There'll Be Bluebirds

Teddy eased the lid off a flat box that was wedged under his bed. It contained several photographs he had collected two summers ago. Remus' last diary entry disturbed him with the implication he had left Dora. He rifled through the photographs until he found the one he'd been looking for and lifted it up to the beam of light coming from his wand. The date scribbled on the back read 27 April 1998. He was two weeks old, cradled in his father's arms, Remus' finger gripped tightly in his pudgy baby fist. From time to time, Remus bent his head and nuzzled the tuft of bright turquoise hair that peeped from the top of the blanket wrapped around him. Teddy dumped the photographs on the floor, and spread them out. There were forty-odd photographs of him during those first two weeks, mostly with one or both of his parents. They seemed happy, which made Remus' confession he'd left Dora all the more confusing.

'Teddy?' Lily peered into Teddy's darkened attic bedroom. 'Are you okay?' She padded across the rug, her stuffed bunny clutched in her arms.

Teddy hastily swiped his hands over his cheeks. To his chagrin, he had seemed to not be able to stop crying since that afternoon. He welled up at odd moments, and rather than try to suppress it, he gave in more often than not. Better out than in, Harry had told him, with a twinkle to his eyes that told Teddy there was a story behind that statement. 'I'm fine, Pumpkin,' he said, wincing at the noticeable quaver in his voice. It wouldn't do to burst into tears in front of his five year-old baby sister. Well, for all intents and purposes she was his baby sister. He gathered the scattered photographs in his hands and replaced them in the box. 'How's school?'

It was the wrong question. She scowled, her tiny red brows drawing together in displeasure. 'Cadbury doesn't like it.' She held up her bunny.

'Oh?'

'No. He doesn't like Sammy Martin.'

'And why is that?'

'He laughs at my freckles,' Lily huffed. Then she grinned with an expression Teddy had only ever seen on Harry. A perfect storm of grim satisfaction and joy. 'He was teasing me before we got out for the holiday and I was really mad at him and he was covered in blue spots,' she said beatifically.

'That's not nice, Lily.'

Her scowl deepened, and Teddy had to stifle a giggle. She might look like Ginny, but Lily's emotions ran the same lines as Harry's. Nobody Teddy knew - not even McGonagall - was capable of synthesizing loathing into a single, focused glare. 'He's not nice,' she argued, as if it was perfectly logical to engage in tit-for-tat with the singularly unappealing Sammy Martin.

'I know how that feels,' Teddy muttered. He felt it every day of his life. If it hadn't been his Metamorphmagus abilities in primary school that practically assigned an Obliviator squad to his school, it was the fact his father had been a werewolf. 'Come on. It's late, and it's past your bedtime.' He unfolded himself and swung Lily in his arms, carefully picking his way downstairs. 'We'll go sledding tomorrow, okay?'

'Okay.'

Teddy tucked Lily into her bed, and instead of returning to his bed, he continued to the ground floor, where the coals of the fire still glowed in the hearth, their warmth reaching out to embrace him. Remus' diary lay on the mantle, away from sticky, curious hands. He opened it to the entry from August fourth, then turned the page. A date had been scrawled across the top, but the page itself was otherwise blank. 'What the...?' Teddy breathed. He quickly turned his attention to the facing page. A date skipped across the top of it, too, but it was blank as well.

xxxxxx

Remus fiddled with a spoon, trying not to attract too much attention to himself. He sat at a table in the back corner of the shadowy coffee shop near the university in Birmingham, hoping Arthur would walk through the door. There was little chance Death Eaters would come upon them in this most Muggle of locations. He only hoped Kingsley had received the note through the Muggle post and was able to pass the message on to Arthur to meet him here. He sipped his tea and perused the novel he had retrieved from his cloak pocket. The rattle of a cup in a saucer caught Remus' attention and he glanced up from the pages of his book. His body relaxed ever so slightly at the sight of Arthur balancing a cup of coffee and a plate of scones, dressed in trousers and a wooly cardigan. Arthur set the plate of scones between them, pushing it toward Remus. 'Help yourself,' he said.

Remus' mouth watered at the scent of the freshly baked pastries, and his hand hovered over the plate before selecting one. 'Thank you,' he breathed. 'Been living on tinned food...' He broke the scone in half and inhaled the scent of melted cheese carried on the steam. 'I've seen them,' he said casually. 'Lancelot, Morgan le Fay, and Accolon.'

Arthur's mouth quirked up a little. 'Interesting code names,' he commented.

'Yes, well. They work.' Remus had consciously chosen them - Lancelot, the lover of Guinevere for Harry; Accolon the lover of Morgan le Fay and Morgan for Ron and Hermione. The names signified nothing beyond relationships that Arthur could easily identify, having confessed once in his cups he was a great fan of Arthurian legends.

'Why go through the Muggle post?' Arthur wondered, idly stirring his coffee. 'Why didn't you send a Patronus?'

Remus' face flushed painfully. He looked down at the piece of scone in his hand. 'I am unable to produce a corporeal Patronus,' he said shamefacedly.

'I see...' Arthur busied himself with selecting a scone.

'Those that can do,' Remus added wryly. 'Those who can't... teach...'

'That's an idiotic statement and you and I both know it,' Arthur said firmly. 'Lancelot wouldn't be where he is today if you hadn't taught him. Neither would Accolon or Morgan. Not to mention Guinevere or any of the other Knights of the Round Table he taught.'

'I admit I do find it difficult to find a memory with enough of the appropriate emotions attached to it.' Remus picked up his cup of tea and took a slow sip.

'How are they?' Arthur asked.

'All right. Safe for now.'

'Where?'

'I won't tell you,' Remus demurred. 'For your safety as well as theirs. Just know that they are in a safe, relatively secret location for now. We shall have to trust them, seeing as they won't have either of us involved.'

Arthur nodded. 'Tonks was at the Burrow the other day. Looking for you.' Arthur picked at a scone. 'She didn't look well. As a matter of fact, lad, she looked as if she was going to be sick and she claimed she hadn't had anything to eat. It was rather early in the morning, too.' Arthur raised an inquiring brow. Remus squirmed uncomfortably, but knew it was useless to try and hide it from a man who had fathered seven children. He said nothing, but nodded in affirmation to Arthur's unspoken question. Arthur grunted in sympathy. 'Bad timing, isn't it?'

'You can say that again.'

'It would do to let her know you're alive,' Arthur said grimly. 'Women in that condition are already in a right state, and she's frantic.'

'Tell her I am all right,' Remus said evenly. 'And I am unwilling to compromise her safety.'

Arthur snorted. 'You really think that's going to mollify her?'

'She's not unreasonable.'

'You haven't been around pregnant women much, have you?' Arthur chuckled softly. 'Reason is one of the first things to go.' He drained his coffee and pushed the chair back. 'Thank you for letting me know about the children. I was never the sort to pray before, but I find I do it constantly now...' He stood and settled the baggy cardigan on his shoulders. 'If you need to get in touch with me, going through Kingsley is best, aside from coming to the Burrow itself, but that isn't the best option... Do you know where you're going to be?'

'I do. But I can't tell you,' Remus told him. 'It's somewhere safe. Ironically, much safer than the Round Table.'

'Good luck,' Arthur said, before striding toward the men's toilet. Remus guessed Arthur intended to Apparate from inside.

'Thank you,' Remus called after him softly.

xxxxxx

The farmhouse stood in its clearing, smoke gently rising from the chimney. Remus leaned against the opening of the dilapidated barn, studying the house. It had been repaired, the lawn mowed, windows washed. Remus wondered what changes had been wrought inside and if Philip, Maurice, and Matthew would still welcome him. Sighing, he made his way to the back door of the house. The kitchen smelled like freshly baked bread and chicken. Soup burbled on the ancient stove. 'Well, well, well. Look what the wolf dragged in,' Maurice drawled.

'I need to stay here for a while,' Remus said without preamble.

Maurice's gaze took in Remus' left hand. 'I suppose your wife might have a thing or two to say about that.'

'My wife is better off without me.'

'Is that so?'

'She is carrying my child.'

'That must be a first,' Maurice commented, pouring himself a cup of tea. 'When?'

'When what?' Remus said in bemusement. He felt stupid and thick.

'When did she conceive?'

'I do not know.'

Maurice waved his wand and a calendar dropped to the table. 'Do you know when the first day of her last cycle was?' He looked up at Remus. 'In my previous life, I was a Healer. Worked in the maternity and antenatal part of St. Mungo's.'

'St. Mungo's has a maternity floor?' Remus blurted, feeling even more stupid by the second.

'Mmm-hmmm. Had to leave my post after I received the bite.' Maurice glanced down at the calendar. 'First day of her last cycle?' he prompted.

Remus closed his eyes, picturing her calendar with its red circles around a date each month. 'June twenty-fifth.'

'Standard twenty-eight day cycle?'

'I suppose,' Remus stammered. 'I don't really know.'

'Mid-July,' Maurice pronounced. 'Well, sometime around July ninth, give or take a few days.'

'It's impossible,' Remus argued. 'I took every precaution just so this particular circumstance would not arise.'

'Obviously, you missed one,' Maurice retorted. 'It only takes once, you know.'

'But I didn't...' Remus trailed off. He remembered the subtle shift of her scent, with a slight rise in her body temperature, along with the sensation that he just had to have her. Repeatedly. Remus pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes tightly shut. Recalling the absurd pride at the number of times he was able to make love with her. Especially at his age. Thirty seven year-old men weren't supposed to behave like randy teenagers, and yet, he'd sought the solace of her body with little thought for the consequences. It was something he would have expected from Sirius, but Remus thought he had more control over his physical urges. It was glaringly apparent he did not. 'Irresponsible...' he murmured.

Maurice gazed at Remus. 'Two weeks before the last full moon.' He flipped through pages of the calendar. 'How was she the morning after the full moon?'

Remus felt his cheeks grow warm. 'Rather fit,' he mumbled, deeply embarrassed about revealing private details about his marriage. 'She seemed perfectly healthy.'

'That's actually a good thing,' Maurice said. 'If she was going to miscarry it would be now or soon enough.'

'What about later?' Remus asked through stiff lips.

'Your child will be the first, as far as I know,' Maurice mused. 'Does she know?'

'I do not believe she does.'

'You found out, didn't tell her, and I guess you were hoping she'd miscarry before she ever found out, eh?'

Remus dropped his gaze to the table under his folded hands. 'I will confess it crossed my mind.'

'Can't really blame you,' Maurice commented. 'I wouldn't be chuffed about having a baby when I don't know what's going to happen. Especially if there was the risk of passing on lycanthropy to it.' He reached for a quill on the dresser and Summoned a piece of parchment. 'Can you get a message to someone?'

'I can try,' Remus ventured.

Maurice scribbled on the parchment. 'One of my former students just started practicing on her own a year or so ago. I might be able to convince her to look in on your wife.' He stopped writing. 'What's her name?'

'Nymphadora Tonks, erm, I mean Lupin.'

'When did she finish school?'

'Nineteen ninety-one. She was in Hufflepuff.'

'Then I'm certain she'll know your wife. She finished school the same time. Was in Ravenclaw.' Maurice sealed the parchment with a tap of his wand. 'I can also trust her to be discreet.'

Matthew and Philip trooped into the kitchen, covered with dust. 'What are you doing here?' Matthew blurted when he saw Remus.

'Remus is going to stay for a while,' Maurice said.

'Aren't you married?' Matthew persisted. 'We heard about it from Evie. Fit to burst she was. Couldn't stop saying how pleased she was that you had someone to look after you properly.'

Remus tried and failed to meet Matthew's eyes. 'I had to leave... for her own good.'

'Why?'

Remus couldn't say the words again. He looked at Maurice beseechingly, making the burly man clear his throat. 'His wife is pregnant.'

'And you left?' Matthew shouted in disbelief. 'How could you? You had everything! You made me believe that this isn't a damn death sentence. You had everything I dreamed about! And you walked out?' he roared in disgust. 'You... You...' He searched for the appropriate words, mouth working until he hissed, 'You daft prick!' He spun on his heel and stalked up the staircase, a door slamming just as the footsteps faded.

'Don't mind Matthew,' Philip intoned. 'He just looks up to you. Especially after someone actually married you in spite of the werewolf issue.'

Remus nodded, throat closing with a new wave of shame. Matthew was going to have to queue up behind the people Remus had already disappointed, after Dora, Harry, Lily, James, and Sirius.

xxxxxx

-13 August 1997

Remus sat in an attic window, quill suspended over the page of his diary. For once in his life, he was unable to put his chaotic thoughts in order and record them. They refused to bend to his will, and with little wonder. There was only one word that swirled with any sort of coherence.

Coward.

xxxxxx

Remus could smell her on the cold wind. The same heavy, musky scent that had told him she was pregnant more than three months ago was stronger and now hovered over her like a sensuous sort of perfume. Dora had moved into her parents' house two months ago, after that initial visit from Maurice's former student. Remus took to standing a lonely vigil a few times a week, just to get a glimpse of her. When he heard Ted had gone on the run, Remus began to come by every day. Just to check. Not that he went up to the house. No, that would be presumptuous of him. He hung back in the wooded area behind the house, hiding behind a tree.

At this time of night, she would come outside for a few moments, stand in the small, cold garden, and breathe. She seemed robust enough, and the Healer Maurice sent had managed to persuade Dora to allow her to examine her. Shanti sent messages via Kingsley in the Muggle post about Dora's health. Hers and the baby's. According to Shanti, the pregnancy was progressing normally, no red flags to imply there was something unnatural about the baby. The Healer had even spent a full moon at the house to monitor both Dora and the baby.

Dora's arms were tightly folded over her burgeoning body, but whether it was protective, or merely a means to keep warm, Remus didn't know. He shifted to get a better look at her, when his foot slipped and a twig cracked loudly in the still darkness.

Before he could so much as draw his wand, Remus found himself pinned to a tree, the air whooshing from his lungs. Just as quickly, the pressure holding him against the tree was gone, and he slid to the leaf-strewn ground, gasping, trying to force air into his body. He opened his eyes, and saw Dora standing over him, with her wand trained to a spot on his forehead. 'Oh, it's you,' she said, almost diffidently.

Remus struggled to his feet, bracing his back against the trunk of the tree. He flinched slightly when he saw her hand rise in the air, but her fingertips brushed against something sticky trickling down the side of his neck. She flicked her wand, then, almost so casually, it was as if she didn't have to think about it, and the stinging sensation behind his ear vanished with a tingle, then it faded. Dora pocketed her wand and gazed at him. Waiting.

Remus slowly let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. 'Would it help if I said how sorry I was...?' he ventured.

Silence.

He put his hands in his pockets. 'I am, you know. I don't...' He sighed heavily, and his head bowed. 'I'm a coward,' he muttered.

'Yes, you are,' Dora said evenly. Remus fervently wished she would shout at him or strike him. Anything other than this aloof exterior. She turned and slowly walked back through the garden and toward the house. 'Will you be here tomorrow?'

'I can be...'

Dora stopped just inside the garden gate. 'You knew, didn't you?' she asked, one hand coming up to rest on the small bump of their child.

'I did.'

'When?' When Remus didn't immediately answer, Dora repeated harshly, 'When?'

'The morning we went to fetch Harry from his aunt's house,' Remus admitted reluctantly.

'And you didn't see fit to tell me?'

'I did not know if you would be able to carry the child to term,' he said shakily. 'And if you did, I thought it would be best if I was not present. You will have a most difficult time just raising the child of a werewolf without said werewolf in the picture.'

Dora's face reddened in a mottled flush. 'So you're just going to abandon me and the baby?' she hissed.

'You will grow to hate me,' Remus stated with far more equanimity than he felt. 'I will cast nothing but aspersions on your life and that of our child. It will be for the best if he does not have to bear the shame of having me for a father.'

'He or she will have you for a father,' Dora spat. 'Even if you're not here. You'll still be his or her father. Considering the baby will carry your name.'

'No,' Remus shook his head. 'You can't...' he whispered, horrified.

'Why not? We're married.' She stepped closer to Remus, thrusting her face into his. 'It's a magically binding contract until one of us dies,' she reminded him. 'So unless you're planning to turn yourself in to the Death Eaters, you're still my husband and my child's father.' Remus' head reared back at the note of regret in her voice. It sent chills down his spine to his toes. He had never heard that tone in her voice. The tone that told him she, too, felt remorse at their marriage. Dora was the one that had always viewed their relationship with a hefty amount of sunny optimism, even n the face of certain dread. She did turn then, and stalked back into the house, slamming the door behind her.

Remus sank to the cold ground, trembling. It was a long time before he was able to Apparate back to the farmhouse.

xxxxxx

3 November 1997

What have I done?

I have no other course of thought than to believe I have irrevocably damaged the relationship with Dora. I knew I was going to hurt her deeply when I made the decision to absent myself from her life, rationalizing that it was for her safety. Instead, it was for mine. Something I know now, and I heartily wish I had known twelve weeks ago. Perhaps I would have been able to confide in her, rather than run away, as is my usual wont. Be that as it may, I sincerely doubt she even wants to continue living together as a married couple, even though we are bound together.

The violence of my transformation is quite painful and arduous. I believed - and still do - that once the child reaches a stage where it can be viable outside the womb, it too will experience the transformation into a werewolf. And if it should occur while she still carries the child, the child could damage her, perhaps even kill its own mother. I cannot stay and watch the results of my own carelessness destroy my wife.

xxxxxx

Harry came downstairs, the early morning gloaming casting ashen light over the house. The coals in the fire had died out, and a layer of grey ash coated the hearth. 'He left her?' Teddy said from his burrow on the sofa. Harry jumped a little at the unexpected voice in the darkness. 'He left her?' he repeated, surging from the nest of blankets, hair rippling between flame-bright red and dark blue. 'He left her while she was pregnant, and he was worried about me being ashamed of him because he was a werewolf?' He threw the diary at Harry.

'What day?' Harry asked, flipping through the pages.

'You mean you don't know?' Teddy said scathingly.

'Teddy,' Harry began patiently, 'I didn't see your father from the beginning of August until the day you were born. If you want me to help you understand what was going on, you have to be a little specific with me. You know more than I do about where he was.'

'November third,' Teddy said tightly.

Harry waved his wand at a lamp, and its golden light diffused the grey shadows. He sat slowly on the sofa next to Teddy and read the entry. 'Oh.' He thoughtfully closed the diary and set it on the table in front of the sofa. 'I always wondered if there was more to it than just the idea of you being ashamed of him...'

'If I wasn't before, I am now,' Teddy huffed angrily. 'I'm ashamed that he even considered deserting Mum and me.'

'He thought he had killed her,' Harry explained. 'If not with his hands, with his lycanthropy.'

'That's rubbish,' Teddy scoffed.

'You have no idea what it was like,' Harry sighed. 'To be a werewolf, then.'

'I have no idea?' Teddy growled. 'I get called a beast and worse at school.'

'But you're allowed to go to school,' Harry reminded him. 'With no questions. The only reason your dad even went to school was due to several safety measures Dumbledore had to put in place. He was unable to work in the magical world, and your mother took an enormous risk to herself, personally and professionally, to marry him.'

'He left,' Teddy said stubbornly.

'Twisted as it sounds, he did it because he loved her. And you.'

'Says you.'

Harry brought the tip of his wand to his temple, as he started for his office and the Pensieve in the cupboard. But no. Teddy could just accuse of him of manufacturing the memory. 'He went back,' he told Teddy. 'By Christmas, he was back.'

'If he loved her so much, how could he leave?' Teddy asked, this time, a plaintive note sneaking into his voice.

Harry returned to the sofa, glancing at the sound of a soft footfall on the stairs. Ginny stood halfway down, bundled in her dressing gown, obviously roused by the blossoming argument. He shook his head and she lowered to the riser, wrapping her arms around her knees. 'Sometimes, you have to leave the people you love the most,' he said quietly, looking at Ginny. 'Even if it hurts both of you, even if it causes a fissure in your relationship, even if she's the only thing in this universe that makes sense to you. Because if you do anything that causes harm to her, even if it's inadvertent, you'd never be able to forgive yourself. Love isn't tidy, Teddy. It's messy and forces you to find a middle ground, even if you don't wish to.

'You don't have to believe me,' Harry continued. 'But I want you to try and believe your father was doing what he thought was best for you. That's all he ever wanted.'