Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It was dark the night the thief decided to strike. The high, thin sliver of a moon was mostly hidden behind heavy gray clouds, and extinguishing the street lamps along Diagon Alley was easy work. He paused at the massive silver doors barring entrance to Gringotts Wizarding Bank and read the words engraved there: Enter, stranger, but take heed, of what awaits the sin of greed. The thief grinned beneath the heavy scarf that hid his face. It wasn't greed that spurred him. The treasure he sought had belonged to his family but had been stolen long ago, and he meant to have it back.

From deep inside a hidden pocket of his tattered and mud-splattered robe, he withdrew a scratched knife dulled by time. It was the spoils of the first bit of thievery in his checkered career--a knife that could open any lock--and he pressed it now into the cylinder, listening for the metallic clink as the lock gave way, sliding open easily beneath his hand. His grin turned predatory as he slipped inside the bank undetected. It was all too easy, but the goblins had long relied on a magic of their own to protect the riches inside, and though it had taken the thief years to figure out a way past all the security measures--how not to trigger The Thief's Downfall--it hadn't been as difficult as maybe it should have been, as it would have been when the war still raged in the Wizarding world.

Once inside, he moved quickly--silently--through the vast marble hall, past the long rows of closed doors and the now vacant desks with their ledgers piled neatly in high stacks, staying in the shadows. He avoided the places where the pale light of the half moon spilled in from the high windows that lined the walls as the clouds tracked slowly across the sky, and tread carefully, listening to be sure he was alone. The goblins, too sure that their bank was impenetrable, relied on human guards at night to discourage all but the most determined, and the thief was beyond determined. He knew the guards had already made their rounds and wouldn't return for another quarter hour. Even Wizards with all their spells and charms were human creatures with very human habits--a favorite pub, a willingness to complain about their co-workers or their boss, especially when the drinks were free and plentiful.

At the end of the long counter, the thief slipped through one of the doors and into a narrow passageway, its stone steps leading him steeply downward until he came to the row of carts that during the day carried patrons to their vaults. Their tracks descended for hundreds of miles beneath the surface, the goblins having dug deep for thousands of years, and the thief meant to follow one path to its end that night. The high security vault he sought had long been held by the Yaxleys, an old, pureblood Wizarding family who had aligned themselves with Lord Voldemort during the long war. The thief had known their son--their heir--when they had both been students at Hogwarts, though they had never been friends. That heir was dead now, killed by Aurors in the last days of the war, when all had been in chaos.

From the same pocket that held his knife, the thief withdrew a tiny broom. He tapped it once with his wand and muttered the charm that made it expand back to its original size. He mounted and kicked off, making sure his scarf still covered his face, and flew off into the gloom of the goblins' caves. The air rushed past cold and clammy as he flew, his fingers curled tightly around the broom handle. He passed a large underground lake, the dim light from his wand making the flight treacherous as he soared around the stalagmites and stalactites. It seemed like hours passed as he followed a path he had long ago memorized, until he was finally standing outside vault eight hundred and twenty-eight, closer to his goal than he had ever been before.

There was one last item tucked in that secret pocket of his robe, a gruesome tool for a thief and the only item he had stolen that he had ever regretted, not liking to disturb the dead. He withdrew the long goblin's finger, taken from a goblin's grave, and stroked it gently against the door, which melted away. Before him was a king's treasure trove, more money than he'd ever seen in his life or likely ever would--piles of gold and silver, jewels and suits of armor. There were curious magical objects for which the thief could only guess their function and their worth, but he didn't touch any of it; instead he searched only for the scroll, which was perhaps the most unassuming find in the vault, but also the only thing that was of interest to him.

He found it tucked inside an ancient wooden chest along with some other papers, deeds and certificates used to bind families more than blood or marriage ever could. His father's messy scrawl was so very familiar, and the sight of it filled the thief with a longing to hear his father's voice, to see his craggy face, but there was no time for sentiment as he unfurled the parchment only just enough to be sure it was intact before he tucked it inside the pocket of his robe. He stood for a moment more looking at the treasure that surrounded him. If he hadn't been sure that it would immediately spell his doom, he felt as though he could set fire to it all, as he had the tiny cottage in Longbourne where he'd found the first of his father's scrolls secreted away--where he'd discovered they still existed. He'd been younger then, more reckless and less sure that he would live through the end of the war. He was no less determined now to make his father's murderers pay, but less indiscriminate in his methods. The war could be blamed for his crimes then, and no one would have looked too much harder for a cause or a suspect. Not that he considered his actions crimes; rather, it was justice--a justice that the Wizarding world had long denied his family. In the end, he walked away, leaving the vault open, leaving the finger behind--he had no more need for it now--and made his escape.

***

Peter Pettigrew had been on James' mind a lot lately. Today was the seventh anniversary of his death--presumed death, anyway, as his body had never been found, only just his finger still encircled by the ring he had always worn. Just that morning James had been up to visit the memorial and lay flowers on Peter's mother's grave. She had died only just two years ago, though she had never really recovered from the shock when Peter had gone missing. James thought that Peter would like that, someone remembering his mother. James had promised her once that he would never stop searching for Peter, to give him a proper burial, to bring his murderers to justice. He meant to keep that promise, though it was becoming harder to find evidence of what had happened on the night that Peter had gone missing. James often argued that the Wizarding community had been too quick to punish the known and suspected Death Eaters. Those who hadn't been killed by the Aurors in the first days after Lord Voldemort had fallen languished now in Azkaban prison, their memories lost or corrupted by the Dementors. James vowed to keep searching but it was getting harder to do more than just remember. Still, on the anniversary of Peter's death, James was meeting Sirius to do just that--remember.

The Crow and Gate had been Peter's favorite haunt in London during the war. Even when he'd been alive it had been run down, its squib owner only just managing to keep its doors open. It had changed hands twice since Peter had last ordered his beloved chips and cider, and James and Sirius often talked about buying it themselves but never had. Still, it was quiet and out of the way, a cricket game always playing on one of the two tiny black and white television screens. As James pushed open the doors, the rain sweeping him in, he was greeted by the smell of old grease and tobacco and by the sight of Sirius already at their usual table in the corner. James stopped at the bar and ordered himself a whiskey and another for Sirius before joining him.

"Sorry I'm late, though to be fair I think this is the first you've ever been on time." James set the glasses on the table and then shrugged out of his damp jacket. "This break-in at Gringotts has the whole department in an uproar."

"I read about it this morning. Sounds like it was a clean job. I take it there's something more to it if they've brought your lot in."

"Alastor's going spare. Makes us all look bad when someone just walks into Gringotts and takes what they like."

"I thought the goblins had their own security."

"Sure, but there's not a trace of this fellow except for a pretty nasty calling card."

"A goblin's finger, I heard."

"Not from the papers you didn't."

"No. I ran into Frank earlier," Sirius said beneath the din of the punters at the bar.

James took a sip of his drink, grimacing at the quality and the burn, as he looked at Sirius in disbelief. After the war, Frank and Alice Longbottom had both stayed on as Aurors, helping Moody recruit James with their talk of duty and honor. Sirius had refused, though he'd been just as much on his way to a dissolute life as James had been. He'd had enough of war and fighting, Sirius had said, and it wasn't like James hadn't agreed to an extent. However, even after all this time, with the Ministry falling into corruption, Frank still believed, and it had been hard for James not to want to believe he was doing something important as well.

"The man can't stand being out of the action," James said after another minute of silence between them. "He's been on medical leave for three weeks and we can't keep him out of the office. Alice is ready to kill him, and I don't blame her."

"Have you caught his attacker?"

"No." James set his glass down and scrubbed at the back of his hair before he leaned forward on his elbows, lowering his voice so that Sirius had to lean in, too. "He not on this case. Moody'll hex off his other ear if he finds out, which is nothing to what Alice will do to him. Go on. What did he have to say?"

"He's got a friend who's a curse breaker for Gringotts who filled him in when Alice wouldn't. Said it was one of the older vaults. Didn't say what was taken, though." Sirius took a sip of his drink, his eyes still on James. He rapped his knuckles on the table, weighing his words, and James knew he was deciding how involved he wanted to become. "Anything of interest?"

"Likely, but nothing that anyone is owning up to. Have you heard anything?"

"No. Should I have?"

"I thought maybe your dear mum might have said something."

"So it was a member of the family?"

James nodded.

"Haven't spoken to her in a few weeks. Can do if you'd like."

"Are the two of you having a row?"

"Not really. You know how she is. I'm a scoundrel and wastrel who has never given her anything but grief and heartache."

"And certainly not an heir."

Sirius tapped the side of his nose as he sat back in his chair. "Exactly. My biggest sin."

"You can't blame the old girl for trying. You're her last hope, and there's certainly been enough candidates to raise her hopes."

"Though most of them anatomically incompatible for helping to produce the next scion of the Black family." Sirius finished off his glass and set it down with a clatter on the table. He spent a moment spinning it in the ring of condensation with wet fingers, James waiting until Sirius had wrestled down whatever else he might have had to say on the matter. "So just ask around? See if someone's crying about their family jewels gone missing."

"Yeah, quietly if you would. I don't think it's going to turn out to be jewelry or anything as easy as that. The owners of the vault have asked to remain anonymous, especially after Weasley's lot had been through and confiscated some items with dubious origins."

"Definitely my family then. I dread to think what would happen if Arthur finally got his warrant to go through Grimmauld Place." Sirius grinned a bit, clearly cheering at the thought. "Actually I don't dread it. I'm looking forward to it. My dad was quite the collector."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say that."

"You know if it were up to me."

"I know. You'd burn the lot and be done with it."

"Too right. It's long past time for a change in the Black family fortunes. We've caused enough misery over the centuries."

"Speaking of time." James twisted his wrist to look at his watch, cringing when he saw how late it was. "I've got to run. Lily'll skin me if I'm late."

"One more drink?" Sirius asked though he was already hailing down the sole waitress and placing their order before James could protest. "We've not had our toast yet."

"One more and then I have to be off. Are you coming over this Sunday?"

"Can't. I'm going to Oslo. There's rumor of a fantastic young seeker coming up in the junior leagues. I want to see her play. I'll be gone a couple of weeks."

"Must be some player."

"If she's half as good as they say, I plan to sign her."

"You could Apparate in."

"Yes, well." Sirius cleared his throat and looked away from James, guilt etched upon his downturned lips. "Lily's likely to invite Violeta, isn't she, and it didn't end very well between us."

"She does tell them not to go out with you, though Vi certainly knew what you were like in school. Still, we carry a kind of caveat emptor yeah? We're not responsible for broken hearts."

"That's just it. A few dates--a good time, and all of a sudden they want to talk about commitment and settling down."

"It's not such a bad thing, marriage and babies. It hasn't killed me."

"Yet, at least and besides, you got the best girl."

"I did, didn't I." James' smile was broad, and he could tell by the way Sirius scoffed that he probably looked like an idiot. Sirius had accused him of it often enough since James had finally talked Lily into going out with him after they returned from their first mission so many years ago.

"Does Lily require you to bring that up to me every few months?"

"It was in our vows."

"I must have missed that."

"Likely because you were flirting with the bridesmaids."

"Actually, I was dating one of your groomsmen at the time, I think."

"David something, wasn't it? Lily's second cousin or a friend of a friend of a friend."

"Don't remember, only just that he was a Muggle and a lovely chap." Sirius' grin went sharp and feral at some memory that James was glad he didn't share. "Had wonderfully talented hands."

"On that note, let's have our toast and then I'm off for home. I told Lily I'd be on time, and I'm already fifteen minutes late."

"I should be flattered then, that you stopped to have a drink at all when the lovely Lily is waiting."

"Mmm. Don't be. We're interviewing a new tutor for Harry tonight."

"What's this? The fourth this year."

"Fifth." James laughed but shifted uncomfortably on the cracked red vinyl bench. The last tutor had stormed out in high dudgeon only just the week before, Harry's antics finally besting his patience. James didn't mind if a tutor raised his or her voice to the lad on the rare occasion, but the hand was another thing altogether. "It's only that he's high-spirited. Lily says that's my fault."

"I can't imagine where she would have come away with that idea. Was it you or me who managed to give all the Slytherins forked tongues in fifth year?"

"That was definitely you, as you well know."

"Harry's too smart for tutors," Sirius said. "I always hated mine, too."

"This one comes highly recommended by Dumbledore himself. He was apparently in our year."

"A classmate? Likely seeking revenge for something you did to him when you were twelve."

"Why else would someone become a private tutor?"

"What's his name?"

"Remus Lupin."

"You would think I wouldn't forget a name like that."

"He was in Ravenclaw."

"Of course he was. That's where they stashed all future tutors and librarians. It was actually in the Sorting Hat's rhyme wasn't it?"

"Lily remembers him. They were prefects together."

"A right swot then. I suppose that's a good quality in a tutor."

"It's the first thing I look for." James looked at his watch again. "Twenty minutes late now. Lily really will have my head. Let's toast."

"To Peter," Sirius said, sobering immediately as he raised his glass.

"To Peter," James echoed as he tipped his glass against Sirius'. "You lived respected and died regretted. I hope that wherever you are, you've found your peace."

They drank in silence and when they were finished, James cleared his throat and stood, patting Sirius' shoulder. "Be safe," he said, and nodded when Sirius clasped his hand. "And come see us when you're back in town."

James walked away quickly, suddenly angry with himself that after seven years he still hadn't kept his promise to bring Peter home to his mother--for not being able to keep all his friends safe. As he grabbed a handful of Floo powder to head home, he pushed those thoughts aside and prepared himself for Lily's ire and the new tutor.

***

Remus Lupin stumbled through the fireplace of the tavern in Hogsmeade and into the Potters’ kitchen just as the clock struck the quarter hour. He was early, only just, and as he came through he caught sight of a young boy with messy black hair and glasses peek around the corner before disappearing, leaving behind only the sound of mum echoing behind him. That, Remus supposed, was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and who, if Remus’ luck held out, the boy who would be his new student. Remus didn’t hold out too much hope, it being scarce for him even in the best of times.

After a moment, Harry stuck his head back around the door, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "Are you the new tutor?"

"I've come to inquire, yes."

"Mum says she'll only just be a moment and to make yourself comfortable."

"Thank you, Harry."

Harry watched Remus for another moment with wary eyes, staring at the cane that Remus leaned heavily on, before easing back around the corner, leaving Remus to stand alone in the kitchen. He quickly dusted off his worn, brown traveling cloak, wishing he had better before he forced himself to stand still and straight. On the table next to a rapidly cooling cup of tea, Remus could see the morning edition of The Daily Prophet. Its headline flashed GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LEAVES AURORS PUZZLED. There was a picture of two goblins in red livery wringing their hands as they stood in front of the main doors as Wizards Remus recognized as Aurors conferred on the steps below. Remus did little more than glance at the article before he returned to stand nearer the fire. He half expected to be on his way back to the small room he had rented above the pub before he managed to say his full name out. Being a werewolf often meant having short interviews.

Looking to distract himself from his nerves, Remus let his eyes travel around the cozy room until they landed on a picture of three young boys that sat on the mantle and he picked it up to look at it more closely. He knew the boys, of course--everyone in their year did. James Potter, dashing in his Quidditch kit and messy black hair, caught laughing as he played with a snitch. His arm was tossed carelessly over the shoulders of Sirius Black, his best friend, Remus remembered. Actually, there wasn't much that Remus didn't remember about Sirius. Easily the handsomest boy he'd ever seen and likely the smartest as well, Remus had quite fancied Sirius when they'd been in school together, not that Sirius had ever known or noticed. The third boy was familiar, too, though Remus hadn't known that James and Sirius had been friends with him in school, or maybe he'd just forgotten. Peter Pettigrew had a special talent for going unnoticed. It had been what made him such a valuable tool for Lord Vordemort, though Remus knew that James couldn't possibly know that. Few did. Of course, that had been Remus' talent, his ability to keep secrets, to keep quiet.

"That's my husband," Lily said as she came up quite close behind Remus, startling him. "And his friends, Sirius and Peter. It's from when we were all at Hogwarts, of course. I think Gryffindor had just won against Ravenclaw there."

"I remember them."

"I remember you, too."

"Surely not," Remus said. He put the picture back on the mantle and tucked his hand back down into his pocket. "It's been ages.”

Lily Potter was as pretty now, Remus thought, as she had been as a schoolgirl. Her thick red hair was caught back in a loose, untidy braid and she wore jeans with a splattered smock. Her feet were bare. He remembered that she had always been quite good at Potions, competing with Severus Snape for all the best prizes. From what he had read in The Daily Prophet, that hadn't changed.

"It's always more surprising when someone remembers me, actually. I mean, someone who wasn't in Gryffindor. We had some classes together though, do you remember?"

"Certainly, I do," Remus said. "And we were prefects together, of course, and then you were Head Girl in our last year. I remember you well. You were always very kind to me, Mrs. Potter."

"Call me Lily, and please have a seat. You must be tired," Lily said as she glanced down at his cane, though her cheeks colored a bit as she looked as though she wanted to take back the words as soon as she had said them.

"I am. Thank you."

"James should be along soon. Shall we have a cup of tea while we wait?"

"Yes, thank you." Remus sat and leaned his cane against the table. He didn't need it most days now, his limp barely noticeable, but the damp weather sometimes made his knee stiff and sore. He watched as Lily pushed aside the newspaper and picked up her discarded tea cup to set it in the sink. She began to make a fresh pot, waving her wand as if in afterthought at the familiar task of washing the dishes even as she made the tea the Muggle way.

"You were in Ravenclaw," she said as she lit the fire beneath the kettle with a match from an old earthenware jar on the counter. "You were quite good at Defense Against the Dark Arts. You had a talent for it."

"You've an excellent memory. It was my favorite class."

"How long have you been tutoring?"

"Only these last couple of years. My mother was a teacher at a Muggle primary school when I was very little. She taught history and geography. I always thought that I would like to follow in her path but it didn't work out."

"I heard you attended a Muggle university after Hogwarts."

"In Manchester, yes. I started, but didn't finish the course." Remus gestured down with his cane, finding sometimes that it was enough to forestall conversation about what had happened to his leg, about his scars--about the gaps in his resume. People generally felt awkward enough not to question him too much. He didn't much like lying but he sometimes preferred it to the truth. "I trained a bit under Professor McGonagall's guidance, and of course my own head of house."

"As well as Professor Dumbledore, I've heard. He's taken an interest in your career as well."

"He's always been very kind to me."

"Yes, of course. He's been so to many of us."

At the sound of the kettle's whistle, Lily stood and sorted the tea, bringing it along on a tray with a tin of biscuits. Remus smiled at the thought of real tea--proper tea, made without a wand, as his mother had done when she was still alive. It had been a long time since he'd tasted it made so, only managing the cheapest sort of tea bags when he could afford any at all.

"He recommended you to us," Lily said once she had added lemon to her cup and had taken a sip. "Albus, I mean. The agencies have been less than satisfactory."

"He told me that Harry's quite sharp, but that you've had trouble finding a match that suited his energy level."

"That's a kind way to say that Harry's a bit of a troublemaker. He's too much like his father was at that age, I'm afraid."

"I remember a rumor that your husband and Sirius Black had broken a record for the number of hours served in detention."

"They certainly liked to push the limits, yes,” Lily laughed. “Harry very much takes after James in that regard, but I don't want you to think that he's bad. He's really not, just mischievous."

"Professor Dumbledore thinks he would benefit from a less structured approach."

"Exactly," Lily agreed. "The agency tutors aren't trained to provide that. It's all sitting still and rote memorization."

"Not questioning teacher."

"Not being encouraged to ask questions or seek answers, yes. His magic isn't quite under his control even now, so a Muggle school was always out of the question, and besides, I like having him home. It feels safer."

"Are there concerns for his protection?"

"Not specifically, not that we've uncovered, though we're always cautious. We don't treat him as The Boy Who Lived, or at least we try not to. He's just our Harry, but we know his life is never going to be easy as he grows up."

"No, I suppose not."

"We try to make things as normal as possible--I mean as normal as they could possibly be. And he is the same as any other little boy, I think." Lily lifted her cup then set it back down. Remus saw something like sadness shadow her eyes though it was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced by a soft smile. "He wants to fly rather than read. His Uncle Sirius has taught him Quidditch, so he finds that more exciting than learning his maths."

"Of course. We would all rather play than work, I think."

"The other families you've worked for have been happy with the progress you made with their children, I've heard."

"There's only just been the two, Mrs. Potter--Lily. I've only been tutoring for the past couple of years and only just for a month or two during summer."

"And you've been doing research for Professor Dumbledore as well."

"Yes, when he had a particular project that he needed assistance with. I have to be honest in that I don't have a lot of experience with teaching. No agency would hire me."

"We're not concerned with that. To be honest with you, we had already decided to offer you the position based on the recommendations that we received. We only just wanted to meet you first, make sure we got on."

Remus looked up, surprised, though he supposed he shouldn't be. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall's word would obviously mean a lot to the Potters, and he was grateful that they had felt confident enough in his abilities--in him--to speak on his behalf. Still, he couldn't quite help but worry that maybe the Potters hadn't been told everything about him. For only just a moment he thought that maybe he could accept the job and find ways to hide his lycanthropy, the way it had been so easily concealed while he was at Hogwarts. That thought didn't last long, though--his conscience wouldn't let it.

"I would-- I mean, I'd like very much to work for you. I enjoy teaching very much, and the professors have spoken just as highly of you. They seemed to think we'd suit, but there’s something else you should know first, Mrs. Potter."

"Lily, Remus, please."

"Lily." Remus smiled down into his teacup as he corrected himself, though the smile faded away quickly. "Before you make your decision you should know something about me." Remus stopped again, hating this part.

"It’s all right, Remus," Lily said, seemingly anticipating his concern as she placed a gentle hand on Remus' arm, and Remus was grateful for it. "Professor McGonagall came by and spoke with me and James."

"She told you?"

"About your lycanthropy, yes, but also, like I said, that you're an excellent teacher, which is what we're interested in. She made her opinion on the matter quite clear."

"She would, wouldn't she?" Remus had to smile properly this time, knowing how vocal Minerva could be when riled. "The Ministry discourages families from hiring were--people like me. It would be taking a chance, maybe an unnecessary one, especially given Mr. Potter's--"

"James."

"James' position in the Ministry." Remus looked to the pot of Athelas on the windowsill and then to the old clock above the sink--anywhere except at Lily. He knew it would be best to end this and leave quickly for both their sakes--to end her embarrassment and ease his disappointment. He straightened, ignoring the knot he felt between his shoulder blades, and rushed to finish his speech. "I could give you the names of some very well-respected teachers, people who have more experience than I do--who might be better able to help Harry."

"Are you trying to talk me out of hiring you, Remus?"

Remus looked up, both surprised and not to find that was exactly what he had been doing. "I’m sorry, Mrs. Potter--"

"Lily."

"Lily," Remus repeated, feeling his cheeks heat with his embarrassment. He supposed the only thing he should be surprised by was how long it had taken him to make a pig's ear of the interview. They were silent for several minutes, Remus afraid to look up at Lily, afraid to say anything else in fear of making things worse.

For her part, Lily only just stared at her teacup, turning it slowly three times on the saucer before she leveled her shoulders and folded her hands in her lap before she spoke. "It must have been hard for you, when you were at school," she finally said, startling him to look up in time to see her smiling at him for a moment before she broke eye contact. She was quiet for another moment as she swirled the last of her tea and looked at the leaves. "I remember that you were very quiet. Us girls, we always thought you had a secret and came up with wildly romantic stories."

"Turns out I did have a secret, yeah? Though it's not particularly romantic." Remus shifted in his chair, unsure of where this was going. He had expected her to ask him to leave.

"How did you manage it? I don't think anyone ever knew."

"I had no close friends. I mean, no one who I ever thought to tell. I was afraid. I didn't want people to hate me." Remus grimaced and pushed away his cup. He had loved Hogwarts but it had been a lonely time, especially when he had first gone away from his father. "There were precautions taken during the full moon, of course. I've always been more of a danger to myself."

"So your family. They care for you."

"My mum died when I was very young--the night I was bit, actually. I was eight. She tried to protect me." Remus looked up at Lily, expecting pity but finding none, only understanding. Remus swallowed hard, hating to remember that night though the details had been mostly concentrated to a single memory of terrible, searing pain and then darkness. He didn't think he could recall it even for such a compassionate audience as he had there in the Potter kitchen. "And then my father died when I was sixteen--killed, actually. During the war. Madame Pomfrey cared for me while I was in school. It was irregular but Professor Dumbledore allowed me to stay at the castle during my last summer when I had nowhere else to go."

"I'm so sorry." Lily covered his hand with hers. "What happens now-- I mean, during the full moon..."

"I go to a Ministry detention center. Harry need not know if you rather he didn't. I could say I was ill and it'd be true enough."

"I didn't mean that, Remus. I meant--" Lily stopped and bit at her lip for a second before she gestured to his cane. "Your scars. You said you were a danger to yourself and Minerva said that you suffered greatly sometimes. I only just wondered--"

"I take care of myself now. I'm used to doing so. I'll be no bother."

"I didn't mean--None of this changes our offer. We want you, Remus. I'm quite sure of that. I only just meant. I was only just curious."

Remus cleared his throat and forced a smile he didn't actually feel at all, though on some level it was a relief to talk about it with someone who wasn't recoiling in disgust or fear. "I didn't know the girls paid me any attention," he said, trying to change the subject.

"We paid attention to everyone, especially to the boys we thought were cute."

Remus barely had time to blush as the fireplace suddenly roared to life with green flames and James tumbled from it, his glasses askew and his hair wild. Lily smoothed her hand over her smock as she stood and smiled, and Remus couldn't help but notice how her eyes lit up as James came into the room. He watched as she reached for him with one hand, even as she pointed a finger at him with the other. "James Potter. You're late. I've already hired our new tutor."

"I knew it would be best left managed by you, my dear." James kissed Lily's cheek, his voice contrite though his smirk was anything but. "And here he is. Remus Lupin, I presume. It's good to meet you."

Remus took the hand that was offered him and they shook. James looked almost exactly as he did in the picture above the mantle--messy black curls, friendly hazel eyes, and a mouth quick to smile. He had been boyishly charming next to Sirius Black's roguish good looks, a nice contrast then that had matured and sharpened with age. "Thank you, Mr. Potter. I'm glad to meet you, too."

"You must call me James. You were in the same year as us, yes? Ravenclaw. They nearly beat us in seventh year. It was a close call, I think. Your captain was Ashtar Pavarti, I think."

"Not everyone cared about Quidditch, James," Lily scolded as she pushed him to sit at the table and planted a kiss on his messy head.

"Of course they did. How could you even say such a thing? Sirius'd disown you if he heard you talk like that."

"Get on now," Lily said. She swatted at James' shoulder as she turned to retrieve the kettle of tea.

Remus felt the stirrings of envy for this happy home. He had never expected it for himself, never looked for it--a partner to share his day with, to commiserate or to laugh with. He tried not to think about it and was usually successful enough but there was something to James and Lily that made him remember his first crush, his first halting kisses, and then the emptiness when he'd drawn himself away, too afraid of rejection for what he was to make a real go with anyone. Lily disturbed his thoughts as she offered to refill his cup, but he smiled and shook his head no.

"Of course," she said. "I've kept you long enough. Will you take the position, Remus? Please say that you will."

"I think I'd like it very much, actually."

"Excellent. As we said in our owl, there's a cottage in the woods, near enough the house but you'd have your privacy. You could move in this weekend if you'd like. You did say you were available immediately."

"I am, yes, though if you wouldn't mind, could I take possession on Monday morning and start with Harry that afternoon? It's only that I did have something planned this weekend."

"Of course, if you prefer."

Remus stood and gathered his cloak about him, taking up his cane. Lily stood with him, pressing James back into his chair when he would rise, too. Remus suddenly hated to leave the quiet coziness of the Potters’ kitchen. Harry was peeking around the corner again, his eyes on his dad this time, and James reached out his hand to him. The gesture made Remus homesick for the family he had been denied since his own father died. It made him sad but also hopeful that perhaps he'd finally found a situation that would bring him some measure of happiness, at least for a little while. He gave his goodbyes quickly around the sudden and unexpected lump in his throat and stepped through the fireplace already eager for his return and the start of his new job.