Disclaimer: I neither own the intellectual property of the Harry Potter universe, nor do profit from this work produced here. The rhyme "There Was an Old Woman," is in the public domain.
Warnings: cute, thinly-veiled references to Dora and Remus deciding to, er, encourage Teddy's chances for sibling rivalry (very end of the chapter). ;) Also, baby Teddy!
The morning of Wednesday, September 2nd dawned bright and early, and Remus groaned, grabbing the tinkling bell from the bedside table like he wished he were the type to throw it against the wall. But he wasn't, so he sat up and sighed.
"Mmm…" Dora mumbled beside him. "Remus…"
"Sorry," he whispered, touching her arm. She smiled lazily and drifted back off again. Teddy had woken up wailing halfway through the night- a less frequent occurrence now that the boy was more than three months old- but Dora had insisted on taking care of him herself, knowing her husband had work the next day. Remus sighed, wishing briefly that he didn't have to get up, looking at his lovely bride and warm, soft bed, before forcing himself to his feet.
By the time he arrived at breakfast, the great hall was already full and buzzing with the happy chatter of students. Remus took his seat at the staff table and watched the revelry unfold.
"Good morning, Remus."
He glanced over; Professor Sprout was smiling cheerfully at him. "Morning, Pomona. Eager for classes to begin?"
"Mm. I've got first-years first thing on Wednesdays," she said, with mild grumpiness, "But so long as they don't kill themselves, I'll be alright. And yourself?"
"I've got seventh-years first," he said pleasantly. Pomona gave him a false glare of jealousy, and he laughed. "But it's hardly a picnic; I take all four houses per class, worked it out with the headmistress."
Pomona snorted. "Best of luck, then. Pumpkin juice?"
"Gladly." She passed him the pitcher, and he poured himself a goblet, taking a long sip and reveling a little in the luxury of eating a breakfast without first preparing it.
"Morning, Professor Lupin," a voice called smartly, and he glanced up as Professor McGonagall passed around the table and behind him, taking her seat in the center. She had a rather irritable expression on her face.
"Good morning," the younger professor said with surprise. "Is something the matter?"
She waved a hand dismissively. "Nothing of consequence. Pass me the pumpkin juice?"
He did so, still slightly curious. The Headmistress's face was reminiscent of the time he, Peter and James had charmed the walls of the common room purple in their fifth year, and crowned Sirius king as a joke. Repressing a snort at the memory, he picked up his fork, intending to take a few kippers from the nearest tray- and promptly dropped it again, letting out a sharp gasp of surprise.
"Remus? You alright?" Pomona said, startled.
"Fine- forgot about the silverware- Dora and I use nickel-" He retrieved his wand from his pocket and murmured a quick spell; a moment later, a layer of fresh skin crawled over the mild burns, and the stinging sensation faded.
"Oh Remus, I'm so sorry- I forgot-" McGonagall looked even more flustered, and now guilty as well.
"No trouble, Professor; I'll just have a muffin. Pass me one, would you, Sybill?"
The slightly eccentric witch handed him a blueberry muffin. As Remus took a bite, he glanced across the room, to where Harry and Ronald were sitting down on either side of Ginny and Hermione. Several first years were glancing up at the staff table with curiosity, mainly at Professor Binns, who was speaking to Flitwick and absent-mindedly trying to pick up a biscuit, through which his translucent hand continued to pass unfeelingly. Remus grinned to himself and hid his chuckle in the goblet as he took another gulp of pumpkin juice. Hogwarts. Even as a teacher, the first day was never dull.
Soon enough the clock was striking half past seven; knowing he had a class at eight, he excused himself from the table and set about finding his room. It was not the same as last time; in order for his schedule to be configured correctly so as to have Tuesdays and Thursdays off (save for an early class), he took all four houses per year for four hours a week. With the case of the double senior class, this meant roughly seventy students, which dully entailed a larger room. He was grateful to McGonagall for arranging it so neatly; while pulling a four-class day could be brutal, his new schedule meant he could watch Teddy on those days when Dora went back to work at the Ministry.
Thankfully, the classroom was quite empty when he reached it; everything was quiet and still, despite the students making their way through the many halls above and below. Through the arched windows, the sun was rising pink, rosy beams of light falling upon the stone floor and dark wood of the desks. Remus took a moment to close his eyes and smile, resting a hand on the stone sill and letting the light brush his face. He'd forgotten how much he loved it here.
With the half-hour he had before class began, he quickly arranged his lecture notes, glancing over them and correcting any mistakes. Had Dora been there, she would have told him to stop being so nitpicky and nervous- but then, Dora was sound asleep several floors above him, or perhaps just waking up to feed Teddy, and he was allowed to fret and fuss a little if he wished. Yes, he was nervous; the last time he had prepared for his 'first day,' none of the students had been aware of his condition. Now it was practically common knowledge. In addition, he couldn't shake that uneasy feeling in his stomach; what if he did a poor job? What if the children laughed at him behind his back? What if all his students failed their exams? Of course, they hadn't failed last time, and many had claimed he was the best Defense professor they'd ever had- but, well, this was a new year, and he couldn't help but feel anxious. He so wanted everything to go perfectly, and in his experience, important matters rarely did.
Soon enough, however, the clock tower was chiming quarter-to. Within a few minutes, students began to pour in through the classroom door. He knew even before everyone arrived that class was bound to be crowded; with two senior classes mixing together, the desks were soon all filled, including the spares. Lupin kept track of the faces he knew best: first Ron, Harry and Hermione, who all greeted him with a smile; then there was Neville, sitting calmly on the other side of Hermione, more out of habit than any real need for the help she'd provided him in years gone by; and then Patil sisters, glossy dark hair tied up in twin buns, and Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, joking back and forth as always as they took their adjacent seats; then Millicent Bulstrode and Pansy Parkinson, casting haughty glances in the direction of the others; Ginny Weasely, who smiled at Harry as she sat down in the desk to his side; one Miss Luna Lovegood, looking pleasantly dreamy as ever; Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones; Macmillan and Finch-Fletchy; Corner, Boot, and several other students besides. He did notice in particular, however, that a certain Draco Malfoy slipped quietly into the room and took his seat far from any of his house members, in the back left corner by the windows.
"Alright, alright everyone, settle down!" he called, raising a hand as the clock struck eight-thirty. The class quickly quieted.
"Thank you," he said pleasantly, "and welcome to seventh-year Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts. My name is Professor Lupin; I'm sure many of you remember me. For those who do not, I taught this class four years ago." Several of the students smiled at him; several others looked nervous. He took a steadying breath and continued, "This course was originally only available to students with sufficient OWLs, particularly those looking into applying for auror training or becoming an advanced-level Healer. The events of the past year have caused the Headmistress to change your graduating course requirements; all levels of Defense are now required for graduation, hence your presence here.
"In this course we will be covering several matters concerning Defense Against the Dark Arts, including the history of such defensive magic, the proper use and execution of it, dangerous magical creatures you may encounter, and, at the end of the course, the beginning basics of auror training." The class began to whisper excitedly; he held up his hand again to quiet them. "No doubt many of you are already well experienced in dueling situations, and my greatest commendation to those of you who defended the school in battle this past April. Nevertheless, there is a bit more to the tracking and capture of dark wizards than just dueling; my own wife, an auror herself, has graciously agreed to help me instruct you in such manners." He hesitated, and then added, "On a somewhat less pleasant note, I understand that some topics covered in this course may be rather sensitive, especially concerning recent events; I would invite anyone with concerns to come speak to me after class, and I will of course excuse any sufficiently explained absence for such reason."
As he concluded, one of the young men near the left-hand windows raised his hand. He was a Gryffindor, Lupin noted, and vaguely recalled that he had been in Ginny's class, four years prior. "Yes, Mr.-" He searched for the name for a moment. "-Adrian Harold, wasn't it?"
"That's me."
"Yes, Mr. Harold?"
"Well, doesn't the Headmistress think it's a little inappropriate, to have a dark creature teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
Lupin stopped dead. He felt as if he'd had the wind knocked out of him; for the life of him, he couldn't think of what to say. The rest of the class was equally shocked; clearly they hadn't expected anyone to be so… blunt.
"Why don't you bugger off, Harold?" a voice sneered from the back, and everyone turned to look, surprised. Draco was glaring at the younger Gryffindor with a hard venom in his eyes.
"Oh, should I?" Adrian spat back, "I suppose you'd know all about the dark arts, wouldn't you, Malfoy?"
The blond Slytherin flushed, the blood in his cheeks standing out red against his pale skin and hair. He dropped his eyes.
Remus had finally managed to recover his command of speech. "Mr. Harold," he said quietly, and the boy looked over. "If you find my teaching inadequate, or would prefer not to be taught by a lycanthrope, please, feel free to raise your concerns with the Headmistress. Nevertheless, while you are in my class, I will not tolerate you insulting other students. Do I make myself clear?" Harold looked ready to argue for a moment, and then grudgingly nodded. "Thank you; five points from Gryffindor. As to you, Mr. Malfoy." Draco glanced up, startled. "I do not appreciate that sort of language in my classroom; nevertheless, your intention is gratefully acknowledged. Ten points to Slytherin."
Malfoy blinked, startled; clearly he hadn't expected the Gryffindor head of house- not to mention a man whom he personally had insulted on various occasions- to defend him from the well-deserved slurs of other, more deserving students, let alone award him points. Lupin offered him a small smile of gratitude and then continued brusquely, "We will be spending the next two weeks going over a very brief timeline of the history of Defense Against the Dark Arts- tedious work, I know, but it's incredibly important information. As they say," he added, turning serious eyes to his students, "Those who do not know their history are bound to repeat it." Several students nodded quietly in agreement. "Moreover, the sooner we're through it, the sooner we can move on to more practical- and exciting- matters. On that note, everyone please take out your quills and a roll of parchment…"
By the time the class ended ninety minutes later, his class seemed in a fairly cheerful mood. "That was fantastic," Ron said, stopping by his desk on the way out. "You should sub for Binns someday; this is the first time history hasn't put me to sleep."
Remus chuckled. "I'm glad you liked it, Ron. Have a good day; same to you, Harry, Hermione."
As the students filed out of the room, he smiled to himself, now much more at ease. One class done, three more to go.
At ten-fifteen, the last few stragglers of his next class- Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff first-years- rushed breathless into the room. "Sorry, Professor!" one young boy panted. "I got lost-"
"No need to worry; everyone does. You know, I myself took two wrong staircases my first day at Hogwarts, and ended up stuck inside a revolving bookcase for an hour, thought I'd never get out," he mused. The boy laughed. "Go ahead and take your seat; we'll start in a minute."
He waited until everyone was settled in, and then began, "Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts, year one. If that is not the class you intended to be in, you're in the wrong room." There was a general giggle at this, and then one very red-faced Gryffindor girl got up and left. He waited again as the door closed and then continued, "I am Professor Lupin; it's a pleasure to meet you all. Now, you should have all received your class itineraries in the mail- er, yes?"
A young Ravenclaw boy had raised his hand; at the professor's word, he lowered it and asked calmly, "Are you the werewolf?"
Several people let out a nervous sort of giggle; Lupin raised an eyebrow. "Well, I am a werewolf; if by 'the' you meant the only one on staff, yes, that's correct." He noted that several other students had gotten a nervous sort of look in their eyes and managed a short chuckle, trying not to allow his own anxieties to show through. "Now, you needn't all look so frightened; werewolves aren't dangerous except on the full moon, and even then only if we haven't taken a certain sort of potion- all excellent information you'll be learning in this class soon enough." He waved his wand at the blackboard, and the theory for sending off sparks appeared in chalk. "Today we are going to be learning two of the most basic but helpful defense spells, setting off red and green sparks to signal for help. The two incantations are Vermillious and Verdimillious. Can everyone repeat that? Vermillious and Verdimillious…"
"I can't believe it. Thirty pages, on the first day of term! Even McGonagall never gave us that much!"
"Stop grousing, Ron," Hermione huffed. "You had all of lunch and the study hour to get it done! And you aren't taking any electives!"
"She's got a fair point," Harry pointed out. It was much later that evening; he and Ron had spent their two free hours finishing the homework for Lupin and Professor Kemp; Hermione, on the other hand, had received a very complicated-looking assignment for her Arrithmancy class, and was in an irritable mood that the boys had the rest of the night free.
Ron was having none of it; he huffed and muttered, "Just because she signed herself up for the two most difficult classes on the roster…"
"At least we're done for classes for today," the dark-haired wizard said, with perhaps just a tad too much cheer, as Hermione sent him a sharp glare, but before she could retort, she stopped short in surprise.
"Now what's all this about?" she said, with mild interest.
"What now?" said Ron irritably, but stopped when he saw the notice pinned to the oak doors leading into the Great Hall:
All Seventh Years:
Please report to Room 324
After dinner tonight
For instructions regarding senior thesis projects
And employment internships.
"Thesis projects?" Harry said, startled.
"Blimey, I forgot about that," Ron said, frowning. "Haven't even started thinking about mine yet…"
"What is it?" Hermione questioned, clearly as confused as Harry, which was a rare occurrence when it came to schoolwork.
"All seventh years have to do a senior project sort of thing– some really complicated magic or writing a big paper, you know?" He frowned pensively. "I think Percy did a report on the Minister… Charlie was smart, just kept a journal of his internship with the dragon-handlers–"
"That's another thing; what's all this about internships?" Hermione questioned eagerly.
"Well that's how you get a job, isn't it?" Ron said with a shrug. "Your head of house sends in internship applications to where you'd like to work. Then second term your class load gets cut in half and you go to work instead. Like I said, Charlie would apparate to Romania every day and work with the dragon handlers, and then he'd come home and write down what he did in his journal. Turned it in as his thesis at the end of the year."
"So you mean, if the auror program accepts us–" Harry began.
"–Then we'll be working in the Defense Office during the evenings," Ron finished with a shrug. "Exactly."
"Oh, but that's so exciting!" Hermione exclaimed. "Can't you imagine, sitting right there, while all around you people are writing laws and working on cases and-"
"–And bringing in dark wizards and binding and booking 'em!" Ron said cheerfully. "Man, that'll be awesome, won't it? Harry?"
But Harry seemed to be lost in thought. Ron hit him lightly in the arm. "Hey. You still with us, mate?"
"Oh- er- yeah, sorry. Drifted off a bit," he apologized hurriedly. "Sounds, er, really brilliant."
Hermione gave him an odd look. "Are you alright, Harry?"
"Fine- just hungry. Let's eat, yeah?"
Dinner passed quickly enough; everyone was chattering excitedly about the senior-year seminar. Neville and Hermione got into an anxious conversation about where he was intending to apply for an internship ("Gran wants me to go into auror work; I think I have the right stuff for it, but I dunno, I really do want to teach…" "I think you'd be a grand professor. Have you talked it over with Lupin yet?"), and Ron played with his food pensively as he and Harry discussed thesis ideas, absent-mindedly drawing a dragon in his mashed potatoes.
When the clock struck quarter-to, the seventh-year students all stood up and made their way to the third floor, where the door of an old classroom stood ajar. As they filed inside, Harry noticed that Professor McGonagall stood, straight-backed and serious, near the front of the room. He recalled forcefully his first day of classes in his first year, and was struck with a pang of nervousness. This he dismissed a moment later, reminding himself that he had faced far greater obstacles than essays and business applications.
When everyone had arrived and was sitting quietly in their desks (seven years of studying under the new headmistress's tutelage had trained them all quite well what was expected in her presence), McGonagall nodded. "Good afternoon. I trust your first day of classes went well?"
Everyone glanced around and nodded.
"Very good. Now, to business." She turned to the board and waved her wand; lines of chalk text appeared in precise, slanted cursive. "As many of you are aware, a student's final year at Hogwarts is marked by two important educational rights of passage. The first and more pressing of these is your spring-term internship, for which applications are due at the end of the month." With another wave of her wand, a stack of parchment forms on her desk dispersed across the room, landing on the desks. "Each of you will have a meeting with your head of house over the course of next week; at that time, you will finalize your class schedule for your final two terms, discuss your career options, and, with their approval, submit these applications for a four-month internship to your chosen potential employer. If you are accepted, and if you perform well and score highly enough in your N.E.W.T.s, you stand a good chance of being admitted for full employment. Necessary examination marks can be found on the other side of your application-"
There was a ruffle of pages as each student flipped to the list on the back of the parchment, which included the necessary N.E.W.T. requirements. "Look at that," Ron moaned faintly, nodding to the tiny row marked, auror. Harry looked and swallowed nervously.
The recent depletion of their ranks had by no means led the auror office to lower their standards; three black O's stood in the columns labeled Transfiguration, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, with a slightly less formidable E inscribed in the columns for Herbology and Charms. Oddly enough, another category had been added: History of Magic, with the accompanying required score of Exceeds Expectations. Savior of the wizarding world or not, it was going to take some serious effort if he wanted to be an auror. With a sudden interest, he checked the list for the department supervisor; it was blank, meaning that Kingsley was likely still running it for the time being until he had the chance to appoint someone to take Mad-Eye's place.
"How is that going to work? You haven't taken History of Magic for two years," Hermione whispered, glancing over at the pair.
As if she'd heard her, McGonagall raised a hand; the class quickly quieted. "You will notice that History of Magic has been added as a necessary N.E.W.T. mark to many of the Ministry occupations. You needn't fret; as the course has already been made mandatory for graduation, and your examiners will be sympathetic to the effect the war had on your education in this subject. If, however, you find it necessary to add any other class to your schedule without having taken the sixth-year course, you will need to obtain signed permission from the instructor."
Ron groaned. "Perfect. Another year of History of Magic."
"We spent the last year hiding in a tent and living off mushrooms," Harry pointed out under his breath.
"I think I'll take the mushrooms…"
"Each of you will also take on a senior-year thesis project," McGonagall continued, casting the whispering trio a withering glare. "This thesis is a treasured Hogwarts tradition and has led to many an important magical discovery; for that reason, it is preferable but not necessary that this project relate to your chosen career. Past examples include-" She waved her wand, and a list appeared on the board, "-brewing or improving on an advanced potion, training in occlumency or animagancy, writing a report on some important figure or development in your field, and so on. Take note that your thesis project must be an area of study which you have not already mastered."
Harry scanned the list with interest, and shot a grin at Hermione when his eyes landed on the words, polyjuice potion.
"You may work alone or in pairs and on any thesis of your choice, but take note that every project must be approved by the subject professor, your head of house, and myself." She glanced over them all sternly. "I would also strictly advise against making the mistake of taking my staff or me for fools. Any sign that a student may be undertaking such a discipline for less than scrupulous motives will be handled with the utmost severity."
More muttering, darker this time, and a few students glanced over at several specific faces from the Slytherin clan; Harry was mildly pleased to note that Malfoy was staring stonily down at his application parchment.
A sudden bang! went off in the room; the crowd jumped in unison and glanced back to McGonagall, who was frowning. "I understand that your impending future can be a rather dull subject," she said dryly, "but I would appreciate it if you at least made an effort to pay attention." Several students murmured apologies, the trio among them. "As with your internship applications, thesis summaries are due to your head of house at the end of the month. Everyone understands? Very good; now, to our last order of business." With a wave of her wand, the chalk vanished from the board. "As I'm sure many of you are aware, now that all of your classmates are of age, you all have full permission to visit Hogsmead at any time-"
The classroom erupted into a flurry of excited questions and cheering; McGonagall set off another loud noise with her wand, looking as if she were about to have a conniption. "-However, take note that the castle gates are sealed every evening at sunset!" she finished sharply. "You will not be allowed entrance onto the grounds after that point; unless you want to spend the night at the Three Broomsticks, I suggest each of you make a point of returning on time. Curfew hours on-grounds will remain the same for the safety of the younger students, and the wards around the castle will alert us if you are attempting to return with any contraband items, including alcoholic substances. I trust I have made everything quite clear?"
There was a general excited assent to this, and with that, the Headmistress dismissed them for the evening. The halls, naturally, filled with students excitedly discussing the new developments, most of them having elected to spend the last hour before sunset in the village. "I didn't know seventh years could leave the castle," Harry said cheerfully, as they hurried across the grounds to the gates. "I guess they can't really keep us locked in here now that the whole class is of age, can they?"
"Of course not," Hermione replied with a long-suffering sigh. "Honestly, Harry, if you would ever just crack open a copy of Hogwarts, a History…"
"How many times have you read that, anyway?" Ron pointed out.
"A fair few," she replied primly, as they crossed over the threshold of the gates. There was a slight ripple in the air as they passed through the barrier-wards. "I can't wait to start my thesis; it all looks so interesting!"
"Do you know what you want to do, then?" Ron questioned, and then added, "Oh, come on- let's apparate; it'll be quicker." He made as if to turn.
"Don't you dare; you haven't passed your test yet!" Hermione interjected quickly.
"Oh, c'mon, 'Mione; I've been doing just fine for the last year-"
"You're Head Boy now; you can't afford to get hauled off to London for apparating without a license! Here." She grabbed hold of his hand. Harry raised an eyebrow and grinned, and both of them blushed.
"Oh, don't be so immature," Hermione snapped waspishly, and then turned on the spot. She and Ron vanished; Harry chuckled and followed after a moment later.
He landed across the road from them, near the Three Broomsticks, and waited for them to hurriedly run across. Hermione was still holding Ron's hand, both rather pink, but neither let go. "Anyway," she said hastily as they started off down the street, shooting Harry a warning look that said she would jinx him into next Tuesday if he said anything, "I've been thinking about it, and I think I'd like to do a report."
Ron scoffed. "A report? Out of all the interesting stuff you could choose from-"
"I'm going into law, Ronald; it would be very beneficial for me to research the career of a wizard who served on the courts!"
"Alright, alright, don't get your robes in a twist," he said hastily. Hermione rolled her eyes, but her boyfriend merely nodded to Harry and said, "What about you?"
Harry considered it a moment, and then said honestly, "I think I'd like to finish learning occlumency. Seems like it could be helpful for an auror, you know?"
"That's true," Ron agreed. "I was thinking- but I dunno, occlumency might be a little easier…"
"What were you thinking of that makes occlumency seem easy?" Harry asked, incredulous.
"Well… nah, it's silly-"
"Go on!"
Ron went a little red, and then mumbled, "Well, I- I thought it'd be sort of cool, you know… to be an animagus."
Hermione and Harry glanced at each other, surprised. "An animagus!" Hermione exclaimed. "Goodness, that's- Ron, that's very complicated magic-"
"Always the tone of surprise," Ron grumbled.
"No, no- I didn't mean you couldn't do it, just that it'd be really hard for anyone," Hermione hurried to say, and then added thoughtfully, "But I suppose it'd be very helpful as an auror."
"That's true," Harry agreed. "Especially since your patronus is a terrier. Pretty easy to go unnoticed like that, isn't it?"
"Yeah, a great bloody stag isn't exactly inconspicuous, mate," Ron sniggered.
"Fair point." Harry was grinning. "I think it's brilliant, Ron, really. You should go for it."
"You think?" The redhead looked excited now.
"Yeah, I do. 'Mione?"
Hermione bit her lip for a moment pensively, and then suddenly smirked in a rather un-Hermione-like manner. "What?" Ron demanded.
"Well… just that your patronus is pretty adorable…"
Ron didn't stop blushing all the way into the bar.
The inside of the Three Broomsticks was warm and well-lit, already filled with students. Hermione spotted an empty table near the bar and quickly dragged them over. "Looks like the last lot left their menus. Ooh, I've always wanted to try the mulled wine here…"
Harry remembered with a sudden surprise that he was no longer too young for anything except pumpkin juice and butterbeer. "Er- right, yeah. Uh-" He had the sneaking suspicion the Three Broomsticks did not keep Carling on tap. "Hey, Ron, what do I get?"
"Dunno, whatever you like- oh, hey, Rosmerta!" His blue eyes went a little dreamy as the curvy bartender made her way over. Hermione kicked him sharply under the table.
"Evening, m'dears; Merlin's monocle, any busier in here and I'll have to start apparating back to the tap. What'll you be having?"
"Mulled wine, please," Hermione said politely, handing her the menu.
"Half-pint of Firewhiskey," Ron added.
Rosmerta looked expectantly to Harry, who hastily agreed, "Same for me."
"Two firewhiskeys and a- oh, bugger it all!" A crowd of Hufflepuffs had just come through the door. "Just what I needed. Won't one of you be a dear and come get the drinks at the bar when they're ready?"
"No problem," Harry agreed. Rosmerta thanked him and disappeared with a crack!
The trio chatted for a few minutes more, before Harry noticed that two amber-filled bottles and a glass of wine had appeared on the bar. "Back in a mo'," he informed the pair, who promptly took the opportunity to engage in some good-natured bickering, which Harry had long since learned to distinguish as their means of awkwardly trying to make a move.
"Three sickles, nine knuts, dear," Rosmerta called as she breezed past, levitating six full tankards with her wand. Harry fished the money out of his pocket (he'd have Ron and 'Mione pay him back later), and was just about to return to the table with the drinks when he noticed who was sitting at the bar just beside him, concentrating intensely on what appeared to be several important forms. "Professor Lupin!"
The teacher started and looked over. "Harry! Merlin, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"
Harry grinned. "You looked pretty focused." He nodded to the papers. "What're you doing down here?"
"Dora and I decided to celebrate our last night of freedom with dinner and a few drinks." At Harry's confused look, he clarified, "By the end of the week, she'll be back at work full-time and I'll be buried under a mountain of assignments in need of correcting, so we decided to take the night off. McGonagall's watching Teddy, and Dora should be down in half an hour or so. I just wanted to get this paperwork out of the way first."
"You're doing alright, then?" Harry asked hesitantly. "You and Tonks, I mean."
Lupin raised an eyebrow. "I usually don't allow my students to ask me such personal questions." Harry gave him a look, and Remus rolled his eyes. "Yes, Harry, Dora and I are doing just fine. Er- by the way-" His expression turned a bit guilty. "I know I never did get 'round to apologizing properly-"
Harry waved his hand dismissively. "Water under the bridge."
Remus chuckled. "Right." He glanced with sudden interest to the drinks and said, "Those yours?"
"Er- well, I'm of age, so yeah." He went a little red, and Lupin chuckled.
"Calm down, I'm not about to scold you. You're an adult, after all. I just thought you might want to try that firewhiskey before you bring it back."
"Why?"
Lupin chuckled. "Just trust me."
Harry eyed him suspiciously, and then raised the mouth of the bottle to his mouth and took a large gulp of the contents.
It took him all of half a second to realize that this was a mistake. The alcohol burned like hot coals as it slipped down his throat; Harry choked and violently coughed out the rest, prompting Lupin to burst into laughter. "Merlin, Harry, does that ever bring back memories!" he chortled. "Rosmerta!" The bartender glanced over. "You still remember how to make a Prongs Special?"
The blonde blinked, glanced to Harry, and started to laugh as well. "Not a problem!" she called over, grinning.
"What?" Harry demanded hoarsely, wiping his eyes (they'd started to water in mild pain). "What's so funny?"
Lupin shook his head, still grinning. "Oh, Harry, you drink just like your father," he chuckled. "James never could take firewhiskey straight, either. Oh, thanks, Rosmerta." The bartender had set a glass three-quarters full of butterbeer in front of them. Remus poured about a quarter-bottle of firewhiskey into the cup and swirled the contents together. "Try it now."
Harry did so tentatively; the flavor was a good sight better, and it didn't burn nearly so harshly. "Thanks. Here-" He went to fish a few coins out of his pocket, but Remus held up a hand.
"Nonsense; it's my treat. James would've wanted me to." He set a sickle and two knuts down on the bar. "Besides, someone needs to finish off that bottle; mind if I take it?"
"It's pretty strong, isn't it?" Harry said suspiciously, eyeing the professor's already half-finished drink.
Remus waved his hand. "I'll be fine. It takes four times as much to get me drunk as it does you."
"Yeah?"
"Mm. Your father found that out the hard way our first night of seventh year; he decided it'd be fun for four green kids to play a drinking game. Two hours later, the three of them were all snoring under the table and I was stuck getting us all rooms for the night." Lupin chuckled. "You should've seen McGonagall's face when we all came into Transfiguration the next morning, the three of them completely knackered and I cheerful as could be. Poor Peter could barely sit upright." His eyes grew a little sad at the mention of his former friend, and Harry nodded.
"You know, he took a good turn, at the end," he said gently. "He hesitated when I reminded him of his life debt, and then the hand turned on him. I think it must've been because he decided he didn't want to do it anymore."
"I know. Ron told me after the battle." Remus sighed and looked down at his drink. "I'd hoped when all was said and done, he'd still be around and I could have talked some sense into him… but at least in the end, he didn't die a monster. There was still good in him, somewhere deep down. I'm grateful for that."
Harry nodded sympathetically and raised his drink. "To lost friends," he said quietly.
Lupin smiled sadly and tapped the neck of his bottle to the glass. "To lost friends."
Each of them took a drink, and then Harry nodded back to where Ron and Hermione were waiting at the table, engaged in some conversation. "I should probably get back."
"Right. Well, have a good evening, Harry."
"You too, Professor." He paid for the drinks and carried them back to the table, where the other two looked up, surprised.
"What took you so long?" Ron questioned, reaching for his drink.
"Got talking to Lupin; sorry. You going to drink that or what?"
"Alright, alright, hold your horses." Harry watched expectantly as Ron rolled his eyes, took a gulp of his drink, and promptly spat it out, spluttering and choking out half-oaths in anger.
"Prat," Ron said hoarsely when he could finally speak again, glowering at him. Hermione was snorting into her glass of wine.
"Sorry; couldn't resist."
From his seat at the bar, Lupin grinned as he watched the boy- no, young man, now- laugh and talk with his friends. He was in some ways so much like both James and Lily (hadn't James had nearly the same reaction, the first time he'd tried firewhiskey?), and yet in others so very different. He was his own man through and through, and Remus couldn't help but feel proud.
"Hey there, sailor; buy me a drink?"
He turned the other way and grinned to see a pink-haired witch smirking back at him. "Oh, I'd be careful if I were you, Miss," he said straight-faced, but with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Some sailors turn out to be pirates, you know."
Tonks chuckled. "My, you've already had a bit, haven't you?" She glanced to the bar and raised an eyebrow to see not one, but two bottles.
"Not at all; you'll have to try a lot harder than that to get me tipsy." He raised a finger. "Another firewhiskey, Rosy, when you get the chance."
The bartender waved her wand without even glancing over; a bottle whizzed across the bar and stopped in front of Dora, who popped open the cap with a quick spell. "Cheers," she said with a smirk, raising her bottle in the air.
"Mm. And to what are we drinking?"
"To the death of our sanity," he intoned solemnly.
She chuckled knowingly. "To Ministry bureaucracy and paperwork in triplicate."
"To the brilliant notion of locking up four hundred hormonal wizards in one castle and hoping for the best."
"To work?"
"To children?"
"Mm. I'll drink to that." They clinked their bottles together.
Two drinks, dinner, and several hours later, the newlyweds Flooed back into the castle (Rosmerta, of course, had long since set up a staff-and-family only connection for when the professors, er, had patronized her pub rather kindly) and made their way from the incoming-fireplace up to their apartment. Dora was smiling and giggling, and Remus's cheeks were flushed– a characteristic they acquired whenever he'd had a drink or two, and which he thought silly but which Dora thought rather adorable.
McGonagall was waiting for them when they arrived, sitting in the armchair by the roaring fire and working away at her knitting. "Edward is asleep," she informed them, gathering her needles and yarn. "I gave him his Wolfsbane, so you needn't wake him up for that."
"Thanks for watching him," Tonks said fervently.
"No trouble at all; he was an absolute darling. Good evening, Tonks, Remus."
They thanked her again and waited until she'd left, before Remus smiled mischievously and said, "Well, since Teddy's already asleep…"
"Mm. I love it when you're tipsy," Dora murmured with a wink. She was just going in to kiss him when a wail broke through the apartment.
Both sighed; Dora pinched the bridge of her nose. "Of course. He's a bloody angel when McGonagall's around, but as soon as she leaves-"
"He'll be an excellent student one day," Remus quipped. "Go get ready for bed; I'll calm him down."
"Yeah?" He nodded, and she pecked his cheek. "Thanks, love."
Remus hurried over to the nursery as Dora disappeared into their bedroom. Teddy was throwing an unhappy fit; Remus sighed again and picked him up. "Now then," he murmured to the boy, "What seems to be the trouble, young man?" Teddy started rooting against his shirt, clearly mistaking father for mother, and Remus sighed. "Right. Hungry. Don't suppose you can be hungry when Aunt Minnie's here next time so mummy and daddy can have a nice evening?"
Teddy wailed his opinion in the contrary. Remus snorted and retrieved his wand from his pocket. "Accio formula."
The bottle of baby formula whizzed out of the kitchen cupboard, across the apartment and into his waiting hand. Remus caught it deftly and murmured a quick heating charm, managing to hold the unhappy Teddy, his wand, and the bottle all in his own two hands. Within a minute or so the formula was warm again, and he began to feed the child, talking amiably to him as he did so. "You know, one day you're going to ask us, 'Mummy, Daddy, why don't I have any siblings?' And I will tell you without a moment's hesitation that it is simply your appalling timing." Teddy gurgled and suckled on the bottle, apparently not troubled by this warning. "Aunt Minnie told us you took all your Wolfsbane like a good boy; can't imagine how she got you to do it, but then, I'm not complaining."
Here he paused; the child didn't seem to mind. "…While your mum isn't listening," he said quietly, "I thought maybe we could have a little chat, yes? Man to man… wolf to pup." He swallowed. "Teddy, I- I know you're nowhere near old enough to understand this- but I love you, more than anything in the world except your mother. And I… I'm so sorry, Teddy, so very sorry that you will have to suffer the way I've suffered… I am so very grateful for you, my son, so desperately thankful, but at times I cannot help but detest myself for what I've done to you." He blinked hard. "Do you think you could ever forgive me for it, Teddy? Will you still love me, when you understand?"
Teddy stopped drinking and let out a little satisfied burp. Remus couldn't hold in a watery chuckle. "Sorry. This is all a bit much, isn't it? You'll have to pardon your old man; he gets a bit sentimental when he's had a few drinks in him." He smiled wistfully and lifted Teddy upright, patting his back soothingly. When it seemed the boy was content, he simply stood there, letting his son rest on his chest.
"It's alright," he murmured. "You can go back to sleep now, Teddy." The boy fidgeted tiredly. "Would you like a lullaby? I'm afraid I only know the one, and my voice isn't good… but I suppose beggars can't be choosers, can they?" He hesitated, and then began softly, "There was an old woman tossed up in a basket, ninety-nine times as high as the moon. Where she was going I could not but ask it, for in her hand she carried a broom..."
It was an old Welsh-English lullaby, especially popular among wizards in the region. His father and mother had each sang it to him in turn when he was very small, and even occasionally as an older boy when he was particularly unwell. Remus had to clear his throat, which had grown thick again, in order to continue. "'Old woman, old woman, old woman' quoth I, 'Oh wither, oh wither, oh wither so high?' 'To sweep the cobwebs from the sky, but I'll be with you by and by.'"
Teddy let out a contented little sigh; Remus smiled and set him gently back in the crib. "Goodnight, pup," he whispered. "Sleep well."
He turned to go, only to see Dora leaned up against the doorframe, smiling at him gently. "I didn't know you could sing," she whispered.
He raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you hear me? I can't."
"Mm. I thought it was lovely." Her eyes had misted slightly, although she was still smiling, and she wiped at them with the back of her hand. "Just lovely."
He inclined his head. "You're too kind. But thank you."
She chuckled and jerked her head sideways, and Remus followed her out into the living room. Dora closed the door softly behind them. "You know," she teased, poking him in the stomach, "I find a man who's good with children highly attractive."
"Do you now?" She nodded, grinning, and he returned it, blushing. "Then why don't we go make a few more?"
She laughed and mussed his hair. "I thought you'd never ask."
A/N: I know it's a long time in coming, but it's also a long chapter, so that has to count for something. Right? In all seriousness, I've been abroad, and it's been a wee bit difficult to work on my story as of late. Please review, and I'll see you all soon! Pax et bonum! -FFcrazy15