Freddie Mercury's voice carried through the pub and Sirius clutched Remus's hands as he spun about him. People were glancing their way with looks of disapproval; Remus felt his cheeks redden and he hissed, "Sirius, c'mon now. We're in muggle public." But Sirius's excitement was infectious and soon James had Lily up, and Lula was watching the two couples from where she sat at the table.

Spencer had turned in his seat to watch, too.

Lula looked at him. Her voice was gentle, a bit nervous, "Stewie."

He looked at her.

"I really am sorry - for everything."

He rubbed his nose and nodded, eyes not quite meeting hers.

"I really am. I was just so... You confinded something to me, something I know is very terrifying to say out-loud about oneself and instead of being supportive and kind to you, I had to be a priss." Lula sighed. "I thought I was better than that." She shrugged.

Stewie was quiet, then he said, "I thought you were too, which was why I told you."

Lula hung her head.

"And I know it's not an easy thing to hear - and to hear it from the boy you're dating must be even worse," he murmured.

"It wasn't fun, that's for bloody sure." Lula stared at Remus and Sirius dancing in a cluster with James and Lily. They looked so happy and well paired - both couples did. "I wish I could be everything you want," she said to Stewie.

"I honestly don't know what I want anymore," he answered. "And I have more conflicting emotions now than ever." He followed her gaze to Remus and Sirius and shook his head, "Why can't love be as easy as they make it look?"

"Surely it isn't any easier for them than it is for anyone else," Lula answered. "People don't generally wear their trauma on their sleeves."

"Sirius usually does," Stewie laughed, "Trust me, you live with them a couple weeks and the drama is real."

Lula laughed, "As real as me screaming for you to despider the bath at two in the morning?"

"I fully expect to one day be wakened by Sirius screaming exactly the same way as you did that night," Stewie said, a smile ghosting across his lips.

"Have you been drawing?"

Stewie nodded. He wished so much he could tell her about the moving paper, about the way the waves undulated and the stars fell across skies of watercolor pigment. He wanted to tell her about the magic beasts in the book he'd looked at from the shelf, about the dragons and the stacks of buttered toast that flew about the kitchen in the mornings, and the flash of green flame that carried them to and from the Potter Cottage and Sirius's flying motorbike, which he'd been told about but had yet to see in action... But he couldn't. Remus had made him swear not to. Even thinking of telling her made his jaw ache with a mysterious thumping that seemed to come from the deepest part of him - as though he couldn't tell her, even if he tried his body would fight him because he'd been told not to tell her.

But she would love it if she knew, she'd be so interested and full of questions... They'd spent so many late nights philosophizing and "what if"-ing over ideas and stories and fantasies like that. He longed to tell her it was all real and that he was now a part of this whole other world. Lula, at least, would think his new "furry little problem" cool, even if the rest of the wizarding world apparently did not.

He did.

He thought it was rather awesome, actually.

And he thought Remus was awesome for it, too.

If he'd liked Remus before, he liked him all the more now. It was like something deep in his guts was drawn to Remus, a centralizing figure in any room. He felt almost sick when he wasn't near to him, in a weird way he couldn't quite comprehend. Like he was weaker. It reminded him of being lost on an Underground platform when he was small, not able to see his nanny through the crowd. He could remember feeling small and unguarded. That was why he was insisting on staying at the flat in London with Remus and Sirius...

Well, that and eventually his grandfather would return from his long holiday and Spencer would be forced out of the house at Grimmauld Place. He'd been living with Lula and now he wasn't sure where to go if not with Remus Lupin.

His eyes travelled to Remus again as he moved along with Sirius.

"You still like him." Lula's voice was low, but full of sureness. "Even more than before, it seems."

Spencer turned around. "Nothing could ever happen.
Look at them. They love each other so much."

Lula nodded.

"But I don't think we can happen either any longer - you and I," Spencer said. "Not like we were, anyway."

Lula spun her glass with her finger tips. "I agree."

"But we can still be friends."

"The best," she said sadly.

Sirius was by far the best of the four when it came to dancing. He made up for the struggles Remus was having due to his knees and hips aching profusely as the moon neared. Remus was able to lean into his husband and go along for the ride for the most part, hardly having to move his legs, but still appearing more graceful than James could've done in a hundred years.

"Good gods, Potter," Lily said with a laugh, "Why did I think you were better at dancing than this?"

James grinned, "Disillusionment, perhaps." He looked down at his own flailing limbs. "Am I truly that bad?"

"Yes," Sirius answered for Lily. James gave him a rude gesture and Sirius cackled madly as he swung Remus 'round.

Lily laughed, and said, "You know at the start of the Muppet Show, when Kermit waves his arms about? Well..."

"Oh," James said, laughing. "Like this?" And he added in some arm motions to go along with his terrible footwork.

They'd danced through the Queen number and another two, including the song from Saturday Night Fever, before Remus fell into Sirius, knees knackered, and said, "I've had it, Padfoot, you're on your own."

"I'll dance with you," Lily said, pivoting to Sirius.

"Oi, what of me? Your husband?" James teased.

"I think everyone on this floor would appreciate you having a sit down," Lily teased back, "Let them dance without worrying about being clobbered by your flailing limbs."

James chuckled, "Fair enough. Come on, Moony, we'll let these two get on without us a bit, yeah?"

"Brilliant," Remus replied.

"Alright but don't blame me with Lilith decides to steal me away," Sirius warned.

"If she does, I'll sail a thousand ships to retrieve you, Helen," Remus replied, falling into James and limping off the floor.

Sirius looked questioningly at Lily.

"Helen of Troy," Lily supplied. "The Greek-Trojan war? Achilles heel?"

"Right."

"I'm going to start assigning you reading to do," Lily laughed.

Sirius grinned.

"For real! It's terribly important for Harry's godfather to know such things, you know. I want my boy to be smart."

Sirius thought about it a moment, then said, "You know why I think I don't read a lot? What my Achilles heel of reading is?"

"Why?"

"I can't hear it in my head."

"How do you mean?"

"My head is so loud and busy and full of stuff, I can't hear the story. It's like trying to listen to someone talking real quiet when there's a loud stereo playing."

"Well that sounds terrible," Lily said.

Sirius twirled her 'round gently, aware that too deep or fast of a spin might set off a bout of nausea for them both. She returned to him smiling sadly, thoughtfully, and he pulled her in closer. "And besides that, when the little Sodcake and I were small, Mother used to give me these horrid volumes with nasty smelling old parchment pages and I had to read them - in Latin, mind - all day long. They were bloody terrible books with stories about purist bastards going on about blood sanctity and wars and killings and hate filled ramblings that would turn your stomach right quick and burn indelibly into the brain of a child. Nightmare fodder."

Lily stared into his eyes.

"And Merlin help you if you question a word of it, you're likely to be cruciatused half to death, and wind up locked away in your room without supper, only a grouchy old house elf telling you what a little bastard you are while he mercilessly rubs murtlap oil all over your lacerations."

Lily felt sick. "Well no wonder you don't want to read."

"No wonder indeed!"

Lily hummed thoughtfully, then asked, "Would it help if I read to you?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"I read to James," she offered. "You could come over and read with us."

"Yeah?"

"I'm sure James wouldn't mind. And I read in an article that the baby is able to hear our voices and it brings him comfort, perhaps, helps to develop his brain and such... I read sometimes to Harry when I'm home alone."

"Already?" Sirius asked.

Lily shrugged, "It can't hurt."

Sirius smiled, "Well I reckon reading with you would be alright."

"Only alright?"

Sirius laughed. "Positively spiffing, then."

Lily hugged him.

"I suppose we ought to go sit with our husbands," Sirius said as the song ended.

Lily nodded, "I suppose so."

Sirius smirked. "I love you Lilith."

"Love you more, Citrus," she replied.

He beamed and led the way back to the table, holding her hand and tugging her arm like am excited dog on a too short leash and she laughed as they sank back into their seats at the table.

"Have a good dance, Love?" James asked, kissing Lily in greeting.

"Mmhm," she nodded, "It was nice dancing with someone who isn't a muppet."

"DADDY!! DADDYYYY!!!" Marjorie Underhill woke up shrieking in the middle of the night, tears in her eyes as she screamed. There was a banging in the hall, a commotion of running feet, and the door was flung wide, Harry Underhill rushing across the room to his daughter's side.

"It's alright, Marjorie, dada's here," he said, scooping her up as she flung her arms about his neck, burying her face in his neck. Tears dampened his skin. "What's the matter?"

"I had a nightmare!" she wept.

"Tell me about your nightmare and I'll frighten it off," Underhill replied, rubbing her back.

"I dreamed there was a bad, bad man," she sobbed, "Looking in the window from the tree!"

She pointed at the offending window.

Underhill stared at it, the curtains dancing in a breeze that came through the slightly open glass. Outside, the branches of an old, gnarled tree shivered in the moonlight.

"But when I screamed for you, the nightmare went away," Marjorie finished.

Underhill hugged her tightly to him, an unease rising in his gut. "That's right the nightmare went away," he said, his voice bolder than he was feeling at the moment. "Of course it did, no nightmare can stand up against your old man." He sounded ferocious, and she giggled and hugged him.

"You're so brave and strong," she said.

"I'm my bravest and strongest when I'm protecting my Princess," he answered. Then, "Why don't you come sleep in with me tonight, and we'll have a proper slumber party?"

"Yeah!!!"

He nodded and lifted her favorite stuffed dog from the mattress, tucking it into her arms as he hoisted her onto his hip. Underhill carried her to the window and glanced out at the yard lined with trees, pushing the window down. "Colloportus," he whispered, locking it, and murmured a charm of protection as well. Then he carried her out of the room, back to his own, where he could be sure that any nightmares returning would have to go through him first.