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How's my driving?

You know the drill. Concerns, compliments, and any comment in between is welcome here.


A [Location: 5721 Cunningham Road, Action, locked to not!family (Basini and Shilo)]

[Something was terribly wrong, and though he didn't know what, he could feel the wrongness even before he opened his eyes.  It wasn't that he was in a strange bed; in the past months he'd spent more time on couches and at temporary lodgings then he had in his room at 12 Grimmauld.  No, it was the woman that troubled him first, the woman who was, thankfully, in a separate bed but since he had never seen her before the fact that she opened her eyes and greeted him with a cheerful 'good morning, darling' was confusing and more than a little alarming.  '

He ran from the room without saying anything, not stopping until he was in the hallway of an unfamiliar house wearing blue striped jim-jams.  It was then that he realized that he didn't know where his wand was, which troubled him even more.  He tried to summon it, both silently and verbally.  Nothing happened.  A search of the house didn't reveal anything familiar.  He did, however, find dozens of muggle pictures; many of them included himself with people he'd never seen before.  The woman from the other bed was in most of them, along with a boy and girl that both looked like they were of an age to be at Hogwarts.  Merlin's knees, what was going on?]

B [Downstairs at 5721 Cunningham Road, Phone, OTA]

[He'd lived amongst muggles enough to know how to operate a telephone, but no matter how many buttons he pushed or how much he shook the thing the phone hung from, nothing happened.  The only thing that put his mind to rest, just a little, was that Voldemort hated all things muggle, and couldn't be behind what was happening.]

Hello?  If there's anyone there I need to know where I am.  And when I am.  Hello?  Hello?

C [Outside, moving away from Cunningham road, Action OTA]

[His clothes were gone, and there were no wizard robes to be found.  In the wardrobe of the room he woke up in he found clothing that was at least better than jim-jams; he dressed in brown pants and a dark coloured jersey, using the loo to change in because the woman was still in the bedroom, trying to ask him about breakfast.  The absence of his wand bothered him more than anything else, and as soon as he was dressed he fled the house.  Once he rounded the corner he found a quiet place to sit and closed his eyes, concentrating as hard as he could.]

Accio wand!

[Nothing.  And nothing still when he tried it again.  Merlin, this wasn't right.  He'd been able to summon his wand since his third year of Hogwarts; only on nights of the full moon had he been separate from it.  Desperate times being what they were, he breathed deep and focused as hard as he could.]

Expecto Patronum!

[A chill traveled down his spine when nothing happened.  It wasn't just his wand that was missing; it was his magic.]
They'd been on their vacation for two weeks, and every night Teddy crashed the moment he was in bed, sleeping soundly until morning when he was up with the sun, racing to go again.  Harry had been with them for a few days, and though it took Teddy a day to bounce back from missing him the boy was happier then Remus had seen him for a while.  This was a good idea, this vacation.  Just him and Dora and Teddy, bonding as a family.

"Care to join me for a walk, love?" Remus asked as he stood in the doorway of the cottage, watching her drift on the porch swing.  He'd put enough wards on the place that he didn't worry about Teddy being alone.  Much.  And they wouldn't go far.
fun quiz for myspace profile and blog

Lets101 - Free Online Dating

These things are never true.


The first official day of their living together passed quietly and comfortably. They awoke in a tangle of limbs and shared a breakfast of crepes before heading to the Burrow. Bill was home, released by Poppy into the care of his mother and wife-to-be, and despite the funeral the previous day and the battle the week before the Weasley house was warm and full of energy. They passed a few hours there, for the first time completely open about their togetherness, and though the twins teased and Ron looked a little strangely at them it was altogether a wonderful feeling. The rest of the day was taken up with cleaning and unpacking, until the rising of the waxing moon found them sitting on the sofa, drinking cocoa and looking at his books in her bookcase, his pictures beside hers on the mantle, and their coats hung together next to the front door.

The next day meant work for Tonks, though their farewell almost made her late. Remus returned to the Burrow for a bit, allowing Molly to cut his hair, though not as short as she would have liked. Still, it was better then it had been. The rest of the day was spent in hours of thinking - Dora might call it brooding - and finally in a whirl of plans once he came to a decision.

By the time Dora was expected home he was ready, and when she arrives home she will find the furniture of the living room rearranged to make room for a blanket in front of the fireplace. At one corner of the blanket is a wicker picnic hamper, and in the middle is an arrangement of flowers and two burning candlesticks. Unable to sit still he's found himself in the second bedroom, which is now a study of sorts. He's rearranging books placed in order only yesterday, and listening intently for the door.


My computer is dead. Very very dead (I turn it on and get a white screen with a blinking question mark in the middle.) I am going to try and have it fixed, and if that doesn't work I was going to buy a new one in Jan, I'll just have to get it early. *sigh*

At the moment I'm using my gf's computer while she's at work, but my threading for the next week will probably be slow and sporadic. Hopefully not for too long.

This applies to all my muses, but at the moment the active ones for the most part are Remus, hook_esq and erudite_watcher

Thank you for your patience!

The Management.


Dumbledore's funeral was a blur of images and emotions. It might have overwhelmed him, if not for the anchor of Dora's hand in his, holding tight the entire time. Escorting the children to the train had been almost as difficult; Harry, Hermione and Ron were all but glued together, and he knew that this was the last time he'd watch James's son board the Hogwart's Express with his friends. The last vestiges of Harry's childhood had died with Dumbledore, and next year would be about fighting, not returning to school.

He watched the train speed down the track until all that could be seen was a plume of smoke. Only then did he turn to the woman standing beside him. For her sake he tried to find a smile. "Hungry, love? I have a few things to collect from the castle, but then I thought perhaps we could go for some curry?"
Talking to Snape was never an easy thing.  Asking favours of Snape was almost painful, and something he could only do for someone else's benefit, not his own.  He was eternally grateful to Albus that he had been the one to ask (or, knowing Dumbledore, tell) Snape to make the Wolfsbane potion for him; even then accepting the potion every month was a continuing lesson in humility.  He'd had to bite his tongue when, after the Order meeting last week, he'd asked Snape to make twice as much potion as usual.  It was a good thing Sirius had already gone upstairs, because he knew that his friend would not keep silent about the tawdry inferences the Potions master made about who, exactly, might be getting the rest of the potion.

It was worth it, though, in the end.  A first transformation would be difficult enough for Mana, there was no changing that, but at least he could make it a little easier.  With that in mind he showed up at her home one week before the full moon with a week's dosing for her and one night's dose for himself.  She didn't know, yet, what he was.  That was going to change tonight.  He just hoped it didn't ruin the friendship they were beginning to form, or his chance of helping her.

He stood in front of the door for a full minute before gathering up his courage and knocking.
He ran as fast and far as he could, his flight ended when he tripped over something and landed on his side on the forest floor.  Not thinking about running meant thinking about other things, and he hadn't even managed to halfway sit up when the contents of his stomach unleashed themselves on the base of a tree.  Wave after wave of dry heaves followed until he was trembling silently, his forehead against the harsh bark of the tree, not even able to control the muscles that would let him throw up again.

It was some time before he could control his breathing, even long until he could push aside the bloody images and find a memory strong enough to send a wandless Patronus.  Almost immediately a silver Phoenix found him, confirming what he already knew.  The Montgomery child was dead.

He couldn't be here.  He didn't know where he could be, but he couldn't be here, where he could still smell the blood, where the screams were still echoing in his ears, where he could still see the look on Greyback's face when he transformed.  So he did the very thing they'd been cautioned against at his very first Apparation lesson; he gave no thought to destination, determination, or deliberation and simply Apparated.

He found himself in a hallway that seemed familiar, but through the fog in his mind he didn't know why.  He leaned heavily against the wall, and when his knees gave out he slid down to the floor and closed his eyes.

"Hold on tight, cub."  The moment he feels the small arms wrap around his neck he Apparates, taking them from the living room of the small flat to the gates outside Marvelous Zhena's Mystical Zoo.  It's October tenth, and while it's his first birthday with Morgan (the first one was so close to the end of everything, and he'd missed it, and every one since,) it's her first birthday without her mum.  She's an orphan now, or as good as, with her mother dead and Sirius in Azkaban and no one left but a 25 year old werewolf that's so much older then his age.  For just a moment he allows himself to imagine how this should be, with James, Lily and Harry on one side, maybe with more children (they'd wanted three, Lily had said once) Sirius and some girl (he never could picture him married) on the other and Peter lagging behind.  They should have been a crowd, but now it was just the two of them walking through the gate and into the zoo.

"P'kins."  Morgan squirms in his arms to be put down, and he has to push away the might-have-beens for the here-and-now.  There's a large pile of pumpkins next to the grandlish's habitat - either a festive display or tonight's meal for the yellow and red creatures.

"Just a minute."  He tries to set her down gently, but she's insistent on seeing the pumpkins and it's making it hard to hold onto her.  He's trying to bend down when there's the thwap against his shoulder, and he looks behind him to find pumpkin guts on his coat and a smashed pile of orange at his feet.  There's no one between them and the gourds who might be playing a prank or letting out a bit of youthful energy, which seems to leave only one possibility.  "Did you do that?"

"Morgy's p'kin," the child declares, clapping her hands.  "Again!"

"No, not again."  The first pumpkin had been a small one, and other then the mess on his coat which should clean up with a Scourgify, caused no real damage.  He hates to think what might happen if she sets her sights on a bigger pumpkin this time.  Instead he sets her down, takes her small hand in his, and walks her over to the display.  "An entire zoo full of magical creatures and it's a pile of oversized fruit that catches your attention.  You are an odd duck, Morgan."

"Not a duck, Recess.  Cub."  She looks up at him and makes a sound that is a cross between a bark and a howl before throwing herself down on a pumpkin half as big as she is.

"Oh Merlin."
The water was hot enough to turn his skin red and burn the cuts on his hands, but he didn't adjust the temperature.  He felt dirty, not just from five days without bathing, but from all he had seen and all he had understood.  All the reading and interviews in the world couldn't prepare him for what a pack of werewolves was really like; the savageness and anger, the hopelessness and pain.  The wolf wasn't something that escaped once a month for them; it was their reality.  It would soon become his reality too.

Remus scrubbed at his skin with soap and cloth until it began to sting, and still felt the forest dirt clinging to his skin.  It was only when the hot water turned tepid that he got out of the shower and toweled off.  His timing was fortunate, however, since he only just had his trousers on when there was a knock at the motel room door.  Dinner, he assumed, as he pulled on a jumper.  He undid the locks, both muggle and magic, and opened the door.
He dreams of lilacs and bubbles, Indian bazaars pink hair; when he awakes he is trembling and it has nothing to do with the cold of the cave.


I'm in a mood to write some drabbles (perhaps it's the rain)  Anyone want a drabble/ficlet of Remus and your muse?  Give me a word, an idea or a song lyric.  Open to any verse he plays in.


Just once before I go (RP for auror_aura)

Two days.  He felt the weight of time on his shoulders, a pressing countdown that told him that everything that hadn't ended in the days since Sirius had died would be coming to and end soon.  In two days he would leave Grimmauld Place, and Dora, and everything that mattered behind and become the part of himself that he'd fought against since he was a child.  Dread was too weak of a word to describe how he felt about the mission he was about to take.

But that was in two days, and he wasn't going to think about it tonight.  Tonight he was going to do his best to give Nymphadora Tonks the most perfect evening.  She deserved it, and perhaps he needed it too.  One perfect memory before he left.

It too a little more then the hour he had asked for to get ready.  He took a shower and shaved, dressing in his one good set of robes, dark brown with no patches or fraying.  Underneath he wore a deep red shirt that Sirius had sworn he had mistakenly ordered in the wrong size and insisted he keep since it just happened to fit him, cream coloured trousers and his usual worn shoes.  After two more stops he showed up at the door to Dora's flat.  In one hand he held a box of chocolates, in the other a potted lilac plant.  After a little shifting he managed to free one hand to knock on the door.

for justprompts Fallen

"Where is the place that the good souls go, where they take away, Take away the pain that they know?"

"I can not tell you, my little darling. All my faith has fallen, fallen, fallen."

After the battle they all returned to Hogwarts, grasping onto the portkeys Dumbledore had made, helping the wounded to hold on as well.  Madame Pomfrey could be trusted completely, they knew; the same might not be true of those at St Mungos.  She was waiting for them, almost as if she had expected something, and wasted no time in getting the most seriously wounded to beds, setting to fixing them with Molly Weasley as an assistant.  Why Molly was there he didn't know and didn't question.

Remus stood in the corner and watched the competent healer move from bed too bed, never staying still for long.  It reminded him of a time in his fourth year when a prank had backfired and all four of the Marauders had found themselves in the hospital wing, being scolded and comforted by Poppy Pomfrey.  Three days they'd been stuck there, leaving their beds every time Poppy's back was turned, coming up with an even better prank to try when they were released.  They'd been threatened with potions and full body binding curses to keep them still, but nothing kept the Marauders down for long.

Hermione was so still, lying on the bed she'd been carried to, Ron and Harry at her side.  Moody was in another bed, tossing restlessly, and Ginny was in a third, her foot elevated.  Tonks had refused to lay down once she awoke, and was sitting on the end of her bed, legs curled to her chest and arms wrapped around herself.  He should go to her, touch her, hold her, offer some words of comfort, promise that they would make it through this.  He did nothing.  His arms still felt full from the boy who had fought to go through the veil, not understanding where it led.  The only words he was capable of forming were 'He's dead.'  He couldn't offer her anything because he was empty, used up, without hope.  Broken.

When the promised half hour ended and Dumbledore returned from the Ministry Remus slipped out the door, his sentry duties ended.  They were all in better hands now.  He walked down the stairs and out the front door.  Just past the entrance gate he could have apparated; the others would be meeting at headquarters soon to figure out what had happened, what it meant, what they would need to do.  They would meet without him.  He walked to the Whomping Willow and didn't bother with the knob to still its movements, not caring that the whipcord movement of one branch sliced open his cheek and made it bleed.  The tunnel was dark but he stumbled through it without light.  Once inside the house that was the closest thing he claimed to a home his knees buckled and he fell to the floor, letting out a howl that came from deep within both man and beast.

for musebysentence 23.4 History

It was Tonks's fault, really; she was the one who had asked them for stories of their old school pranks, and after a while it just seemed like a demonstration was in order.
[She pushes her pelvis down and shudders slightly again, sighing shakily.]



"I'm a bit old for the couch, love. I wish we..." And before he could finish the thought the fireplace before them was gone, a fourposter bed in its place.

for musebysentence 24.9 Pallid

The first time he returns from his undercover work to find Tonks with mousy brown hair and a haunted smile he doesn't need Molly Weasley's glare to make him hate himself.

OOC: Meme

The I'D HIT IT Meme

Remus does not approve of this meme.


He knows all too well how short life can be, how uncertain the future is, but sometimes at night when she's curled up against him he thinks to himself that if tomorrow never comes this will have been enough.

for musebysentence 22.7 Text Message

It's spelled out on the front page of the Daily Prophet, and though he knew it was coming it hurt more then he expected it to; he was a second class citizen, no longer allowed the same rights as wizards, no longer considered human.
Wolfsbane potion imbibed by a wizard now flowed through the veins of a wolf, calming him, keeping his more dangerous predilections at bay.  Sometimes the draught was enough to cool his blood and allow him to curl up before the fire and sleep, but not tonight.  Tonight he prowled the room he could not leave, thanks to charms he could not undo in werewolf form.  The same charms blocked the sound of his howls so they did not disturb the others that called Grimmauld place home.

He paced below the window that displayed the full moon, clawing at the glass in a bid for freedom.  The air was different tonight, the smells of the room not what the wolf was used to.  Someone else was here.  He could smell her in the air, the carpet, his own fur.  Mostly, though, he could smell her on the bed.  He tore at sheets and pillows, sending feathers into the air, trying to get at her even though she wasn't there.  The wolf didn't know her name, and could only call her mate.

He prowled for hours, only falling asleep in front of the fire an hour before the moon set and the sky began to lighten.  The man didn't wake up when the transformation ended, only clenching the ripped pillowcase closer to his nose and breathing in the smell.



some scars don't fade
Professor R.J. Lupin

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