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"So, a baby," said Peri thoughtfully to Remus as they sat together by an indoor fountain, Ray busily engaged in walking around and around it.   "How do you think Sirius will handle being a father?"

"He’ll manage somehow.   James was scared out of his skin right up until Harry was actually born..." Remus’ smile faded.   "Two months," he said, looking up at the falling water.   "Two months and I still can’t get used to it.   I wake up every morning and I have to readjust my mind to get it around everything that’s changed.   And I keep thinking today will be the day.   Today I’ll finally get used to having the war over and not seeing James or Lily anywhere.   And it never happens."

Peri laid her hand on his shoulder.   "Tell me something," she said.   "You knew them so much better than I did.   If they had been given the choice — if they had known that their deaths would end the war, would save Harry’s life, would make everyone so free, so happy — do you think they would have taken it?"

"In a heartbeat."   Remus’ hand found Peri’s.   "I know they would have.   But they didn’t.   They died thinking that was it.   That they’d died for nothing.   That Voldemort was just going to blast through them, take Harry too, and go on and do whatever else he damn well pleased..."

"But don’t you think they know now?"

Remus was silent for a long time.   "I don’t know," he said finally.   "I just don’t know.   I want to think so... I want to believe it..."

"Then do."

"It’s not that easy.   What if I’m wrong?"

"Who’s hurt by it if you are?   Not them — I don’t think much can hurt them now.   And not you.   I hate seeing you so sad all the time."   She squeezed his hand gently.   "I remember..." She stopped quickly before she said too much.

"What?" Remus turned to look at her.   "What do you remember?"

"When some people I cared about very much died," Peri said carefully.   "I grieved, but after a while I realized that there had to be something beyond grief.   That they and I hadn’t been the only people in the world, and that it was selfish to pretend that everything had ended just because they’d died..."   She closed her eyes in embarrassment as she realized, five seconds too late, her mistake.   "Do I have a big sign floating over my head right now that says ‘tactless’?" she asked.

From the darkness, she heard a sound she’d heard far too seldom recently.   Remus was chuckling.   "No.   Maybe you should, but you don’t.   And I understand what you’re saying.   Even if you did say it rather inartistically."

"My liege, my liege, your pardon," Peri said, sliding to her knees, eyes still shut.   "I have wronged you and our gracious kingdom by speaking — horror of horrors! — inartistically.   Is it granted that I live beyond this hour?"

"It is so granted.   Lift thy head, wench."

Peri looked up.   Remus had his pocketknife in his hand, blade extended.   "I dub thee the Lady of Artistically," he said, tapping her shoulders with it.   "So that when you are at home, you shall be in Artistically.   You may rise."

Peri groaned.   "I would, but that pun was so bad it made my knees go all wobbly.   Can you give me a hand?"

"If you like.   Which one?"   Remus helped her back onto the seat, dodging her smack.  

xXxXx

Aletha was content to sit on the bench which Sirius had obligingly cleared of snow (granted, he’d done so by scooping it all up and dumping it on Harry’s head, but Harry hadn’t seemed to mind) and watch her husband and his godson play.   They’d been visiting Harry at his relatives’ house for two months, and everything seemed to be going well so far.  

And if all goes well, by late spring we should be able to bring him home with us...  

The Dursleys had grudgingly agreed to let them visit Harry twice a week for a few hours, as long as they were discreet about their comings and goings, and never let anyone in the neighborhood know that there was anything unusual about Harry.   This meant, to Sirius’ disgruntlement, that he was stuck in human form for the duration.  

But a little discipline will do him good.   Honestly, some days I think he’s so regimented at work that he breaks out twice as much at home...

Another woman came up the path to the little playground, leading a small person by the hand.   It was difficult to tell through all the wrappings, but Aletha estimated the newcomer to be a bit older than Harry — maybe two, or two and a half — and judging by the long brown tendrils escaping from the hood, there was a little girl under there.  

Sirius saw them too, breaking off his fresh attack on Harry and going to one knee.   "Harry, look here," he said.   "Somebody new.   Can you say hi?"

Harry shook snow off his head and waved.   "Hi," he said.  

The little girl waved back, but didn’t say anything.  

"This is Hermione," said the woman, tucking some of her daughter’s hair back under the hood.   "Are you new to the neighborhood?   I haven’t seen you around before."

"Oh, we don’t live here," said Aletha.   "We’re just visiting Harry — we like to see him every once in a while, and his relatives don’t mind."

"Are you the people they keep saying will take him in once you get settled?" the woman asked, turning intelligent brown eyes on Aletha.  "They’ve been very adamant that he’s not staying.   Is there something wrong with him?"

"No," said Sirius emphatically.   "There’s nothing wrong with this boy — isn’t that right?" he added to Harry.   "Nothing wrong with you that a good roll in the snow won’t cure!"   He scooped the boy off his feet, deposited him on his back in the snow, and rolled him vigorously back and forth, Harry’s shrieks of delight sounding throughout.  

"Me too!" cried Hermione, darting forward.   "Me too, me too!"

"Not shy, is she?" said Aletha, smiling.   "Care to sit down?"

"Thank you.   Rose Granger."

"Aletha Freeman-Black.   The reprobate in the snow is Sirius Black."

"Pleased to meet you both."

Aletha chatted with Mrs. Granger — Dr. Granger, as she soon discovered, for both the woman and her husband were dentists — for quite a while, until something caught her eye.   Sirius was helping the children roll balls for snowmen.   Harry and Hermione were throwing themselves at the ever-enlarging balls gleefully — but weren’t they moving even when no one was pushing them?  

"Sirius," she hissed.   "Back off a second."

Sirius frowned, but stepped back.   The two children threw themselves at the ball of snow, by now as tall as either of them.   It rolled a few inches and stopped.  They attacked it again, and again.   Each time, it rolled a little farther.   Then Hermione held up her hand and loosed off a long speech in semi-incomprehensible baby talk.   Harry seemed to understand it, though, since he nodded gravely every time Hermione paused.  

The two children backed off and held up their hands, palms facing the huge snowball, which was directly between them and a clump of trees.

"Odd," said Dr. Granger, frowning.   "What are they doing?"

"I’m not sure," Aletha fibbed.   She knew what Harry was probably doing, or trying to do, but Hermione was a Muggle...

Or not.   Certain childhood memories of her own nudged her consciousness.   The day she’d forgotten to get a signature on a permission form for a much-desired field trip, yet, like magic, there had been her mother’s handwriting on the form when she’d sheepishly produced it... the day her father wondered aloud why they hadn’t had to call a piano tuner for five years, and Aletha had counted and come up with the time she had begun lessons herself...

The snowball began to move.   Dr. Granger gasped.   Sirius said something under his breath.   Aletha tagged it mentally as deserving of a smack later.   Harry will hear enough bad language in his life, thank you very much.   He doesn’t need to associate it with doing magic.  

For that was what the children were doing.   There could be no mistaking it.   The snowball was rolling along the ground with no one pushing it — it was picking up speed — it was headed straight for the trees —

Both children jumped up and down, cheering, as snowball and trees met with tremendous force.  

Dr. Granger couldn’t have looked any whiter if the snow had struck her, Aletha noted.   She recognized the look.   Her own mother had worn it the day they’d discovered that there really was such a thing as magic.  

Sirius was moving now, digging through his pocket, and his hand came out with his wand in it.   He waved it first around their little circle of five, cutting them off from the rest of the world with a Privacy Spell, then stepped outside it to Disillusion it, so that Muggles wouldn’t wonder what a cloud of thick gray smoke was doing hovering over their playground.  

Aletha called Harry over to her.   Hermione came with him.   Dr. Granger snatched her daughter up and held her.   "Mummy, it hurts," the girl complained, wiggling.   "Too tight!"

Aletha set Harry on the bench beside her, since lap space was starting to become an issue.   "There’s nothing wrong with your daughter," she said.   "She’s simply different.   We can explain, if you like, or we can get in contact with experts..."

But they’ll say not to bother until the girl’s Hogwarts age, her conscience whispered.   They’ll say, why unfit her for Muggle life?   Let her live normally until then... except that with what her mother’s just seen, she’ll never accept the girl as normal again unless someone can prove to her that this is only a different kind of normal...

Sirius stepped back through the Privacy Spell and sized up the situation immediately.   "Nothing to be scared of," he said, waving his hand through the smoke-like substance.   "It’s not solid, there’s nothing keeping you here.   You could leave now if you like, but I hope you stay.   I think we might be able to explain what’s going on."

"I would appreciate that," Dr. Granger said in a somewhat strained voice.   "I have just seen my daughter — what did she do?"

"We call it magic," said Aletha.   "Accidental or wild magic, in Hermione’s case — though she seems to have it pretty well tamed.   As I said, it’s not abnormal, she has no problem that needs to be fixed.   She just has... skills.   Skills that, if she wants to use them, will need to be trained."

"And what does she pay for this training?"   Dr. Granger looked piercingly at both of them.   "Her soul?"

"No!"   Sirius looked vaguely appalled.   "Of course not!   It’s a school, that’s all!   She’ll go away to boarding school and learn to be a witch!"

Dr. Granger’s arms tightened around Hermione again.  

"Pay no attention to the man by the smoke," said Aletha patiently.   "He’s what we call a pureblood, which means his family’s been marrying their own cousins for so long that his ability to walk upright and speak in simple sentences is a genetic miracle.   It also means he’s seen magic since he was a baby and doesn’t understand that there are people who haven’t.   I, on the other hand, am Muggleborn — my father was a musician, my mother worked with injured wildlife.   I had no idea there was any such thing as magic until I turned eleven.   Magic as we understand it is not good or evil, it just is..."  

"And it is cold out here," said Sirius, wrapping his arms around himself.   "Please pardon my atrocious manners, but may we come back to your house and keep fumbling through the explanations in a nice warm kitchen instead of out here?   It’ll help with throwing us out, too.   I mean, you can’t very well throw us out here.   We’re out already.   But once we’re in, it’s much easier..."

"Stop," said Dr. Granger, lifting a hand.   "Please."   The corners of her mouth were twitching upwards.   "It so happens that my husband is home, and I don’t fancy trying to explain this to him myself."

"No, not at all," Sirius agreed.   "Much easier to have us do it.   Then you can throw us out when you’re done.   Or have him throw us out.   Or one of you throw one of us — each..."   He trailed off as Aletha leaned over and scooped up a handful of snow meaningfully.  

"What do you think, Harry?" she asked the boy by her side.   "Should I get Padfoot?"

Harry bounced up and down, nodding hard.   "Yeah, yeah, get Pa-fut!"

Aletha aimed and threw just as Sirius darted out of the Privacy Spell.   A yelp from beyond the screen confirmed her aim.   Harry laughed.  

"Well done," said Dr. Granger, smiling slightly.  

"Thank you."   Aletha gathered Harry into her arms as the Privacy Spell vanished and Sirius, brushing snow out of his hair, appeared before them, along with the rest of the world.   "I do try."

"Which is what convinced me not to run for my life.   That and his silly prattling."   Dr. Granger lifted Hermione onto her hip.   "The devil is always described as proud and without a sense of humor about anything, especially himself.   Your making fun of each other, and yourselves, makes me think that you’re unlikely to be evil, whatever you are."

Aletha smiled.   "Thank you.   But I’m afraid it’s a long story." She followed the other woman down the path again.   "What we are, I mean.   And why..."

xXxXx

"Are you saying we’ll lose her?" David Granger asked some hours later.  

"In some ways, yes," Sirius said.   "Most people who go to Hogwarts stay in the magical world.   Some come back and live as Muggles, or live halfway between."

"Wouldn’t that be awkward for taxes and such?" Rose inquired.   They’d gone to first name terms sometime around the homemade brownies.  

Aletha smiled.   "You haven’t seen forgery until you’ve seen magical forgery," she said.   "The spells for that are carefully monitored, of course, and it’s against our laws to defraud Muggle businesses or counterfeit Muggle money, but papers are very easy to change or invent outright.   Hogwarts even has a Muggle identity, I believe — do you remember what it is, Sirius?"

"Oh, something like ‘Lily of the Valley School of Fine Arts,’" Sirius said, nearly spilling his tea with an extravagant gesture.   "So if she wanted to get Muggle employment, she’d have a secondary education listed.   We’ve been doing this for a thousand years — give us a little credit for knowing how."

"But you haven’t had systems like these to deal with for a thousand years," David pointed out.   "Bureaucracy and red tape are still with us, but information gets around much more easily these days.   It’ll be harder and harder to hide."

"We’ll manage," said Aletha firmly.   "But what I’m thinking about is that there is still no good way to do what we’ve just done — explain to worried parents that their children are not ill, abnormal, or possessed.   It’s left until the children are Hogwarts age, and if parents are even half-looking, they’ll be noticing odd things about their children well before then.   Do they just write it off as their imaginations?"

"That’s probably what I would have done, if you hadn’t been there," said Rose.   "Convinced myself I was drowsing for a moment, or that I just hadn’t noticed Neenie pushing the ball with her hands."   David had greeted his daughter with her nickname, and Sirius thought it was adorable.   Aletha liked it herself, but had refrained from gushing.  

"But now we know," said David, looking into the living room, where Harry and Hermione were playing side by side in companionable solitude.   "Our little girl is magical.   So what do we do now?"

Sirius rested his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands.   "Wish I knew," he said.   "I really wish I knew."

xXxXx

"You never seem to have trouble getting time to see me," Peri said.   "I thought my job was flexible, but you must have the easiest time getting days off..."

"Well, in a sense, all my days are days off," Remus said with an attempt at lightness which he was aware hadn’t gone well.   "I’m... between jobs at the moment."

"And just how long has this moment lasted?" Peri asked.  

There are days I wish she wasn’t quite so discerning.   "The Order work paid.   Some.   And I’ve had an odd job here and there since then."

"But you haven’t been working full-time since the war ended."

"No."

"When was the last time you had a full-time job for more than a month?"

Remus shifted uncomfortably.   "Peri, I... I don’t look for full-time work."

"Why not?"

"Because I know perfectly well I won’t get it."

"Why not?"

"Because — oh, good Lord, you know..." He let his hand drop to his side.   "I come to see you because you seem, for some reason that is beyond my comprehension, to like seeing me," he said to the far wall.   "And I like seeing you, and Ray.   But I could do without the Spanish Inquisition..."   He closed his eyes, hearing her quick intake of breath.   "I shouldn’t have said that, should I."

"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!"   Peri whisper-shouted, grinning madly.   Her face relaxed into gentler lines.   "I’m sorry.   Once again, my astounding lack of tact surfaces as my distinguishing characteristic.   One of these days they’re going to collar me as a medical specimen — human born entirely without tact.   I’ll go right between the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman."

Ray came around to them and spouted a long string of consonants, pointing at the fountain.   "You want a penny to throw in?" Remus asked, rattling his pocket.   Ray nodded hard.   "Well, I may be a bit stretched at the moment..."

"Like butter scraped over too much bread," Peri put in.  

"But I think I can do that."   Remus handed Ray a penny, and lifted him up to the edge of the fountain.   "Make a wish."

"He’s too little, and it’s your penny," said Peri. "I think you get the wish."

"I could use one."   Remus watched the coin sail into the water.  

May I find something, somewhere, that will allow me to keep these people near me, and make sure they’re never harmed again.  

And if it could keep me from starving or freezing to death, that would be nice too.  

"So what did you wish for?" Peri held out her arms to take Ray.  

"You know better than that.   If I tell you, it won’t come true."

"So make something up.   Surprise me."

"All right.   I wished that I could know exactly where all your quotes and quips come from."

"You mean you don’t?"

"Well, most of the quotes I can trace.   And the quips, I assume, come from your ever so interesting mind.   But every so often you come up with something I’ve never heard of.   I suppose it’s insurance against those times."

"Just let me know if you’re puzzled, and I’ll explain."

"And people say telling the wish makes it not come true," Remus said to the fountain.   "So when are we meeting Sirius and Letha for dinner?"

"Five-thirty.   And it’s almost that now.   Come on, fox, we have a date."

"Fox?" Remus asked as Peri set Ray on the floor.  

"Doesn’t he look a bit like one?"   Peri took one of the boy’s hands, leaving Remus to take the other.   "A snow fox, I mean, with white fur.   Pointed face, very smart and cunning..."

"Foxes are tricksters in a lot of the old stories."

"Better than ever.   Have I told you about his new favorite game?   Cry and wake Peri up in the middle of the night, then laugh at her when she comes in the room?"

"Do you really do that?" Remus asked Ray, who nodded.   "You really do?   Well, that’s very naughty of you.  Good work."

"Men," Peri muttered.   "They all think they’re kings.   By the way, Remus, did we ever establish which king you are?"

"No, but I think I’d like to be King Arthur."

"Looking for a name change?"

"Well, Remus never got to be a king — he was killed by his brother before his city even got started.   Whereas Arthur never really died.   He just floated off to Avalon.   So it might be nice.   But let me put it this way — not if you’re going to be Guinevere."

"What, and go looking for a handsome Lancelot?"   Peri laughed.   "Not likely.   I know the type I like, and you’re it.   Besides, Lancelot was a self-centered prig."

"Too true, too true.   Would you be surprised to learn that Sirius can sing that one song of his from memory?"

"Sirius sings everything from memory, doesn’t he?   He can’t read music."

Remus frowned.   "No, he doesn’t, but how did you know that?"

"Believe it or not, you’re not the only person I talk to.   Or write letters to.   I didn’t dare ask Narcissa to front my spying work, but personal letters are a different story.   Aletha and I have been trading stupid Marauder stories."

Remus blanched.   "Dear God, I’ll never be able to face you again."

xXxXx

No sleep, Ray said obstinately as Peri held him close, humming gently to him.  

Yes sleep, said Peri.  Sleep is good.   It makes you happy.  

No.   No sleep.  

If you sleep, when you open your eyes it will be tomorrow, and we can play some more.   If you don’t sleep, you have to stay here and listen to grown-ups talk boring grown-up talk.   Peri embellished her mental image of the conversation with all sorts of words she knew Ray wouldn’t have the faintest idea about, and deliberately damped down her own semi-automatic translation for his mind.   Yes sleep.  

Ray grumbled a little but conceded.   Yes sleep.   Play tomorrow?  

Yes.   Play all tomorrow.  

Good.   Ray’s eyes drifted shut, and his body relaxed all over.  

"Wish I could fall asleep like that," said Sirius, shaking his head.  

"It’s a side effect of innocence," Aletha said blandly.  

"Never mind."

"You wouldn’t be able to handle it anyway, Sirius," Remus said.   "I don’t think you’ve ever been innocent."

"Well, more innocent than I am now."

"Point taken."

"What are you going to do with him?" Aletha asked Peri.  

"Slip home, make sure his nappy’s dry, set an alarm to tell me if he wakes, and leave him there.   Times like this I want to bless whoever invented Apparition."

"You can Apparate without waking him?"   Sirius looked amazed.   "How?"

"Magic," said Peri lightly.  

"I knew that."

"Good, then you know as much as is good for you.   Give me a hand here?"  

Remus accepted the limp bundle of boy so that Peri could stand up.   "Your own fault, Padfoot," he said, handing Ray back to her.   "I could have told you not even to try, she’ll shut you down every time..."

They were still wrangling on this subject when Peri returned several minutes later.   "So how was your day?" she asked, resuming her seat.  

"Well, it turns out Harry’s got another magical child on his block," said Aletha.

"On the block that will very soon cease to be his," Sirius corrected.   "Anyway, she’s about two, cute little thing.   Looks a bit like you, Peri, except her hair’s wilder."   He mimed the construction of Granger hair with his hands.   "Her name’s Hermione, but they call her Neenie..."

And she’s still there.   Another bright idea of mine that didn’t work out.   Peri sighed as Sirius and Aletha explained how they had discovered Hermione’s magic and explained it to her parents.  

"But there really should be someone to do that," said Aletha.   "Or... I don’t know.   What about a place people could go to learn about the magical world?"

"A visitor’s center?" suggested Remus.   "With brochures?"

Everyone laughed, but Sirius was tapping his fingers on the table.   "That might be something," he said when they had settled down.   "Not the brochures, but that visitor’s center thing.   Why shouldn’t there be one?   There’s Muggleborn students every year, and I bet at least half of them forget something when they get their sponsored trip to Diagon Alley.   And they’re going to be scared and disoriented, and that’s not even counting their parents..."

"Muggles who marry a wizard or witch would appreciate something like that too," Remus said.   "I know my mother sometimes didn’t want to bother my father with little things, but she didn’t have anyone else to ask.   If there was a place she could have called, or firecalled..."

"And that’s another thing," said Aletha, snapping her fingers.   "Magical and Muggle communication.  People who don’t have Floo fires, or telephones, could go there and use whichever one they need."

"It could be like an offshoot of Diagon Alley," Peri said, catching the excitement around the table.   "With stores, places to eat, things to do and see — and magical people could go there to learn about the Muggle world too!   There could be Muggle volunteers who would answer questions — you’d need people to answer the phones — I think it could work!"

None of them so much as looked at a watch until two hours later.  

xXxXx

"So this place needs a name," said Sirius, tapping the pencil Aletha had lent him on the napkin he’d been doodling on.   They were back by the fountain, having been politely asked to leave the restaurant after being there for an hour without ordering anything else.  

"A name?" said Remus.   "We don’t even know if it will ever be real, if anyone will think it’s a good idea, and you think it needs a name?"

"If it has a good name, it’s more likely to be real," argued Sirius.   "It needs a really good name.   Something that talks about what it does, but also about what we want it to do.   We want it to be a place where people get together.  Where things get done.   Where everyone’s the same, and nothing goes too wrong."

"Why not order the weather too?" Peri asked.   "Not too hot in summer, winter can’t be too long, it can only rain at night..."

Aletha grinned and began to sing.

A law was made a distant moon ago here,

July and August cannot be too hot,

And there’s a legal limit to the snow here,

In Camelot

The winter is forbidden till December

And exits March the second on the dot

By order summer lingers through September

In Camelot...

"Wait!" Remus burst out.   "Wait, I think I’ve got something!"

His eyes were shut.   Everyone waited.  

"Center," he said finally.   "It’ll be a Center.   A Center for something.   An A word."

Peri frowned.   "Action?"  

"Activities?" suggested Aletha.  

"All," said Sirius.   "Center for All to... something."

"M," said Remus.   "Magic, Muggle, no.   Those aren’t ‘to’ words."

"What’s the next letter?" Peri asked.  

"E."

"Magically," Peri muttered.   "Magically Explore!"

"Center for All to Magically Explore," Remus repeated.   "Good.   Now we need—"

"Lifestyles," said Aletha before he could finish.  

Remus bowed to her.   "Center for All to Magically Explore the Lifestyles..."

"What are we spelling?" Sirius asked.  

Aletha whistled a few bars.   Sirius’ face cleared.   "Oh."

"Exactly," said Peri, grinning.   "Any ideas?"

"Lifestyles, something O," Sirius muttered.   "How about Others?"

"That’s perfect," said Remus.   "How about this.   The Center for All to Magically Explore the Lifestyles of Others Today.   Also known as—"

"Camelot!" everyone chorused, and joined in the song.  

Camelot, Camelot, I know it sounds a bit bizarre,

But in Camelot, Camelot, that’s how conditions are...

Sirius took a line alone.

The rain may never fall till after sundown

Then it was Peri’s turn.

By eight the morning fog must disappear

Remus took over.  

In short, there’s simply not

A more congenial spot

Everyone joined in again, laughing.  

For happily-ever-aftering than here

In Camelot!

xXxXx

"So, King Arthur," said Peri lightly as she and Remus walked down the street, hand in hand.   "Will you start a Round Table in your court at Camelot?"

"Indeed I will.   And the knights will dance whene’er they’re able."

Peri laughed with him, and they did a little dance step down the street, until Remus pulled her into the shelter of a doorway.   "You need to have more fun," he said.   "You’re beautiful when you’re having fun.   And you take far too much far too seriously."

"You should talk."

"Yes, I know.   But I’ve had years of bad company to amend my fault."   Remus’ face turned grave.   "Very bad company, in some cases."

Peri shook her head.   "You couldn’t have known," she said.   "No one could have."   Except me, and I wasn’t supposed to tell...   "And he’s dead now, isn’t he?   Dead and no more trouble to anyone." Exhaustive searching had shown no trace of Peter Pettigrew, and he had been labeled, tentatively, as a suicide.  

"So they think."   Remus sighed deeply.   "I just can’t help feeling there’s something hanging.   Something that should have happened, but hasn’t."

"Yes, Camelot," Peri said firmly, opening Remus’ arms and inserting herself into them.   "That’s obviously meant to happen, from the way we’re all crazy about it."

"No, I mean something bad.   Something like... I don’t know, like someone else dying..."

"Stop," Peri said, pressing a hand against his mouth.   "Please, Remus, don’t talk like that.   Fate doesn’t need any more tempting around here."

Please, she willed him as his lips met hers.   Don’t ruin it.   I did more than I ever meant to, we might even all get a happy ending out of this... don’t destroy it all now...

xXxXx

In every creation lies the seed of its own destruction.  

Some merely sprout sooner than others.  

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