There'll Be Bluebirds

Ginny drew her old hairbrush through Lily's hair, before gathering it into one hand. She set the brush on her small vanity, then deftly split Lily's bright hair into three strands, and began weaving them into a neat plait. Lily sat quietly on the vanity's stool, her small feet swinging several inches above the floor. Ginny swiftly completed the plait and bound the end with an elastic band, then gazed at the image of Lily in the mirror. Lily wore a dark blue pinafore, the rounded collar of her white shirt peeping over the edge. White knee socks and black bar strap shoes completed the outfit. Ginny felt tears prick the corners of her eyes, and she turned away for a moment, busying herself with straightening the vanity. 'Don't forget your cardie,' she told Lily.

'I don't want to wear it,' Lily protested. 'It's still warm!'

Ginny fixed her youngest with a stern eye. 'Yes, I know. But I'd rather you take it and not need it, than not have it and want it later.' Lily's small brows scrunched together in bemusement, so Ginny merely said, 'Take it with you, please. Put it with your schoolbag by the door.' Lily glared at Ginny with a put-upon sigh, and began to walk out the door. One sock drooped halfway down her shin. 'Lily, wait...' Ginny knelt and pulled Lily's sock back into place, then nudged Lily to go down the stairs. The sock immediately slid back down to its previous location. 'Pull your sock up, Lily,' Ginny said with a bit of frustration. The socks are brand-new, for Merlin's sake. They shouldn't fall down like that... Ginny followed Lily down the stairs and into the kitchen, where James and Al were frantically shoveling cereal into their mouths, while Harry and Teddy watched them.

'Do you have to walk with us?' James whined. 'It's not as if Lily's going somewhere else for school,' he added.

Harry's hand began a slow ascent to his nose, so that he might massage the sudden ache that took up residence between his eyebrows. He checked the motion, and instead wrapped his fingers around the sizeable mug of tea at his elbow. 'Yes,' he said shortly. 'It's Lily's first day of primary school, and we're at least going to take her to the school. You can walk ahead if you wish.' James slumped in his chair, glaring mulishly into his empty bowl. Harry looked down the table at Teddy, desultorily pushing pieces of cereal around his bowl. 'Teddy, you can stay here, if you like. We won't be gone very long. Have you finished packing?' Teddy shook his head. 'Why don't you go up and get started on that? Then when Ginny and I get back we can take you to the train.'

'Fine.' Teddy swiped his bowl from the table, sloshing milk over the edge. He all but dropped it into the sink and slouched from the kitchen. Harry then let his fingers firmly pinch the bridge of his nose.

'It's just a phase,' he muttered to himself.

XxXxXxX

Teddy crammed the last of his belongings into his trunk, before he all but slammed it shut. The resultant bang echoed around the small room. Harry appeared in the doorway, arms held stiffly at his sides. 'Are you ready?' he asked quietly. Teddy nodded shortly, and waited for Harry to tap the trunk with his wand, lightening it enough for Teddy to haul it down the stairs. He wrapped his fingers tightly around the handle and dragged it noisily down the narrow stairs, the end of the trunk slamming into the risers. Teddy glanced over his shoulder at Harry, but Harry's face was stonily impassive. Teddy charged into the back garden ahead of Harry and waited, arms crossed impatiently over his chest.

Harry walked past Ginny in the kitchen and she smiled sympathetically, hand reaching out to briefly squeeze his. 'It'll be all right,' she murmured.

Harry paused and met her slightly worried eyes. 'I hope you're right,' he replied, then stalked into the garden. He held out an arm for Teddy to take. When Teddy didn't immediately grab Harry's elbow, Harry shot a look of disbelief at Teddy. 'Let's go, Teddy,' he huffed. 'You're not old enough to Apparate yet.'

Reluctantly, Teddy slowly grabbed a handful of Harry's jacket sleeve. Harry looked at Teddy thoughtfully for a long moment, and an echo of something Remus had told him his third year came into his mind. 'You said your mum cared more about fighting than she did about you,' he said slowly.

'Yeah.'

'Your mum and your dad both died to give you a life,' Harry told him evenly.

Teddy snorted derisively. 'Ha-bloody-ha. If she wanted to give me a life so badly, maybe you can tell me why she even had to go. She didn't, did she? She could have stayed home, all nice and safe. But no. She just had to run off and fight in some stupid battle.' He glowered at Harry. 'Don't try and guilt me into forgiving her. She was my mum. She was supposed to take of me.'

XxXxXxX

Remus glanced at the horizon, searching for the rising moon. His eyes darted around the clearing, looking for Matthew, Maurice, and Phillip. He felt a twinge of guilt about the three of them and attempted to repress it. He hadn't returned to live at the farmhouse since Dumbledore's death, preferring to stay with Dora in her cramped flat. He thought they felt he had quite abandoned them.

Shrugging in resignation, Remus doffed his traveling cloak, and began to unbutton the cuffs of his shirt. He had divested himself of most of his clothing when a trio of people, muffled in dark cloaks emerged from the growing shadows. One of them shook the hood off his head and Phillip's nose lifted, tasting the air. He gave Remus a long look, and a wry smile flitted over the man's face. 'Deserted us for birds, eh?'

Remus started, scraping his hand on the buckle of his belt. 'No,' he muttered. He couldn't help but add, 'Just one.'

Maurice paused in the act of pulling his jumper over his head. 'Is she worth it?'

Remus hesitated for the briefest of moments before he replied, 'Yes.' He tucked his wand into his cloak and waited, eyes closed for the inevitable, agonizing transformation, shifting restlessly from foot to foot. Easy... he told the wolf. Just a few minutes more... The wolf clawed at him with feral delight, anxious to run about freely in the woods. But the wolf desired more than that, and it manifested itself in an ache deep in his loins.

XxXxXxX

A cloaked and hooded figure appeared in the crags above Hogsmeade in the gloom of early morning. He carefully picked his way down to the High Street, staying within the shadows, until he came to a particular building, and tapped the door with his wand. It opened in silent admission, and the man soundlessly slipped inside. He lightly ran up the stairs, feeling the tug and pull of exhaustion at his limbs, but the anticipation of what - or rather who - awaited him in the small flat at the top of the stairs sent a surge of energy through his veins.

Remus waved his wand at the scarred door, and it sparkled for a moment, then the doorknob turned of its own accord, and he went inside. He raised his trembling hands to his throat to unfasten the cloak, and let it fall to the floor at his feet, then toed off his shoes. It was only then that he saw Dora standing in the flat's tiny kitchen, moving with unusual grace between the stove and the table, clad in one of his older shirts. The early morning light shone through the worn fabric, clearly outlining her body. She'd rolled the sleeves past her elbows, and the hem hung halfway down her thighs. She didn't seem to have heard him, but Remus knew Dora was too good of an Auror to have missed his entrance. She turned her head at the sound of his approaching footfalls and smiled at him. 'Sit yourself down. I'll have breakfast ready in a mo.'

Remus grunted in reply, but yanked a chair from the small table and dropped into it, propping his elbows on the table, eyes following her every move. She must have showered shortly before he arrived. Her hair was still clinging damply to her neck, and the scent of her shampoo made his nose twitch. Remus' hands curled into his bunched thighs. From his fourth or fifth year at school, he always on edge the morning after a full moon, and previous to this morning, had been blissfully unaware of exactly why. He fairly quivered with attempting to calculate how long he would be able to engage in polite conversation before he could have her. She placed a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of him, then took the seat next to his. She didn't talk very much, as she ate her own breakfast. It was as if she was aware of his mood. How could she not be? He was more than a bit surly, picking at his food, which was unusual in of itself. Normally, the morning after a full moon, he was ravenous. Remus' attention was on every move Dora made. He nearly came unglued when he caught her innocently licking a smear of jam from the side of her thumb in a mindless gesture that suggested it was a habit, rather than a provocative action.

'Tea?' Remus tore his gaze from the shadowed valley between her breasts, exposed by the opening of the shirt. He blinked uncomprehendingly at Dora, holding out the battered brown teapot. Fragrant steam wreathed his head and Remus coolly accepted the teapot from Dora and gripped the handle for a split second before he flung it across the room, spattering the wall with tea and broken crockery. To her credit, Dora's head merely cocked to one side and one expressive brow rose. Not caring about the waste of food for once, Remus swept both his and Dora's plates to the floor, then stood, looming over her. He gripped her upper arms in his hands, and hauled her on top of the table. The shirt's hem rose considerably when she was in a sitting position, Remus noticed, with more than a bit of grim satisfaction.

One of his hands disappeared under the hem of the shirt, while the other gripped the table with such force, he thought he might have splinters embedded in his fingers. Remus slowly resumed his seat and looked up at Dora. 'No, thank you,' he managed to growl. 'I don't fancy tea just now,' he choked before his senses were overwhelmed by the scent of her. His head bent and he began to nuzzle the skin of her inner thigh, following the heady aroma.

Remus snarled in impatience as Dora began to move in response to the onslaught of his lips and tongue. His arms wound around her hips, holding her still, triumphant in the tremors he felt under his palms. Single-minded in his task, he didn't feel the foot that rested lightly against his chest. Dora suddenly pushed him away, eyes bright and glittering with something Remus couldn't recognize. 'Oh, it's like that, is it?' she all but cooed, and slid off the table, padding toward him, adroitly avoiding the mess on the floor. One hand drifted to the side, and she picked up her wand from its place on the counter near the sink, and swept it at him. The buttons of his shirt slid through the buttonholes, and the shirt itself slid from his shoulders. His belt slipped from his trousers and slithered to the floor with a clatter. She ran her hand down his bare chest, nails raking over his pale skin hard enough to leave a mark.

From then on, things were a blur to Remus. Stacks of books were knocked over, coffee table overturned. The small throw pillows from the sofa had been tossed in abandon about the flat. Even the curtains covering the one window were torn and hung askew. What clothing that had remained on their bodies after the initial rush, was soon ripped off and cast aside. He had tried at one point to drag Dora to the bed, but in the furious battle of wills between the two of them, they had merely slid to the floor in a jumble of bedding and pillows. Enough, the wolf howled, panting for the long-awaited release.

Remus' hands locked around Dora's wrists, spreading her arms away from her body. He was mindless in his struggle to have her, blind and deaf to everything except that singular purpose. The climax seized him in an iron grip, leaving him gasping and shaking, reason and sense slowly returning to his fevered brain. He was dimly aware of Dora's legs wrapped around his hips, and of the self-satisfied smirk on her face. He wearily lifted his head, intending to mumble that they ought to try and make their way into bed, when he saw something on her shoulder than made his blood freeze.

A single bite mark, each of his teeth perfectly outlined in her ivory skin.

He pulled away, seeing for the first time her disheveled hair, the marks his hands had left around her wrists and thighs. The deep purple smudge on the slope of her breast and under her ear. Even her swollen mouth made him recoil in horror. 'Oh, God,' he breathed. 'Oh, God... I'm sorry...' He scrambled away from her, stumbling in his haste, tripping over the scattered books and furniture. He paused long enough to snatch his cloak from the floor, feeling for the wand inside its pocket, and darted from the flat, overcome with shame.

XxXxXxX

Remus huddled on the bare mattress of his narrow bed in his London flat. He was exhausted, but unwilling to sleep, images of bites and scratches marring Dora's skin flashing through his brain. He shivered, despite the Warming charms he'd cast in his bedroom, and one of his shabbiest sets of clothing that had been left behind last autumn. His hands clenched around the edges of the cloak, drawing it closer to his body, effectively cocooning him. He grunted as something hard dug into his ribs. Frowning, Remus pulled the hard-edged object from the inner pocket of his cloak. It was his journal. He held in balanced in one hand, considering. He had no one else in which to confide.

XxXxXxX

21 July 1997

What did I do? I nearly raped her, didn't I? I'm no better than Greyback. I do not dare attempt to imagine what might happen if I thought I could have a real future with her. I hurt her badly. What will happen in the next full moon? Will I go too far next time and take her against her will? Will I maim her? And what happens when she realizes that she's managed to find herself in a situation that she cannot control? She will come to resent me, even if she claims she will not.

The desire to create havoc was beyond my control. This is not the kind of life I envisioned for Dora.

Nor for myself.

XxXxXxX

He jerked at the sound of someone breaching the charms he had set on the door, ink splattering over the page. Remus launched himself from the bed, flattening himself to the wall, wand held loosely in his hand, ready to send a hex or jinx at the unknown intruder.

Dora strode down the short corridor, empty hands held out, so Remus could see she was unarmed. The handle of her want peeped out from the back pocket of her patched jeans. Remus' hand dropped and his wand fell to the floor. 'Go away,' he said harshly.

'Why?' Dora hovered just inside the bedroom door, one hand reaching for Remus' hand. He pulled it away as if he'd been burned.

'I hurt you,' Remus said flatly. 'Now do you see why I'm too dangerous to be with you?' he hissed accusingly.

Dora bit her lip and glanced down guiltily. 'It wasn't you.'

'It was me,' he insisted.

She shook her head. 'I didn't set out to seduce you,' she allowed. 'Well, not consciously.' Remus snorted in disbelief. 'Oh, all right,' Dora sighed. 'I was going to seduce you after breakfast.' She crossed her arms defensively over her chest. 'I'm not upset that it turned out the way it did,' she maintained stubbornly. 'Because it proved I can handle whatever you can throw at me.'

Remus' head shook from side to side slowly. 'No, you can't,' he beseeched her. 'I saw the marks and bruises.'

Dora lifted her chin. 'Nothing I can't heal.' She tilted her head to the side. The marks he'd left on her neck were gone, as were the abrasions on her wrists. 'I did leave one thing,' she said impishly, pulling the neck of her t-shirt aside, revealing the bite mark on her shoulder. 'Marking your territory, if you will,' she added lightly. Remus gaped at her . 'And if you'll stop being such a self-centered git, you'll recall I was an active participant.' She eyed him appraisingly. 'I'll lay odds that you haven't so much as glanced in a mirror, either,' she told him.

'No...' Remus raised a hand to his hair, and ran it through the thick strands, as if he were trying to restore order to it. Dora rolled her eyes and pulled her wand from her pocket and lazily waved it in front of his face. A small hand mirror appeared and floated before Remus. Three parallel scratches ran from the side of his neck, disappearing into the threadbare fabric of his shirt. His mouth was still a little puffy, and a dark purple smudge marked the base of his throat, throbbing with his fluttering pulse. Slowly, her fingers worked their way down the buttons of his shirt. There was no allure in her actions now. Dora gently lifted the shirt from his shoulders and worked it off his arms.

'So?' she asked softly.

Remus studied the reflection in the mirror, twisting and turning a bit. His back stung with the movement, and he carried the mirror into the small bathroom, his back to the mirror over the sink. Bright pink welts and scratches crisscrossed the already-scarred flesh. A few were outright gouges, just beginning to scab over. They were too regular to have been inflicted by shrubbery. He traced the deep tooth marks in his own shoulder and let the mirror fall to his side, suddenly wearier than he ever had been. 'It's too much of a risk,' he said in one last attempt to argue.

'Everything's a risk,' Dora countered. 'My parents, who didn't even have half the issues you and I do, consider their marriage a risk.'

'I could...'

'You could. But I could get hit by a bus tomorrow, and it would be a moot point, no? Do you want to spend the rest of your life constrained by what might happen?' Dora tugged the shirt over Remus' unresisting arms and proceeded to do up the buttons. She rose on her toes, pressing her lips to his. 'Come home with me,' she urged, against his mouth.

Remus' gaze was fixed to the floor between the toes of his shoes. He wanted to say no, needed to pull his hands from hers, but instead, found himself nodding in assent.

XxXxXxX

Remus stood numbly next to Dora in a drab Ministry office, finding himself repeating a lot of improbable words. Taking a ring from his trouser pocket and slipping it over her finger, then watching in near disbelief as she slid a plain band on his own. Inwardly cringing as her parents witnessed their union. Signing his name to a registry, flinching a little as his name flared briefly, signifying the completion of a magically-binding contract. Dora clutched his cold hand in her smaller one, posing for a requisite photograph. Her face glowed brightly in the flickering light, as the bored Ministry official began to intone his rote congratulations, choking them off as he realized just to whom he was speaking. They left, Remus glancing over his shoulder, as if he expected someone from the Werewolf Registration office to apprehend and arrest him for marrying Dora.

He knew he should have felt something. Joy, perhaps, recalling the rather blissful expression on James' face when he married Lily. He should have felt something other than this all-encompassing fear that he had just made a horrible mistake.

He had proposed to Dora in a moment of vulnerability the previous morning, still reeling from the aftereffects of the full moon and coming to terms with what it could possibly mean for him to have any sort of long-term relationship with her.

Remus could scarcely breathe. He had to find some way to leave, and make her understand it was for the best. And with the war coming rapidly to a head, it wouldn't do for him to live openly with her. He could offer his services to Kingsley and try to infiltrate the werewolves once more. He would have to ask Kingsley to sneak into the marriage registry and make that page of the registry book vanish before Voldemort and his Death Eaters made their next move.

Some Gryffindor you are, the wolf mocked savagely. Coward.

'Yes, I am,' Remus murmured.

'Did you say something, darling?' Dora asked.

Remus shook himself imperceptibly. He attempted to smile at her, and squeezed her hand. 'Let's go home, eh?'

XxXxXxX

23 July 1997

Nymphadora Lupin. A name, I fear, that will live in infamy. Anything she might accomplish will be overshadowed by her marriage with me.

She was so jubilant this morning. Pale, but jubilant.

She hasn't looked well the past few weeks. Refused breakfast more often than not. Claims exhaustion. And yet... And yet she looks... Radiant is the only word I can possibly think of to describe it. It is completely at odds with the shadows under her eyes and the nausea. Perhaps it is merely the initial elation of marrying me. And everything else is just stress.

It is not seemly to take pride in her wedding ring. It's hardly anything, really. But I rather foolishly spent all I had to procure it for her.

As for me, my newest accoutrement feels odd on my hand. As if it weighs me down and links me to her until my natural life span should end.

XxXxXxX

Teddy slumped in the memorial corridor at Hogwarts. A seventh-year prefect had whispered the password to the portrait hole at dinner, and Teddy took the opportunity to slip away during the feast.

Heretofore, his father's journals had been comforting, even familiar. Teddy was well aware of Remus' struggles to make sense of his feelings for Nymphadora. His entire life he'd been told how much his father had loved his mother, and vice versa. For the past year, he had appreciated Remus' honesty, as it gave him a chance to discover who his father was underneath the legend of the man who had been a war hero.

But now he didn't know who his father was. Teddy felt his father had been a man of honor and integrity. And if this was true, how could he have entered into a marriage that was built on nothing more than a moment of weakness?