There'll Be Bluebirds

Teddy squeezed his eyes shut, stuffed his fingers into his ears, and muttered, 'Wit-Sharpening potion... ground scarab beetle, cut-up ginger root, and armadillo bile. Memory potions use different parts of the Jobberknoll feathers. Memories are in the barbs...' He slowly opened his eyes and peered anxiously at his notes, slumping with palpable relief when he was right. He rubbed the ache between his eyes, glancing longingly at the window.

It had been a perfectly beautiful day. Drifts of snow shimmered in the muted sunset, piled against the trunks of trees, softening the hard angles of the castle. Teddy had spent all morning and most of the afternoon tucked into a corner of the library reviewing potions from his first couple of years. He tossed his Potions textbook aside with a soft groan and carelessly dug out his Charms textbook from inside his bag. Something small flew out of the bag, landing several feet away with a faint, papery thump. Teddy started guiltily, lunging for the journal, brushing off the fine layer of dust he'd allowed to accumulate over the past several weeks on the supple leather covers. He carefully set the journal on the table; the corners precisely aligned with those of the table, then knuckled his eyes for a moment. 'I did promise you I'd keep reading, Dad...' he breathed.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself against what he might find, Teddy slowly opened it to the scrap of ribbon he'd placed at the last entry he had read.

XxXxXxX

'We need a tree,' Dora announced at breakfast. She bent her head, inhaling the aromatic steam wafting from her cup. 'Earl Grey,' she muttered beatifically. 'After the baby's born I'm having an entire pot all to myself.' She took a slow sip of the tea and glanced at Remus and Andromeda. 'What?'

Remus cleared his throat. 'A tree?'

'It's Christmas,' Dora explained, as if Remus was a slow-witted child. 'And I want a tree.'

Remus shared a fleeting look with Andromeda before venturing to ask, 'Dora, is it really a wise thing to do?' He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Her eyes blazed with a flash of rising temper, and her hair flared bright orange. The effect made her look like her hair was on fire.

'I want Christmas,' she retorted shortly. 'The way we would do it if Dad were here.'

Andromeda stiffened slightly. 'Oh, Dora, really?' she sighed faintly.

Dora's head swiveled on her neck. 'Yes. Mum. Really. I am tired of being cooped up in this damned house. I want to be out. Doing something. Fighting for what I believe and for my child. And instead, I'm here, getting fatter by the second. It's only nine in the morning, and my feet are already so swollen, I can't wear my shoes.' Her eyes filled with angry tears. 'I had to effing charm the damn things so I could put them on.' She sniffed for a moment, scrubbing a serviette over her face. 'And since I can't do what I really want, then I'll take a bloody tree and do it up like Dad does. Yes, Mum, that's right,' she added, seeing Andromeda's thin brow rise. 'The tinsel, the paper chains, the mismatched ornaments, and enough fairy lights so that a Quidditch team could use the tree to light a night game.'

Remus slowly reached for a piece of toast and considered asking for the jam, but he didn't want to risk breaking the tense silence. Besides, it was next to Dora, and he would have to ask her to pass it to him. He didn't want to risk bringing her ire down on his head, as he had escaped her rant so far.

Dora turned her gaze on him, rather like Medusa sensing a human behind her. 'If you leave after breakfast, you can be back by lunchtime. We can decorate it afterward.'

Remus coughed, choking on crumbs of toast. 'I beg your pardon?' he wheezed.

'I would like for you to get the tree,' Dora replied, with barely restrained annoyance.

'Is that wise?' Andromeda blurted. Remus and Dora both turned to stare at her lapse of manners, not to mention the implication that he might not come back. 'I merely meant that Remus might not have the expertise to find and cut down a suitable tree,' she explained, cheeks coloring slightly.

'Good save,' Remus muttered sardonically, saluting her with his toast.

Dora heaved a long-suffering sigh. 'I'll give you the coordinates to where Dad always got ours before. It needn't be like one of the Hogwarts trees, but don't you dare come back with something out of A Charlie Brown Christmas.'

'Pardon?' Remus asked.

'Small, scrawny, no needles.'

'All right,' he acquiesced, still bemused by her reference.

Dora eased from her chair, and retrieved her cup of tea. 'I'm going up to the attic to bring the decorations down.'

'Nymphadora, sit down. I'll do it,' Andromeda interrupted.

Dora glared at her mother. 'No, Mum. I will do it.' She turned, grumbling under her breath, 'I'm pregnant, not helpless.' She swept from the kitchen, leaving Remus alone with Andromeda.

Remus used his wand to Summon the pot of jam and liberally spread it over his remaining toast. 'Would it surprise you to know I haven't the faintest idea how to cut down a tree without maiming myself in the process?' he asked Andromeda idly.

'Not especially,' she retorted in the bland tone Remus remembered well from Sirius. It was a Black trait to insult someone in the driest inflection possible. It set his teeth on edge. Unsuspecting people tended to walk into an ambush, thinking it was a compliment. Sirius only used it with people he disliked. It seemed Andromeda did as well.

'I suppose I'll just go and fetch that location, shall I?'

'Diffindo.'

'Excuse me?'

'Use Diffindo. If you sort of slant it down away from you, the tree ought to fall in that direction.'

'Thank you.' Remus pushed his chair away from the table.

'If it does happen to fall on you, you can send word with a Patronus.'

Remus flushed with shame. 'I cannot.' Andromeda's brows rose questioningly. 'I am unable to produce a corporeal Patronus. Patronuses require happy memories. Specifically, memories with a copious amount of exhilaration involved. I do not have any such memories. Ones that I might have...' Here, he felt his cheeks burn. 'Ones that I might have carry underlying emotions that undermine the creation of a corporeal Patronus.'

Andromeda's head ducked once in acknowledgement. 'Then might I suggest that take extra care so you don't find yourself under a tree?'

'You may.' Remus reached for his cloak. 'What kind of tree did Ted usually bring home?'

'Norway spruce. Six feet.' Andromeda paused, running the ball of her thumb around the rim of her cup. 'Ted always went to Monmouthshire,' she offered. 'It will be easier to transport if you take a bag with you, and cast an Undetectable Extension charm on it.'

Remus swung the cloak around his shoulders. 'You're rather cordial this morning,' he commented. He'd been living in the house for nearly three weeks, and the most he could say about her behavior toward him was that she'd been barely civil.

'It's not for your sake,' she told him, disabusing him of the notion she was warming up to his presence. 'It's for hers.' His hand jerked on the doorknob. It was true Andromeda didn't care for him, but she'd never said it that baldly in front of him. It was rather disconcerting. His wife's mother disapproved of him and his wife didn't spend more than a few minutes alone in a room with him. All his fears were writ large.

'I shall return in a few hours,' he said, preferring to ignore Andromeda's remark, even though he felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Andromeda gathered the breakfast dishes and carried them to the sink. 'If you find yourself having doubts - and I know you're having doubts,' she added. 'Don't bother coming back.'

Remus' hackles rose, and wolf growled softly in challenge. She knew exactly where to aim her verbal arrows. 'I'm coming back,' he stated evenly, opening the door, then closing it softly, rather than slamming it in anger, as he wished to do. He stomped across the snowy garden, promising himself he would do everything Nymphadora asked, begged, or demanded, vowing neither of them she, nor her mother, was ever going to doubt his motives again. Even if it meant risking his life just to bring her a tree for Christmas. He wasn't terribly concerned about actually cutting down the tree. It was leaving the protected confines of the house, dealing with the sensation that someone was watching him and he had to keep looking over his shoulder for Snatchers or Death Eaters, just aching to capture and kill him.

But he would do it. For her sake.

XxXxXxX

Remus suppressed a sigh and straightened the tree once more. 'I saw the Healer leave when I came back,' he commented lightly.

'She just came for an examination. She comes every two weeks.' Dora held a string of fairy lights in her hands.

Remus took the string of fairly lights from her and began to drape them over the uppermost branches. 'And?'

'We're both fine.'

'Good.' The stilted conversation died, and Remus quickly wound the rest of the fairy lights around the tree. Dora stepped forward with a box of carefully wrapped ornaments and proceeded to hang them all over the tree, with little in the way of rhyme or reason. Tiny porcelain animals with wreaths of holly adorning their heads and necks. Carved wooden Father Christmases. Muggle cartoon characters. Reindeer. Brightly colored glass baubles. Silvery bells. Red velvet bows. Candy canes made of red and white beads strung on wires. Christmas carols played softly in the background. Dora hummed under her breath with them while she worked. Andromeda sat in the corner, rocking slowly, as she knit a blanket for the baby, unheeding the proceedings, nor deigning to express an opinion of them. Remus spotted a stack of colored paper on a table. 'Shall I do the paper chains?'

'Please.'

He pulled out his wand and before he could so much as point it at the paper, it flew from his hand. Dora caught it deftly and tucked it into her pocket. 'By hand.'

'You're joking!' Remus protested.

Dora spared him a wry glance. 'I never joke about Christmas.' She gestured toward the paper. 'By hand. Magic makes them look too nice.'

Resigned, Remus folded himself to the floor, wincing at the ache in his knees. He cut several sheets of paper into long strips and rolled one into a circle, crookedly pasting the ends together. Grimacing at the less-than-perfect results, he threaded another strip of paper through the loop, pasting its ends together, as well. It was mind-numbing - not to mention arse-numbing - work and the insipid Christmas songs were giving him a headache, but it was making her happy. By the time he glued the last strip of paper into a loop, his fingertips were coated in dried glue, he had a paper cut in the skin between his thumb and forefinger, and his knees were stiff from sitting on the floor. Dora used her wand to stick the paper chain to the walls in swags. She managed to grab the plug end of the fairy lights and cram it into the socket. The lights blazed in the semi-darkened sitting room. If Remus thought the tree was slightly garish before the lights were on, he was quickly changing his opinion. He nearly made a snide comment about it, until he remembered something Matthew had said last year. It was Christmas. And for one day, they could try to make things as normal as possible.

However, Andromeda couldn't quite manage to repress the slight shudder that rippled through her shoulders as she gazed at the tree. 'This was one of the only things about which your father and I had arguments.'

'I know,' Dora replied softly, busying herself with tidying the boxes. She caught Remus' inquiringly raised brow. 'Dad liked it like this,' she said, indicating the mismatched ornaments and twinkling lights. 'Mum,' she began, raising her voice slightly, 'would prefer something stodgier.'

'Tasteful,' Andromeda corrected, folding her knitting. She lightly flicked Dora's exposed ear. 'Mind your cheek,' she reprimanded.

Once she had disappeared upstairs, Dora glanced at Remus. 'When this is over, we're finding a flat. Preferably in another county.' She picked up the empty boxes and carefully walked to the stairs. 'I'm going to put these up, then have a kip.'

Remus scrambled to his feet. 'Let me...' He took the boxes from her and stumbled up the staircase. A touch on his elbow brought him to a halt. Dora stood a few steps below him, a hand resting on her bulging abdomen.

'Thank you,' she said in a low voice. 'For indulging me.' Remus shifted the boxes to one arm and gently ran the backs of his fingers down her round cheek, and considered it a victory that she didn't jerk away.

'Sleep well.' Remus stepped back to allow her to pass him and slip into her bedroom.

XxXxXxX

15 December 1997

Your mother likes Christmas. The noisier and more chaotic, the better, in her opinion. And should the outcome of the war be unfavorable to our side, Christmas my very well be the only thing that might make her happy, even if only for a brief moment.

I feel I must tell you a few things about your mother, in the hopes that one day you will be old enough to read this and can benefit from my experiences.

First... Never call her by her given name. Not unless you want to bring her wrath upon your head. She detests it. Of course, you wouldn't have reason to refer to her by Nymphadora in the first place. She can be quite clumsy at times. She's always got a bruise or two on her shins from banging into something. She is quite small. Petite, you might say. However, size is not an indication of power. It's the size of the will behind the spell that counts. Your mother can be quite formidable when the lives of those she loves are at stake. She can also be more than a little stubborn with it comes to getting what she wants. It is not necessarily a bad thing. Because she will fight for you. She will fight for you to be recognized as a wizard, with every right due to you as such.

I doubt I need to add that she will fight to the death for you.

XxXxXxX

Lying on the floor under the lit Christmas tree, Remus submitted to Dora's rather urgent demands. The muscles of his body tensed as she teased, fondled, and tortured him to the brink of release. It had nothing to do with sex, and wasn't remotely about lovemaking. His fingers dug into the rug while he murmured soundless prayers, begging for the strength not to cry out. He could overpower her. He was much stronger than she, even with the ravages of lycanthropy, and she was heavy with their child. But he instinctively knew she wanted him helpless and needed him to feel as if his ability to control the events of his life was slipping through his clenched fist. She was attempting to give him an idea of what it had felt like to have someone else make all her decisions for her. She could stop. She could stop and gather her clothes and go back upstairs to her bedroom, and leave him there unsatisfied. It wasn't as if he couldn't take care of matters himself. He considered himself an expert in self-gratification, after all.

Every time she pulled away from him, delaying his climax, one word hovered in his thoughts. Need. It wasn't about sex or lovemaking. She was his best friend. She forced him to see himself as more than a werewolf. The lycanthropy was a minor inconvenience to her, rather than an insurmountable obstacle. She forced him to see himself as she did. The fact she'd wanted him to come back. She read books he liked and discussed them with him. She made him feel like he imagined normal wizards did, often snorting about just who defined "normal". She defended him to her mother.

He hadn't married her out of a moment of weakness, as he'd initially thought. He married her because he wanted to spend what remained of his life with her. Two Christmases ago, he couldn't imagine a life with her. Now he didn't want to contemplate one without her. He didn't care about himself - whether he lived or died - but she gave him something worth fighting for. The baby just intensified that. He needed her. And she needed him to admit it aloud.

'Nymphadora,' he implored, mouth moving silently against hers. 'Please...'

Dora pushed up, her hands slipping slightly against his damp chest. 'Please what?' She could feel the fine tremors that ran through his body.

'I need...' Remus swallowed heavily, licking dry lips. 'I need to touch you. To talk to you.' He watched her carefully. She made no move to stop his speech. Encouraged, he continued, one hand drifting up to rest on the swell of her hip, then splay over the curve of their child between them. The other hand tangled in her hair and brought her mouth back to his. 'I need... You. The both of you,' he added, stroking her swollen abdomen. 'I need something worth fighting to preserve.' He closed his eyes, nearly throwing his head back when she began to move again. His orgasm shook him to his toes. He could feel her breath feathering against his skin as she let her head drop to his shoulder. He gently brushed the hair from her face, carefully turning his head until he met her drowsy gaze. 'I am sorry,' he murmured.

She nodded and slid to the floor, curling into him, head still resting on his shoulder. 'So am I.'

Remus cupped her face in one hand, thumb tracing delicately over the arch of her cheekbone. 'I should not have attempted to decide what was best for you without your input.' Dora nodded silently, accepting his apology. The hand drifted down and rested against the side of her rounded belly. He felt a slight nudge against his palm and sat up suddenly, narrowly avoiding smacking his head in the lower branches of the tree. 'Was that...?'

'Yes.'

'Oh...' Remus felt a smile spread over his face. 'How often does it do this?'

Dora blushed. 'I think I woke it up.'

'It sleeps?'

'Thankfully when I do.'

Remus spread his other hand over her stomach. Awe coursed through him at the realization that the baby was a being in its own right, with habits and quirks. Just like the two of them. As a draft tickled his exposed bottom, he was abruptly aware of the fact they were both completely naked in a rather public area of the house. 'We ought to get dressed,' he said ruefully. 'Before your mother finds us.' The corner of his mouth turned up. 'I'd hate to give her a fright.'

Dora swept a hand over her stomach. 'I think she's aware we've had sexual relations.'

He snorted. 'I knew James and Lily had sexual relations,' he scoffed. 'But it was quite another thing to accidentally walk in on them christening the kitchen of their flat.'

'How did you manage that?'

'They'd gone to make tea, and I went to see what was taking them so long.' He found his t-shirt and pajama bottoms and slipped into them, before handing her the t-shirt and pajama bottoms she'd discarded earlier. She wriggled into them, and he offered her a hand and she let him haul her to her feet.

Dora took a few steps toward the stairs, then glanced over her shoulder with a soft sigh. Remus stood on the hearth rug, scrutinizing the pattern, making no move to follow her. 'Aren't you coming to bed?' she asked wistfully. Truthfully, the idea of his cold, lonely bed didn't appeal to him, but he nodded and followed in her wake up the stairs, automatically turning to the bedroom he'd come to regard as "his". He felt a tug on the back of his shirt. Dora inclined her head toward her bedroom. 'In here...' She let go of the shirt as if it burned her hand. 'If you want,' she added quickly.

Remus exhaled slowly, and reached for the doorknob of her bedroom door, opening it, and then standing aside so she could enter the room. 'I thought you'd never ask,' he said in all seriousness, as he followed her into the bedroom, and shut the door. The close, warm air of the room made Remus want to gasp, so he glanced furtively around and used his wand to open the two windows a bare inch to create a draft. Cold, fresh air rushed into the room and he sighed soundlessly as the musky scent of her body diminished enough so it didn't overwhelm his senses. Only then could he address the bed, sheets and quilt crumpled and askew, pillows squashed and pounded into shapeless lumps. With a flick of his wand, the bedding arranged itself and the wrinkles and ridges smoothed until it looked as if it had been freshly made. Dora ran a hand over the turned down sheet, visibly impressed.

'It feels as if you just laundered and ironed this,' she said in surprise.

'Molly Weasley's not the only one who can do that,' he informed her loftily. 'You don't always have a choice to do the laundry properly when it comes down to eating or laundry.' Remus twitched a pillow into place. 'It's not quite the same as actually washing it, but it'll do.'

Dora climbed into the bed and turned on her side. 'Shanti told me the baby's sex.'

Remus looked up sharply, nearly banging his knee against the side of the bureau. 'Did she?'

'Do you want to know?'

'Erm... I...' Remus picked up her hairbrush and stared at it like he'd never seen one before. 'I've never thought about it,' he admitted, turning it over in his hands. 'I always thought I'd have to wait until it was born...'

'It's up to you,' she shrugged.

'Tell me,' he blurted, before he could think about it.

'Boy.'

Remus felt the sting of tears in his eyes, and he blinked rapidly. 'We're going to have a son,' he murmured.

'We ought to start thinking of a name for him,' Dora observed, blinking owlishly.

'There's no rush,' he countered. 'You aren't due until the beginning of April.'

'I thought we could name him for Dad,' she continued, as if he hadn't spoken.

'We'll talk about it later,' Remus said quietly.

'I want to name him for Dad,' Dora insisted. 'Whether he survives or not. First, middle... I don't care. I just want him to have Dad's name somehow.'

Remus rubbed a hand over his face and pulled his t-shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor next to the bed. 'All right,' he conceded, sliding into the bed next to her. 'Get some sleep.' One hand rested over Dora's navel, and he brushed a kiss over the arch of her cheekbone. 'Happy Christmas.'

'Happy Christmas.'

XxXxXxX

25 December 1997

I can only guess how difficult it was for Dora to forgive me. Had our situations been reversed, I am not certain I would be able to forgive her. Pride, I suppose. When it's all you have, you can cling to it above all else at times to the detriment of all else. That would make your mother a better person than I.

Forgiveness is a difficult thing to find. You must find it within yourself to look past the other person's mistakes - and mine are legion - and accept them, then continue with your life. Notice, I did not say "forget". Your mother will never forget what I have done to her.

Neither will I.

XxXxXxX

Teddy closed the journal and stared out the window next to his table in the library. Darkness had fallen and his reflection gazed back at him, wide-eyed and thin-lipped. Remus' entries had taken on an odd sort of tone. It was as if he knew he was going to die and wanted to ensure that Teddy wouldn't grow up with only other people's memories as a means to know him. Like Harry, Teddy thought.

It gave Teddy a near-morbid sense of satisfaction to know that Remus was unable to forgive himself for the actions that nearly cost him his wife and son. Reading that one confession gave him an idea of just how aware Remus had been of the consequences of his decisions.

And yet, Teddy was still unable to consider forgiving either of his parents. Nor could he forget.