Disclaimer: I neither own the intellectual property of the Harry Potter universe, nor do profit from this work produced here.

Warnings: none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: First off, I am so, SO SORRY for not updating in over a month! There was Finals Week and then Christmas Break, and a huge case of writer's block. BUT on the bright side, I've got basically the rest of the story planned out, so this should be easy going from now on!

Secondly, while this story will DEFINITELY remain Remadora and feature that pairing specifically, the story will also be following the lives of several main characters, specifically during the year after the war. In that sense, this is an "8th Year" fic, although the lives of the characters will be drastically altered by the Lupins' survival. (Most canon pairings will apply except for Luna/Neville and the aforementioned surprise pairing). Hope you all enjoy this next chapter; it's not one of my best, but it's important nonetheless! Pax et bonum!

The entirety of the Great Hall fell silent as there came a loud, booming knock upon the front oak doors. Harry Potter shivered slightly at the sound; it had been eight years since he had heard that thundering sound, and for a moment he thought back to that fateful instant in the tiny island shack, surrounded by the stormy British sea, the precise second when he had turned eleven and his entire life had changed.

Then he was eighteen again, sitting in the Great Hall, and Professor McGonagall had risen from her Headmistress's chair at the staff table and was walking purposefully to the great front doors. With a wave of her wand, they creaked open, and the golden light of the hall streamed out into the black night, illuminating the faces of perhaps thirty frightened-looking first years, regarding whom it seemed the new headmistress had forgone the tradition of ushering into the Hall's antechamber prior to the Sorting.

"Welcome," she said, and though her voice was of an ordinary volume, it seemed to carry throughout the ranks of upperclassmen and teachers alike. "Please, come inside; the Sorting will begin momentarily."

The crowd of eleven-year-olds shuffled in nervously and seemed to pale upon realizing that everyone was staring at them. Hagrid stood behind them protectively (although some of the children looked as if the very large, wild man's presence was not exactly comforting), and Harry saw him glance up and wink at the bespectacled wizard. Harry grinned and nodded back.

"You see here before you the four Hogwarts houses," McGonagall informed them brusquely. "Each of them has its own valuable characteristics, ancient history, and great wizards to its name. In order, they are: Gryffindor!" She nodded to the first table, which was draped in red, and, each immediately understanding, the entirety of the house stood to its feet. "Dedicated to courage and fortitude in the face of danger- my old house," she added, with a hint of pride. "Ravenclaw!" The blue-swathed tables' occupants rose in unison. "Devoted to wisdom and the pursuit of truth. Hufflepuff!" The yellow-tied students stood, many smiling and waving cheerfully at the new students. "Pledged to honesty, loyalty, and good, hard work. Slytherin!" The last wave of students rose, some with a tad of uncertainty, but many with pride. "Committed to leadership, resourcefulness, and the ambitious pursuit of the common good." She turned again to the newcomers and added, "I imagine that not many of you are feeling particularly brave, wise, loyal or resourceful at the moment, but never fear: the Sorting Hat will assess you and sort you correctly.

"While you are at Hogwarts, your house will be like your family. You will study together, attend classes together, and live in the same dormitory. Each of the houses has its own honorable qualities, but take heed: courage can disintegrate into arrogance. The pursuit of truth can fall into dangerous curiosities. Loyalty can become blind obedience, and ambition can be warped from a devotion to the common good to an obsessive need for power or personal glory. No house alone can make a school, and no characteristic or quality alone, save the relentless quest for true virtue and genuine self-sacrifice, can build a peaceful society. The houses must stand together, in unity, or we will fall to ruin." She eyed the somewhat dazed children, and then offered a small smile. "Lofty words for those so young, I know. But I hope in time, you will come to understand and embrace them."

With this, she turned and gave a short nod. From the staff table came Fillius Flitwick, carrying the stool and old Sorting Hat in his arms. He set down the first and handed the second to Professor McGonagall, who thanked him kindly, and then retreated again to the table.

"Blimey," Ron murmured under his breath. "Expanded her speech a bit, hasn't she?"

"I'm not surprised, considering what happened last year," Hermione whispered back. "She's right, of course; the first step to really rebuilding the school is unifying the Houses." But here they all fell quiet, for McGonagall had placed the Hat with reverence upon the stool, and the whole hall waited patiently for the song to begin.

After a long silence, the Hat's brim opened (to the surprised gasps of several muggle-born first-years), and the old Hat- stained with soot and looking very tired indeed- began to sing, in a voice much quieter than in anyone's memory.

"Three years have passed since last I warned

Of dangers dark and vast.

And as the darkness's servant lies cold and still,

You think the danger's past.

Yet wizards are a fickle lot;

–We all know this to be true–

I've seen darkness fill many a day

Long 'fore each of you were you."

A chill had settled over the hall. Peacetime had just begun again! Could the Hat truly be warning of some future trouble so soon?

"I was here when Grindelwald took power

And watched the darkness rise.

Here sat I while the Dark One grew,

And looked to Britain with hateful eyes.

Through ages long and ages past,

I watched darkness rise and fall,

First in this form, then in that,

Cruel and selfish, one and all.

I am no seer, yet I see things clear,

So let me make it plain:

Each man's evil differs not in kind,

But in degree and name."

There was a pause here, and everyone wondered if the Hat were finished despite the brevity of its song, but after a moment, it seemed to straighten up and continued in a more brusque manner:

"Now, I've had it from my pointed top

Down to my fraying brim

With bickering among you

Of which house is best be in.

"Not Hufflepuff!" you cry, as though

Loyalty were a curse.

Or "To Slytherin!" say so many,

"I'll accept nothing worse!"

And often I've accommodated-

For who knows you better than you?

But I think that this may have been my fault

Not to sort you true.

You've all seen now what division's wrought

Upon your people and your homes

So hear me now: I only divide

So you might stand united, whole.

Wizards: pure-blood, half, and born

Of non-magicked parents, alike!

Stand together, as your school!

Or risk bringing further strife!

There are differences among you,

And this I shan't deny,

But let no distinction, save that of good

Or evil, cause you die!

And remember that wickedness is not found

In one cruel and vile fiend:

Tom Riddle was once a child, too,

No matter what his end.

So I'll sort you and I'll sift you,

With the hopes that you shall learn

That courage, leadership, loyalty, wisdom,

Are virtues to be earned!

So hear, children, our future and our hope,

And just bear this in mind:

No matter where I sort you…

…You'll sort yourself in kind."

Here at last the Hat's brim closed shut, and it seemed to be finished with its message. McGonagall nodded and removed a small scroll of parchment from within her sleeve. She unfurled it, scanned it over through her spectacles, and then called out, "Abrams, Bella!"

The Sorting seemed to go far more quickly this year, or perhaps it was simply because there were fewer students (clearly, some parents had been wary about allowing their young children to attend the school where such dangerous fighting had occurred). Harry smiled to see O'Donnell, Mary, sorted into Hufflepuff, and clapped appreciatively for all the new Gryffindors. When Weller, Agnes, had at last made her way over to the Ravenclaw table, the students turned expectantly to their plates, expecting the platters and dishes to magically be laden with the usual Welcome Feast delicacies.

This, however, was not to be: after Professor Flitwick had replaced the Sorting Hat back beside the staff table, McGonagall raised a hand. The excited chatter which had broken out upon the conclusion of the Sorting hushed again.

"…It is simply impossible," McGonagall said, and now her voice was very quiet, though it seemed again to echo throughout the ancient stone hall, "to express enough gratitude for those who defended this school and our world against the darkness and oppression that Tom Riddle sought to wreak upon our people. Many, many of those brave souls who paid that ultimate price walked through these very halls. While it is beyond the capabilities of any living soul, even the survivors of such violence, to pay adequate tribute to their memories, there is one way in which a Headmistress may give honor to the good deeds of her students."

With a wave of her wand, the four House Hourglasses appeared on the dais behind her, as well as a row of sparkling gems, which seemed to be engraved with gold lettering. "Would the following people please come forward: Ronald and Ginerva Weasely; Nymphadora Lupin; Remus Lupin; Dennis Creevy; Susan Bones; Harry Potter…"

Startled, Harry rose to his feet and followed the equally confused Ron and Ginny to the front of the hall. When McGonagall had finished listing off the names, she took a deep breath.

"For their outstanding service to the common good and their courage in the face of death, I call to your attention the late heroes of the First and Second Wizarding Wars, from the respective houses of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin:

"For the courageous deaths of students and alumni of Gryffindor House, including Professor Albus Dumbledore, alum and staff; Edward Tonks, alum; Alastor Moody, alum; Collin Creevy, 6th…" As she spoke, a pair of house-elves began to distribute the sparkling gems into the hands of the waiting survivors. Harry swallowed harshly as the elf handed him two rubies, each inscribed with his parents' names, as McGonagall recited, "James and Lilly Potter, alum; Mary Gregorson, 6th, Fred Weasely, alum; Marlen McKinnon, alum; Gideon and Fabian Prewett, alum; Delilah Peeks, 6th; Erik Bennet, alum; Sirius Black, alum…" She went down the list, concluding with, "and Sarah MacIntley, 5th, I award Gryffindor House one-thousand points."

A shower of rubies fell into the lower bulb of the Gryffindor Hourglass. Harry glanced to either side and saw Ginny and Ron crying silently, stiff-faced, their hands clutched together around Fred's ruby, and each carrying one of their uncles' at their sides. Remus was holding Sirius's gem in his hands, tears in his own hazel eyes. Harry was pleased to see that the professor was dressed in new but modest dress-robes. Tonks stood beside him, elegant in her black evening gown and hair a respectful dark brown, her father's scarlet ruby clutched tightly in her pale fingers.

"For the courageous deaths of students and alumni of Ravenclaw House, including Professor Septima Vector, alum and staff; Lyall Lupin, alum; Stephen Cornfoot, 7th; Andrew Merchant, alum; Su Li, 7th; Kevin Entwhistle, 7th; Maria Herricks, 6th; Florean Fortescue, alum; Caradoc Dearborne, alum; Bathilda Bagshot, alum…" And so on, "I award Ravenclaw House another thousand points."

It was here that the students began to understand what it was the headmistress was doing, for now the Ravenclaw Hourglass was likewise entirely filled. "For the courageous deaths of students and alumni of Hufflepuff House," she continued, "including Professor Charity Burbage, alum and staff; Dorcas Meadows, alum; Cedric Diggory, 7th; Wayne Hopkins, 7th; Benjy Fenwick, alum; Elisa Waters, 7th; Megan Jones, 7th; Amelia Bones, alum…" Susan took her aunt's engraved diamond with a tearful gasp. "...I award Hufflepuff House one-thousand points." A cascade of diamonds filled the lower bulb.

Here, McGonagall paused. "I am well aware that the details regarding Headmaster Snape are not altogether clear-" At her words, whispers erupted throughout the hall. She waved her wand; a loud noise like a gunshot went off, and everyone hastily quieted. "-but I shall take this opportunity to endeavor to make them so!" she concluded fiercely. "Few of you are aware of the good he did for this school, the efforts he went to to mitigate the worst of the Carrows' reign. I will not say that Professor Snape and I were anything of close companions, but it would be my honor if it should one day be stated I served this position half as well as he did!" At their shocked silence, she took a deep breath and glanced to Harry, who gave her a small nod.

With this, the headmistress launched into the tale of Snape's double-life and his loyalty to Albus Dumbledore, including everything save those details which were most personal to the late headmaster. When at last all had been explained, she concluded, "…Truly he has done honor to Slytherin house, for he matched those qualities which are best found among them, his cunning and his relentless devotion to this school and his predecessor, against Riddle's power, and exercised them so well as to play an instrumental role in his defeat. Therefore, in honor of him, and of the Slytherin students and alumni: Emmeline Vance, alum; Regulus Black, alum-"

Harry was startled to find that a house-elf was handing him Regulus's emerald. "No, you've got the wrong man," he whispered. "I didn't even know him-"

"Professor McGonagall said it was to go to you," the house-elf said stoutly, and pushed the emerald into his hands. Harry, baffled, accepted it and stood up straight again.

McGonagall was still speaking. "-Bertha Jorkins, alum; Tracey Davis, 7th; Theodore Nott, 7th; and June Hall, 6th…" She rolled the list back into a scroll. "I award Slytherin house one-thousand points."

She turned solemnly to the hourglasses, now all of which were fully filled on the bottom and empty on top. "It is with great pride in my students, and great sorrow in my grief, that I award each house equally the honor of the 1997-1998 House Cup… and I offer my deepest gratitude to each and every one of these braves souls, who sacrificed so much for their school, their fellow students, and the common good."

She waved her wand, and countless names began to etch themselves in perfect cursive into the gold surface. "This Cup shall be retired to the trophy room, where it shall have a place of honor to be seen by all who come after us, so that none may ever forget why we train and learn, not only in skills of magic but in building characters of virtue, and may emulate their magnanimity and selflessness."

There was no cheering to follow her speech, only a wordless round of thunderous applause, as every student and staff rose to their feet and paid their homage to the courageous departed.

When at last the feast was over, Harry, Ron and Hermione all led the way to the Gryffindor common room. As Head Boy and Girl, the two latter had been entrusted with the password, which was, fittingly, "Courage." The Fat Lady gave them a rather tearful salute as her portrait swung aside.

Although everyone was rather tired, the seventh-years all seemed unwilling to turn into their dormitories like the underclassmen. They were a rather quiet lot, and the missing among their numbers was painfully obvious. "I don't want to go up," Ginny said quietly, staring into the fire. "I don't think I could take seeing Lila and Mary's empty beds…"

"Nor Lavender's," Hermione said lowly.

"Her name wasn't listed, was it?" Ron said suddenly. "I didn't hear it, anyway."

"She survived," Parvati said numbly, glancing over from where she was sitting in front of the fire. "She's been in St. Mungo's for the last few months, though… hasn't answered any of my letters, I don't know why."

"At least she isn't, you know…" Hermione trailed off.

Harry didn't speak. Though none of the boys from his year had been lost, he could see Dennis Creevy standing wordlessly at the staircase, turning his brother's ruby over and over in his hands. He looked down to the three small stones in his own, two rubies and an emerald. His parents' he would place among his most treasured possessions, including the Map and his Cloak, but as for Regulus's…

An idea struck him, quite suddenly, and he stood up. "Harry?" Ron said, startled.

His friend paid him no mind. "Kreacher," he said clearly, and was answered a moment later by a slight pop!

"Yes, Master Harry?" Kreacher wheezed, bowing low.

"I have something for you." He knelt down in front of the house-elf and held out the emerald in his hands. "It's an award, for Master Regulus's bravery," he said clearly. "I want you to bring it back to Grimmauld Place for me."

Kreacher looked at him, stunned. "Master Harry wants Kreacher to take Master Regulus's award?"

Harry nodded firmly. "And put it in a place of honor, for everyone to see the- the greatness of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. I want you to have it; it belongs to you."

Kreacher, naturally, proceeded to burst into tears. After many reassurances from Harry, he managed to stifle his sobs, bowed profusely to him, and then disappeared with a much louder crack! Harry glanced back to Ron and Hermione, the latter of which was looking at him with shining eyes.

"That was really wonderful of you, Harry," she said thickly, wiping her eyes.

"It was his," Harry replied honestly. "I think that's why McGonagall gave it to me instead of to Lupin, even though he was Sirius's best friend… Kreacher is really the last family Regulus had left."

"Good on you, mate," Ron said, nodding. He'd taken over the three rubies from Ginny, who didn't seem to be paying much attention to anything.

Slowly, the common room emptied out, until it was just the four of them left. The fire had burnt itself down to dimly flickering red coals, and the room was cast into a warm half-darkness. For a long time, they sat in silence, until a low, shuddering breath came from Ginny's direction. Without another thought, Ron pulled his sister into a tight hug as she began to cry onto her brother's shoulder.

"I-I'm sorry," she wept. "I just… I just…"

"I know, Gin," Ron said thickly. "I know."

"I th-thought it was getting easier… b-but then t-t-tonight…" She pulled away and turned to Harry, who embraced her and stroked her hair comfortingly. "I-I d-don't know what to do…"

Ron nodded wordlessly. Hermione took his hands into her own as the ginger wizard blinked hard, tears running down his own face. Again silence reigned, heavy and stifling, broken only by Ginny's occasional sniffle.

"…I remember," Ron said thickly, after a while, "I remember the time he gave me that acid pop… Merlin, was Mum mad…"

Ginny let out a trembling little breath that may have been a laugh and drew away from Harry, wiping at her eyes. "I remember... them flying off into the sunset… oh, Umbridge was furious, the crazy old toad..."

"It was a brilliant bit of spellwork, that swamp," Hermione said fondly, her voice hoarse. "I can't imagine how they did it…"

"Yeah, well, a good magician never reveals his secrets," Harry chuckled. Ron and Ginny gave him an odd look, and he waved his hand, grinning. "It's a muggle phrase."

"I remember the time he replaced all of Mum's tomatoes with dungbombs," Ron said, with a watery grin.

"Hold on, I haven't heard this one," Harry interjected.

"Oh, it was brilliant; we had to order- what's it called? Taking-ins?"

"Takeout?"

"That's it, takeout, all the way from Ottery St. Catchpole. Took the delivery man half an hour to find us."

They continued on with stories like this for what seemed like hours, until everyone had laughed so hard their stomachs hurt. At last, Ron sighed, still smiling slightly, and said, "I remember a lot about him… some bad, but most of it good. He was my brother." He glanced around at the other three, tears brimming again in his eyes despite his smile. "And I think- I think maybe that's the first step, you know? Not to forgetting him- never forgetting him- but… to moving on. I think that's what he would have wanted, you know?"

There was a pause, and then Ginny sighed. "Yeah. I think so." She managed a sad smile, and then stood. "I think I'll turn in. Classes tomorrow, right?"

They all chuckled ironically at the idea that something so normal as morning classes could still exist, and then Harry got to his feet. "I'm with Gin. You two coming up?"

"In a bit," Ron said, though he did look very tired. "I, ah…"

Harry and Ginny shared a look, and nodded in understanding. "Right. See you lot in the morning, then," the younger Weasely said kindly, giving her fiancé a brief kiss, and then climbed the stairs to the girl's dormitory. Harry did the same, locating the extra dormitory marked 7th (Returning), and disappearing inside. In the darkness, he could hear the faint, even breathing of Neville, Seamus and Dean, and was glad to find they were all asleep.

As he turned to shut the door, he peeked outside and down the stairs. Ron and Hermione were sitting together on the sofa, the former held tenderly in the latter's arms. To his surprise, he realized that Ron- who had not a few minutes prior been reassuring and consoling them all- was sobbing quietly, tears rolling down his cheeks and soaking the shoulder Hermione's sweater.

Feeling as if he had witnessed something incredibly intimate and which he ought not have seen, Harry went to close the door, a lump in his throat. As he shut it, he thought he heard Hermione murmur, "I know. I miss him, too."

The walk back to the Slytherin common room was a subdued one. Having had his prefect status revoked, Draco had to wait while the new seventh-year prefects gave the secret passage the password.

The common room was quiet when they entered; while most of the students headed up to their dormitories, Draco retreated to an emerald-upholstered bench beneath one of the windows, which looked out to the underwater landscape of the lake. The bright moonlight filtered down through the water, falling in translucent patterns on his pale hands. As tired as he was, he didn't want to go up to his dormitory quite yet.

"Are you alright?"

He glanced over, startled. Jeanie Sailor was looking back at him with obvious worry, biting her lip. Jeanie was easily one of the nicest people he'd ever met; a cousin on his father's side, she had the classic pale Malfoy hair and fine features, but green Sailor eyes. Draco hadn't had an actual conversation with her in about three years, as she'd been unofficially excommunicated from the tight-knit house members in her fourth year for beginning a steady relationship with a muggle-born Hufflepuff. He also vaguely remembered her fighting in the Battle, and was surprised to find that the house's token blood-traitor was so clearly concerned for the former Death Eater. "I'm alright, Sailor," he said tiredly, and then added awkwardly, "…Did Garland…?"

"James is doing fine," she said cheerfully, politely ignoring the fact that Draco wasn't merely asking about the Hufflepuff's state of health. "He's quite happy to be back; he thought he might not get the chance, you know."

Draco shifted uncomfortably; he did know, as a matter of fact. James Garland had been on the list of muggle-born students who hadn't reported to the Ministry, and consequently had been a target for the snatchers. "That's… that's good. Did he go abroad, then?"

"Oh, yes. He went with his family to Sweden. He says it was nice there, but he's so glad to be home." She smiled a little, and then eyed Draco concernedly. "Are you sure you're alright, Malfoy?"

"Sailor-"

"Because I know I always don't sleep very well, moving in at beginning of term," she continued, "so I always take a dreamless sleep potion the first night back. Come to think of it, I have an extra." She reached into her bag and pulled out a small vial of purple liquid.

Stunned by her insight, Draco took the potion, grateful and a little ashamed of himself. "Yes, that… that might be helpful. Thank you, Sailor."

She smiled knowingly. "It wasn't any trouble. Goodnight, Malfoy."

"Goodnight." He waited until his cousin had made her way up the staircase to her room before working up his courage to get up and head for his own dormitory, shoving the potion in his pocket.

He was surprised to find two unfamiliar faces in the room when he stepped inside. "Gladwyn, Duggard; any reason you're not in your own dormitory?" he asked, a little more standoffish than strictly necessary.

"They said they'd do our next two potions reports if they got to room with the big boys," Zabini called over carelessly from his trunk. Draco looked to the two new seventh-years and raised an eyebrow.

"Bit desperate, aren't you?" he said flatly. They shrugged their shoulders, and he rolled his eyes. "Well, stay away from my potions work; I wouldn't trust it to the likes of you if you paid me." He began to make his way over to his usual bed by the window, but then stopped short.

The configuration of beds had always been the same since his first year: Blaise, who snored like a buzz-saw, slept on the far left; Draco, who was a very light sleeper, took the far right. In between were Greg, Vince, and Theo… only now, Vince and Theo's beds were empty. Draco swallowed as he looked to the middle four-poster.

Vincent Crabbe was a lot of things: daft, cruel, selfish and, as it turned out, ultimately disloyal. But he had also been Draco's friend for seven long years. Knowing he was gone, for good, was like being kicked in the stomach. Draco suddenly felt extremely grateful for the potion hidden in his pocket; he had no desire to dream of fiendfire tonight.

The sight of Nott's empty bed directly to the left of Draco's sent a black wave of guilt sweeping through him. Theo had died at the hands of his own father, a late hero to the war but a hero nonetheless. Draco had heard from other students that his dorm-mate had become increasingly more uncomfortable with the Carrows' cruelty and bigotry; apparently, and much to the disdain of his fellow Slytherins, Theo had gone out of his way to help keep the younger students out of trouble, even going so far as to take responsibility for their wrongdoing upon himself from time to time and suffer the consequences thereof. In the final battle, he was one of the few Slytherin students to have returned, and had defended a momentarily incapacitated muggle-born Ravenclaw against three Death Eaters at once. The first two he had managed to stun, but the third, Nott's father, had taken his son's life without a second thought. It felt almost like sacrilege, that anyone else should dare touch the bed which had belonged to the quiet, studious young man.

It seemed, however, that he was the only one who held such reverence. Zabini noticed him staring at the the empty four-poster and, as carelessly as if he were casting a cleaning charm, drew his wand and blasted a hole in the pillow. Draco jumped.

"Circe's stockings, Blaise!" he swore angrily, shocked. "What in Merlin's name was that for?!"

"He betrayed us," Zabini said harshly. "Little git got what he deserved."

"He was murdered by his own father," Draco growled. "He was our friend, Blaise."

"No blood-traitor is a friend of mine."

Goyle and the two underclassman were glancing between Zabini and Malfoy nervously. The two old friends were glaring at each other with venom.

"Shame Riddle never asked you to join up," Draco sneered. "You would've done well as a Death Eater, Blaise."

"A right sight better than you, Zabini shot back. "Everyone knows you chickened out from doing Dumbledore in. If Professor Snape hadn't saved your sorry skin-"

"You haven't got any idea what it's like," Draco snarled. "Have you ever killed anyone, Zabini? Or saw it happen in front of you? Have you ever watched someone beg for mercy?"

Blaise didn't answer, though his eyes still burned with anger. Draco scoffed and stalked over to the empty bed, yanking off the damaged pillow. A down of feathers spilled out and covered the bed like first snow. "Go on, then, Gladwyn, Duggard; don't tell me you're scared of the mattresses." He glanced over at the nervous students and added forcefully, "Two boys are dead. You'd better show some respect."

Duggard and Gladwyn nodded hastily, like two marionettes with their heads controlled by strings. Disgusted- with them, with Blaise, with himself- Draco pulled off his shoes and climbed into bed still in his robes, drawing the four-poster's curtains closed three-quarters of the way, so that all he could see was the window looking out under the water and the gently wavering moonlight. He listened to the others change and get ready, and then let out a low sigh of relief as one by one, each blew out their candles and the dormitory went dark.

For a few minutes he stared up at the pale, rippling half-circle, hanging in the night sky above the surface of the lake. The gentle swish and gurgle of the water currents outside the window was comforting, but his stomach still churned with unease.

No blood-traitor is a friend of mine.

Was that what he was now? A blood-traitor, a mudblood-lover, a turncoat to his house, family and creed? He pulled up the sleeve of his dress-robes and swallowed. The Dark Mark leered back at him, reminding him of all he'd seen and done. A blood-traitor Death Eater. It was like some mad joke.

Shoving his sleeve back over the tattoo, he pulled out the vial of purple potion and said a silent prayer of thanks for the kindness of Jeanie Sailor. Uncorking it, he downed the grape-flavored mixture in one go and stared up at the moon, waiting for sleep to come. Within a few seconds, the window panes and the curtains of his bed began to go fuzzy around the edges, and then his vision faded into a cool nothingness.

The apartment was warm, quiet and homey when Remus and Dora arrived home- an atmosphere both desperately craved, after a night of such intense emotional upheaval. As they shut the door behind them, the door to the nursery opened, and a curvy young woman came out, shrugging on her jacket.

"I thought I heard you come in," Rosmerta whispered. "Teddy was an absolute angel; he fell asleep half an hour ago."

"Thanks, Rosie," Dora said, smiling. "What do we owe you again?"

Rosmerta waved her hand. "It was my pleasure, really; I needed a night away from the bar."

"Rosmerta, really-"

"Not a word out of you, Remus. No, I won't hear of it; call me up anytime."

"We'll just tip you extra-well next time we pop down to the village," Dora warned with a smile.

"We'll see about that. Now you two get some rest; big day tomorrow, yes?" She tugged affectionately on the auror's pink hair. "Good luck to you both- and come down for a drink anytime you please!"

They laughed and wished her a goodnight as well, locking the door behind her as she left. "We have to pay her back," Remus said, shaking his head.

"We will. Want to go see Teddy?"

"After you."

She giggled at his gentlemanly behavior and led the way into the nursery. Teddy was, as promised, sound asleep in his cradle, sucking on his thumb. Dora brushed her fingertips lightly across his chocolate curls. "I never get over just how beautiful he is," she whispered.

"Nor me," Remus agreed, resting a hand on her shoulder. Dora looked up at him and smiled sadly.

"I wish Dad could have seen him. He would have loved being a granddad."

Remus nodded. "As would have my parents." He looked down at the sleeping child and sighed. "My father would have been so proud… he always told me I'd be a good family man, even when I didn't believe him."

"And now you know he was right," Dora said softly, taking his hand in hers. He gave her a sad half-smile and nodded.

Hand-in-hand, they walked back into the living room, where the fire Rosmerta had started several hours before was just beginning to die down. "I think I'll go change," Dora said tiredly, running a hand through her hair. It lightened to its natural mousy brown. "You coming to bed, love?"

"Maybe in a few minutes," he sighed. "I just…"

"Need some time to yourself?" she guessed. He nodded exhaustedly, and she squeezed his hand. "You come in when you're ready." She kissed his cheek and disappeared into their bedroom.

Feeling far older than he ever had, Remus walked to the hearth and opened his hand, revealing the small sapphire resting gently in his palm. Hazel eyes dark, he watched the soft firelight flicker through the blue stone and over the gold engraving:

Lyall Lupin

1929–1981

A wave of old pain washed through him. His father had died in a manner worth of his Ravenclaw wisdom: a known blood-traitor, father to a lycanthrope and sympathizer to the Order of the Phoenix, Lyall had been a prime target for Riddle's allies, all hoping to gain some information of the Order's doings through the father of a known member. Although Remus had insisted Lyall go into hiding after Greyback had threatened the young werewolf with his father's life unless he joined the pack, the elder Lupin had insisted on doing what he could for the war effort, running a safe-house for endangered muggles and muggle-borns under the roof of his fidelius-protected flat (of which he himself was the secret-keeper). One day, when Lyall had gone out to buy a few groceries for himself and the flat's temporary occupants, he'd been caught by a band of Death Eaters and interrogated for information. When that failed, the Death Eaters had tried using a legilimens- Remus only found out later that it was Bellatrix Lestrange- to try to worm the information out of him. Lyall, a trained occlumens, had resisted her efforts unfailingly until at last Bellatrix had killed him out of frustration.

It was the first in a long line of losses Remus had personally suffered from that war, and one of the most brutal. He had loved his father dearly; Lyall had sacrificed nearly everything, from friends to home to wealth for his son's well-being, even going so far as to teach Remus any magic he could without a wand, uncertain whether his son would be allowed to attend school. It was under his gentle tutelage that the nine-year-old boy had learned to control his unpredictable mood swings and been trained in the skills of occlumency far beyond his years, a talent invaluable for a boy and eventually a man with any number of personal secrets. The only time they had genuinely fought was the day of Hope's funeral: the same day Lyall had told Remus the real cause and circumstances of his illness. Remus had run away from home, distraught and furious, and hadn't spoken to Lyall for months… a fact he still regretted to this day. Although they had reconciled in the fall of his seventh year, Remus had lost his father not two years later, and would have given anything to have the lost time back.

Blinking and wiping his eyes, the now-professor set the sapphire atop the mantle, tracing his finger over the gold lettering. With a sigh, he turned and walked over to the bedroom, intent on changing and perhaps getting at least a few hours' sleep. Instead, however, he opened the door to find Dora sobbing quietly on the edge of the bed.

"O-oh," she mumbled brokenly, glancing up as the door squeaked. "Remus- I was just- just-"

"Oh, Dora," he murmured, crossing the distance between them and pulling her up into his arms. She broke down again and began to cry into his shoulder.

"R-Remus, it's not f-fair," she cried. "Why did he have to d-die? Why did he have to l-leave Mum and m-me?"

"He didn't want to, Dora," Remus whispered thickly. "You know that. He loved you and Andromeda more than anything in the world."

"I know- I just- just-"

"Shh." He kissed her shoulder and held her while she wept, rocking back and forth slightly and rubbing circles on her back. After a long time, his wife let out a hiccupping sigh and pulled away, looking to the ruby in her hand.

"I should send it to Mum," she said hoarsely. "She deserves to have it…"

"If that's what you feel is right," he said softly. "But she does have his Order of Merlin, you know. I think she'd want you to have this."

Dora sighed and nodded. "I think you're right… I'll still ask her, though…"

"You're loyal through and through, Dora," he said, smiling wryly. "I'm just glad I don't have one of those diamonds."

She choked out a laugh, even though it wasn't really funny. "And a girl can only have so many rubies."

Remus nodded. "Let's try to get some sleep, yes?" he suggested. "Lots to do tomorrow."
"Yeah, I suppose…" She crawled into bed as he went over to the dresser, pulling out a set of worn, comfortable pajamas. "…Remus?"

"Mm?"

"Is it going to be okay?" She winced, knowing how stupid it must have sounded, but Remus glanced over his shoulder with a very serious look in his eyes, as if this weren't a stupid question at all.

With a sigh, still holding his pajamas in his hands, he walked back over to her and kissed her gently on the forehead. "Yes, Dora," he murmured softly. "One day, everything is going to be okay again. I promise."

She smiled at that. "Alright. Goodnight, Remus. I love you."

"I love you too, darling." He left the room quietly and headed to the bathroom to change and brush his teeth. By the time he returned, his wife was fast asleep, curled up in a ball the way she always slept, tenderly clasping Ted's ruby in her fingers as if it were a father's loving hand.

Feeling heavy with exhaustion, he slipped under the comforter beside. Looking up at the ceiling, he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"I'm proud of you, Tad," he murmured. "A boy couldn't have asked for a better father." He looked over to his sleeping wife, and added softly, "And I hope I've made you proud of me… I love you."

With that, he reached over and put out the candle, and the room was shrouded in a deep and comforting darkness.

A/N: So! Again, very very sorry that this was late; I do hope you all enjoyed it! A note on a few things:

1.) Regarding Emmeline Vance and Bertha Jorkins: I have no idea to what houses these two belonged, as it is not mentioned anywhere in the books or online. Therefore, I decided to assign them both to Slytherin, because why not?

2.) No, Jeanie Sailor is not Draco's future love interest; I just liked including another "good Slytherin" character. Breaking stereotypes, you know?

3.) Theodore Nott's death: I decided to write Nott as one of the Slytherins who returned to defend Hogwarts against Voldemort. As his father was a Death Eater, I thought his death by his father's hand would be an interesting twist.

4.) Lyall Lupin's death: although his death is never mentioned, the Harry Potter wikia gives it as 1981. His son was in the Order and Lyall was clearly a "blood-traitor," so I decided having him die a war hero was very fitting. As to both of them being an occlumens, we know that Dumbledore never found out until the spring of 1994 that Sirius was an animagus, something he would have discovered had he ever managed to read Remus's thoughts or had he taught Remus occlumency himself. Considering the nature of Remus's then-secret, I don't think it'd be surprising if Lyall himself taught his son how to guard his mind. The wikia confirms that this is a possibility.

5.) "Tad" is the Welsh version of "Dad," not a misspelling.

Again, I hope you liked it! Please review!