would have answered placidly. Teddy had been slower than average to crawl, and it had taken him until after his first birthday to walk independently. Lupin wouldn't have been concerned; Teddy was only a baby and didn't need to be tested on what he was learning to do when.
"And he's ahead of the average baby at cognitive stuff, he's nearly talking already," Tonks would have piped up. Lupin would have resisted the temptation to roll his eyes- usually his wife had the same opinion as he did about baby milestones, but Fleur Delacour could always be relied upon to rub others up the wrong way. Lupin would have heard from Tonks, who'd heard from Ginny, who'd have finagled it out of Bill at Christmas, that he and Fleur had agreed to start trying to have a baby. Perhaps, Remus would have guessed, that was why Fleur had suddenly become an expert on baby stages. Maybe she was pregnant already- Teddy was an accident so Lupin didn't have any experience of how long it usually took to "try" for a baby. He wouldn't have wanted to consider it either.
"It's different when they start talking," Arthur would have said.
"Especially when you've got brothers like mine," Bill corroborated.
"Because of our constant hilarious wit?" George would have asked, batting his eyelashes. After a difficult few weeks which had seen his first birthday alone, and the first anniversary of Fred's death, George seemed chirpier today. Although in the last few months he had, on more than one occasion, seemed cheerful in the afternoon and been threatening to throw himself off a bridge by the evening. Any room which George was in contained a tension, as everyone was nervous about what he'd do next. Any room George wasn't in contained a fear that he might be somewhere else, having a breakdown with nobody to look after him. In some ways, what had happened to George broke Molly's heart more than losing Fred.
"Don't know what you're talking about your brothers for. It's Ginny who didn't shut up from when she was a baby until she met Harry," shrugged Ron.
"Pardon?" asked Fleur.
"Apparently my sister was always very taken with him," Bill explained.
"Couldn't be in a room with him without going totally silent and knocking over a milk-bottle," Ron corroborated.
"Sounds like being with me," said Tonks.
"Apart from the silence," Lupin would have chipped in.
"And the fancying Harry, I presume?" George added.
"Dunno, the night's still young," Tonks would have shrugged.
Harry, mortified by this point, would have timed a coughing fit to distract everybody. Ron would have thumped him on the back, hard.
"Do you need a glass of water?" Molly would have asked.
"See if Teddy will go and get it for you," said Ron.
"Everyone!" piped up Arthur, "Teddy's moved,"
The whole room would have turned their eyes to where Teddy had been plonked next to Lupin. Now, the baby was a couple of feet further away. There was a stunned silence.
"Did we miss it?" Molly would have asked.
"No way did he just walk," Tonks would have said, "We'd have seen it,"
"Did he shuffle?" Arthur asked.
"He makes a noise when he shuffles," Lupin would have explained.
"Remus, didn't you see? You're right next to him," his wife would have asked.
"I was talking to you all,"
"How did none of us see a baby move?" George cried, "Did he apparate?"
"No, he walked," Tonks would have decided, "There's your proof, Teddy can walk on his own,"
"I wouldn't exactly call it proof," said Bill.
"We need a Muggle security camera on him," chirped Arthur, "CTVC,"
"Have you given him your cloak?" Ron would have asked Harry. Then he got out of his chair, lifted the baby up and pretended to examine him. Everyone would have laughed, and then the oven would have dinged to tell them Molly's roast dinner was ready.
"Finally," Ron sighed, as if he hadn't eaten in weeks.
"Fleur, George, you two are laying the table," Molly would have ordered, bustling into the kitchen to fetch the food.
A few minutes later, everybody would have been sitting round the table, eating and chatting. Lupin would have been talking to Arthur about the story on the front page of the Sunday Prophet. George and Ron would have been arguing about Quidditch. Bill and Tonks would have been discussing when the Wand-Tang Clan were going to release their next album, and Molly would have been between them pretending she understood what they were talking about. Teddy's high-chair would have been on the end, and Harry would have been feeding him a mashed-up version of the roast. It would have been a happy, lively scene, full of people who loved each other.
But of course, it never happened.
Thank you for reading this four-parter. I hope you enjoyed. Whatever you thought, please drop me a review. Thanks.
