Chapter Nine

Alice Penelope Longbottom was born shortly after the commencement of the summer holidays, something McGonagall was exceedingly grateful for. As it was, work at the castle had come to a grinding halt as teachers and the orphaned students who had nowhere else to go gravitated towards the Gryffindor rooms to marvel at the new baby. Alice would no doubt be huge for morale at the castle – it already did a lot of people good to watch Teddy toddle along and grow up in front of their eyes, but this was different, this was a child born to a practicing Professor who they – students and staff alike – would know from her first few days of life.

Not to mention, McGonagall said dryly as she presided over the skeleton staff at Hogwarts one dinner – a dinner that Neville was once more absent from – it had been difficult enough getting Neville to show up to classes as Luna progressed in her pregnancy; there wasn't a hope in hell of getting him to do anything but skip around the castle, never more than a few meters away from his wife and daughter, marvelling at the perfection of both his 'girls' as if he was the only man in the world who had ever married or fathered a child. At least, at the beginning of the three-month summer holidays, there was nothing pressing that needed to be done and hopefully by the time school went back, Neville would be a little more collected. In the meantime, staff and students alike were congregating in the Gryffindor Tower to offer their congratulations and well-wishes to the new parents.

All the staff and students, with one noticeable exception.

Neville returned to their rooms one afternoon to find Luna with Alice, a box on the floor. "Kreacher brought this," she said in an odd, funny voice. It was no doubt yet another gift for them or Alice – although it was unusual that the elf had brought it. Gifts were brought by owl if they were from someone outside the castle, in person if they were from staff or students.

Neville had a sinking feeling as to who would have gone to the effort of sending a gift – without actually having dropped it off. And he had a feeling Luna knew who it was, too.

It was a stunning baptism chalice, fashioned out of bronze with fine gold lines threading delicately through it. Rubies and sapphires decorated the rim. It was stunning and classy – exactly the kind of thing Lupin would think of. Not to mention rather costly. Not that money was much of an issue for him these days, but still, he had put such thought and money into it...

And yet, he hadn't even bothered to drop it off personally. He cared enough to get Alice a gift – and a very thoughtful one, at that – but couldn't get over his bitterness at being separated from Ginny – and the part Neville held in all of it. Neville had never been so aware of the breach between him and Lupin.

He suddenly burst into tears.

Lupin wasn't exactly surprised to see Luna on his doorstep hours, Alice in tow, after he had sent the chalice to the Gryffindor tower. He hadn't been completely sure about sending the chalice, but in the end had decided that it wasn't fair to take his issues with Neville out on Alice... especially when he'd already organised the chalice for the little girl.

He knew Neville was too restrained in his personality to confront Lupin; but the same couldn't be said for Luna. And if Neville had been upset enough, well, there was no telling how far Luna would go in defence of those she loved.

"You're breaking his heart," Luna said, her tone the closest to anger that Luna ever got to – anger that, given this was Luna, was so much more terrifying than the same tone coming from anyone else. "And you know his heart's too valuable to me broken."

"What, and mine isn't?" Lupin countered. "Or Ginny's?" He took sadistic delight in seeing Luna flinch; he knew Ginny had sent Neville a vicious letter that had sent the young man into a deep depression that not even the birth of his daughter had completely dislodged him out of.

"He did what he had to," Luna said. "You can't seriously have thought you could keep getting away with it. She deserves better than that!"

"Yes, I had thought of that," Lupin said. "I didn't make her do anything. We weren't doing anything illegal. Just because you get to be with the one you love without any social repercussions – "

"Oh, that's crap, Remus, and you know it. You're married. I'm sorry that things have been so hard for you, but you can't take it out on Neville. He deserves better than that, he's only tried to be your friend. He wouldn't have done it if he didn't care about you and Ginny, and you damn well know it. Here," she said, shoving the chalice in his direction. "If you can't be his friend, then don't send him any gifts."

She started to go, and Lupin felt a prick of conscience. "Luna, wait," he called. "Come in. And bring Alice. It's droughty in the hall, it's no place for a baby."

Smiling triumphantly, Luna walked into the rooms. Lupin led them into the small living room, put the chalice on the table and held his arms out for Alice. "I have my own child, Luna, I know how to hold a baby," he said, remembering that he, too, had thought anyone but himself and Tonks incapable of holding Teddy. Luna reluctantly handed over Alice, and Lupin settled into one of the armchairs, the baby in his arms. "Hi, Alice," he cooed. Then, "She's going to have your eyes, you know."

Luna beamed, albeit in puzzlement. "How can you tell?" she asked. Like all babies, she had blue eyes.

"You can see the flecks of grey," Lupin said. "I have supernatural sight, I pick up things that most humans miss," he said. "I was pleased as anything that Teddy had green eyes. I was so pleased it was all he inherited from me."

"Other than your intelligence," Luna said.

Lupin laughed at that. "He could very well have gotten that from Dora. A lot of people don't realise this, because she got into so much trouble, but she was very smart. They don't let just anyone into the Aurors." Alice grabbed at his little finger and he allowed her to suck on it. "You come from very courageous stock, you know," he crooned. "I was in the original Order of the Phoenix with your grandparents, and your dad killed one of Voldemort's Horcruxes," he said, knowing full well that Alice couldn't comprehend what he was saying – but wanting to share with her the glory that was her family anyway. "And your mum – your mum faced a werewolf's anger for love of her husband and daughter. That takes a lot of guts. And love, and loyalty. We need that in this new world."

"We hoped for them to be friends," Luna said shyly. "When we found out it was a girl, he had these dreams of them getting married and living happily every after."

"I think we've already got Victorie earmarked for that," Lupin said with a grin. "But I did want them to be friends." He stroked Alice's cheek gently in a way that sent the baby cooing. "I was so jealous when I heard about the pregnancy," he admitted. "I'm pretty much resigned the fact I'm not going to have any more children. I think that's when I first really started to understand that things with Ginny couldn't go anywhere."

"Do you love her?" Luna asked.

Lupin nodded. "Yeah, I do. I know how selfish I was to go down that road, to let things progress as far as I did, but... I know this isn't an excuse, Luna, but I am lonely." He twisted his wedding ring around on his finger. "I miss them both so much," he admitted. "I wish I'd never met either of them."

Luna nodded with that sympathetic understanding that only Luna seemed to possess. "If you weren't married – " she said uncertainly.

Lupin smiled ruefully. "I know, everyone's said that. I'm not sure if they mean it or not."

"I'm sure they do."

"I don't know, maybe. I know I wouldn't want me for a brother-in-law."

"That's not true, Remus. I would... if I had a brother," Luna amended. Lupin smiled at that; he had no doubt of Luna's sincerity... but Luna was a woman apart from most of the witches and wizards of the world. So it was probably for the best that he was married and his relationship with Ginny couldn't go anywhere.

He skilfully veered the topic of conversation away from Ginny, mostly focusing on Alice – and, adorable child as she was, it was an easy topic to settle on. Motherhood suited Luna, and Lupin had no doubt that fatherhood suited Neville, too.

It was later in the evening when Luna finally left. "Luna?" Lupin asked as the young witch started to go. "If he'd like, Neville's welcome to come over for a drink."

The following day, a nervous Neville was at the front door of Lupin's rooms. "Sweet Merlin, Neville, did you leave anything in stock at Honeydukes?" Lupin asked. Neville was loaded down with slab upon slab of chocolate from the famous confectionary store.

"I never took notice of what you liked," Neville said.

"You never felt the need to," Lupin pointed out. It wasn't something he was criticising Neville for; in fact, he felt oddly guilty that after all these years of friendship, Neville suddenly felt the need to appease Lupin with a small fortune in chocolate. "Come in. Do you want a drink?"

"I'd love one," Neville said eagerly, in a tone that left no doubt to the fact that Neville wanted the drink to be as strong as he could get. Lupin poured them both firewhiskeys.

There was a long pause between the two men, before Lupin said, "She's a beautiful girl. She's going to have Luna's eyes."

"She said."

"When I first heard about the pregnancy – aside from being insanely jealous, that is – I thought that she – or he – was going to be the closest Teddy would have to a brother or sister. And I couldn't think of anyone with better parents to be a sibling to Teddy. You're one of the most courageous, integral people that I know. You and Luna both. I – " he struggled with the next words. "I was wrong to treat you the way I did. I knew it couldn't last, but I was too selfish to give her up... and I blamed you for forcing the issue."

"I didn't want to," Neville said falteringly. "I wish I'd never found out about it."

"You did the right thing," Lupin said. "I think that's why I was so angry. It was easier to be angry than take responsibility for my actions. I was an idiot to think that anything could happen – anything good, at least."

"You miss her?" Neville asked.

"Of course I bloody miss her. I wouldn't have gotten involved with her if I didn't – never mind," he finished abruptly.

"If you didn't love her?" Neville pressed uncertainly, because he had been desolate over the loss of Lupin's friendship and didn't want to start pushing the boundaries now... though he did want to know if Lupin's feelings for Ginny had been genuine.

"Yeah, OK, I loved her," Lupin admitted.

"Loved? Past tense?" Neville asked.

"Love," Lupin admitted. "Do we have to talk about this?" he asked.

"I know it must be painful for you," Neville said. "I thought a lot about what you said. About the hardest thing for me being trying to work out if Luna liked me back."

"Neville, I didn't mean that," Lupin said guiltily.

"Yes, you did. Because it's true. I never realised how easy I had it until I thought about what you were going through. I know how much happier you were for being with her and I know you've been unhappy since you ended it. When I first found out about it, I just couldn't understand it because I've never known you to be anything but highly principled... so you must have really loved her to get involved with her. I just wish it could have worked out better for you. You're always getting the short end of the stick, and you deserve so much better than that."

Lupin smiled sadly at that. "I always figured it was payback for the terrible way I treated Dora. I was never very good at telling people how I felt about them. And now I'm finally at a place where I feel secure about my place in society and I love two women and I'd do anything to be with them but I can't."

"Remus, I'm so – " Neville started to say.

Lupin waved him away. "Please, can we not talk about this?" he asked in a strained voice, and Neville knew he was on the verge of tears. His heart twisted guilty. If he was faced with the same situation, he would have reported it to McGonagall the same, but that didn't make it any easier to know he had taken away something that made his friend so happy, and a friend who had so little to be happy about... "Is it true that you told Augusta that Hades would freeze over before Alice went to Morganna's?" he asked, eager to change the subject.

Neville smiled at that. He had finally found the courage – and a big enough reason – to stand up to his domineering grandmother, and naturally, it had been blown all out of proportion. "I told her it was my decision and I had been miserable at Morganna's. If all else failed, I was going to blame it on Luna. She can be mighty determined when she wants to be."

"I noticed," Lupin said dryly.

"A letter came for you," Bill said to Ginny the next day. "From Remus."

It was a twist in his gut to see how happy Ginny looked to have heard from Lupin – it was the first time she had smiled since she had come to live at Shell Cottage.

Her happiness turned into a scowl when she saw it had been opened. "You read it?" she asked accusingly.

"Of course I read it. And judging by the contents, he expected me to read it," Bill said, refusing to feel guilty for opening his sister's mail. No doubt Lupin had expected him to do just that – he hadn't tried to deliver it to Ginny secretly, or placed any anti-tampering charms on the parchment. And the message was dry, almost non-incriminating. "Do you want it or not?"

"Yes," Ginny said grudgingly, snatching the parchment off the table.

Ginny,

Alice Longbottom is a charming girl. You'll like her. Hating Neville isn't achieving anything, and the three of you are missing out on a beautiful friendship. I know they both miss you a lot. Don't blame him for what happened – I would have done the same thing in his shoes, and I think you would have, too. Please consider being friends with them again. They're too good people to cast aside because they were doing the right thing. You're only hurting yourself.

Sincerely,

Remus Lupin.

Ginny crumpled the parchment up in her fist, angry and disappointed. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting in those few seconds between learning Lupin had written to her and reading his words, but it hadn't been this. It was so – final. So formal. Like what had happened between them was nothing of consequence, nothing to be upset about now that it was over.

She knew she should be following his lead, not blaming Neville for the end of their relationship, but she couldn't find it in himself to be gracious and understanding about it. She tossed the parchment onto the table and fled to her room.

"I'll go," Charlie said. He followed Ginny into her room.

"Go away," Ginny said tearfully.

"He's right, you know," Charlie said sagely. "Taking it out on Neville won't make things better."

"You have no right to come in here and lecture me about what will and won't make things better," Ginny seethed. "You – and Bill – both of you think you can lecture me about what I can and can't do and who I can see and what I should do."

"We're not lecturing you, Gin," Charlie said helplessly, because that was kind of what they were doing. Even with good cause. "We're just saying you're only hurting yourself by hating Neville. And things were never going to work out between you and Remus, not while Tonks is still alive. Surely you knew that."

Ginny's face crumpled up in tears as she couldn't deny that. She had known that things could only have ended the way they had... or with Tonks's death. "You've no idea what it's like to wish someone was dead," she cried.

Wanna bet? Charlie thought, thinking about junior, although somehow, he knew that Ginny meant people who had every right to be alive. "I'm sorry," he said, sincerely upset at his sister's happiness. He took Ginny in his arms and let her cry, wishing there was something he could do about it. "But taking it out on Neville isn't going to achieve anything. Remus is right. You both would have done the same thing in his situation. Are you really going to punish him for doing the right thing?"

"Neville, take a seat. I have a parchment for you. From Ginny Weasley." Neville eyed it gingerly. Why had it been sent to McGonagall, and did he really want to read it, after her last vicious parchment that had shameless recalled every little insecurity and hurt that he'd felt and confided in her? "You can relax, it's nothing nasty," McGonagall assured him. "And everything going between here and Shell Cottage is being run through Bill and I."

"You don't trust them?" Neville asked.

"I trust Remus well enough," McGonagall said. "I trust Ginny about as much as I trust her brother not to charge in here and confront his wife. Here, at least read it."

Neville took the parchment.

Neville,

Remus says not to blame you for what happened, and since there aren't many people whose judgement I trust more than his, I suppose I should at least try. Bill says I'm not to come to Hogwarts so you can come to Shell Cottage if you like.

Ginny.

"That's her idea of not blaming me?" Neville asked. It sounded like she was choking on her desire to print what she really wanted.

"You may deserve better, but since you helped break a Weasley's heart, it's all you're going to get," McGonagall said. "Do you want to go? I can spare you for the rest of the day, if you'd like."

"What – now?" Neville asked.

"Why not? Before you start building up all the worst-case scenarios," McGonagall pointed out.

So Neville went after quickly letting Luna know what he was doing. He was nervous as all hell as he took the Floo to Shell Cottage, and understood what McGonagall had meant about going before he could start building up worst-case scenarios; he was already building them up.

Bill knew he was coming, and met him at the grate. The two men had met several times over the years, and Neville had liked him. The Weasleys were good people... which was why he felt so bad about doing what he had to Ginny and Lupin. "How is she?" he asked.

"She gets it in her head that it wasn't your fault," Bill said. "I suppose I owe you a debt of gratitude for it."

"I didn't like doing it," Neville said, feeling like a fraud for having Bill indebted to him over something he felt so awful over. "Especially now that I know how unhappy Remus is without her. I'm glad I didn't know what I was doing when I did it," he admitted; it would have been so much harder to go through with had he known.

Bill let that one go; there was a part of him that knew exactly what Neville was talking about. Easy enough to report immoral behaviour when you didn't know exactly how complicated things were; a lot harder when you realised how much good people were hurting for your actions. He, for one, was glad that it was Neville and not him who had been in the situation.

He directed Neville to Ginny's room. He was shocked to see how much she had changed since he had last seen her, at his grandmother's birthday. That Ginny had been vibrant, in love – even if it was a bad relationship. This one had had the ground whipped out from under her, without even the opportunity to say a proper goodbye. "I'm sorry," he blurted out, his words sounded hollow to his ears – how could you ever find the words to cover the guilt you felt for knowing you were responsible for this drastic – and negative – change in personality?

"Remus says you're not to blame," she said, and she sounded like she had memorised the words, clinging to his last communication.

"I hated doing it," Neville said. "I wish I'd never seen it."

"He told me to look for his ring," Ginny said blandly. "He told me there'd be hell to pay if anyone but me found it. I didn't want to think about it. I was quite happy for it to stay missing."

"I can imagine you would be," Neville said dryly. Your married lover's missing wedding ring was hardly something you wanted to focus on, was it?

Ginny sat on the edge of her bed and vaguely motioned for Neville to join her. "I miss him so much," she admitted. "What everyone says is true – that it was going to have to end at some point – but that doesn't make it hurt any less. And I can't even bring myself to wish that it had never happened. I loved being with him, Neville. I can't imagine being with anyone else. You don't know how lucky you are that the first girl you ever loved, loved you back."

"Remus said some things that – were maybe needlessly cruel, but true," Neville said. "That the worst thing I ever had to deal with was working out if Luna loved me back, and that that didn't exactly work out badly for me. He's so aware of how badly he treated Tonks, and how much he misses you. It's hell to see him so unhappy, and I wish I could do something about it."

"I wish she were dead," Ginny admitted frankly. "I wish I was pregnant so he was forced to do something. I wish I'd tampered with his contraception when I'd had the chance and that miserable old bat would be forced to acknowledge me."

"That miserable old bat, as you so charmingly refer to my boss, would have fired him, and he'd have to support two children on no income, not to mention he'd still be married," Neville pointed out calmly. He had no doubt that Ginny was capable of tampering with Lupin's contraception if the thought had occurred to her at the time – certainly, she seemed desperate enough in retrospect – and was glad that the werewolf was hyper vigilant about his Wolfsbane, and therefor the contraception that was bound to it. "And as for her being dead – you don't really wish that. You'd rather be apart from him than have a good woman dead for the sake of your happiness."

"Maybe," Ginny admitted in a small voice.

"Remus was right – you're a good person, Gin, and I think you would have done the same thing if you were in my shoes. How would you feel if it were Luna, and it was me playing around on her?" Ginny mumbled something about hating him and something even more unintelligible which Neville took to mean something she didn't care to fess up to. "He does love you, but it can't go anywhere. It can't. My parents lived twenty years after Bellatrix – and they were the same age as Tonks was. You could be forty if you waited for him – or older."

Forty. She was only twenty-two now. She couldn't imagine waiting another eighteen years... but she couldn't imagine living without him, either.

She burst into tears at the impossibility of the situation.

Neville tentatively patted her shoulder, and when she didn't push him away, he took her into his arms. He knew there was no point in telling her that it would be OK; it would take her a long time to get over Lupin, if she ever truly did. But the reminder of how long Tonks could still live for had seemed to finally sink the reality of the situation in.

"I'm so lonely," Lupin said to his wife a few days later. He was glad to be on friendly terms with Neville again, but seeing the younger man so happy in marriage and fatherhood only served to remind Lupin of what he couldn't have. "I hate this, Dora – hate it. What did I ever do to deserve this? Was I that bad a husband to you?" He grabbed her hand and started twisting her fingers through his own. "I know I wasn't there when you needed me, I know I ran away when you needed my support. But I never did it maliciously, I honestly though – I know that doesn't change the fact that I abandoned you, but surely intention counts for something? Every time I look I Teddy, I think about how much he's missing out on because you're not around... how much we're both missing out on. And," he admitted, because when he was on a roll with being honest with his wife, he may as well go the whole hog, "I miss her, too. I know I did a lousy thing by you, but I hope you understand how hard it's been for me. I don't like using prostitutes – and I never even knew that until I was with you – and then here was this amazing young woman who looked at me – well, like you used to look at me. I'm sorry I didn't realise just how valuable your love was at the time. I would have done a lot of things differently," he said, on a rambling path now, alternating between thinking about Tonks and thinking about Ginny. "I'm so sorry," he said again. "I wish I could change things." He kissed her hand. "I still wish you would wake up. I still want to make things work between us. Maybe it's selfish, but... I'm so lonely. I want to be loved. What ever did I do to love two women and not be able to be with either of them?"

A knock on the door woke Lupin up in the early hours of the morning. Grumbling, he went to answer it. It was McGonagall, and he wondered what he had done wrong this time.

"Remus, I'm sorry to wake you up at this hour," McGonagall said, not sounding the least bit apologetic – in fact, she sounded euphoric. "It's your wife. She's awake."

... He arrived in her room, which, over the years, had been converted to more of a studio apartment than a hospital room, something Andromeda had justified since she spent so much time there, but now, he was happy for the hominess of the room.

She looked beautiful. Her hair had grown in the intervening years so it was waist-length now, although she hadn't fussed with the colour the way he hated. He smiled at that; no doubt it was because her natural colour was the way he liked things. He kissed her chastely on the cheek, not sure exactly what he was supposed to do.

She sat down first so he didn't have to work out what he was supposed to do, take her in his arms, his lap – instead, he sat next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders casually.

"How's Teddy?" was the first thing she asked.

"He's great," Lupin said, and launched into a length description of his various landmark events and triumphs – all things he had already told Tonks, and all things he wanted to tell her again... and she wanted to hear again.

She smiled indulgently when he finally took a breath. "I recall a time when you were terrified of being a dad," she said.

He looked guilty at that. "I'm so sorry," he said. "I love him so much and when I think about how much I wanted you to get rid of him..." he shuddered at the thought, and he smiled again.

"I knew you'd make a good dad, you just had to hold him for the first time," she said knowingly. "I wish I'd had what it took to convey that to you. I never seemed to be able to get inside your head. We weren't very compatible," she said. Her tone was reflective, but not sad, as if the tragic waste of their life together as a married couple was something that she was so far beyond that she could reflect on it analytically, without the tears and hysterics that had punctuated her desperate attempts to make him stay in that first year.

"No, we weren't," he admitted, more sadder than she was over it, but at the same time, floored and impressed by her reflective, philosophical attitude. "That doesn't mean I didn't love you, though."

She smiled. "I know you loved me. You wouldn't have tried so hard to keep me at arm's length if you didn't. You would have just let me have my way with you until I got bored."

His eyes went wide at her wording; he had said that exact same thing, almost word-for-word, a year ago. "I said just that to – " he stopped abruptly. Was it not the height of tackiness to mention one's mistress in front of one's wife?

"To Ginny," Tonks finished. "I figured it would start like that. You run into each other and conversation falls upon your exes. I never saw her with Harry, you know. When you worship someone for the longest time, the reality hardly ever matches up with the fantasy – I should know," she added dryly.

"I'm sorry," he said guiltily.

"Don't be, Remus. I understand, I do. I mean – I'm not a saint, I was hurt when you first told me, but... I do understand. And for all that you do your possessive-werewolf act, I think you would have understood if the situation had been reversed." He snorted at that; he knew how much it drove him crazy to see Harry pay Ginny attention, and how angered he had been when Ginny had needled him with the thought of Tonks with Charlie... "You would, Remus," Tonks insisted, smiling indulgently at her husband, who had always thought so little of himself. "And I think Ginny would be good for you. The Weasleys are all so... passionate. I bet she doesn't let you get away with much."

"She once nearly took a chunk out of my neck when I failed to let her know I would be late on account I had a St. Mungo's thing with your mum," Lupin said.

Tonks laughed at that – genuine mirth. "I can just see it," she said, and if Lupin wasn't mistake, he heard something akin to approval in her voice. "You know, I saw Charlie with Tess once – this would have been just after she'd been bitten and she was having a hard time of it. He'd managed to get her in his lap to comfort her. It was enchanting to watch. She'd try to hold him at arm's length but he still managed to get through her defences. He had this... exuberance, this insistence without being threatening about it. I was so jealous, I could never work out how to be that with you, never worked out how to make you let me be a comfort to you. I never had that fire that they all have. I hated it in Charlie when we were together but when I saw him with Tess I realised how perfect he was for her, and I can see that Ginny would be good for you."

"It doesn't matter, it's over," Lupin said, trying not to sound miserable about it in front of his wife.

She stroked his hair comfortingly, and it was the first time he had allowed himself to take comfort out of her touch – he was usually pushing her away. When he was engaging in wild, animal sex with her that she didn't even like. "It doesn't have to be," she murmured soothingly. "I'm leaving you, Remus."

He twisted around abruptly to look her in the eye. "You're – what?" he repeated incredulously.

"Leaving you," she repeated. "There's nothing for me here, anymore, Remus. Ours wasn't a happy marriage... we aren't suited to each other. I want you to be happy, and I think you're going to have that with Ginny."

"But – but – you can't. I don't want you to leave," he said, finding himself meaning the words, because although she was right – theirs hadn't been a happy marriage – he still loved and respected her, and they had had a good camaraderie when they had simply been friends. "What about Teddy?"

"He has the best dad a boy possibly could have... and I think he'll have a good step-mother... and if you're not, I trust my mum to keep you in line," she said with an affectionate smile.

He looked at her intently. She was serious. She was leaving... and she was giving him her blessing. She was leaving because she was giving him her blessing. "Please, Remus... you wanted me to understand about you and Ginny. I need you to understand that I can't stay here. I want you to promise me that you and Teddy will move on with your lives and be happy – please – I'll be so much happier knowing that."

"I promise," Lupin said thickly through tears, touched by his wife's understanding of the situation and mired in misery at his impending loss after such a brief reunion. "I love you," he whispered.

"I know. And I know you always did. And I know you know I'll always love you," she replied, and when he went to kiss her, he realised that for the first time in their marriage, he was kissing her as someone he had an equal relationship with, someone he could relate to as another adult, one that he loved deeply and could say so...

Lupin bolted upright at three in the morning, already crying. He'd had vivid dreams about Tonks when she had first fallen, but nothing like this, and not in a way, anyway. He missed her so much that there was a very real ache in his chest over it.

He stumbled out of bed and headed for the shower. The water shocked him out of the last vestiges of sleep, but did nothing to chase away the vivid reality of the dream. He could taste her on his mouth, feeling her on his fingertips, smell her in the air.

He was glad Teddy was with Andromeda as he walked into the kitchen and poured himself a large glass of firewhisky from the decanter he'd materialised. Then, realising he needed more than a glass and there was no-one around to witness him, he drank straight out of the decanter. The firewhisky burned his throat but did nothing to help dissipate the memory of the dream; if anything, it made it seem more real.

He had worked through most of the decanter before there was a knock on the door. Lupin was immediately on edge, ever supernatural fibre of his being kicking into overdrive. This felt like déjà vu...

It was McGonagall.

"Remus, I'm sorry to wake up at this hour," McGonagall started, but the scene was so different. She looked deeply troubled, on the verge of tears herself... perhaps only restraining herself out of respect for Lupin's own troubling news. "You need to go to t. Mungo's."

"Why?" Lupin asked, tensing.

"It's your wife," McGonagall said, as gently as she could. Funny how these things never got any easier – no much how bad news she had to break, no matter how old her students got... "I'm so sorry," she said, and for the first time since she had knocked on Lupin's door, bringing him such terrible news, she wondered what he was doing up, showered and dressed at not-quite-four in the morning, drinking heavily. Was this a normal occurrence for him... or had some sixth sense alerted him to incoming tragedy?

"No," Lupin whispered. "No, no, no."

"Remus, I'm sorry," McGonagall said again. She went to touch him comfortingly, and he jerked her off.

"NO!" he screamed. "No! It's not true! I won't believe it! I won't!" And he clapped his hands over his ears and looked remarkably like he had when he'd been younger and been told about his parent's death – except when his parents died, he hadn't been saddled with the guilt that he hadn't spoken to them for years, hadn't betrayed their memory by finding a replacement for them...