Daynight
He is more drunk than he realised. He knows this, because it has taken him three attempts to get up to the top of the staircase. He and Andromeda drank champagne when the baby was born (when the baby was born!), and he had three glasses of wine at Bill and Fleur's. Or was it four? Perhaps, Remus admits, gripping the banister as he hauls himself up the last steps onto the landing, it was five. He's usually able to handle his booze fine, but he hasn't been drinking much lately so his tolerance has gone down. And on consideration, he isn't sure if he's eaten today. It turns out when your wife goes into labour (into labour!), having breakfast isn't important.
Quiet, he must be quiet. He was no idea what time it is, but they're probably asleep. Do newborn babies sleep? This seems an obvious question, although Remus does not know the answer. He beams, thinking of how many more answers he has to learn that the baby has arrived. Everything they prepared for will probably go out of the window. He has never been more excited.
He creaks open the door to Andromeda's bedroom. That's where the baby was born, Edward Remus Lupin, at eighteen minutes past five. At eighteen minutes past five on the 2nd of April 1998, Teddy Lupin was born and made Remus the happiest man on the planet. Molly had given them a cot and a Moses basket. Remus can see that the cot's empty, which must mean that Teddy is in the Moses basket. Remus' heart-rate, which has been erratic all day (and all week. And most of the last few years) and beating quadruple-time since he apparated back into this house, picks up tempo again. The thrill of being near the baby. His baby. It's like being in love except a thousand, a million times more glorious. He just wants to be with Teddy, permanently. Remus dashes across the room to the basket and peaks in. His son is facing up with his eyes closed. He is so magnificently, unbearably beautiful that it hurts. There is no breath anywhere near Remus' lungs. How do parents breathe all day?
Teddy's eyelids are paper-thin. His nose is a flat, squashed little bump. His mouth is a little bit open. He's been cleaned up since Remus left for Bill and Fleur's, and they've dressed him in a red sleepsuit which covers his hands and feet, and the most beautiful hat Remus has ever seen. He wants to take the hat off to see what colour hair Teddy has by now. Remus told Bill it was green, or was it turquoise? But he shouldn't take Teddy's hat off and make him uncomfortable or cold or afraid. Teddy will never be uncomfortable or cold for afraid, ever. Remus compromises by skimming the back of his finger across Teddy's cheek. How did this happen? How did Dora make someone else's skin? How did a whole body grow inside her? A human being. A human being so small- he can't have been at Bill and Fleur's for very long, but already Remus has forgotten how tiny Teddy is. He is so, so little. Was Harry this little? Harry isn't little anymore, he's a man now, and Remus can't tell anyone, he cannot tell anybody that he met Harry tonight, nobody can know that Harry is at Shell Cottage.
"I won't tell," he promises the baby, and why is he contemplating Harry and Shell Cottage, when the baby is here? Remus can feel his heart banging so hard it might fall out of his chest. He is suffocating and exploding at the same time. Actually, his heart has fallen out of his chest, metaphorically speaking, because his heart is Teddy's now. Teddy is carrying Remus' heart around inside him. Teddy doesn't belong to him, he and Dora belong to Teddy.
They have a baby. He is a parent.
They have a baby.
He's chortling now, because this is going to be bloody mental, to use one his wife's phrases. He doesn't have a clue what he's doing, and Tonks doesn't either. Everything about them has always been bloody mental, right from when he first met her. Crazy to fall for a girl like that, crazy to let himself have a relationship with her, crazy to get cold feet and torture himself with werewolves for nearly a year. It's crazy how many times he has broken her heart. Crazy how every time she forgives him. Crazy how much she loves him back. He never expected to be loved like this, so completely and selflessly and forgivingly. He isn't sure he knew that love like that existed. Absolutely crazy to marry her and be stupid enough to get her pregnant. Crazy crazy crazy, and there's going to be even more of it now. He can't wait. He certainly did not know that a love like this existed. Or that it would feel this way. This big, insane, heart-wrenching, overwhelming way. He did not know that God had created such happiness.
He kept praying throughout the labour, much to Andromeda's annoyance. But how can she not believe, now that this has happened? What is this other than a miracle? Dear Lord, thank you for the blessing of this day. For what you have given us may we be truly grateful. Thank you thank you thank you thankyouthankyouthankyou. Thank you, Lord, for my son and my wife. His wife! He needs to see if she's alright. When he'd left, Dora been exhausted, tearful and overwhelmed. She'd laughed at how ecstatic he was, and told him he should go to Bill and Fleur's to tell them. Remus hadn't been sure about leaving them, but Tonks had insisted that he needed to go and shout from the rooftops. And, she'd promised, they'd still be here when he got back. They will always be here. He has to protect them.
Dora means that he'll have to take his eyes away from Teddy, which Remus doesn't feel up to right now. He's caught between a rock and a hard place, except the opposite of that what could be better than being caught between the two people he loves most in the universe, the two people who have made him feel this explodingly joyous. Explodingly, he considers, might not be a real word.
On three, he'll leave Teddy and go over to Tonks. One, two…but then Teddy wrinkles his nose and it's the cutest thing ever. 'Cute' is one of Dora's words. She uses it to describe Remus, Arthur, Molly, Ginny- in fact, most of the Weasleys, or any people- animals, objects, houses. Remus finds her over-use of words like that annoyingly funny; he likes winding her up about it. He's long believed 'cute' is a stupid word, but it's exactly the adjective for Teddy's nose-wrinkle, or mittened hands, or his hat, or his perfect face.
Okay, he'll check on Tonks when he counts to ten. Twenty. How strange, that he truly is concerned about his wife, but he can't bring himself to go to her. Remus counts to twenty, slowing down when he gets closer. Then he rips his eyes away from Teddy and crawls over to the bed, where Tonks is asleep on her side. She has never looked more beautiful. Not ever. She is the most incredible person ever. She grew their son's skin and bones and lungs and heart and body, and then she pushed him into the world. What a gift, what an incredible act of love. Beaming, Remus puts an elbow on either side of her head and leans down to kiss the side of her nose. When she wakes up, he will kiss her forever, and then they will both watch their son for the rest of forever. And then it will be the morning, and it will be their first day of being parents.
He kisses her again and nuzzles her neck. I missed you. I missed our son. I love you. Everybody was so excited. Harry was there. All three of them are live, and they're staying with Bill and Fleur. I love you. There's not an English word to describe this love. Dwi'n dy garu di. Je t'aime. Why did I not study Mermish? Mermish would have the words. I love you. Thank you for our son. He's perfect, isn't he? You and I have never been perfect, least of all together, yet our baby is perfect in every way. Thank you for making me feel like this. I don't know how to thank you. This is the best moment of my whole life.
"You won't be saying that when he wakes up wanting his nappy changed," says a voice.
Remus yelps, wheeling round. Andromeda is sitting at the end of the bed, in her rocking chair, point her wand at him. He hadn't realised she was there. Had he said all of that out loud? Merlin's bollocks.
"Looks like you've had a fun evening," Andromeda smirks. She heard Remus clattering up the stairs and immediately drew her wand in case it was an impostor. But when he'd staggered into the bedroom, collar askew, hair rumpled, still wearing his travelling cloak and obviously drunk, Andromeda knew it was him, and she'd decided to watch. She's never seen Remus drunk before. She doesn't reckon she's ever seen him truly happy either. He is the sort of man who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. There's an arrogance to that, Andromeda reckons. No wonder he got on with Sirius.
"I didn't realise you were there," Remus burbles. He's shocked, but he's still wearing baffled, thrilled look he had on when he left earlier.
"Evidently," Andromeda drawls, "Now, I've got my daughter and my grandchild in this room, so I'll thank you to prove who you really are,"
"Code number 9876. No, 6978. No, 8697," Remus gabbles. Andromeda holds her poker face, enjoying watching him squirm.
He gives up on trying to remember numbers, and rattles off, "Remus John Lupin, werewolf, 10th March 1960, Gryffindor, non-corporeal patronus, unlike yours, which is a falcon,"
Andromeda waits a few moments, before smiling. "Acceptable,"
He grins a hopeful, boyish grin Andromeda has never seen before. Again, she thinks of Sirius. Remus scrambles towards her, although he clearly doesn't trust himself to stand up because he crawls along the floor, taking hold of Nymphadora's feet when he reaches the end of the bed. For the first time, Andromeda can see why her daughter thinks him so handsome.
She leans down to kiss his cheek. "Congratulations, Remus,"
His mouth slacks open in surprise, and then he beams wider.
"Thank you,"
"You will be an excellent father," Andromeda says.
He glances away from her and over to the Moses basket. "I'll try,"
"You'll do better than try. You'll have to,"
But her son-in-law is gazing over at the basket, no longer listening to her. Remus twists around to face Teddy properly, rearranging his limbs so he's sitting cross-legged with his back to Andromeda. She feels a peculiar temptation to reach out and lay a hand on Remus' shoulder- although after that kiss, a second sign of physical affection might give him a heart attack. When they first met, Andromeda didn't want to touch Remus for weeks, and it became clear once he and Nymphadora moved in with her that Remus himself was hesitant about physical contact. Andromeda had been dreading seeing him with his hands all over Nymphadora, tongue down her throat. That was what werewolves were supposed to be like, only after the one thing, regardless of if the other party wanted it. Andromeda had been furious and terrified- she'd promised herself she'd kill him if he tried to hurt her daughter. But Nymphadora had been right- Remus is the antithesis of vicious and lecherous. In the seven months the pair of them have been living here, Andromeda's rarely seen them kiss or embrace or be any sort of affectionate. If Andromeda walk in on them holding hands, or when Remus' arm is draped around Nymphadora's shoulder, he springs away immediately. He's such a cold fish that sometimes Andromeda wonders how this baby happened at all.
She watches Remus watch Teddy, and wonders about his own mother. She's never heard him mention her. She must be dead, though Remus isn't forty yet (Andromeda's own parents had died a few years ago, although she only found out through obituaries in the Prophet). There's something quite "only child of older parents" about Remus, so perhaps his parents were old and weak enough to be carried off by dragon-pox. Perhaps they're still alive, but estranged from Remus because of his condition- Andromeda's heard of that happening. Not unreasonable, given the illness and instability a werewolf brings on a family, not to mention the shame. And the chance of the monster killing its own parents.
Over the last few months, conversations about if the baby will be a werewolf have seeped through this house. Andromeda suspects that Nymphadora didn't want her involved, although subtlety has never been her daughter's strong point. Andromeda has seen the books scattered around the house and overheard their whispered discussions about it. She'd gone through repulsion, fury and dread- these feelings had hung over for months. Now though, with Teddy here and born and dozing in his Moses basket, that all seems trivial. Teddy might be a werewolf, and that would be complicated, embarrassing, distressing and draining. But they will deal with it. After all, Remus is a werewolf, and Remus is alright. Teddy is theirs now, and Andromeda has to defend him and care for him no matter what. She'd forgotten those sort of bold vows that meeting a baby causes one to make.
"Andromeda?" murmurs Remus.
"Mmm?"
He spins round to face her, and hugs his arms around his knees, like a child on a school carpet. "Thank you. I know it's difficult, me being what I am, and the world right now, and after Ted, and I…thank you,"
"You're welcome,"
"Thank you for her as well," Remus continues. His voice is cracklier than usual. Andromeda can't remember him ever looking her in the eye for so long before, "I love- I love her so much. Things are dark, a lot, for me, and she makes it all less dark. Things are less bad and less frightening, and without her there wouldn't be Teddy, so-"
He has had far too much to drink. He's embarrassing himself now, not to mention Andromeda.
"That's enough," Andromeda interrupts, "You should go to bed,"
Today has been emotionally draining enough without Remus bursting into a declaration of undying love.
"Oh," he replies, cowed. Then he nods. Remus looks as if he's about to move, but Andromeda stops him.
"You stay here. I'll take the other bedroom,"
"Are you sure?"
"You should be with your wife and your baby," Andromeda insists, standing up. It isn't fair to make him sleep apart from them now. She'll take the bed in Nymphadora's old room, and Remus can stay here.
"Thank you," he breathes.
"And, having heard you attempt those stairs, I don't trust you to take it to the end of the corridor," she tells him.
Remus grins the funny new schoolboy grin again, and Andromeda smiles back. Then he looks at the baby. Andromeda leaves him to it, and heads out into the corridor. She'll see him in the morning or, more likely, when Teddy wakes up and neither of his parents know how to deal with a squalling newborn. Come to mention it, does Andromeda? Even with nine months to prepare, Teddy's arrival is a shellshock. The pregnancy has been tumultuous and difficult and so much has happened, that it was easy to lose sight of it actually leading to a baby.
There was a day a few weeks ago when Andromeda's husband woke up in the morning alive, and by the evening he was dead. She woke up a wife and went to bed a widow, though she didn't know it at the time. And today, Andromeda woke up a mother, Nymphadora woke up pregnant, and Teddy was an extension of his mother. Now, Andromeda is going to bed as a grandmother, Nymphadora is a mother, and her baby exists as a person, not just an unseen entity. Unexpectedly today of all days, inamongst exhaustion and pride and love and grief and worry, Andromeda feels peaceful. She lingers outside the bedroom, watching Remus grasp the rocking chair to attempt to stand up. The chair wobbles and he staggers, and Andromeda has to stop herself snickering. Remus steadies himself, toes off his shoes, unclips his cloak and tosses off his jacket. He attempts to wrestle his braces off his shoulders but gets tangled, so he unclips them and chucks them over with his jacket. Remus kneels by the Moses basket and reaches in to touch Teddy's face. Then he climbs into bed with Andromeda's daughter. Remus scoots behind her and gathers her into his arms, burrowing his face into her hair (after flitting through a variety of colours and lengths throughout the day, Nymphadora's hair has settled on a pinkish-blonde bob). Andromeda hears him mumble something to Nymphadora, although she doesn't catch the words. She smiles, and shuts the door.
