S.O.B.

3:11pm: FILTERED: Remus
Time to plan for CHRISTMAS! We need to pull the decorations out of the cellar, and stock up provisions. How many guests do you think we should expect? I want a pudding the size of Hagrid's head! HA!

Have you any idea what to get Harry this year? I'm at a loss. And the Wort is only insisting that she NOT receive Fashion Fairies. I have not the foggiest what they are, but evidently they are not acceptable.

4:29pm: ORIGAMI NOTE in the shape of a horse that finds Remus Lupin wherever he is
Where are you? I'm bored. You've been playing with babies and Malfoys long enough.

The wind's a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon's a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road's a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor...


Meet me at the stile by the beech tree at midnight. Bring the cloak I gave you. And the boots -- definitely the boots.

I'll come to thee by midnight, though hell should bar the way.


We're home, we're safe, and the whole bloody forest is ours.

7:46pm: FILTERED: Harry Potter, Remus Lupin
All right, you two, I've had ENOUGH.

Harry, talk to Remus. NOW. And no sulking -- it isn't pleasant and it makes you seem like a spotty teenager.

Remus, Harry wants to talk to you. He won't bite -- that's what these machines are for.

For Godric's sake, you two -- we just survived a war. AGAIN. Surely we can do this!

Now shake hands and let's get at it, and then we can get on with our lives. Harry, you're bringing Edward by for tea on Wednesday.

10:25pm: FILTERED: Remus Lupin
You've been using your machine a lot lately. I confess I'd more or less forgot I had one.

They're marvelous for sulking though, aren't they? Don't sulk, mate. Poppy's an old fusspot.

2:03pm: FILTERED: Severus Snape
Stumpy. I'll have a word or twelve.

8:48pm: Conversation in Grim Cottage
Moony? She's finally asleep. I thought she'd NEVER go to sleep!

10:25pm: Conversation: Ron Weasley and Sirius Black
Ron! Hold up! The six to the front are just a diversion -- I can smell more coming in through the storm drains, the bastards.

You want to pick off the ones in the drain while I take the frontal assault, or vice versa? Or shall we just flip a coin? HA!

3:49pm: FILTERED: Artemisia Lupin
Where's my best girl?

3:46pm: MUGGLE POST: Remus Lupin
Remus Lupin
5 Shell Road
Bathsheba
St. John's Parish
Barbados



Dear Moony,

Yes, I've seen the baby. Yes, it's Harry's. Or as good as. It smells like pack. It could be Snape's, or Harry's, or both, Godric forgive us.

It looks like a baby, more or less. Scrawny thing. No navel. It has Lil's eyes and Snape's nose. Harry is over the bloody moon. He's happy, all right? He's happy. Yes, that's the most important thing, I reckon, for all it makes me miserable. NO I'm not miserable that Harry is happy. I'm miserable because ... well, I don't suppose I have to tell you, do I?

I won't be home in time for the moon, but you've guessed that already, haven't you? I can see you now -- don't sigh, and don't give me those eyes. I don't want to hear any "loved I not honour more" cack. You know I was going mental with nothing to do. NO I don't hate it. I love it. It's lovely there, it's paradise. You're healthy and glowing, and the cublet is growing like a weed. You were right, of course -- growing up among Muggles is the best thing for her. And Merlin knows I thought I could spend the next 50 years just baking in the sun with you beside me, the sky huge overhead, the sea stretching out forever, our cublet dancing on the strand.

BUT...

There are things to be done, mate. Harry needs me.

STOP. Don't. All right? Just don't. I know he's an adult. I know he doesn't need -- NO. That's not right. He THINKS he doesn't need me, but he does. The whole Order is faffing around because they don't have enough veterans of the First War. They don't want to do what needs done, and Harry is too busy playing Happy Families. They need me. They need me.

I know you need me too. And you know I need you desperately -- more than air, more than life. But we can't hide forever. We can't sit on the side and watch friends and family fall AGAIN and AGAIN. What you need to do is stay there and care for our brilliant Wortlet. That's your sacrifice. Mine is to be apart from you, far from you.

I WILL COME HOME TO YOU. You know that. NOONE can keep me from you. Not Death Eaters, not Dementors, not Voldemort, not DEATH IT FUCKING SELF. You and me, Moony. You and me. I hold that in my heart.

All right, all right. "Loved I not honour more." Happy now?

Everything, everywhere, forever.

Pads

5:35pm: PRIVATE POST
I can't get at the thing. I've been working on it for a week, but the wards at Lake Cottage are tighter than Irma Pince's sphincter. That's Snape's doing, no doubt. There's no way on earth the little albino squib could have had anything to do with it.

The thing must be in the cottage. It must be. It's the safest place for it. But I can't even get the scent of it. I've even tried digging but the wards go at least 10 feet down. It's maddening.

The sooner I get to it, the sooner it's over. The older it gets, the more attached Harry will become. But it can't be allowed to live. It's unnatural. I can't figure out how they did it, but that poxy son of a sea hag and his little maggot have got their hooks deep in Harry, and now they've convinced him that he's fathered some kind of monster. So, simple enough, Harry won't know.

Happy. Harry says, don't I want him to be happy. As if anyone could be happy being used by a pair of stinking perverts. I have no idea what their plan might be, but the thing must be key. It has to go. It would be so easy. All I have to do is GET TO IT. Once I get to the thing I can snap its neck like a twig. Or suffocate it -- that would be better. They die in their cots all the time, infants do. Harry would mourn, but he'd recover soon enough. And then I could get him away.

I should have done for the little maggot years ago. But it grew up practically a squib so I thought it wasn't a threat. I was a fool. As if the inbred spawn of a Malfoy and a Black could be anything but a threat. Dangerous. Dangerous. I never thought it would actually BREED. The very idea makes me shudder. And now there's a squawling, squirming little beast -- Malfoy, Black and Snape all one. I can just imagine it -- sickly little thing, it must be. I don't know how either it or the maggot survived the birth. But ne'ermind. All I need do is get to it.

No more Blacks. No more Malfoys. No more mucking about with sentiment and indecision. It stops HERE.


I saw the Dolohov sneaking about as well, Snape's bastard boy. I wonder what he's about. Imagine if he wanted to do the thing in himself! HA! It would almost be worth joining up with him. But no -- that's not right. If he wants it, it's probably to take to Voldemort. Godric and Merlin -- Voldemort in that little monster's body. But why would he need to steal the thing? I'm sure Snape and the maggot would just hand it over with a smile -- ah, right. Harry. They need it in order to hang on to Harry. As long as Harry is cooing over the little monster, he won't care about taking out Voldemort.

I never should have left him alone. Remus -- oh Moony, forgive me. But you're safe, you and my little cublet. You're safe and healthy and out of it. I never should have left Harry alone. He needs me. He needs me.

Now... do I keep trying to break the wards or do I follow Snape's bastard to see what he's up to? Decisions, decisions...

1:35pm: FILTERED POST: Harry Potter
Harry? I'm here, at the shack. I would have got here earlier but Remus insisted wouldn't let me come until I calmed down convinced me to stay until after the full moon.

So I'm here. And I'm calm. Very, very calm. We must talk. Just talking. No yelling. Unless Mostly I promise not to knock you on the head and get you the bloody hell out of there yell. I promise to TRY not to yell. Much. As much as I can. You have my word.

I am very, very calm. We must talk about this. Please.

9:53pm: HOWLER: Harry Potter
MERLIN'S HAIRY BALLS HARRY WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO YOU?  BLOODY HELL THIS IS ALL MY FAULT BUT DON'T WORRY WE'LL FIX IT!  IF WE'RE LUCKY THE LITTLE ALBINO MAGGOT WON'T SURVIVE THE WHELPING AND WILL TAKE THE SPAWN WITH IT BUT EVEN SO IT'S EASY ENOUGH TO GET RID THEM BOTH AFTERWARDS.

I KNOW THEY'VE DONE DISGUSTING THINGS TO YOU BUT  I KNOW YOU CAN THROW OFF IMPERIO IF YOU TRY SO JUST TRY HARRY!   I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT!

OH GODRIC THIS IS ALL MY FAULT I'M SO SORRY HARRY I NEVER SHOULD HAVE LET THEM DO THIS TO YOU I NEVER SHOULD HAVE LEFT DON'T WORRY JUST GET YOUR ARSE OUT OF THERE AS FAST AS YOU CAN AND I'M COMING TO GET YOU AND WE'LL FIX IT AND NEVER SPEAK OF IT AGAIN!

Oh, and Remus sends his love.

11:35am: PRIVATE POST
I'd completely forgot I had this thing! HA!

I think I should set my thoughts down about what happened the other day at Wort's school, since Remus seems so upset about it. Well, I was upset as well, but not at ME. HA! I thought it went rather well -- great fun actually -- but when I told Moony he got huffy and went on about, "Pads, you threatened to burn down the school!" and I said, "Oh come on, I did not. It's brick. You can't burn brick. I threatened to blow it up." And then there was a roaring row...

Right. Start from the beginning. First off, it was bloody inconvenient for the school to schedule the -- what is it? Parent teacher conference, they call it? Not much of a conference by my lights, but ne'er mind. It was the day after the full moon, and an eclipse to boot. I'd been up all night with both of them, mediating a philosophical debate between Remus and his toenails, and keeping the Wort from running out into the road because the moon was "tickling" her and all she wanted to do was roll around in it.

Our cublet is starting to grow up, it seems.

IN ANY EVENT, when morning rolled around, Remus was knackered and there was no way on earth I was going to let him have a "conference" with Wort's teacher. So I went instead. I barely made it out the door with what he called "coaching". Say this, don't say that, don't do this or that or the other. I told him, please, am I not the brilliant, charming Padfoot you know and love? Am I not capable of having some Muggle schoolmistress wrapped around my finger in a matter of minutes? Sometimes I despair of him, really.

Wort's teacher is a fine figure of a woman, plump and cocoa brown, but the expression on her face could have soured milk. She asked after Remus, so I said, "Mr Lupin is under the weather at present. I am Mr Black."

"And you are...?"

"Artemisia's father, of course."

"I was under the impression..."

"Yes, well there are two of us, you know. Now, I understand you wish to discuss my daughter?"

She shuffled some papers and smiled, but I know smiles, and that was a smile with just the mouth, not the eyes. "Yes. Artemisia is a very clever girl. Quite creative, and she makes friends easily, but there are some astonishing gaps in her previous education. I see from her file she was homeschooled?" I nodded, and so did she. "That's probably one reason she's had a bit of trouble adjusting to classroom discipline. We've managed to teach her to stay in her seat and raise her hand before speaking, but she doesn't seem to understand that she does not get to choose which lessons to learn at which time." She raised a single eyebrow (I wish I could do that!). "It took days before she would stop saying, 'This is boring. Let's do something else.'"

I said it sounded perfectly reasonable to me. Can't have the kiddies getting bored, can we? Oh ho, she did not like that in the least! "I understand," she said, "that you and Mr Lupin are both retired professors? Do you make a policy of allowing your students to dictate your lesson plan?"

So she DID know who I was, and had just been being difficult. "I make it a policy to teach lessons that keep my students eager to learn. You said yourself that Artemisia was very bright. Perhaps she's not being challenged enough."

"Artemisia requires remedial science, history and civics," she said. "I think that's enough of a challenge at present." But then she continued with rather a softer expression. "She does, however, read far beyond her age level."

I couldn't help but beam at her. "Yes she does! And English isn't even her first language, you know."

"Yes, Czech, I understand? Mr Lupin adopted her?"

So much for beaming. "I don't see how that matters, but if you must know, Mr Lupin is her father by birth. I," I continued quite proudly, "am her father by adoption. Full, LEGAL adoption," I added, just in case.

Well, by Wizarding law in any case. That counts, doesn't it?

She nodded and made a note, and said without looking up, "So there is no female role model in the family."

My family. My FAMILY, is it? I'll give her family. "Madam Walker, I fail to see how that matters in the slightest, but as you are so very interested in my family, I can assure you that Artemisia has one aunt who is a decorated law enforcement officer and another who is an acclaimed sculptor. Among others. All of whom are quite devoted to my daughter."

"It matters, Mister Black, because Artemisia is having discipline problems. I specifically asked to see you because she has assaulted two of her classmates."

"So she told me. She said they were making offensive and hurtful comments about her family."

She folded her hands on her desk and frowned. "Children tease, Mr Black, and learning to handle that is part of social education. We do not condone physical violence under any circumstances."

Well, I can frown as well, and far better than she on her best day. "Artemisia told me that the children were asking her which of her daddies wore the dress, and told her we were all going to burn in hell. Do you condone that?"

"Mr Black --"

"And I am to understand you believe that my daughter refusing to stand for such abuse stems from a lack of FEMALE ROLE MODELS? Is THAT what I am to understand?" I certainly could not stand for that. I certainly could not continue to sit for that either, so I got up from my seat and approached her desk. It is possible that I might have... ah, loomed. I do that sometimes.

"Mr Black!"

"Because, Madam Walker, if THAT is what I am to understand, that leads me to understand many other things as well."

"Mr Black, please sit down! Please," she repeated, in somewhat less of a schoolmistress tone. So I obliged. "What I am trying to say," she continued, "is that perhaps Artemisia," she sighed, "perhaps she might benefit from a medical consultation." She paused and pursed her lips. "Have you ever heard of Attention-Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder?"

I heard one word, and that word was enough. "Are you calling my daughter DISORDERED?"

"No, of course not. I'm merely suggesting that there might be a perfectly common brain chemistry imbalance --"

"Did you say IMBALANCED? In her BRAIN? Because of her FAMILY?" I stood up again and advanced, and you'd bloody well better believe she jerked back in her seat.

"Please, Mr Black!" I LOVE hearing people plead. Fortunately she did it again. She even held up her hands in a nicely placating gesture, which was quite satisfying. "Please. I know, it sounds rather more upsetting than it really is, but it's easily managed with proper medication --"

That was ENOUGH. I slammed both fists down on her desk. "NO ONE is MANAGING MY DAUGHTER by dosing her with BREWS and POTIONS. She is not DISORDERED, IMBALANCED, SICK OR TAINTED IN ANY WAY. Am I UNDERSTOOD?" She scooted back some more, so I had to lean a bit further inward to make my point. "In fact, if anyone -- ANYONE in a position of authority in this school ever suggests to my daughter that she is ANYTHING other than a clever, talented girl from a perfectly normal, happy family, I will take this school down and leave nothing but a smoking crater behind. AM I UNDERSTOOD?"

She stuck out her chin and said, "Is that a threat?" I must say that I admire her pluck, but with an opening like that, how could I resist? I laughed and said, "My dear, that is a promise."

At that point, it finally seemed I made an impression. It must have been the smile. But still, she was one tough woman. "I can see," she said rather coldly, "where Artemisia gets her tendency toward violence."

I stood up to my full height and my smile got even wider. "Yes," I said, never more proud of my cublet in my life. "It runs in the family."

I thought that was quite the exit line, and so I exited.

And I STILL can't understand what Moony got upset about.

11:05am: PRIVATE POST: So this is Christmas...
This is a very strange Christmas. For one thing, it's eighty-fucking-five degrees out. There's no snow. For the first time in years, no open house, no doors banging and people coming and going, no cider on the fire or off-key carols. Why bother? There's only we three here, plus the elf. I miss Scotland. Godric, how I miss it.

I don't know why I should. All I've ever wanted is for my family to be safe and happy. And they are, they truly are. I can practically see the sun soaking into Remus' bones -- well, we're both a pair of lizards really, perfectly content to bask in the sun all day long. He's healing slowly but surely -- occasionally he accios things like a quill or a salt cellar without realizing it and then suddenly sees what he's doing and startles and sends the thing crashing to the floor. HA!

Sometimes I think a wee part of his mind did this on purpose, his whole magic problem. He'd had enough of war, blood and death, and his mind just threw up its hands (... if minds had hands, that is) and said BUGGER IT. I know the feeling -- oh bloody hell do I! But it's quiet and peaceful and warm here, and noone knows us, and as long as the fruity rum drinks keep coming I don't give a dead rat's arse for anything else. ANYTHING.

Miss Mugwort is blossoming, and it's a lovely sight to see. She's gone golden brown as a little bird, with sunny streaks in her hair. She'd swim all day if we let her, and tracks in so much sand that Tully set up a vacuuming spell on the doorsteps. We had hoped to keep a low profile, but it turns out that there's no better ambassador than a Wortlet. She's made friends with every child in the neighborhood and beyond, and has met several of their parents, and knows every bit of gossip within a mile radius. She knows whose father drinks and whose sister got up the duff -- and while she's a clever girl and knows to keep schtum, I have a suspicion that the entire neighborhood is sizzling with speculation about us. After all, it isn't every day a pair of creaky old British pansies with a little girl move in next door.

We're both professors, you see. Retired, and rather eccentric. Here for our health. Absolutely true, every word of it -- as far as that goes.

At the start, we got plenty of visitors bearing gifts and a magnificent welcome. Merlin's bum but the food here is magnificent. Plenty of pepperpot and flying fish and coucou, pots and pots of it, and cakes as well. Every single person who rang the doorbell to say welcome wanted a peek inside and so we had to invite them in and give them tea, and let me tell you, we are out of practice at living as Muggles. At first it was a bloody farce, but we're getting better at it every day. It might be a bit too late, though -- we're starting to get strange looks, Moony and I, and I don't think it has anything to do with magic.

Yesterday, Wort came home in tears because Callie Mead's mum said Callie couldn't play with her anymore. She said Mrs. Mead said she would "pray for us." Wort had no idea what she meant, but I fear she'll find out soon enough.

This morning, the sewage lines at the Mead home backed up quite spectacularly. One load of shite certainly deserves another. HA!

So happy happy Christmas in paradise. Or exile, depending on my mood and how much rum I've had. We have no floo. We do not get the Prophet. Quite deliberately, we are in ignorance of the Wizarding world. There are times when the quiet and boredom send me utterly spare, but then I look at my mate and my daughter, and I think of what we left behind, and I am content.

We don't talk about Harry.

10:08pm: *private autoscribe on*
*SLAM*

*click*

--NO no no no no NO NO NO NO!

6:46pm: I'm BORED. And HUNGRY. I'm tired of being fed PAP. I want pork ribs and strong tea.

I want to GET UP NOW.

10:25pm: FILTERED: Ron Weasley
HELLO? IS THIS THING ON? This is supposed to work just like the other one did, right?

In any event -- RON! Are you there, you naughty, naughty lad? HA!

10:22pm: OWL POST: A. Moody
Moody --

I'm on it. I'm staying in England for the nonce, and will be back at Hogwarts starting Monday. We can meet whenever you wish.

Black