Approbate: to approve officially.

April 13, 1998

A wicked storm was brewing. Remus watched the dark clouds churn overhead, a violent wind whipping at the young leaves just budding from the trees. He watched as a pale green shred was ripped from its branch and sent spinning to the ground, toppling helplessly end-over-end.

"You're doing it again," a drowsy voice said behind him.

He turned from the window as Dora stirred, pushing back the blankets and sitting up gingerly. Her protuberant belly bulged under one of Remus's shirts she'd nicked to sleep in. He could feel the baby coming fast, far more real to him than it had ever been – frighteningly and exhilaratingly so. The slightest movement made him worry she would pop.

"Doing what?" he asked perplexedly, nursing the cooling mug of coffee in his hands. (Dora eyed it jealously as she answered.)

"Worrying."

"Kind of hard not to," he said with dry amusement.

She scrutinized him a moment longer, absently rubbing circles over her stomach. "They can't tell us anything definitely," she said quietly. "You know they can't. It would be dangerous."

He nodded, unable to keep the miserable expression off his face as he set the mug down and perched beside his wife on the edge of the mattress.

"You'd think they could tell me though," he murmured. "Bill gave Molly and Arthur all the details…."

"That's different," Dora said gently.

And he had to concede the point, as much as it pained him. Not for the first time he wondered what James would say to him if he found out Remus had blasted his son into a wall for telling him off. He ran his fingers lightly over Dora's stomach and imagined what he would do to anybody who hurt that child, regardless of circumstance.

"Quit it," Dora said sharply, swatting the back of his head.

"Ow," he muttered, blinking at her reproachfully. "What now?"

"Now you're being all guilty and self-deprecating," she told him exasperatedly. Then she took his hand and her tone grew gentler. "Harry won't hold it against you. He's an understanding kid. He knows you weren't thinking straight."

Remus nodded, but he didn't look much cheered. An aching fear – one of many in a collection that seemed to multiply by the day – that the altercation in the basement of Grimauld Place would be the last between him and his best friend's son still gnawed at him.

"I've been thinking about something," he said suddenly, shifting on the bed and looking right into Dora's dark eyes. "I want to ask Harry to be godfather. I know you were thinking about Charlie Weasley, but… but considering how we left things, and since he helped push me back in the right direction…."

Remus didn't put into words his other reasons – ones he kept vaguely at the back of his mind. That when the darkest hour finally passed, Harry might need something to keep him together as surely as their son might…. Or that Remus might need some more solid connection than former student to hold onto as the flood of time did its best to rip memories away.

"He'd be the best," Dora agreed. She seemed to read those unspoken reasons, or maybe even have thought them herself. "Merlin knows he's earned it," she added, giving Remus's arm a sharp pinch.

Remus nodded and took a breath. "So it's official then. I can't wait to tell him."

A/N: I've always imagined vaguely how this conversation would go. Remus's whole story during the last year of the war intrigues me, but especially what led him to the scene in Shell Cottage when he asks Harry to be Teddy's godfather. Aside from the obvious abashedness and reconciliatory thoughts, what prompted him to choose Harry as godfather? I think it was more than just knowing that if anything happened to him and Tonks (and I don't think he really expected anything to happen to Tonks) Harry would understand Teddy best. I think it was also to kind of officially tie Harry into his family, be it for Harry's sake, Teddy's sake, or even his own sake. Well, anyway, reviews are lovely! :)