Remus
August continued its rampage through The Better Marauders’ Children’s Society (And Auror Training Center). As the month progressed, the days grew hotter, the due date for the seventh Weasley child loomed excitedly over everyone’s heads, and the children seemed to sense a change between Remus and Sirius.
It started off slowly, when they started to refer to each other in a more polite manner. When Sirius said sweetheart, it didn’t feel like a jab. It was almost nice, sometimes. Eventually, Remus had to pull a confused Percy aside and tell him that Sirius’ last name wasn’t actually Bastard.
(“But that’s what you always call him,” Percy said. “Like you call my dad Weasley and Auntie Marls McKinnon.”)
Missy’s eyes became permanently narrowed, scrutinizing every interaction between Remus and Sirius. Whether it was a hand on a shoulder, a laugh that came out too loud, or even just a quick glance at the other, she nodded and muttered, “Uh-huh.”
Fred and George, too, seemed more at ease. It made Remus feel guilty that they’d wasted so many days. The heavy summer air felt lighter, less intense, and a happier mood breezed throughout the Potters’ house.
Effie would’ve been proud.
On a particularly overcast day, Remus unrolled a long strip of paper he’d grabbed from the bookstore near Peter’s flat. It was a large poster with the name of the store on the back, but when it was flipped over and stretched across the floorboards, it made a perfect, enormous coloring page.
All of them, Remus and Sirius included, claimed a spot along the piece of paper and armed themselves with markers and colored pencils.
They worked in focused silence for a few moments, until Percy leaned back on his heels and inspected Missy’s drawings. “Is that a dog, Missy?”
“Yep,” she said, tongue stuck out in concentration. “It’s supposed to be the dog we saw outside. I don’t know if it was a greyhound or a deerhound, though.”
“Oh,” said Percy.
Missy leaned back and sighed. “When we got home that day, I looked through all my animal books to find the right breed. There wasn’t one that really matched, though. I bet our dog is a mix of a lot of things.”
Sirius pretended to scratch his head so he could discreetly roll his eyes at Remus.
“You’re pretty smart,” Percy said. “I bet you’ll be in Ravenclaw when you get to Hogwarts. My older brothers say that’s where all the smart kids go.”
Missy shook her head. “I’m not going to Hogwarts. I’m going to go to Beauxbatons, like my dad.”
Remus looked up.
Missy frowned at her drawings, and Percy seemed at a loss for words.
“Might be for the best,” Sirius muttered to Remus. “Dumbledore wouldn’t be able to deal with her.”
“Be quiet.” Remus reached across the paper and sliced a red line through Sirius’ drawing of a Quidditch match.
“Thank you, Remus,” Sirius said sarcastically, inspecting the paper closely. “I can make that into a James Potter.”
Remus shook his head, glancing back at Percy and Missy.
Percy twisted a colored pencil between his fingers. “That’s too bad. We’re all going to go to Hogwarts. I don’t know anything about Beauxbatons.”
“All I know is that it’s in France. My dad’s going to start teaching me French soon,” Missy shrugged.
“Why didn’t you say that sooner?” Sirius interrupted. “I know French!”
“No, you don’t,” Missy answered in her typical disbelieving manner.
“I do, too.” Sirius matched her attitude exactly.
“He does,” Remus said, leaning back as Fred stepped in between him and Sirius and began to trace his foot in green marker. “He taught me how to say hello.”
“How?” Percy asked.
Remus coughed. “Merde.”
Sirius snorted. “That’s an eleven year old’s joke, Moony.”
But it made Missy smile. “You two lie a lot,” she said. ”Everyone knows that hello is bonjour. What does merde mean?”
“Shit,” said Remus, keeping an incredibly straight face.
“That’s kind of funny,” Missy admitted, turning back to her drawing with a smile. “I won’t tell my mum.”
Percy didn’t laugh. He propped his chin on his elbow and finished coloring in a rainbow. “Do you think your parents would let you go to Hogwarts?”
George grabbed onto Remus’ collar so he could bend over to color in one of Fred’s toenails. Remus pushed George’s marker away and instructed, “Paper only.”
George ignored him.
“My dad really wants me to go to Beauxbatons,” Missy shrugged again. She obviously hadn’t thought much about it, but Remus could tell that the notion of losing Missy bothered Percy.
“Well, maybe your dad can ask his Moony,” said Fred, crouching down to better trace the toes on his right foot.
Sirius’ gave a a barking laugh. “What did you say?”
Fred didn’t take his eyes off his drawing. “Missy’s dad can ask his Moony.”
Remus locked eyes with Sirius over Fred’s head. Either he was losing brain cells from interacting solely with children, or they were surpassing him in intelligence. Whose Moony?
“Moony’s right there.” Sirius pointed across the piece of paper. “I don’t think he can decide where Missy goes to school.”
Fred laughed, and George joined in, obviously the only one who understood what his twin was trying to say.
“No!” Fred cackled. “Not him! The Moony at Missy’s house!”
“What do you think a Moony is?” Sirius pressed.
Fred bit his lip to focus on his tracing. “Uh… like a sweetheart. My dad calls my mum dear. Missy’s Padfoot can talk to his Moony about school.”
Remus looked down at his hands and felt a flush spreading across his face.
“He means a partner,” Percy clarified. “Missy’s dad can talk to her mum, just like you and Moony talk to each other. He thinks a Moony is someone who will listen and solve the problem.”
“We aren’t— we don’t—” Sirius fumbled for the words and gave another nervous laugh.
“You two aren’t very good at keeping secrets,” Missy said, and Remus’ mouth dropped open. “You both sleep here. You talk to each other without even speaking. You act like my parents do, and they’re married.”
“We don’t sleep here together—”
“Sirius, stop.” Remus grabbed George’s marker, which had meandered onto Remus’ shoulder. “I don’t think this is relevant.”
Missy and Percy gave an identical sigh and leaned back over the paper.
Sirius looked down, too, but Remus saw his lips form silent words that the children didn’t hear. The words were so small, so quiet, that they almost disappeared completely. They settled lazily upon the coloring paper and scattered markers, a perfect addition to the children’s drawings.
The children didn’t notice. Remus watched Sirius slowly repeat the words, a slow smile creeping across his face.
My Moony.