cli. a family's heir

Remus sat at his desk as he did most mornings, sipping a cup of tea, waiting for his first class of the day to begin.

However, unlike most mornings, today Remus had a sheet of parchment laid before himself, his own tidy copperplate lining the page, and he held his best quill in hand, ready to sign the bottom. He didn't, though. His hand hovered for long enough that the ink dried on the quill's tip, and he had to dip it again, only to then Vanish the resulting splotch of ink that appeared when he held the dipped quill above the parchment and didn't move.

How was one meant to properly resign from the best job they'd ever had? The best job they ever would have?

He had to quit, of course. Dumbledore hadn't yet come knocking with a dismissal for him, but Remus hoped to preserve some semblance of goodwill with the Headmaster by tendering his resignation without fuss. He'd lied to Albus; he hadn't told him about Sirius—and Peter—being Animagi, hadn't told him about Black planning murder, going gallivanting about the school, and he could have inadvertently helped kill everyone in that clearing if Snape hadn't brought the Wolfsbane.

He'd meant to help. He'd meant to—to do something right, to help Sirius catch Wormtail and avenge poor Lily and James and Marlene. Marlene, whose only mistake in life had been smiling at a pudgy, nervous Peter and sharing the genuine kindness that made her well-liked in the House of Lions and Hogwarts in general. Even the Slytherins of their time had nothing bad to say about her. She'd been an earnest, unfaltering woman and an invaluable friend.

Then, she died in a fire set by a jealous, despicable boy who'd wanted her affection all to himself.

He had to quit. He didn't deserve to be here.

Remus sighed and set the quill aside on the desk, rubbing at his jaw. His nails worried at the stubble there as he considered his options. A few weeks of the term remained, and he needed to give his final notice to the Headmaster soon, as courtesy would dictate.

I might as well get it over with.

He heaved a sigh—and someone knocked on the office door, three precise, polite raps too soft to be an adult but not soft enough to be a mistake. A student, then. Remus eased an open text over his letter and cleared his throat. "Come in!"

A familiar face crossed the threshold, and Remus smiled in greeting.

"Good morning, El—Miss Black."

"Good morning, Professor Lupin." Elara Black approached his desk and smoothed a gloved hand over the front of her blouse, a nervous gesture she repeated once more before seeming to catch it and lower her arm.

A minute of silence passed. "…Can I do something for you?"

"Oh." Elara stirred, then reached into the inner pocket of her robes, retrieving three bound and folded bits of parchment. "As part of the detainment agreement arranged by Mr. Piers, my father is allowed to send his proxy letters." She held out the missives to Remus, and he accepted them, his eyes catching on the familiar scrawl wending over the fold. "These are for you. If if you wish to reply, you may do so directly to him. The Ministry prohibits him from using the post but not from accepting it."

Remus' thumb brushed the wax seal, a rush of forgotten affection spilling through his veins—affection from another life, he reminded himself, though still unable to banish that lingering fondness. It confused him to no end. Clearing his throat, Remus said, "Thank you," and tucked the letters away in the top of his desk to be perused later.

Elara didn't leave. She kept her eyes lowered, staring at the open textbook with an odd intensity Remus couldn't place. He glanced at the clock on the wall and saw he had a fair bit of time before his first class of the day, but he wondered where Elara was meant to be. He didn't see her school satchel with her. "You're not missing class, are you?"

"No." She shook her head, eyes flicking to his, then away. "This is my free period. Hermione has Care of Magical Creatures, and Harriet is still in the hospital wing."

"Ah. Is she terrorizing Madam Pomfrey still?"

"For a few more days. The scar on her neck didn't react well to whatever magic she was exposed to in the forest, so Madam Pomfrey wants her to stay for observation. Naturally, neither of them is pleased."

Again, the young witch look at him, then dropped her eyes, and Remus considered all that he might have done to put her so ill at ease. Was it because of that night? Because of his lycanthropy? Though it stung him, she would not be the first to become awkward or uncomfortable after learning of his condition—but typically the person would make excuses to flee his presence as soon as possible, not linger overlong for no apparent reason. "Is there anything the matter, Elara?" Remus asked.

"No," she replied, perhaps a tad too quickly, her hand darting up to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. A singular strand of hair, Remus noted, the rest kept combed and neat as a pin, just like her uniform and the stiff line of buttons marching up the skinny column of her throat. The ghostly memory of the scar marring her chest rose unbidden, and Remus grit his teeth. "I only…Professor, I hope I'm not overstepping by asking you this, but that night, in the forest…Peter Pettigrew seemed to imply…."

Oh. "Yes?"

"Well, he implied you and Sirius Black were…."

"A couple?" Remus said it with casual ease he didn't feel in the slightest, his throat constricting with the pain of past prejudices and snide, hateful comments. It chaffed like swallowing raw thistle, but it wouldn't be the first time he'd endured it. "Yes. We were together before his…incarceration."

Elara's hands clenched into fists, and her head snapped up, righteous indignation flashing in the depths of her colorless eyes. "So that's how it was? He was cheating on my mum—?"

"No," Remus said, raising his voice and his hand in tandem. "No. That is not how it was at all."

"That's how it seems!"

"How the truth seems and how it actually is differ quite radically at times, Elara. Or did you learn nothing from Peter's deception?"

She blushed, a faint pink color fading in from her ears. Remus smiled despite the situation, thinking she looked much closer to her age when flustered and peeved. "I…apologize. But I don't understand."

Remus nodded as he folded his hands together. "Is it about him and me? Do you…take issue with that?"

"No. At least I—no." Elara shook her head as if having only come to a decision herself. "The place I was before, they didn't—they taught us it was wrong, but I disagree with them. It's no matter to me." She sniffed and crossed her arms. "Aside from your appalling taste, Professor."

Her answer startled a laugh from Remus, a weight lifting from his shoulders. "Yes. That's baffled several people before. Even your godparents, for all that they loved him, couldn't see what I saw in the man."

"I would still like an explanation, sir. You have to agree it looks…unseemly from my vantage, and I want to know—." She hesitated and kneaded her hands together, brow furrowed. "I deserve to know if he was doing right by mother."

Their opinions on that particular point differed—Remus believing someone's personal life was personal for a reason, not a matter for others to pick over—but Elara meant no menace, wanting only to defend the honor of the dead woman who'd brought her into this world. Perhaps she did deserve to know, and Remus was prevaricating to protect his own feelings. "There was an…arrangement. It's a bit of a long story," he said, casting his mind back through the years.

"I would like to hear it."

Exhaling, Remus bobbed his head in agreement but decided he didn't want to sit in this office and have this conversation. "I have a letter to post. Would you care to walk to the Owlery with me?"

"Of course, Professor."

He shifted the textbook aside and, without ceremony, signed his name to the bottom of the resignation, not giving himself a chance to read it over yet again. Remus quickly rolled the parchment, sealed it, and then headed toward the door. Elara was rather tall for a third-year and managed to match his stride with ease.

"The story begins farther back than one would probably think it should, and I hope you'll listen to the end."

"I'll try, sir."

Remus sighed. "I'm certain you know your relatives are known to have certain leanings in their political views, a certain mindset that aligned very well with what You-Know-Who believed. Sirius was always the odd one out among the Blacks—the only person of the direct family branch to not be Sorted into Slytherin—not that there's anything wrong with that!" He rushed to assure the Slytherin girl, whose only reaction was a sharp glance. "By the time Sirius was sixteen, he'd grown increasingly tired of his family's rhetoric and ran away from home, going to live with the Potters. Walburga and Orion—your grandparents—disowned him, and Sirius was perfectly happy with that at the time."

Elara's nose wrinkled—a genteel creasing Remus had seen in pure-bloods like Sirius, or even the Malfoys. "Walburga had a portrait commissioned," she explained. "She enjoys chastises anyone who passes it."

Remus huffed and smiled, deciding that yes, that did sound like something Walburga would do. "So Sirius ran away and left his birthright behind. That would have been the end of the story in normal circumstances, as he had no inclination to ever reconnect with his family, even after Hogwarts. However, circumstances were not normal as there was a war on, and people tend to forget that wars, particularly ones as all-consuming as the Wizarding war, cost a great deal of money, regardless of which side of the trench you stood on. Properties needed to be bought and exchanged, Masters paid for the services, bribes given, food and personal income replaced. Even You-Know-Who could only get away with so much violent coercion before he had to supplement his agenda; you cannot maintain the backing of society's social elite on a pauper's pension."

"All stick, no carrot."

"Hmm?"

Elara lifted her gaze from the stone floor. "It's—it's a Muggle expression about needing an adequate balance of reward and punishment."

"Ah. Yes, that's one way of looking at it." They climbed a set of stairs, passing no one during this odd morning hour wherein most students had gone to class or stayed in bed. "In the late seventies, You-Know-Who was bankrolling Masteries and research, ostensibly to form his own contingent of loyal, knowledgeable experts so he could kill the profiteering Masters who were also selling their services to the Order—the people opposing him. Many of the witches and wizards fighting had families who had to quit their jobs—and, well, their resources still had to come from somewhere, so the Order took on the expense and responsibility. Many Aurors and Hit Wizards had to be discreetly bolstered into remaining steadfast; your godfather, James, was an Auror at the time, and several of his coworkers were not as brave or as unyielding as he was. In some cases, it was understandable. The…horrors they were sent out to investigate could turn even the strongest of stomachs, and the Dark wizards they fought only became more skilled and dangerous as the days dragged on. To be frank, many had to be bribed to leave their offices."

"I can't say I understand that, fully. It was their job."

"To an extent, yes—but most Aurors in those days had signed on with the expectation of arresting smugglers and thieves, perhaps the odd Dark wizard here or there, dabbling in things they shouldn't. They hadn't joined the Aurory knowing they would need to chase terrorists or possibly return to their homes to find their families slaughtered in warning."

Neither spoke for several minutes, letting the gruesome imagery settle. Remus remembered the stories James had told, and the many hushed arguments of Lily trying to get him to quit.

"The Aurors aside, a lot of money was needed both by You-Know-Who and by the Order. In the center of that contention was the House of Black. When Sirius was disowned, his parents named your uncle Regulus as the heir apparent, and because both Orion and Walburga were in less than perfect health, Regulus became the family proxy. Unknown to Sirius or to anyone else, Regulus had made the decision to pledge himself to You-Know-Who. As a result, it's believed he became a Death Eater."

"…and as proxy to the House of Black, this gave the Dark Lord direct access to one of the largest estates in Wizarding Britain."

Remus nodded. "Exactly. When it became known that the Black coffers were lining You-Know-Who's pockets, Sirius went back to Walburga and Orion to see what he could do to be reinstated as the heir. Walburga loved Regulus as deeply as she was able, I suppose, but according to Sirius, she and Orion always thought him rather feeble. He was sick quite often in his youth—which factored into the doubt surrounding his allegiance. You-Know-Who doesn't have a reputation for accepting those he views as physically…limited, but he apparently made exceptions for Regulus. Orion and Walburga were open to allowing Sirius back into the family because, I believe, they worried Regulus wouldn't be able to continue the line. As it turns out, that suspicion proved correct, as Regulus disappeared not long after Sirius became the family Head."

They entered the Owlery, greeted by the hooting and fluttering of a hundred birds, the vast majority of which being owls, though from the main level, Remus could look up into the rafters and spot several hawks and eagles, a few cuckoos of various families, and even a green-feathered Augurey asleep in the darkened corner of the rounded wall. The birds nearest them looked down with anticipation. Elara held out her arm, and a large, black eagle owl soared down, alighting on the proffered perch.

"Walburga had…." Remus hedged over his words. "Stipulations she required Sirius to meet in order to be accepted into the family again. He agreed."

Elara stroked the owl's glossy plumage, and the bird glared at Remus, displaying its impressive talons in threat. "Why do I think I won't like where this is going?" she asked in a dry tone.

"Because you're a bright girl." Remus shrugged and shook his head. "Sirius was told he needed to marry with the expectation of having an heir. Then, Walburga would reinstate him."

The girl's hand stopped stroking the owl; indeed, her whole body went rigid as a pine tree, the owl sensing his mistress' shift in mood and clacking its beak at Remus. "So…is that all I was? A token to be traded for the Black estate?"

"No, you were not." Remus spelled one of the stone ledges clean and sat down, his back to the bracing Scottish air. The letter in his pocket crinkled as he crossed his arms. "Never think you were. Whatever you decide to believe of your father, of me, or Marlene, never think you were not wanted, Elara."

She said nothing, but she did go back to petting the bird, glancing at Remus from the corner of her eye.

"At the time, Sirius and I were very much committed to each other—as committed as law would allow two wizards to be, at any rate, but we both agreed it was imperative to the war effort to remove the Black estate from You-Know-Who's grasp." The breeze riffled through Remus' hair, carrying with it the voices of children in the distance. Elara joined him there at the open arch, her face brightened by the naked sunlight—and free of condemnation or disgust. Remus could have wept. "Marlene had been a good friend of ours for many years. Since Hogwarts. She was the oldest McKinnon child, and like Sirius, came from a traditional pure-blood family that wished to see her married. Her parents pressured her to do so more and more each year, though Marlene wasn't interested in that kind of commitment. I don't think she ever saw herself getting married or having children."

"…so why did she?"

Remus breathed in—the air rank with the smell of so many birds—and he exhaled, loud and tired. "Sirius and I, for obvious reasons, never thought we could have children—but then, Walburga's demands planted the inclination, and Marlene…. Your mother was a woman who always went above and beyond for her friends, and when Sirius discussed the issue among our trusted acquaintances, she offered to be our surrogate. She would marry Sirius, on paper at the very least, and carry the Black heir. It was mutually beneficial for all those involved; Sirius stopped the Blacks from bankrolling You-Know-Who, Marlene's family stopped harassing her, and I…."

His words cut off, emotion clouding his voice, and Remus cleared his throat. Elara looked at him, though he could not bring himself to look at her in turn, the weight of her attention like the weight of the sun warming his back.

"And you got a child. You were supposed to be my father, weren't you?"

"I was, for a time." Remus choked again. No matter that Elara was alive and well before him, Remus still felt as if his child had vanished, stolen from him. So much of her life had passed already. "A very short time. Until—."

"The fire." Resignation burdened Elara's voice, and she leaned her head toward the owl, letting it rub against her cheek. "That damn fire."

Remus allowed himself to lean into his hands, to wallow for those brief moments, the truth finally expelled from his lungs like a cough itching inside his chest. Then, he forced himself upright. "I am sorry for everything you endured, Elara. I'm so sorry for not being there, for—."

"It wasn't your fault," the girl replied, almost gruff. "It wasn't Black's fault, either, not that I'll admit as much to him. It was Pettigrew's—or the Dark Lord's, or those Death Eaters who attacked Marlene. Did—did my mother want me? You said never planned for children—?"

"Oh, she wanted you very much. She was going to be in your life, though she didn't share a romantic relationship with your father. Don't doubt that you were precious to her."

Elara nodded, lips compressed in a fine line, eyes brighter than they'd been before.

"I hope you'll forgive Sirius," Remus added, earning a sharp, displeased sound. "He can be an idiot, yes, but he loves you. He loved you enough to potentially destroy what was between him and me, sending you away without a word. Your safety mattered more to him than anything else in his life."

"Hmph. We'll see." She lifted her arm, and the glowering owl took flight into the rafters once more, disappearing like an angry shadow away from the vivid morning rays. "Thank you for telling me all this, Professor. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome."

Elara brushed her sleeve off and dithered, torn between returning the way they'd come or saying something else. Remus waited, not wishing to move. "You should come to visit," she said, peering at the older wizard as if judging his reaction. "This summer, I mean. If you like. My idiot father will be at Grimmauld Place, and I'm sure he'll be more bearable if he has someone else to irritate."

Grinning, Remus replied, "I might just do that. Thank you, Elara."

The witch turned to go, though she stopped to say, "Don't forget to post your letter," and with an impish smirk horridly reminiscent of Sirius, added, "Remus."

He watched her leave and touched the letter hidden away in his pocket, feeling the parchment bend under his pressing fingers. He should stand and find a bird to take the notice. He'd been over it a dozen times and had committed a dozen revisions; Remus should stand, find an owl, and finally send it off. It was the right thing to do, the expected thing—but now, Remus did not find himself inclined to do the expected. He didn't want to think of Knockturn Alley and dead-end Muggle jobs, empty tea-tins, and lonely, lonely days. He wanted to stay.

And so, Remus Lupin left the Owlery behind, an unsent letter still burning a hole in his pocket.

A/N: Given Remus and Sirius were together in the early 80s in a fairly closed society, I wager they encountered their share of homophobia and it's colored how opened or closed they are in discussing their relationship and Marlene's surrogacy. I write the Wizarding world as reflecting the Muggle one to a certain degree, so I imagine it wasn't legal for two men to marry in the 80s or 90s. (It wasn't legal in the UK until the 10s, iirc.)

Me: "I put two chapters left."

Me: "I forgot to put 'of PoA.'"

Me: "It'll be finnne."

Narrator: "It was not fine."