Chapter Text
1979
Vera Nott wore a silver necklace.
Narcissa Malfoy wore a silver necklace.
Maude Parkinson wore a silver Necklace.
Pansy Parkinson hadn’t been born yet, and still, a silver necklace waited for her.
Hermione Nott would not wear a silver necklace. That her father swore the moment he held her in his arms. He would have told his wife as much hadn’t she been so busy giving birth to their son.
Their having twins was an unforeseen blessing. Two babies meant hiding one was easy as long as no one knew there was another.
And no one, but the people in the room, knew about it.
"I will hold her." A voice next to him interrupted his musing, he turned to Lucius, refusal on the tip of his tongue.
"Thoros, hold your wife’s hand!" Another voice snapped.
The head of the House of Nott prided himself on knowing when to fight and when to relent, and confronted with a pissed-off Narcissa Malfoy always meant relenting, so he laid his daughter into her Godfather’s arms and went back to hold his wife’s hand, biting his tongue to keep from groaning at the sheer force the woman put into squeezing it.
He was half convinced she was trying to break it.
The birth of their son was in stark contrast to the birth of their daughter.
Hermione had come quickly, but Theodore took his time. With Hermione, Vera had cursed like a sailor and had told Thoros all the (frightening but very creative) ways she would dismember him. With Theodore, she was quiet, seemingly content with only breaking every bone in Thoros’ hand.
But as a new day was born, so was Theodore Nott.
He exchanged looks with the people present, all of them wore an expression of determination.
"Get Richard," Vera whispered, stroking her son’s face.
Having twins was a blessing. Thoros having a brother whom everybody forgot about was an even bigger one.
1981
"Where is he?"
Not many were aware of how terrifying Remus Lupin could be. Few had faced the full brunt of his ire. Albus Dumbledore was about to become one of the few.
"I am sorry, my boy, but I simply can't tell you. It's for Harry's own safety, you see."
"He would be safe with me!" Remus leaned forward, his nose nearly touching Dumbledore's, he was bracing himself on the desk that divided them. Dumbledore, annoyingly, still sat on his chair. "Where is he?" The wolf hissed.
Remus took great pleasure in seeing the old man swallow hard. He could smell the fear.
"He is safe." The old man stubbornly repeated, "I understand that the last hours have been emotional for you. I think it would be best for you to calm down, maybe join the celebrations?" He suggested.
Remus saw red.
Faster than it should be possible, he had grabbed the back of the old man's head and slammed it into the table. There was a satisfying crunch when his nose met the wooden surface.
The portraits behind the man were shocked into silence, only Nigelus Black reacted, giving the Werewolf a proud nod. The current headmaster seemed way too surprised to retaliate, and Remus decided that he wouldn't be here when he gathered his wits. He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and turned on his heel, giving the man one last disgusted look.
"Fuck you, old man."
1982
There was a collection of bills on the kitchen table.
And Remus could feel the tears prickling in his eyes.
Months. He had searched months for Harry, and he still wasn't any closer to finding him than he had been after the night in Dumbledore's office. He had thought he had a lead when he found Lily's sister, but after staking out her place for about a week, he had seen no sign of the toddler, hadn't smelled him either. So he had moved on. Or tried to, you needed to eat to be able to search for a child. And to eat, you needed money, money he didn't have.
In the beginning, he had lived on his meagre savings, after those had run out, he had taken work where he could, only to be fired a few months later. Either they put two and two together (a few wizards) or were fed up with him missing so much work (muggles and even more wizards). Still, he refused to touch the money he had set aside for Harry, a payout to thank him for his role in the war mostly - he needed the money once he managed to get Harry.
He was aware that he wouldn't be able to care for Harry in his current situation, thank you very much, but Remus was nothing if not resourceful. He would find a way. But his priority was to actually, you know, find him.
Remus wasn’t a religious man, but he prayed that the kid was with a good family - his gut told him otherwise. Thats why the extra room (it was once his bedroom, before he moved to the couch) in the flat was not only filled with childrens toys and furniture but also with books that would give him a one-way ticket to Azkaban if they were found.
Books filled with rituals and spells that were considered more than dark but held the promise of finding a loved one who had gone missing.
The few rituals and spells he had been able to do (some of the ingredients were just way too expensive or literally impossible for him to attain - like the blood of said lost one) had come up empty, and Remus was certain he had done them right. The reason, the werewolf was sure, was Dumbledore, who had probably hidden Harry behind wards no one could penetrate. Remus wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
His eyes drifted back to the bills on his table. He needed to get a job, and fast, or he would lose the flat, he couldn't afford to lose the flat.
He stood up, his joints aching - the full moon had been just yesterday - and put on his tattered coat to go out and get a newspaper, time to check out job offers.
As it turned out, he didn't need a newspaper.
Just as he crossed the street to get to a little shop, a 'help wanted' sign caught his eye. He was about to go in when he realised that a) he was in no way dressed in a way that would make him seem serious about the job, b) the sign belonged to a dentist's practice, and there was no way he was qualified to do whatever work he would need to do.
"You interested?" Remus’ head whipped around, there stood a man in a white attire - clearly the dentist - smoking a cigarette.
Well, talking to him couldn’t hurt, could it? (Remus was used to rejection, it didn’t even sting anymore. Liar.) "Yes, but there is no way I’m qualified."
The man hummed, "Can you talk to people?"
"Yes?"
"Can you sort through paperwork without falling asleep?"
"Also, yes."
"Can you organise appointments?"
"I think so? What is going on?"
"Do you want the job?"
"Yes, but…"
"The job is yours. Want a cigarette?"
"I - what? I mean, yes?"
The Doctor handed him his pack and a lighter. "You got time today?"
Still baffled, Remus lit the cigarette and nodded while handing the pack and lighter back.
"Wonderful. I'm Richard Granger. My wife and I own the practice."
"Remus Lupin," he introduced himself, shaking the man's outstretched hand.
"Pleasure meeting you."