Warnings from first chapter still apply. Thank you so much to WordSmithers, Dramamine Perfected and Lauren for their help with this chap. :)

A wolf in sheep's clothing. Hermione had been fond of that expression. A Muggle thing that reminded me of a Muggle fairy-tail. It was in a book she had given me and it's the one and only book I've ever desecrated.

I hadn't understood my anger at the time. I knew the villain was a wolf and not a werewolf, but who ever said angry kids were logical? That phrase holds a different meaning for me now. Maybe I've just become cynical, or maybe it's the guilt talking. It could be the alcohol too. But I'm wary now. I won't be making the same mistake again. Ever.

….

I'd loved her. Not as much as I love him, but I had. She'd been like an aunt to me. She'd been there for me, welcomed me into her home, fed me up, gave me presents and took me out on day trips. She'd come to parent's evenings, given me flying lessons – she'd even given me relationship advice.

I remember now, the first time she'd given me a lesson. It was meant to be with Harry, but he couldn't make it that day.

"I'm sorry love, but Harry's not feeling very well today."

She'd offered to teach me instead and I'd jumped at the chance. Harry was damn good, but it wasn't every day you got taught by a professional Quidditch player. It had been amazing. She was a patient teacher and fun to hang out with; it was a bright memory full of sunshine, blue skies and laughter, very picturesque - and utterly false. It had happened like that, and I did have a good time, but I'll never be able to look back on that memory – and every memory like that - and not feel a little sick inside.

There was a photo of that very day, in the hallway of their little cottage; Ginny and me sat on the grass, brooms on our laps and goofy grins on our faces. It's destroyed now. We'd been in that hallway, a year before it all came crashing down, Harry and I. I'd begged him to go somewhere with me and he'd tugged on his jacket while I'd wittered on about something or other. He'd been silent and eventually it twigged that he wasn't listening to me.

"Harry?"

He didn't reply. There was a tear in his jacket shoulder and he'd fingered the frayed edges absently. He'd been looking at it, yet there was a glazed look to his usually vibrant eyes, as if he was seeing something else altogether. I was going to ask if he was all right when he spoke in a strange far-off voice, hardly above a whisper,

"Can I tell you something, Ted?"

I'd been deeply worried by this point. This was unusual behaviour for Harry and uncharted territory for me. I'd tried to sound upbeat:

"Yeah. Sure, anything."

He'd glanced up at me and, as if unable to hold my gaze, then past my shoulder. I'd started to worry that he'd become stuck again and was about to turn, to see what had captured him this time, when he'd given me a weary grin and said with a helpless kind of chuckle,

"I don't know a damn thing about mending clothes."

I was almost certain that he was going to say something else, but it was a cheerful alternative to what had been running through my head so I'd taken it.

"He can chase down dangerous criminals but can't mend a little tear," I'd teased, shaking my head in bemusement and he'd smiled at me.

"I don't suppose you know the spell then?"

It was my turn to look sheepish.

"Ah, no. Not really."

"I thought not." He'd shrugged off his jacket as well as his mood and I'd breathed a mental sigh of relief, as if I'd successfully avoided a minefield.

"We could always ask Ginny."

"No," he'd replied firmly, "Don't bother her. I'll just grab another one. Won't be a second."

He'd hurried off up the stairs and I'd turned, wondering again what he'd been looking at. It had been that photo and I'd smiled, shrugging his odd behaviour off. I'm not smiling now.

I'd known them for twenty years. I know I'd spent most of that time as an oblivious child, but I was a supposedly mature teenager as well, and three of those years I'd been an adult, an adult that spent a lot of time with my godfather and his wife. My own wife says it's not my fault; she says that there are adults that had known him longer and better and if they'd noticed they hadn't done very much about it. She reminds me that it's hard to notice hidden things and that this was something so well hidden it had taken his death (and for his son to witness it) for it to come to light. She doesn't understand. She doesn't know the mistake I made.

She's wonderful, though. I'm a lucky man and all the more grateful for her now. We have a child, three months old. I love him so much. I can understand why somebody would be so terrified of losing something so precious. John Harry Lupin. My son. And he probably wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for his name-sake.

It had been the summer holidays and I was staying over at Harry's, as I often did. I was odd to think that it would be my last true summer holiday as my final year at Hogwarts was fast approaching. That, however, wasn't the subject occupying my mind - it was completely engaged with one Victoire Weasley.

"Just ask her out, Ted," was his advice. He hadn't even looked up from the dishes he was washing. This hadn't stopped me from raising a sceptical eyebrow at his back.

"Simple as that? You're kidding me." He'd smiled at me over his shoulder.

"Simple as that."

I'd looked down at my hot chocolate, swirling it absently. How could he think it would be that easy? Didn't he understand the risk I'd be taking?

"What if she says no?" There must have been something in my tone that blipped on his parental radar, for he'd abandoned the dishes to come and take a seat in front of me.

"Look, I doubt she'll say no, but if she does, at least you'll know for sure instead of torturing yourself like this." He'd given me a sympathetic look and a reassuring hand-squeeze but I'd scoffed.

"Easy enough for you to say. You're not in love with your cousin." He'd made a face at that, probably thinking of his own cousin, and I hadn't known whether to be amused or disgusted by the image I'd conjured up.

"I suppose that is a bit harder than your best mate's little sister," he'd conceded. "But it's not like you're blood – wait, hold up: 'in love with'? This is more than just fancying her then?" A full blown grin was threatening to invade his face. I'd looked back down at my drink, embarrassed.

"Well, yeah I guess. I mean I wouldn't risk our friendship-"

"- and Bill's wrath," he'd interjected teasingly. I'd ignored him, but didn't deny it either.

"- over a crush."

"Well then, definitely ask her out." He'd stood up again as if there was nothing else to it, but my worries hadn't dissipated.

"What - what if we break up?"

"Merlin, she hasn't said yes yet." He'd looked bemused and I'd shaken my head, annoyed that he wasn't getting why I was so hesitant about the whole thing. I'd looked up at him helplessly through my canary yellow fringe.

"No, I mean, if we break up won't that make things awkward?"

"How so?"

"She's your niece," I'd pointed out and he'd shrugged.

"You're my son." I'd tried not to look too pleased by his easy acceptance; instead slumping back in my chair despondently.

"Exactly." I was all set to sit there and mope but he wasn't having it. He'd put his hands on the table and lent forward, looking right into my eyes – his face serious, his tone firm.

"No-one's going to take sides, Ted. Unless one of you intentionally hurts the other and I can't see that happening. We just want you to be happy. Now stop worrying and go get your girl."

I'd let out a breath at that, reassured. At the time, I'd painted myself a gloomy picture of Vic breaking it off with me, and her family emerging like a pack of protective wolves out for my blood. Harry had constantly reminded me that they were my family too. He went to great lengths to make sure I was always included and he'd let me know if things were to go terribly wrong, that he'd have my back. I only wish he'd believed his own words as much as I did, and that I'd had the insight to say it all back to him. Ginny's family was his family too and, if I'd known how terribly wrong things were, I'd have been by his side in a heartbeat.

It was a couple of days later that he started his usual peculiar behaviour. By usual, I mean he had acted like that, around that time, for as long as I could remember. It was the days leading up to June the 12th – a date that appeared to stress him out more than any impending court case or press conference ever did. It wasn't very often that I saw Harry stressed. To me, he seemed to be forever in a state of utter calm, even when chaos happened around him. His wedding anniversary, however, seemed to knock him off kilter. He'd admitted to me once on a miserable night of the 11th, when we'd been delayed by a malfunctioning port-key that had sent us off into the middle of nowhere, that every year something went wrong on his anniversary. Without fail. He told me of the time they'd gotten lost, had ended up on an unauthorised nudist beach and, despite being fully clothed, had gotten arrested.

I'd laughed at that and it had taken my mind off of our situation. After that I'd taken to alternatively reassuring him that, this year, everything would be fine and teasing him mercilessly. Every year I got an amusing anecdote and, I'm ashamed to say, at one point I'd looked forward to it. I think now that he made most of it up, or he glossed over the details and bent the truth, to amuse me or, perhaps make light of the situation. Either way, he didn't want me knowing, or worrying. That year though, I worried. It was hard not to when your grandmother informs you that the man you've considered a father for so long now, had been rushed to the hospital and might not make it.

He did, though, and he survived three more anniversaries. I don't know how they went; he never mentioned them to me, and I hadn't wanted to ask.

The summer of his last anniversary, I'd been in something of a panic myself. My training officer, for reasons I still don't understand, hated my guts. Bringing my Memory Modification exam forward had been unfair and petty of him but I wasn't about to complain. No, I was about to beg Harry, or Ron for that matter, to help me learn the spell in time.

I'd found their office empty and in something of a shambles. This wasn't anything I hadn't seen before when things were coming to a head in one of their cases, but it made it hard to find Harry's message pad (I wasn't about to leave my message with the secretary) and, consumed by my panic, I had opened a draw in the hopes of finding a spare bit of parchment – anything. What I found instead stopped me cold. There were leaflets; some brightly coloured and some rather more serious looking. It was the headings that had confused me. Why would Harry need such things?

'Fathers – Understanding Child-Hood.', 'How to be a better father to your kids.', 'Ten Easy Steps to Being a Better Husband'. I'd stared at them, wondering if I was imagining them. I'd rifled through the pile, noticing that some looked worn and faded – some even dog-eared in places. They were for work. They had to be. Harry contributed to many charities. I'd figured he was giving a talk somewhere and wanted to do some background research. He was a wonderful father and husband – I could personally testify to the former, so that had to be it. He was passing on his knowledge.

I'd had myself well and truly convinced by that point. I'd glanced up at the door, worried that Harry had been silently watching me, hurt and angry by my nosiness. No one was there. I looked down at the leaflet I'd opened without realising and my eyes were immediately drawn to his handwriting. He had scribbled notes around a check list. There was no use telling myself this was for work - this was personal. Most of the points simply had 'no' written next to them:

Manipulate you with control of money? No

Prevent you from working or attending school? No.

Threaten to commit suicide? No.

I hadn't seen the point of him even reading it. Then I'd noticed other scribbles.

Make you feel like there "is no way out" of the relationship? Why would I want to leave?

Do you… Try not to do anything that would cause conflict or make your partner angry? Isn't that normal?

Reminds you how lucky you are to have them for a partner. I am.

I could understand that. I might have written something similar. It was the other answers that troubled me:

Tell you that you are nothing without them? I am.

Tells you that you never do enough? I don't.

I love her.

Stay with your partner because you are afraid of what your partner would do if you broke up? Can't lose them.

Criticize your parenting – I'm getting better

And/or threaten to take away or hurt your children? She would never hurt them.

Blame you for how they feel or act? It is my fault.

There were some statements that had tiny crosses next to them. I'd told myself it meant a definite no.

Is delusional with jealously and accuses you without any rational facts. x

Expresses temper with violent action e.g. shove you, slap you, choke you or hit you? x

Apologies, covers up and/or cries after hurting you. x

There was one statement at the bottom that was circled. It made my mouth go dry and I'd found myself numbly folding the leaflet and putting it in my pocket.

I can't share this abuse with my friends or family.

I had to talk to him about this. Confront him. Let him tell me that he was simply putting himself in the shoes of a victim in order to gain insight into a case. Figure out if he was lying and help him, if he needed it.

But then there was that big event that evening. I could have pulled him aside and asked him about it beforehand, but it wasn't the time or place to ask such questions. The event would go on late and I'd wanted to be awake to have that conversation with him. Besides, I had that stupid exam to go to. I'll talk to him in the morning, I'd decided.

It never crossed my mind that I wouldn't have the chance. I had no clue that the morning would bring the worst day of my life. It certainly never occurred to me that I'd be submitting the leaflet, neatly folded in my pocket, as evidence against Ginny Potter.

Threaten to kill you? She doesn't mean it.

Then again, there were a lot of things that never occurred to me. Important things. Things that I'd ignored or explained away. I'm supposed be an Auror. I want to serve and protect. I want to help people. How can I do that if I can't spot a cry for help in my own family?

In fact, I'd stumbled upon it.

And I'd been too late to do anything about it.

It's been pointed out to me that it might be odd for Harry to have such leaflets and having them just lying in a draw. I can see him trying to become a 'better' husband and dad and in a sort of last desperate attempt he picked up some self-help stuff. Also, I think towards the end, before his death, he did kind of want them to be found and that's why he was thinking of telling Teddy (someone who was close to him, then an adult and not blood-related to Ginny) but changed his mind when he saw the picture of Teddy and Ginny hanging out together. I hope this makes some sort of sense. Last chap up soon. Love ya xox