1.
The Beginnings of a Future Lord Regent

     A knock at the door drew Remus from his rest. He'd been struggling to sleep — or do anything, really — as he waited for news on how the night passed. With Elio in bed, he'd settled on Sirius's couch and alternated between staring at the wall and trying to nap. It was hard to do anything knowing his friends' lives were in danger and he'd been placed on babysitting duty. Much less babysitting the son of a man who didn't seem to want him there, had spent the last few weeks trying to convince everyone he was the traitor. Remus wasn't sure what had got over Sirius or what he'd done, but it certainly hurt every time Sirius looked at him as if he were the scum of the earth. He finally looked at him how Remus thought he deserved, and now he didn't like it.

The knocking interrupted Remus's first successful attempt at a nap. As he glanced at the clock on his way to the door, he realised no one should have been knocking yet. Dread filled him. He wasn't quite ready to accept it yet, but the visitor could only mean something had gone wrong. He just hoped it wasn't too wrong.

He opened the door to a rather severe, weary looking woman. Dark hair was pulled back and braided into a tight bun, not a single strand out of place, despite the lateness of the night. It made the younger self conscious of his own appearance: none of his clothes were undamaged, his hair in a constant state of dishevelment. She didn't wait for an invitation before she entered, looking around with a critical eye. From her appearance alone, Remus suspected he knew exactly who she was.

"This is where my son has been staying." She commented, confirming Remus's suspicions. Remus had only ever seen Walburga Black in passing from a distance, but he'd heard nothing but bad about her. Her presence could only bode poorly. As she turned her gaze to him, there was a pause; words seemed to hang on the tip of her tongue, remaining unsaid.

"Can I help you?" Remus asked in the silence. Some of his concern had been alleviated when a non-Order member had been on the other side of the door, but for the woman who disowned Sirius and wanted nothing to do with him to suddenly appear at his house must have meant something. Walburga maintained their eye contact for a few seconds, before she glanced around the room again.

"Where is the boy?" She responded, rather than answering the question. She had an air of expectancy, as if she thought she could just walk over Remus and get what she wanted. This ignited a little fiery pride inside him.

"Why are you here?" Remus crossed his arms over his chest, planting himself firmly in front of her. He wasn't going to answer any of her questions until she finally answered his own. Of course, his small act of rebellion only lasted so long, as the boy in question made a rather tired looking appearance. Elio paused at the entrance when he realised Remus had company, hesitating. As he made his way over to the older man, his eyes didn't once leave Walburga. Remus couldn't help but ruffle his hair once he reached him, asking, "What're you doing up?"

"I heard talking." The boy responded simply. He clung to the werewolf's side as he watched his grandmother. Much like she had analysed the house, the woman now analysed Elio carefully.

"I am Lady Walburga Black, of the Noble and most Ancient House of Black. Your grandmother." Walburga introduced herself as she lowered down into a crouch. She held out her hand, which the boy shook. Remus wanted to take Elio away, keep him far from the woman, but he didn't want to cause a scene. He didn't want to scare Elio on a night that was stressful enough as it was. The Lady Black looked back towards Remus once her introduction was finished, rising to her feet once more. Finally, she decided to grace Remus with an explanation, "I have come to collect the Black heir and take him back to his Estate."

"Look, just because Sirius isn't here, doesn't mean you can just--"

"My son no longer has a decision in where Lord Black stays. He made sure of that tonight." That cold dread filled Remus again at the reminder. It stole his voice, threatened to steal his composure as well. Walburga saw the way the man's expression dropped and continued, "You are unaware of what has happened."

Remus didn't want to know. If he didn't ask, then he couldn't be answered and he wouldn't know what had happened. But the words spilled past his lips before he could stop them, "What happened?"

"Kreacher," A loud crack announced the sudden arrival of a rather horrid looking house elf, already in the process of greeting his mistress with a low bow, "Help Lord Black pack his trunk. I'll call when you can both return."

Elio looked to Remus for approval. While Remus didn't want Elio going off with any member of the Black house — much less a house elf — he wasn't sure he had many options. He gave the boy a nod, watching as he followed Kreacher out of the room.

"My son betrayed you all. He led the Dark Lord to the Potters, who are both dead. The Dark Lord was unable to kill the Potter heir, however. Somehow, the boy defeated him." Walburga's impassionate announcement of his friends' deaths made it even harder to believe. He shook his head, trying to deny it, while his legs turned to jelly and his stomach churned. In a split second, a few cold words, Remus had lost his entire family. It was the absolute worst case scenario — one he hadn't even considered.

"You're wrong." Remus muttered, though he didn't even believe the words that slipped past his lips. Sirius's betrayal would explain his recent, strange behaviour; the sudden mistrust he had been displaying towards him, accusing him of being a traitor. Sirius could have been deflecting, hiding his own involvement. But James had been family to Sirius; he'd housed him, loved him like a brother, stood by his side since first year. How could he betray that? Unless it was all a lie, from the very beginning. The fights with his mother, all just a means to make them feel sorry for him, bring him closer. Perhaps he was a traitor all along.

"I am as surprised as you. I hardly thought he had it in him." Walburga's response showed no sign of genuine surprise, feeding Remus's theory. He wondered briefly, then, why he was saved. That could be why she was here now, to finish the job and take her little heir with her. "But I suppose there is some hidden depth to my son. It's just a shame he still has Gryffindor's lack of subtlety."

Walburga was right. If Remus knew Sirius — and he was pretty sure he does — then he knew that the older man was incapable of subtlety. He wouldn't be able to play that role so easily for so many years. It had to be a recent change. Likely when he was made Secret Keeper. He was the obvious choice; it wouldn't take a genius to figure out he'd know where the Potters were hiding. You-Know-Who just had to figure out what to promise him and he'd have their location. Perhaps Peter had caught him, confronted him, and suffered for his bravery.

"As the boy's closest family, I'll be taking him with me until living arrangements are organised. I doubt my son would have put me as a guardian, but we shall see." Walburga gave Remus a pointed look that was lost on the young man. While she might have known guardianship would inevitably be handed to him, Remus was incapable of even considering himself for such a role. It was unfathomable. Instead, internally, Remus wrestled with the debate of letting Elio go with her. On one hand, he didn't think he was capable of looking after Elio long term. On the other hand, Sirius would have died before he let Elio fall into her hands. His friend might have betrayed him, but he wasn't sure if he should do the same to Sirius. He wasn't sure he'd even be able to fight Walburga, if he wanted to.

"His name is Elio." Remus conceded to the Lady Black. There were a million different things she could throw at him if she wanted to pry the boy from him. At least, if he didn't put up a fight, he might be able to put himself on her good side and still visit.

Elio returned a few minutes later, now dressed in proper clothes, the house elf close behind. Kreacher bowed low at the sight of his mistress, while Elio moved back to Remus's side. Remus wasn't ready to let him go yet.

"Elio, take my hand. We'll be going to our family estate." Walburga instructed the boy. Once again, Elio looked to Remus for approval. All Remus could do was nod, even though it killed him to do so. As Elio took Walburga's hand, Remus realised he was losing the last piece of his old life. After the boy left, he'd be totally and utterly alone. There was no more support, no more kindness. The next time money got tight, he'd be out on the streets. The next time insecurities threatened to consume him, there'd be no one there to pull him from its murky depths. No one loved him and he had no one to love. Except his father, who he refused to burden with his existence. This was it.

However, Walburga didn't leave instantly. Instead she waited expectantly, watching him. She wanted something, but Remus didn't know what. When he did nothing, she asked, "Have you finished your business here?"

"Pardon?"

"Is there anything you need from this house? Kreacher can collect anything you might remember later." Remus hesitated, unwilling to reach the logical assumption of what Walburga was implying. She would never... "I'll have Kreacher collect your belongings from your actual house."

"I'm coming?" Remus felt stupid asking and felt even worse as Walburga's eyebrows raised curiously.

"I won't have the Black heir raised in a substandard house, and I can only assume from your appearance yours would leave plenty to be desired. For as long as Elio is in your care, you have a room at the Black Estate." Walburga held out her other hand, poised in a regal manner. Remus felt as if he was about to kiss the queen's hand. "Come along. You'll only be able to reach the Estate with me. It's quite extensively charmed."

Remus quickly took Walburga's hand, not wanting her to wait any longer. He'd deal with the implications of her words later.

The trio left Sirius's home for what would be the last time, soon apparating outside a rather plain street. If this was the Black Estate, Remus was underwhelmed, to say the least. But, he wasn't given much opportunity to be disappointed, as the woman stepped through the fence and another house was revealed. It was as if the house just materialised — which Elio found quite exciting. With little reaction, Walburga continued forward and took the pair into her home.

A grand hallway waited inside, far more extravagant than the exterior suggested. The room was lit by a chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, illuminating the dark walls and floors. Covering the walls, portraits moved amongst each other and chattered quietly. It was more expensive-looking than the Potter Estate had been, fancier than any house Remus had been in. He felt out of place, as if he was dirtying the room just by standing in it.

In search of comfort, and because the boy seemed to be seeking it too, Remus lifted Elio up into his arms. The boy rest his head tiredly on the man's shoulders, reminding him it was late in the evening and Elio should have been asleep. Walburga seemed to realise this as well, as she began walking with a wave of her hand and said, "I'll show you to your rooms. Your tour can wait until tomorrow."

Walburga took them up stairs and around corridors, too numerous for the outside of the house. By the time they stopped outside two doors, closed together than the others, Remus felt thoroughly disoriented. If he was quizzed on the layout of the house, he was certain he wouldn't be able to answer a single question correctly. Walburga turned to the pair, a strange smile on her lips — somewhere between polite and amused, and Remus put aside his concerns about the house.

"These will be your rooms. This was our children's room when they were young, the nanny would sleep next door." Walburga explained, still finding something amusing that Remus doesn't understand. "Well, it was Sirius's nanny, he was too unruly for a house elf. Our dear Regulus was a quiet child."

Remus had only ever met Regulus in passing, typically when he had tried to reforge the brotherly bonds with Sirius. By that time, too much damage had been done and more of those interactions ended in arguments than they did civility. The same fire that burned in Sirius had burned in Regulus, only restrained by his parents and their social standing. Regardless of their animosity to one another, Sirius had taken the younger's death poorly. It was the first, and only, week with Elio he had missed.

"There's a door connecting the two and a bathroom between them." Walburga finishes, the smile drifting back into her resting expression. The severity returns and Remus is reminded he is standing in front of Lady Black. He wonders how many times he's insulted her this evening simply by not knowing etiquette. "Do you need dinner? Or anything else before you settle in?"

"No, thank you." Remus answers. He's quite sure Elio has already fallen asleep in his arms.

"Very well. I will retire then." Walburga dips her head once, compelling Remus to do the same. At this, the corner of her lip curls up again. "If you wake before I do and go exploring, any door that doesn't open to you is off limits. Do not try to force it — it will only end poorly for you. Beyond that, you may go where you like."

The children's room felt like a stark contrast to the rest of the gothic, aristocratically decorated house. The walls were painted a baby blue shade, with small paintings of animals and ships hanging from them. Oversized stuffed animals were placed carefully throughout the room and, on the bed, smaller toys squirmed as if alive. The bookshelf was full of books, a desk large enough for a small child like Elio pressed against it. For the infamous house Sirius grew up in, it felt surprisingly full of warmth. The sort of room a child could grow up in and end up fairly functional. Remus had been wondering if this was the same room the ill-fated Black sons really grew up in when he noticed a small plaque on the desk reading 'Elio'.

Walburga had prepared for them.

Remus knew that realisation shouldn't have surprised him, especially not when it was the Lady Black, and yet that was exactly what it did. It suggested an air of thoughtfulness he wasn't ready to attribute to the woman — couldn't attribute to the woman. Immediately, once the initial shock and sentiment wore off, Remus felt as if he'd walked into a trap. Perhaps this was simply the pretty flower to lure him in, before she snapped her jaws around him. What was it Sirius had said about his mother?

"She's a manipulative, cold-blooded bat." Sirius had growled after throwing a letter into the fire of the Gryffindor common room. This one had, fortunately, not been a Howler, unlike the last few his mother had sent. It seemed his decision to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas had not gone down well with her.

"Bats are warm-blooded." Lily commented absentmindedly from where she was curled up in one of the chairs, head buried in a Transfiguration none of the boys had likely finished yet — except Remus.

"Which is what makes her all the more unnatural." Sirius punctuated his point with an emphatic gesture towards the girl. "She's acting like me being home would be the greatest present. She's even brought Regulus into this, saying he'd be devastated if I wasn't there for Christmas. She doesn't care what Reggie thinks, so long as he's being a good boy and following all their nonsense. She just wants me to come home so she can spend the entire break moaning about what an awful son I am and how she wishes Regulus was her heir and that I should just see reason."

No one could get Sirius worked up like his mother could. There was a fiery rage reserved only for her that lit a blaze in his eyes and caused venomous hatred to spill from his tongue. It was nothing like the aggressive passion he got for Quidditch, the concerning glee he got from making Snape miserable, or the quiet, cold anger that only his brother and cousins could elicit.

"Would he be devastated?" Peter, ever quiet, asked. It was clever, pulling Sirius's attention away from his mother. James wouldn't have thought of that — he was too busy waiting for the moment when he loudly proclaimed his support for Sirius and his shared hatred for Walburga. Remus wouldn't have said anything — he liked watching the scene fold out. He never could quite guess where Sirius's rants would take him.

Sirius softened, shrugging his shoulders, "I don't know. Maybe." The flame was snuffed out, just like that. "I'm still not going home for Christmas."

"I have to. Cousins're visiting so my parents want to do the big thing." James gave Sirius an apologetic shrug. Peter said he would also be going home, though it was missed as Sirius turned to Remus. Remus never went home when he couldn't help it; Sirius already had his answer.

"I guess it's just us, then, Moony." Sirius gave Remus a wild grin.

That had been a good Christmas. One of the best. Remus didn't like thinking about it, feeling that hollow ache in his chest that reminded him he would never get another like it. All his friends were gone forever. He wondered if that Sirius had had it in him to betray them. Were the seeds of betrayal already planted, slowly being watered, or was that a recent change?

Why?

"Can you stay with me?" Elio asked as Remus placed him in the bed. The boy clung to his arms as if he was afraid the older man might decide to leave, even after he nodded silently. The bed wasn't designed to house an adult, but Remus made do as he curled around Elio. His long legs dangled over the edge, Elio tucked in against his chest. He'd slept in worse places and the contact brought some comfort. Remus listened to the boy's breathing, the sudden intake of breath that suggested he was trying to find the words to say. Eventually, he must have decided on, "Did Daddy leave us?"

Remus hesitated. He'd known, deep down, he was going to have to have this talk, but this was the first time he'd addressed it. He wasn't sure what to say. How was he supposed to tell a child his father was a murderer, who led to the deaths of his aunty and uncles? Remus didn't want to lie — that felt like it would just attract misfortune — but he knew he lacked the eloquence to explain the situation to the small boy.

"Yes." He answered, keeping it simple. This question, at least, wasn't hard to answer, but he knew the ones that would follow were going to be worse.

"Did the bad man take him?"

"No, no bad man." Remus wasn't going to tell Elio that his father is the bad man — not tonight, in any case.

"Was it because of me?" The quiet insecurity ringing in Elio's words filled Remus with guilt. He wrapped his arms around the boy tighter, desperate to instil in him all the love he could possibly give him.

"No, Elio, Padfoot loved you. He wouldn't have left you if he couldn't help it." Remus must have said the wrong thing, as Elio started crying softly in his arms. The older man found himself at a loss for words. When Lily or one of the Marauders cried in front of him — mostly Sirius, sometimes James, never Peter — he would provide some advice or crack a joke. But this wasn't something he had any advice for, nor was it the time for jokes. He was at a loss. Helpless. Useless.

Remus let Elio cry himself to sleep, desperately hoping the tears were therapeutic. With each passing minute, filled with the sobs and sniffles of a boy slowly coming to terms with the abrupt loss of his entire family, Remus's heart broke just a little bit more. When silence finally came and Remus was left with the shattered pieces, he realised he didn't know what to do with them.

Elio needed him, he knew that. But he didn't think he was up for that job. He was never meant to be a parent. Raising a child was too dangerous with his condition — they were too fragile and he was too rough, even when he was trying to control it. One wrong move and he could doom Elio worse than leaving him now, under the eye of Walburga, might. At least here, presumably, he'd want for nothing. Walburga had had two kids before; she knew what to do. Elio Black would remain a Black, with a solid reputation that would propel him forward. There were a million and one things Walburga could provide that Remus could not.

And yet, Remus didn't find himself wanting to leave. Not out of obligation, not out of fear of Walburga's track record with sons, but out of a fierce loyalty Remus had for the boy, one he could not shake for his father. Some foolish side of him quietly thought Walburga wouldn't understand Elio like he did. Someone had to make sure she knew Elio liked to drown his sausages, mash, and peas in gravy, that he didn't like to wear matching socks even in formal outfits or else he'd be in a foul mood for the rest of the day, that he always went leaf-stomping the first day the leaves fell off the trees and coated the streets. She didn't seem like the sort to tuck the boy in just the right way, to read his favourite books and do the voices 

Remus would stay for now, if only to make sure he settled in fine. He would watch Walburga, teach her Elio's little idiosyncrasies, and then he would decide if he was still needed. It was easier to dedicate himself to Elio than think about what he was going to do, now that he was alone again. He didn't want to think about that at all.

*

Remus hardly recognised himself in the mirror. His ill-fitted, tattered clothes had always disguised his lanky appearance but now, in a tailored suit made just for him, he felt like a teenager who had just had a growth spurt. His limbs were too long and he didn't know what to do with them, awkwardly pulling at the bottom of his blazer.

Walburga had insisted, after she discovered his entire wardrobe was old and worn, that he be fitted for a new set of outfits. 'A Black should always be well dressed, even an honorary one,' She'd said, which had left Remus feeling strangely welcomed in her unwelcoming home. He'd been accosted by several paintings on his way to breakfast that morning, a timid Elio in tow. The boy was now sitting silently in one of the nearby chairs, never straying far from Remus. He looked as uncomfortable as Remus felt.

The last time Remus had worn a suit had been at James and Lily's wedding. It had been secondhand — one of his father's old suit — and it had smelled musty. Even that hadn't fit him. It had been a size too large, hanging loosely on him, much like all his other clothes. He'd felt so self conscious standing up beside Sirius, who always looked good no matter what he wore, and Peter, who could afford to have a fancy, tailored suit. All those insecurities hadn't been given much opportunity to linger as James had almost quite literally beat them out of him.

"Stop worrying, Moony. You look fine." James' voice floated around in Remus's memory, only succeeding in making him feel worse. Never again would he hear his voice.

James' reassurance had been followed by a sudden whack on the back, far rougher than either had expected. Nerves had left James unaware of his own strength and robbed him of his coordination. He'd been barred from the main room, where he'd already almost knocked over several decorations. One vase had been broken, fortunately saved by magic. The Evans had thought it wonderfully convenient, except for their daughter who, for Lily's sake, they had been urged not to perform magic around.

Remus, naturally, had not stopped worrying, but his friend did still manage to comfort him. The pure joy etched across his face was contagious — stronger than anything lycanthropy, stress, or his own self consciousness could ever inflict on him. Despite himself, Remus found him smiling back his friend, shoulder still stinging painfully.

The face staring back at him in the mirror, while the tailor fussed about him, warped into a mournful frown. In the reflection, Remus could see Elio watching him and forced his lips into a tight-lipped smile. The younger boy just waved back. Seeing Elio pulled Remus back into the present, where he was needed and where dwelling on the past wouldn't help anyone. He had to be there for Elio.

"You look nice." Elio informed him, right as Walburga entered the room. All eyes turned to her, but hers gazed at Remus critically. He felt even more self conscious under her examination, certain she was going to be displeased. But, instead, she actually smiled.

"You have a good eye, Mr. Black." She said, receiving a slight smile in return. She then turned to the tailor, who seemed to still be awaiting her instructions. "We'll take two more of those, two in blue, and one in black. He should get some casual robes as well. Make sure the robes are charmed against wear and tear."

Remus swore Walburga winked at him.

"Oh, and put him on the same subscription I'm on. I won't have someone under my care wearing outdated robes." The tailor bobbed her head and hurried over to her little bag, retrieving a notepad from it. While she busied herself with her notes, Walburga finally addressed Remus, "When you're done, Mr. Lupin, I'd like to talk. Elio will be fitted next — put him on the same subscription as well, Ms. Spindle."

After Remus was freed from the suit, he had no choice but to leave Elio alone with the tailor. Walburga had waited patiently for Spindle to finish her work and, once she had, she'd turned an expectant eye to Remus. Giving Elio one comforting look, he followed her out of the room. Silence passed between them, save for their footsteps, as they moved through the house.

"I know my son will have named you Elio's guardian. I am almost certain he would have made a clause that Elio go to everyone but me before I was allowed guardianship, if he even permitted that." Walburga began suddenly, with no explanation as to why she chose then to start speaking. Remus suspected it was that they were out of earshot of the sitting room. "Once Sirius's fate has been decided, someone from the Ministry will be coming to inform us of arrangements. I have already told you you can stay until we are aware of those, but we both know how this is going to go."

Try as he might, Remus couldn't deny that Walburga was right. Despite all his own concerns, Sirius had never doubted Remus's abilities to care for Elio — except, perhaps, at the end, when Sirius was trying to turn suspicions away from himself. He'd certainly doubted his mother's abilities to be a parent, so he would never have allowed Elio to fall into her hands. If he knew where Elio was now, he'd likely have broken out just to take him away.

So, reluctantly, Remus nodded.

"Regardless of guardianship, Elio will remain the Black heir. When I die, all this will be his." Walburga gestured widely at the room around them, before her hands returned to clasp at the front. "My invitation still stands: while Elio is your child, you will have a room here. You would become an honorary Black. I just have one small request, should you take up this offer."

Remus certainly didn't feel like he was in much position to argue. Nothing he could supply Elio would come close to the life he'd lead here. So long as Walburga didn't become the cold-blooded bat Sirius proclaimed her to be, he'd live a better life here.

Walburga must have taken his silence as an indication to continue, "I would like to ensure Elio is raised aware of his heritage and the expectations attached to that, as well as what might be expected of you as a Black and his father." Her lips curled into a smile, too purposeful to be truly genuine, an effort to create a lighter tone. "The last thing I want is for him to take after his father and bring the House Black to ruin out of ignorance. Purposeful sabotage, I could forgive. Stupidity is worse."

On the surface, her request wasn't unreasonable. The Black was an important family that would require etiquette and traditions Remus would have no hope of knowing by himself. If Elio was going to be raised a proper Black, he was going to need a proper teacher. But Remus suspected there would be more to her lessons. The Blacks were prejudice and strict, offering little freedom to their children. What little Remus did know about their pureblood traditions was playing the role of the perfect child, having very few non-approved interests, and arranged marriages. None of which Remus would ever want placed on Elio. Sirius would murder him too, if he put Elio on that path.

He probably wanted to murder Remus, regardless.

"I won't have Elio raised to believe muggles are lesser. My mother was a muggle, his godmother's parents were muggles." Remus said firmly, hoping she'd be willing to compromise. Surprisingly, she didn't immediately shut him down or cast him out. There was a slight tic in her polite expression and that was the only indicator of any potential displeasure.

"I can't say I didn't expect that." Walburga let out a very slow breath, as if coming to terms with it. When the breath was fully exhaled, she nodded her head. "Very well. We shall sit down and discuss what needs to be taught and what you don't want him to be taught soon. I will let you both settle in first before we start anything."

"Thank you." Remus answered, breathless with relief. The small rebellion against Walburga had left him giddy in its success. He'd felt as though he'd gained a small amount of power back. The surreality of the Lady Black putting up such little resistance to raising Elio muggle-positive swam around his head as well, so strange he felt compelled to question it. However, his high didn't make his tongue so loose and he didn't want to cause her to change her mind. He did, however, feel the need to inform her of this, "If we are going to be living together, I have to tell you, I am a werewolf."

Walburga's eyes grew wide with surprise, breaking freely from her polite mask. Then, the corner of her lip quirked up in an amused smile, "That explains the appearance." She said dryly, taking in Remus's clothing once more. "We will have to work out arrangements for that. I take it I don't have to tell you to not transform in the house."

"Of course not."

Walburga extended a hand. For a few seconds, Remus stared at it, unsure how he was supposed to respond. In the end, he opted to taking it, which seemed to be the right response as she gave it one, firm shake. There seemed to be an air of severity in the action, something binding. Oddly, Remus didn't feel trapped.

"Thank you, Mr. Lupin." Walburga's voice had an edge of vulnerability to it, a sentimentality breaking through her impartiality. "I am glad to know the House of Black won't end with me anymore."

"Perhaps," Remus offered her a slight smile tentatively, "If we're going to be living together, you could just call me Remus." Mr. Lupin made him feel like a teacher — someone important, far above his current status, far above anything he deserves.

Walburga obliged with a smile of her own, "Very well."

*

Remus's first moment truly alone, not followed by any silent shadow of Elio, was when he went to visit James and Lily's grave. He'd been there at the funeral but, with Elio, he'd forced himself to put on a brave face. He'd been putting on a brave face since they had arrived. Here, sitting in front of their grave, the front cracked. Tears flowed freely, stinging his eyes, and he couldn't keep the choked sobs from escaping past his lips.

He felt so utterly alone.

"It should have been me." Remus muttered as he hung his head in his hands, unable to look at his lost friends. As soon as the words slipped past, he knew exactly what James would have said. He'd say the same thing he always said when Remus was feeling guilty.

"Don't be ridiculous." He'd said when he single-handedly took the fall for a prank that had been Remus's idea, smiling that cocky smile of his. He always had a way of making the infuriating bearable. James could convince anyone that he wasn't smug, he was just that good. "I'm not letting you steal the credit. It's my turn to get the attention..."

"It's my turn to look rugged and handsome." He'd said after he'd got into a fight defending Remus, coming out looking as though he'd fought a bear. Remus had been wracked with guilt, unwilling to leave his side in the hospital wing. Pomfrey had had to chase him out.

"It's my turn to be grouchy and sleep deprived." He'd said in the lead up to a particularly bad full moon, staying up late for the fourth night in a row to keep Remus company while he was unable to sleep. He'd said it like it was a good thing, even though no one wanted to deal with a tired James. Snape had really suffered that week.

'It's my turn to be the hero,' He would have said, as if there were some sort of roster only he was privy to. He would have pretended to be offended that Remus might even think about stealing his limelight. Then, in his act, he would have made Remus laugh and forget all his worries.

Except, he couldn't do that. Because he was dead and Remus only had his imagination to comfort him. All Remus wanted was to be with his friends. He didn't want to be alone again. He couldn't go back to that. They'd given him a taste of what it meant to be loved, of what it meant to have people who didn't care if he was a werewolf, who somehow made him forget life was a burden. Now three of them were dead and the other — the other he would have been prepared to die for, who he would have gone to the ends of the earth for if he'd only asked — had killed them. Sirius had made sure, when he broke his heart, that he'd crushed it into minuscule pieces, to the point of irreparability.

Sirius hadn't been given a trial. Apparently, the evidence against him had been so damning, the Ministry deemed a trial unnecessary. Walburga had been furious, even allowing the emotions to slip past her mask, when she informed Remus of this. Remus knew he should have been angry at the injustice his friend had faced, but he couldn't bring himself to feel it. If anything, it felt like justice. There was no way for him to wheedle his way into a lighter punishment. He got what he deserved — though Remus, in this moment, would have liked him to suffer more. The violence in his thoughts went unacknowledged, because to acknowledge them would undoubtedly make him feel even more like the monster he is.

There was a crack nearby and Remus registered, absently, that someone had Apparated in the graveyard. He didn't raise his eyes, too lost in his thoughts to even consider that the new arrival might be after him. It was only when the crunching footsteps grew closer and a hand pressed against his shoulder that he realised that he had, in fact, gained a visitor. Looking up, he saw Dumbledore peering down at him with a sad, sympathetic expression.

"Professor Dumbledore," Remus greeted him as he rose to his feet.

"It has been a few years since I was your teacher, Remus. There's no need for you to call me 'Professor'." It was a conversation they had had before, but Remus was too distracted to remember. "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything. I had intended on meeting you elsewhere, but Lady Black informed me you were here when I tried to reach your new accommodations."

"It's fine. I was just... saying goodbye." It was a lie. Remus felt as if he'd never truly say goodbye, never be capable of truly letting them go. But it was easier than admitting to the full extent of his grief, even though he was certain Dumbledore was aware of it. The old man had a funny way of knowing more than he had any right to know. Those blue eyes always felt as though they were peering right through Remus, to his very core.

"Their sacrifice was not in vain." Dumbledore informed him, as if that would give him the closure he needed. Remus was fully aware of what their sacrifice had won. James and Lily had been killed, but Voldemort had been defeated in his attempt to kill little Harry Potter. Remus didn't know where Harry was now. He'd half-forgotten him in his grief, and then the transition to Grimmauld Place, and then trying to raise Elio.

"Where's Harry?" Remus's voice was weaker than he'd expected, a raspy whisper more than anything.

"His aunt and uncle have taken him in. He's safe." Remus shook his head almost immediately, certain that was a bad idea.

"They're awful people." Lily had always stood firmly by the fact that she loved her sister. She rarely let James say a bad word about her, scolding him for being so harsh. Remus had always thought that that must have spoken for the cruelty of her sister when she was able to draw out the anger from Lily — which was more often when she had to return home during the break, and grew less often when her sister cut her off completely. Neither of them would have wanted Harry to live with her. He doubted his aunt would have wanted Harry living with her, either.

But then, Sirius wouldn't have wanted Elio living with his mother, and yet here they were. Perhaps Remus shouldn't be so hypocritical.

"It's the best place for him, away from all the fame already attached to him, protected by his mother's love." Remus didn't want to believe Dumbledore. He couldn't believe Dumbledore. But there was something in the older man's gaze that made him inclined to trust him, even if he couldn't. There were some things he just wasn't going to understand. "How are you and Elio Black?"

"We're adjusting." Even that felt too generous. Remus was barely adapting to his new life and Elio seemed to have changed drastically. That was to be expected, given everything, but it still concerned Remus to see the exuberant, outgoing boy grow so timid, afraid to leave Remus's side. He'd taken to sleeping in Remus's bed, the child's room unused except to store his clothes. "Lady Black has been surprisingly generous."

"Defeat can bring out the best and worst in people." Dumbledore spoke as if he didn't entirely believe his own words, he hadn't fully committed to his wise old man philosophy. There was an edge of concern to the normal twinkle in his eye, which he then expressed when he continued, "I encourage you to still maintain your caution. Sometimes when a snake sheds its skin, it's just another snake underneath."

Remus didn't know what to say in response — he didn't know Walburga well enough yet to come to her defence, but he couldn't handle any more pessimism in this moment. Instead, he just chose to nod his head.

"You're a bright, young man. I am sure you will be fine." Dumbledore gave him a kind smile, pressing a hand on Remus's shoulder. "In any case, I simply wanted to check in on you and give you my condolences. If you need anything, you know where I am."

There was another crack as Dumbledore Disapparated, leaving Remus alone in the silent cemetery. He didn't know it then, but that would be the last time he'd see or hear from the older man for quite some time.

Meanwhile, at Grimmauld Place, Walburga was struggling with Elio. It had been quite some time since a small child had inhabited the Estate — twenty years, in fact — and Elio was every bit his father, even in his subdued state. When Walburga looked at him, all she saw was the son she'd lost. She was even certain there was some Regulus in him.

Sirius had been a good child. The rebellion had only truly started once he began Hogwarts and discovered the world outside his little bubble. During holidays, he grew mouthier, searching for a fight wherever he could find one. Walburga had not been innocent either, she recognised this now. Her harshness strengthened the wedge between them and ensured the bitterness grew too great. When Sirius had left home, in her rage, she had burned him from the family tree. In hindsight, she doubted she would have done any differently; if he had been allowed access to the family funds, Sirius would have just as likely squandered them out of spite.

Regulus had been her sweet, perfect angel. Right til the end, he had done exactly as he'd been told, with pride. He'd wanted to serve the Dark Lord, to help propel the Black family even higher. And yet, even he, in the end, rebelled. Then he was gone. They were both gone.

But Elio... Elio felt like another chance. Walburga knew she had done wrong with her first two children, costing her her entire family. She would be different with Elio.

"Do you like your lunch?" She asked him, breaking through the typical dinner table silence to make conversation. The boy had requested pancakes for lunch, then drowned them in far too much maple syrup. His table manners were abysmal, but Walburga reminded herself he was only a child and he had been raised by Sirius. There was no telling what habits her son had instilled in his own child.

"It's not the same as at home." Elio responded, mouth full of food. Walburga bit her tongue. Being nice, or even simply letting bad manners slide, did not come easy to her. When appearances meant everything, it was imperative to drive home that awareness young. But now, with a child who wasn't sure what to make of her, a chance to do something right, Walburga had to bide her time. Lessons would come later. Now, she just had to win her grandson over.

"How did you make pancakes at home?"

"Daddy put water in the box then I shook it around, then we cooked them." Walburga raised a confused eyebrow. She was not a cook and, as the Lady Black, she would never be a cook, but she had enough knowledge in cooking to know that that was not how pancakes were made. She assumed it was some muggle creation.

"Did you make that without magic?" Elio gave a shrug that felt more like a yes. He used a spoon to cut through a soggy piece of pancake, shoving it into his mouth. Merlin help her, Sirius really had instilled no table manners into this child. "Then you just haven't tasted proper pancakes, Elio. This is better than anything any muggle could possibly make."

"Daddy's tastes better." The boy insisted with a stubbornness that was all too familiar. It was like looking at a young Sirius.

Somewhere, deep inside, long since suppressed, Walburga felt an pang of heartache.

"Well... I suppose I could have the house elf make it a little closer to your tastes next time." Walburga would not be having muggle food in this house, if she could help it. Oh, how the mighty fall. Here she was, compromising a child.

She watched helplessly as Elio dropped his spoon into the messy plate, having taken two bites, and turned to his juice. There was absolutely no decorum as he gulped it down. Some even spilled from the corners, caught in his new robes. Walburga had a lot of work ahead of her, she could see that. But he was not a lost cause. Elio was talking to her, at least. It was one small step forward.

"I'm done." Elio announced. His plate was still full of food he hadn't eaten, but that seemed to be a common occurrence these days. Walburga would have to ask if it was normal for him. "Where's Moony?"

"He's out, taking some time for himself." Elio didn't seem to like this, expression contorting into a petulant pout. The pair had been essentially inseparable since they'd arrived. Where there was Remus, Elio was undoubtedly right behind. It made it near impossible for her to connect with him.

She just had to be patient. Some things take time. There was no telling what stories Sirius might have spun about her to the boy, if he ever even mentioned her. He was just as likely to have pretended she didn't exist.

The young boy at least had enough manners to know to wait until Walburga was also finished, and then for her to excuse him. They didn't spend much longer together, as Remus returned not long after. After that, the boy was lost to her.

*

"I can't sleep." Elio whispered in the darkness for the consecutive night that week. It had practically become a nightly ritual, at this point. Elio would toss and turn for a few hours, while Remus drifted off into almost-sleep. Then, Elio would cuddle up to the older man, inform him of his difficulties sleeping, and spend another few hours restless in Remus's arms. He'd usually fall asleep eventually, but his sleep would alternate between too light or too deep. Sometimes he'd be up at dawn, sometimes lunch would have passed by the time he woke. Remus had tried ways to lull him to sleep, but none worked. He'd since decided the best method was to just lie there with him, awake enough to be aware if Elio needed him, but not enough to leave him sleep-deprived.

This sleeplessness was a new development. Even as a baby, Elio had been an excellent sleeper. Only excitement or excitable godfathers, both of which he was prone to, would ever rid him of his sleep. Sirius had never complained about him struggling to fall asleep and Remus had never noticed it when he'd stay the night.

Remus had also noticed he'd been eating less, leaving more plates unfinished than finished. The loss of what had been a previously healthy appetite was what hammered his concern home.

When asked, Elio never seemed to want to talk about his feelings around the recent changes or his losses. He might occasionally give Remus an empty lie for an answer, quickly distracting him with something else, and other times he'd just shrug. Remus wasn't sure if he didn't want to talk, or simply didn't know how to convey what he felt. He'd never been particularly good with children. Just as Elio might not have known what to say to him, he didn't know what to tell Elio. The truth felt too much — no child needed to know their father had killed his uncles and aunt, tried to kill his cousin — but lying wouldn't end well. He didn't know how to explain to Elio that everything would be alright now. He didn't even know what Elio needed from him.

Tomorrow, he promised himself, he'd ask Walburga to help him organise a mind healer. They would have the answers Remus lacked; they'd know how Remus could help Elio. He was about to let Sirius's bad decisions harm his child as well. Enough people had been hurt.

*

In 1988, Walburga Black passed, leaving a twelve year old Elio the Lord Black and Remus the Lord Regent. A copious amount of money, far greater than Remus had anticipated, and the care of the Estate, the running of Ministry business, all fell into Remus's hands. Walburga had known her death was approaching and she ensured, as she grew weaker, that Remus was as prepared as he possibly could be. By the end of it, it almost felt as if he'd been born for this role.

And yet, he hadn't been. That had been Sirius, and then Regulus, and now Elio. Remus wasn't a Black and he would never be a Black. The title was only his because of his legal guardianship of Elio, the true Black heir. Remus felt like an imposter sitting on a stolen throne. He might have been taught what to do while he was holding the position for the next nine years, but he had no idea how to ensure Elio was every bit the heir he'd be expected to be. He didn't know the etiquette and rules like a Pureblood would. He didn't know what he was supposed to do.

It was such a concern that compelled him to do something he'd never expected to: he wrote a letter to the Malfoys. Particularly, Narcissa Malfoy, once Black, always a Pureblood.

Within a day, he had a response. Within a week, her visits were soon to become a regular occurrence as she taught both her own son, Draco, and Elio everything Remus could never hope to teach.

And then, slowly, things began to feel as if they were on the right track, as if all the pieces had finally fallen exactly as they were supposed to.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
It'd absolutely suck to be canon Remus post-Halloween 1981. The war's over, everyone's celebrating & he's got like no one except a dad he doesn't wanna burden. Poor dude

I'm looking forward to older Elio taking the stage now. It should be fun