There'll Be Bluebirds

Ginny met Harry's eyes in the mirror. 'What are you going to say?'

Harry shrugged morosely. 'I don't know.' He rubbed a hand over his freshly-shaven jaw, checking for stubble he might have missed. 'I'll have to check the motorbike, but I don't think he did any serious damage to it. Nothing that can't be repaired...' He set the razor in its stand and wiped his face with a towel. 'Can't say the same for the Dennings' fence.'

'How bad is it?' Ginny's brows drew together as she calculated how much it might cost to repair their neighbor's fallen picket fence. They could easily afford to replace the fence, but Ginny was far more concerned at the cost to their tenuous relationship with the neighbors. The Dennings had often viewed Harry and Ginny with more than a little suspicion since they moved into the house nearly nine years ago. They feared the attention Harry and Ginny could bring to their quiet corner of Godric's Hollow. Their fears proved to be unfounded, but it didn't stop the Dennings from looking to pin any disturbance on the Potter family.

Harry heaved a sigh and squirted toothpaste onto the frayed bristles of his toothbrush. 'Remind me to pick up a new toothbrush,' he murmured off-handedly. 'I don't know,' he said, in reply to Ginny's inquiry. 'I don't know what I'm going to say. I didn't want to wake them in the middle of the night, and I'm going to go speak with them as soon as I'm dressed. Be proactive and ensure it's taken care of in the next few days.' He poked the toothbrush into his mouth and proceeded to brush his teeth.

'I was referring to Teddy.'

Harry spat into the sink. 'I don't know that, either.' His expression grew grim. 'But he won't like whatever it is I do say.' He glanced through the open bathroom door at the alarm clock. 'How long until the children wake up?'

Ginny bit her lip, trying to figure out how much longer James, Al, and Lily could sleep and still manage a nap later that afternoon. 'Thirty minutes or so...'

Harry nodded. 'Brilliant. Let them make as much noise as possible.'

'That's a little mean,' Ginny observed.

Harry strode into the bedroom and pulled a pair of jeans over his legs. 'It's a lot mean,' he corrected, his head popping through the neck of his t-shirt. 'He smelled like the floor of the Hog's Head last night.'

'Eww.' Ginny raised her arms over her head, twisting her hair into a loose knot in deference to the summer heat that was sure to blanket the valley later that day. 'Where exactly is he?'

'Sitting room sofa. It was as far as I could levitate him without being sick myself from the combined smell of whisky and vomit.' Harry thumped down the stairs, bypassing his godson, sprawled on the sofa, face on the edge of a cushion, a small waste bin angled under his mouth. He shook his head, wondering what was going through Teddy's head when he not only decided to go on a bender and drink the rest of his best bottle of Firewhisky, but to attempt to drive the motorbike in that state... It was enough to give Harry more than a few grey hairs.

In the morning sunlight, the damage to the fence seemed much worse. The hydrangeas were bedraggled and splotched with sick. Harry ran a hand through his damp hair and resolutely marched to the front door of the painstakingly tidy house.

XxXxXxX

'The boy is a menace,' thundered Severus, over the protests of the other members of the Order.

'Oh, don't be so melodramatic,' muttered Elphias Doge. 'Harry is hardly a menace...'

Remus gazed at Severus over the tips of his steepled fingers. 'Did you bother to try and investigate who hexed whom first?'

'Are you insinuating Potter used Dark magic in response to Jelly-Legs jinx?' Severus retorted silkily.

'I'm insinuating you most likely handled the situation with your usual grace and finesse, flinging accusations and not allowing Harry to explain.'

'Your bias is even more pronounced than it was three years ago,' spat Severus.

'I realize Harry is capable to doing a great many things out of anger,' Remus corrected. 'But murder someone in cold blood?' He shook his head. 'No.'

'I'm more interested in discovering where Harry learned such a spell,' interrupted Kingsley. 'It's not something he'd find in The Standard Book of Spells.'

The room went as quiet as if someone had cast a Silencing charm over the Order. Remus' mouth twisted up in an ironic smile. 'Yes, Severus,' he said softly. 'Where did Harry learn such a spell?' Severus' eyes narrowed and his lips thinned, but no reply was forthcoming. 'How did he manage to get his hands on your old Potions textbook?'

Severus looked away, as if embarrassed.

'Were you hoping that someone else would find it? Malfoy, perhaps,' Remus taunted, his voice never rising above a murmur. 'That was exceedingly careless of you, Severus. To leave something with those particular spells in it lying where anybody could pick it up...'

'That's not what happened!' Severus spluttered, his preternatural calm visibly ruffled.

'Enlighten us.' Remus sat back in his chair, and waited.

'Dumbledore felt Potter would find some of the spells written in the margins useful. I knew neither he, nor Weasley, would have purchased a copy of Advanced Potion-Making. I also knew that when faced with a choice of one that looked as if a Kneazle had vomited on it and one that was less grubby, Weasley would choose the latter, even if it came to blows. His pride would allow for nothing less.'

'And you neglected to remove certain spells?' Remus scoffed. 'Bad form, Snivellus.' He pushed his chair back and stood. 'I bid you good evening.' He wrapped his worn traveling cloak around himself and strode into the street outside Kingsley's flat, slowing his pace, when he heard footsteps following him. Tensing, Remus carefully pulled his wand from the inside pocket of his cloak, and he stopped to study a ragged flyer taped to a light pole looking for a lost puppy.

'It's just me,' Dora said crossly. 'The Underground station to my flat in London is just up the street.'

Remus inclined his head in the direction of the station. 'Would you like company?' He strove to keep the irrational hope from his voice.

Dora shrugged and struck off down the pavement, her head bent. Remus trailed behind her, unwilling and unable to let her walk unescorted. It's merely keeping an eye out on a fellow Order member, he tried to convince himself. It gave him an opportunity to examine the younger woman. 'You look well.' Liar. She looks awful. It was true. Her hair was unkempt and carelessly pulled back from her face. She looked even more wan than the last time he had seen her. Her face was paler; circles under her eyes were darker. Even her clothes were baggier than usual. It's just the stress...

XxXxXxX

2 May 1996

I've often wondered how James and Lily would have reacted to Harry's teenage angst. If they would have been angry with him for using spells of which he had no knowledge of their outcome. Or would they have been disappointed? And to which would Harry have reacted the most? Anger or disappointment?

I stand by what I said about Harry: I do not think he is capable of murdering anyone in cold blood. Knowing him as I do, I think he'd rather Disarm an opponent, then Stupefy them, instead of killing them. I do think he is capable of reacting without thinking of the consequences of his actions, however. I also believe once he realized what that spell could do, he felt a great deal of guilt over his actions.

And as much as it pains me to agree with Severus, taking Quidditch away from Harry is probably the worst thing he could have done to him. He does have to own up to what he's done.

And so will Severus.

XxXxXxX

Remus watched the door swing shut behind Harry. He could feel the eyes of the Weasleys on his back, as he kept his eyes glued to the door and repeatedly smoothed the front of his robes where Dora had rumpled them in her fists.

Phoenix song wafted through the castle, its mournful melody ricocheting from the walls, filling the silence of the hospital wing.

Dora sighed softly and wiped her hands over her cheeks. She moved to where Molly stood, watching Fleur gently dab ointment over Bill's ravaged face. Dora's eyes closed against the sight of Fleur resolutely facing her own uncertain future, then touched Molly's elbow. 'I'll be going,' she murmured. 'If you need anything...' Molly nodded, briefly gripping Dora's hand.

Dora then trudged past Remus, staring at the floor. The small gap she made opening the door intensified the phoenix's mournful tune for a moment, before the door swung shut once more, muffling the song. Remus slowly became aware of Arthur standing next to him, gazing thoughtfully at the door. 'She's not being reasonable,' he muttered to the older man. 'She never has been regarding... this.'

Arthur chuckled softly, a rather incongruous sound in the still hospital wing. 'Reason has little to do with it, Remus.' He nudged Remus lightly with his elbow. 'You'll never get another chance. And times being what they are...' Arthur glanced over his shoulder at Molly. 'You don't know what tomorrow's dawn might bring. For once in your life, Remus, you ought to think about what you want...' He clapped Remus on the back. 'Go on, then. At the very least, get some rest. The next few days will be a bit difficult.'

Remus didn't say anything. He seemed rooted to the spot, but he found himself bidding Ron, Ginny, and Hermione good night, asking someone to appraise him of Neville's condition in the morning, and murmuring a farewell to Molly and Arthur.

He wandered aimlessly from the castle, intending to Disapparate, and return to the farmhouse as soon as he cleared Hogwarts' gates. Instead, his feet acted of their own accord and carried him into Hogsmeade. Remus blinked in surprise, looking around, studying the buildings until he found the one where Dora lived. 'Now or never... ' He yanked open the door of the building, then darted up the stairs, climbing the many dizzying flights of stairs, pace increasing until he all but ran up the last flight. Panting, he began to pound on the door of Dora's small flat. When she didn't open the door straightaway, he assaulted it again. Suddenly, the door opened, and Dora's elfin face appeared, a pale, smudged oval in the darkened corridor. With great effort, Remus managed to pull the blow intended for the rough wooden surface of the door and avoid hitting Dora square in the nose. He stared at her for the merest second, before he blurted, 'Did you mean it?'

'What?'

'What you said in the hospital wing. About none of it mattering - the age difference, the werewolf issue.' Remus held his breath, waiting, hoping she hadn't finally given up, although he did deserve it.

'Yes.'

'Oh. All right then...' Remus exhaled in relief that he hadn't managed to turn it into complete disaster. He turned, and began to walk down the stairs, when a quiet voice halted his steps.

'Would you like to come in?' Remus looked up, and Dora took a step back into the flat, one hand gesturing into the room. He felt his throat close, but nodded, and walked into the flat, then closed the door behind him.

XxXxXxX

Remus quietly rummaged in the drawer of the scrap of a desk in the corner of the flat, searching for a quill. Even a Muggle ballpoint pen. A pencil would do. His questing fingers located a bedraggled quill wedged in the back of the drawer. He slid it out, grasped between the tips of two fingers. He then picked up the small bottle of ink and carried the lot to the chair he'd drawn next to the bed earlier - before he had joined her on the bed and kissed her.

He picked up his robes from where they'd been carelessly tossed to the floor earlier, and dug his journal from an inside pocket, then stealthily flipped the pages until he came to the next blank page. Dora stirred a little in her sleep, and her nose wrinkled momentarily. Remus froze, the tip of the quill suspended over the bottle of ink until she subsided into slumber once more. He dipped the quill into the ink and lowered it to the paper.

And nothing...

Several times, he attempted to describe the actions of the previous hours, but he lost himself in a reverie of remembrance of how it felt to have her lips graze over the scars, to finally do what he wanted, and not what he thought he ought to do. The final moments of oblivion, where the sheer intensity was replaced by boneless languor. He could feel the blood still singing in his veins. His fingertips fairly vibrated with it. It had been enough to make him forget - albeit momentarily - everything that had happened that day.

The journal slowly closed and he set it aside. Remus slid under the duvet, nuzzling the back of Dora's exposed neck, until she murmured sleepily and turned in his arms. He thumbed a lock of hair from her cheek, following it with his lips, the need to have her again becoming all too evident. She could sleep later. They could both sleep later.

In the end, it was nearly dawn before Remus could manage to pull himself away from the temptations of Dora's body and let her sleep. He slipped his worn boxers on, then wrapped the cheery afghan that had slid to the floor during the night around his shoulders. He picked up the abandoned journal, and began to write, his thoughts disjointed and chaotic.

XxXxXxX

18 June 1996

Dumbledore is dead... If I keep saying it enough, it might be real. Dumbledore is dead... It's so strange to think of him as dead. I had often wondered when I was a first or second year student if the man was actually immortal. He certainly seemed ancient at the time.

And Dora... At this moment, I will call myself a fool for denying her for so long.

At various points of my life, I've read Petrarch, the Decameron... Delved into Henry Miller and D.H. Lawrence from time to time... Yet none of them were able to adequately describe what I've experienced. Oh, they've depicted sexual intercourse in all its variations from the crude to the ephemeral. But their words in no way prepared me for this.

I always found it odd that the woman's participation is construed to be the most vulnerable and referred to in such a way as to imply she is something to be had for the taking, like the man is a thief... Not that she isn't in a vulnerable position, but making love with an individual is rather like laying one's soul bare, and hoping against hope she doesn't laugh and point.

I wish I could adequately describe it, but perhaps it's just as well that I cannot. I think if I could, I might ruin the entire endeavor.

XxXxXxX

Teddy's nostrils pinched at the scent of a traditional fried breakfast, courtesy of Harry. Fried eggs, bacon, sausages, grilled tomatoes, fried mushrooms, toast. Even black pudding, which Teddy knew both Harry and Ginny detested. Lots of tea for Harry and Ginny, chocolate for the children. Orange juice. His stomach roiled in protest at his plate piled with eggs, several rashers of bacon, sausages, and topped with a small mound of mushrooms, a couple slices of toast, crowned with a grilled tomato. 'May I be excused?' he asked faintly, fearing to open his mouth any further than necessary, lest he vomit all over himself again.

Harry glanced up from his breakfast, noting Teddy's pale, ashen face, and nodded. 'Go wait for me on the sofa,' he replied. 'Would you like some tea?' He indicated the pot with his egg-laden fork.

Teddy paled even further and frantically shook his head, lips clamping together, then fled to the sitting room. Harry heaved a sigh of relief and pointed his wand at the plate of black puddings. 'Thank Merlin...'

'Why'd you cook that if you don't like it?' James piped up.

'Purely for the effect on a nasty hangover,' Harry said smoothly.

'Huh?' James' forehead wrinkled in confusion.

'He's trying to teach Teddy a lesson,' Ginny told him.

'About what?' Lily wondered, pausing in the act of attempting to feed her stuffed bunny a mushroom.

'Staying up too late,' Ginny temporized.

Thank you, Harry mouthed at Ginny. He didn't feel up to explaining Teddy's drunken revel of the previous night. He then wiped his mouth with his serviette, and tossed it to the table. 'Teddy and I will be outside,' he told Ginny.

'Will you be back in for lunch?'

Harry grimaced. 'I doubt it. But do send out a sandwich or two for me, will you?' He pushed the swinging door open and stood next to the sofa. 'Come on, then,' he said to Teddy.

'What?'

'You and I are going next door. Where you will repair the Dennings' fence.'

'What?'

Harry ignored Teddy and pulled him to his feet, pulling the boy to the door. 'The fence that you quite pulled down last night in the Dennings' front garden. You will repair it.' He led Teddy across the sun-dappled garden in front of the house and to the ruined fence of the house next-door.

Teddy squinted in the sunshine, mouth falling open at the realization he was going to have to do it all the Muggle way. 'Why... Why can't you...?' He waved a hand in the hair, mimicking a spell.

Harry didn't reply immediately, but set about organizing the new fencing and tools. 'Magic doesn't always solve your problems,' finally said. 'Sometimes...' He hefted a hammer in one hand, seeing the dirty bathroom tiles, covered with water and growing blossoms of blood floating on the surface, rather than the sunny valley. 'Sometimes magic only hides what's bothering you or it makes it too easy to not see the person on the other side of the hex.'

'I don't understand...'

Harry shook his head. 'It's nothing.'

Teddy massaged his pounding temples. 'You're making me do this because you're mad at me...'

Harry straightened and glared at Teddy until he haltingly met Harry's eyes. 'Mad... a little. I'm more disappointed in you than anything else. I can't imagine what made you drink the remainder of my best bottle of Firewhisky.'

'I didn't drink all of it...' Teddy interrupted mulishly.

'Right. There was enough for one good swallow,' Harry retorted. 'I'm shocked you could stand. And then you think it's a brilliant idea to take my motorbike out for a midnight spin, while you're so shitfaced you couldn't take a piss in a straight line if you had to. And to top it all off, Teddy, you destroyed the neighbors' fence in the process. So, yes, I'm somewhat disappointed in you.'

Teddy's eyes flicked toward the pile of fencing. 'You can't tell me what to do.'

'I bloody well can,' Harry growled.

'You're not my father...'

Harry drew himself to his full height. 'I promised your father the day you were born I'd help look after you. If I let this go with no consequence for you, Teddy, then I've let you down, and I've let Remus down.' He stooped for a fence post and set it a hole in the ground. 'Fill this in with the gravel, will you?' Teddy reluctantly shoveled crushed gravel into the hole around the post. 'It's not that I didn't want the responsibility of caring for you,' Harry began softly. 'I didn't want you to forget Remus. Nobody ever let me forget my dad. I figured the least I could do was try and do the same for you. If I let you put me in Remus' place, I was afraid you'd forget him.'

'Bollocks,' Teddy pronounced, stomping the gravel around the fence post. 'Absolute bollocks. If he and Mum loved me so much, then why did they have to do something so damn stupid and get themselves killed, eh?'

'Teddy, that's not what happened!' Harry said, stunned.

'It is,' Teddy maintained. 'Mum didn't have to go, and she chose to. She cared more about fighting than me.' He bent for another post, lugging it to the next hole. 'I don't want to talk about them anymore...'