There'll Be Bluebirds

Zachary Williams settled into his usual chair in the staff room. Minerva McGonagall insisted on weekly staff meetings, just to keep a casual hand in. He didn't mind them, for the most part. They were useful to a point. Students' progress was discussed, problems presented and solutions offered. It helped connect their lessons, especially when a particularly recalcitrant child demanded to know why they needed to know something. Nina Sinestra often helped Neville Longbottom plot when to cultivate and harvest specific herbs based on astronomical cycles. Neville, in turn, could explain to Williams exactly why certain herbs were more potent when harvested during this phase of the moon, as opposed to another. It made them all better teachers. Except for Binns, Williams thought with a grimace. Damn ghost's been teaching too long... needs to go haunt some nice library... Oftentimes, the meetings weren't too long - less than an hour in most cases. But the look on McGonagall's face forced him to suppress a sigh. It was what he privately termed "the Headmistress has got something in her teeth and won't let us go until she's got it figured out" look.

The rest of the staff trickled into the room in fits and starts until they were all seated or sprawled in the various chairs and sofas around the staff room. Promptly at ten, McGonagall began the meeting. 'Let's get started, shall we?' It wasn't a question. 'How are your lessons progressing?' Gareth Shacklebolt went first. His fifth-year Defense class was a bit behind, but it wasn't something that would throw off the rest of the schedule. The sixth-years were having difficulty with non-verbal spells, so he needed to shift a few things around to spend more time on it until they managed to demonstrate a level of mastery with the skill. Rafael Moreno needed more books from the Restricted Section for his seventh-year Arithmancy class project. Neville's classes were going as well as could be expected, considering the Venomous Tentacula was teething. Greenhouse Four was off-limits to students for the time being, until it had finished.

And so it went, each teacher giving McGonagall a quick update of their classes. There was a slight lull in the conversation until Neville spoke up. 'I'm a bit worried about Teddy,' he began.

'As am I,' added Flitwick. He brandished a teacup in McGonagall's direction. 'The boy's marks have gone steadily down from the end of last year. And he was one of the best students in my class of his year.' He wasn't the only one with concerns. In fact, all of Teddy's teachers expressed unease about his marks in their classes, not to mention his behavior.

The meeting stretched to lunchtime, and McGonagall dismissed them, saying they wouldn't reach a solution that day. As the teachers filed out of the staff room, her attention honed in on the Potions teacher. 'Zachary, could I have a moment of your time?'

Williams' stomach protested at the delay, but he nodded. 'Of course.' He took the chair next to McGonagall, wondering what she was about. She might be old, but she's cagier than roomful of goblins...

'I was wondering if you could speak to Lupin.'

'I could try, but I'm not sure I'll get anywhere with him.' Williams shifted his books and scrolls. 'I don't know his family very well...'

'That's exactly why you should be the one to approach the lad,' McGonagall interjected. 'Most of us here taught his parents and godparents. His parents were members of the Order. His father was his godfather's mentor, of a sort. And if I recall, you started school the autumn after the war ended.'

'Yes.'

'So you have no personal connection at all to Remus or Nymphadora Lupin, nor Harry or Ginny Potter.' McGonagall smiled thinly. 'You're neutral, you see.'

'But he's not in my House.'

'Do you really think that matters?' She leveled a look at him that could freeze the Black Lake.

'No, Professor McGonagall, it does not. I just thought...' Williams sighed resignedly. 'I thought Teddy might be more comfortable speaking to someone he trusts.'

'Have you done anything to prevent the boy from confiding in you?'

'Not that I'm aware.'

'The thing is, Zachary, Lupin's afraid we're going to send a multitude of owls to his godparents and grandmother. Or that anything he tells us will be colored by our memories of his parents. He feels anything we might have to say about his parents will be viewed through the rose-colored glasses.'

Williams snorted softly. 'Told you that, did he?'

McGonagall wheezed in soundless laughter. 'He didn't have to. When you've done this as long as I have, Zachary, you learn a few things. Lupin's second year, he would have been in the greenhouses with Neville, talking the man's ear off. He hasn't set foot in those greenhouses, save for his classes. But he always finds an excuse to spend extra time in your classroom.'

'I'm just helping him scrape together an Acceptable on his O.W.L.'

McGonagall stood. 'If that was all he needed or wanted, he'd spend a little extra time in Callie's classroom, as well,' she scoffed. 'I expect a report on the matter before the meeting next Saturday, hmmm?' With that, she swept regally from the staff room.

xxxxxx

The scent of her lingered in the back of his throat. It was different. Heavier. Muskier. Richer. It was so faint; he hadn't noticed it in the dash of the last full moon and their marriage. He'd noticed the signs, of course. They all had. Her mother had pointed out how pale she looked on the morning of their wedding. Nausea arose at odd times of the day. He'd dismissed it all as stress. As had she. But that scent. It had finally dawned on him where he'd encountered it before.

Lily.

Right before Harry's birth.

It had driven him to the edge of madness, to the point where he'd had to excuse himself for fresh air for a few minutes, lest he forget himself. The wolf had loved the idea of a pregnant woman. The scent of Lily had been so thick in the air the last few weeks of her pregnancy, Remus couldn't help but wonder how Sirius and James missed it.

He bent his head toward the curve of her neck and shoulder, and inhaled deeply. There it was. The underlying scent of her, hovering underneath the scent of her soap. It was still faint, and yet entirely unmistakable.

But Remus was not a man to rely on his senses alone. He was a man who relied on the calendar. Who believed in the calendar. He carefully slid from the bed and stepped to the small calendar, quietly pulling it from the wall. He settled in the windowsill, flipping it back idly. There it was in June. June the twenty-fifth. A circle around the number. And one in May, then April, March, February, January... But July?

She was two days past the day where she should have circled the date. To Remus, coupled with the information his senses gave him, it was all the confirmation he needed. He slowly replaced the calendar, and began to pace the small flat, throwing glances to the bed where Dora slept peacefully. In spite of the warm sunshine streaming into the room, Remus shivered. For the first time in fifteen years, he desperately wanted James to be alive. Just so he could ask if James had been this terrified to discover he was going to be a father.

Remus sat down hard on the small sofa, cold sweat glazing over his skin. He fought the wolf's triumph, battering it down by strength of will.

Werewolves didn't mate.

Werewolves didn't breed.

None had ever done so before, so therefore no one knew just what might happen should a pregnancy continue to its conclusion. But Remus had an idea. That the fetus might react the same way he did to a full moon, once the pregnancy advanced far enough.

It was as if he'd plotted to murder her with his bare hands.

Bile rose in the back of his throat, and Remus bolted for the bathroom, jabbing his wand at the door to muffle the sounds of his retching. He would let her sleep for now.

xxxxxx

Remus stroked a light forefinger down the side of Dora's cheek. 'Dora...' he said hoarsely. 'Wake up...' She winced away from the insistent finger tracing down her face. 'I have tea,' he cajoled.

Dora's face scrunched and she stretched, rubbing her hands over her face and through her matted hair. She held a hand out for the mug of tea Remus offered, and he pressed it into her palm, fingers curling around the handle. Without opening her eyes, she sipped the tea, frowning in dismay. 'There's something wrong with this tea,' she rasped.

'How so?'

Dora cracked open an eyelid and glared balefully into the milky liquid. 'This is decaf.'

Remus started guiltily. 'What makes you say that?'

Both eyes were now open and glowering at him. 'It tastes different,' she stated.

'You're imagining things,' he said smoothly, burying his nose into his own mug, inwardly swearing. Remus had often scoffed at the idea of someone being able to tell the difference between regular and decaffeinated beverages before he all but needed a better method if introducing caffeine to his bloodstream than by drinking it. It appeared Dora was one of those kinds who survived off caffeine, as well. He set his mug on the night table and settled on the edge of the bed. 'We need to talk.'

Dora's grumpy expression shifted into wariness. 'The last time you said that, things didn't end well.'

Remus' left hand twitched, the weight of his wedding band feeling more pronounced. 'I thought perhaps you might stay home tonight.'

Dora lowered the mug. 'Why?'

Remus sighed. He knew she would instantly take offense at being told to stay home, Auror that she was. 'You haven't been feeling well,' he offered, when all he wanted to do was scream, Because I think you're pregnant!

'I'm fine,' Dora said shortly.

'It's going to be dangerous,' Remus began.

Dora surged from the bedding, standing over him in a ratty oversized t-shirt. 'I am an Auror,' she stated flatly, cutting him off. 'This is what I do. And a little nausea or exhaustion isn't going to keep me from doing my job.'

'But you could...' He stopped himself. She didn't know yet. Perhaps it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if she were to... He left the thought unfinished.

xxxxxx

Kingsley huddled around the Burrow's scrubbed wooden table. 'We'll split up, and seven of you will take Polyjuice so you'll look like Harry.' He glanced at them solemnly. 'If you want to back out, now is the time to do it.'

'I woul' like t'...'

'Shut it, Mundungus,' Mad-Eye growled. 'You're doing it and furthermore, I'll have you paired with me, so you can't weasel your way out of it, you bleeding coward.'

Kingsley cleared his throat. 'As I was saying, Hagrid will take Harry -'

'Fleur and I will go together,' Bill interjected.

'Fine,' Kingsley sighed. 'Arthur, you've got Fred. Lupin, George. Tonks, you'll take Ron, and Hermione will go with me.' Hermione whimpered a little, paling even more than she already was. 'We'll be on a thestral, Hermione,' Kingsley assured her. 'The rest of you will be on brooms, except for Hagrid, who's got the motorbike.'

'And us,' Bill said lightly, inclining his head toward Fleur. 'We'll need a thestral.'

'Harry's not going to take this very well,' Hermione stated evenly.

'That's just too damn bad,' Mad-Eye swiftly rejoined. 'If he wants his pretty face to remain pretty he'll do as he's told.'

Remus sidled around to Dora. 'Use one of the thestrals,' he whispered.

'The broom will be fine.'

He felt sick dread in his stomach, wavering as he was between wanting to protect her and the baby, and teetering on the verge of hoping she'd miscarry. What kind of sick arsewipe does that? he demanded of himself. Remus cornered Kingsley. 'Switch Ron and Hermione,' he suggested.

'Ron is perfectly capable of defending himself,' Kingsley returned calmly. 'And Tonks is a brilliant Auror. Mad-Eye trained her.' He gave Remus an odd look. 'Get your head back where it belongs, Remus. The only thing that matters is getting Harry safely to the Tonks'. Your only job tonight is to keep the Death Eaters away from Hagrid and Harry.'

The grooves bracketing Remus' mouth deepened. But you don't understand...

Mad-Eye checked his watch. 'Let's get this over with.'

Remus wound through the milling members of the Order and found Dora. He tugged on her sleeve, and she looked up at him. His hands cupped her face, thumbs stroking over the smooth line of her cheekbones. 'Don't do anything rash,' he cautioned.

She grinned. 'Don't do anything stupid, you mean,' she said cheekily. 'Do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred pounds,' she teased.

He rested his forehead against hers with a sigh. 'Don't do anything ill-advised.' He kissed her then. Less than a seduction and more than a mere brushing of his mouth over hers.

'The same to you,' she rejoined. 'I look peaky in black.'

'Anything to keep you from looking peaky.' One more kiss. 'I love you.'

She laid a hand against his face. 'I love you, too.'

xxxxxx

Remus stood in the back garden of the Burrow, staring up at the sky, waiting. The seconds and minutes felt endless. Harry, Hagrid, George, Kingsley, Hermione... They had all returned. He had tried to convince Kingsley to switch Ron with Hermione. Hermione was much cleverer than Ron. Remus had far more confidence in her abilities to defend herself against Death Eaters, especially when his wife's life was at stake. If Hermione had been with Dora, they would have returned by now. It was unkind, he knew, but there was no place for kindness now.

Kingsley paced, his eyes glued to the starry sky, searching for a hint of blue that would signal a Portkey, a flash of moonlight glinting from the hide of a thestral, or even the disturbance of air left in the wake of a broom's passage.

Hermione stood to one side of him, as still as a statue. Remus could see her pulse flutter at the base of her throat. She murmured softly, breathily. Her eyes were wide, dark pools in the ashen smudge of her face. Next to Hermione loomed Hagrid, fidgeting anxiously.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Harry and Ginny take a position on his other side. Their hands were twined tightly together, as if they drew strength to face what might have happened to Ron from each other. Unconsciously, they shifted closer and closer together, until her shoulder bumped into his arm.

As for himself, his thumb twisted the wedding ring around his finger. Over and over the simple band rotated, giving rhythm to his soundless prayers. Oh, God, please...

Something streaked across the horizon, and presently, Dora and Ron swooped to the ground. Remus didn't spare a thought for Ron, but made for Dora. She lurched off the broom and half-fell into his arms. 'Remus!'

Remus' arms wound around her waist. He pressed his face to the juncture of her neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply, knees nearly buckling in relief. Under the tang of fear and worry, it was there. The back of a hand brushed over her stomach, pressing slightly just under her navel. Warmth curled to his hand, warmer than the surrounding flesh. Under the rush of his own pulse, he could hear Dora nattering about how Ron had skillfully Stunned a Death Eater. It didn't matter. All that mattered was she was back. Alive and uninjured. He pulled away slightly, hands around her upper arms in an iron grip. 'So what kept you? What happened?' He willed himself not to shout, but he could nonetheless hear his voice ringing in the Burrow's back garden.

'Bellatrix. She wants me quite as much as she wants Harry, Remus, she tried very hard to kill me.' Dora's face hardened. Remus got a fleeting impression of a lioness protecting her cub. 'I just wish I'd got her, I owe Bellatrix. But we definitely injured Rodolphus...' She began to shake and Remus gathered her closely. 'Then we got to Ron's Aunt Muriel's and we'd missed our Portkey and she was fussing over us...' Her voice caught slightly. He nodded. It had been close. Too close. And he knew once Bellatrix heard about the baby, very little would stop her pursuit to eradicate what she viewed as unnatural.

xxxxxx

28 July 1997

To lose Alastor Moody just a month after losing Dumbledore is a terrible blow to the Order. It was a horrible loss for Dora - he was her mentor in the Aurors - constantly pushing her to be better. It won't do to dwell on the deaths, but the list grows lengthy. And it shall increase much, much more in the days to come. I wonder if there might be a point where it won't make us feel like the earth has shifted under our feet. On the other hand, I am not certain at all that I would want to be in such a state. Rather diminishes our humanity, does it not?

I was very proud of Harry tonight. He has proven himself to be his father's son in far more than his looks and his Patronus. Just as James would never turn his back on Wormtail (despite Sirius' and my reservations), Harry will never believe Hagrid would have it in him to betray him. One merely has to look at the reactions of Hagrid where Harry is concerned. Harry's always held a special place in Hagrid's heart and I sincerely doubt Hagrid could live with himself if he knowingly betrayed a confidence. And unlike Wormtail, Hagrid is capable of feeling remorse in greater proportions than his actual transgressions demand.

I believe Dora is carrying my child. Our child. And she does not realize it yet. Perhaps it is too early for her to suspect. By my rather crude calculations, she is not quite a month gone. Not that I know a great deal about the timing of the conception of children, considering it was on the list of things I would never do. All of her symptoms: the nausea and exhaustion can be contributed to the current situation in the magical community.

I find I am of two minds about the pregnancy. On one hand, I already have beyond what I ever hoped. I have Dora, who is far more than willing to cope with my affliction than I am. Having a child of my own is indescribable. But... There is a reason why werewolves choose to live apart from society. Why they choose to live in isolation. Because of what we are capable to doing during a full moon. And no werewolf, as far as I know, as ever conceived and birthed a child. Is my furry little problem imprinted on my DNA, lurking in my very essence to pass down to a child as I would give him or her my name? There are too many unknown factions for me to feel any sort of joy in the knowledge of my child.

It's a fallacy to even consider bringing a child into the world, especially when we might lose the war, or it might last for years, as the last one did.

xxxxxx

Teddy trudged into the empty Potions classroom. 'Professor,' he mumbled.

'Good evening, Teddy.' Williams gestured to the table in front of his desk. 'Shrinking Solution tonight.' Teddy sat at the table with a put-upon sigh. 'Make sure your daisy roots are cut into small, even pieces...'

'One rat spleen, a peeled Shrivelfig, sliced caterpillars, but make sure they're sliced thinly, and only use a tiny bit of leech juice,' Teddy droned in monotone.

'Don't add the leech juice unless I'm watching you,' Williams told him. Teddy made a small noise in the back of his throat. 'Something you'd like to say, Teddy?' Williams asked mildly.

'No, sir.'

Williams picked up a stack of sixth year quizzes, and began to grade them, keeping one eye on Teddy's progress. 'Lovely job on the daisy roots, Teddy.' Teddy grunted, his attention focused on the caterpillar he was slicing. Williams waited until all the ingredients were assembled and in Teddy's cauldron. 'Just a drop of leech juice, mind,' he cautioned. Teddy scowled and with exaggerated care, let a small drop of leech juice fall into the cauldron.

'Am I allowed to light a fire under the cauldron, Professor?'

'Yes. Let it simmer for a while.' Williams ran his quill down a column of answers, marking several of them wrong. 'Is someone bullying you, Teddy?' Teddy shook his head. 'Everything all right at home, then?'

'Yeah.' Teddy gathered his silver knife and took it to the sink in the corner to wash it and his sticky hands. 'Of course it is. My grandmother only got rid of me for most of the holiday.'

'I highly doubt that.'

'She's just like...' Teddy bit his lip. 'It doesn't matter.'

'It does if it bothers you like this.'

'She's just like my parents,' Teddy rumbled. 'Didn't want to bother with me.'

'And how did you come to this conclusion?'

Teddy sat in his chair and tilted it back on its rear legs. 'I was only two weeks old when they died. They both left me to die in that damn battle.'

'You're not the only orphan from the war, Teddy.'

'I'm the only mongrel,' Teddy scoffed. 'How many other half-breed werewolves are out there?' He shoved the chair back and snatched his bag from the floor. 'They were stuck with me. They didn't want me.' He stalked from the classroom, leaving a perfectly brewed Shrinking Solution behind, throwing acid green lights on the low, dark ceiling of the dungeon.

xxxxxx

Some dialogue is taken from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Scholastic paperback edition, pgs. 76-77.