It was nearly midnight by the time Remus came off of his first watch duty. Grimmauld Place was silent at this time of night, and silence in that house, especially in the dark, was still a looming, gloomy kind of silence. By sheer dint of chaos from the Weasley children, it perked up a bit by day, but at night the atmosphere became a brooding one that would have pleased Edgar Allen Poe immensely.

Remus closed the door behind him as quietly as he could and hung his cloak on the rack by the door, ignoring the gestures made at him by a yellowing photograph of the Black sisters (Sirius had yet to take it down because it had Andromeda in it, looking very embarrassed and buried in a book, and because Bellatrix’s expression had amused George to no end). Then he wandered into the kitchen to find something to eat before going to bed.

Sirius was still up, playing solitaire with a pack of Exploding Snap, with a bottle of firewhiskey open in front of him. He looked up when Remus came in. "So how was the Ministry?"

"Quiet," Remus answered absently. He strode over to the refrigerator and began to make himself a sandwich. "What are you doing up so late?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sirius shrug. "I couldn’t sleep."

Remus sighed. "And I suppose that’s why you’re drinking— because alcohol is a depressant or some other rubbish?"

Sirius made a face. "We had a couple of people over for dinner. Mundungus, Reggie, and I opened a few bottles and I hadn’t finished mine yet."

It had been hours since dinner, probable four or five, since Molly didn’t like eating late, but Remus let it go. The man wasn’t drunk yet, after all, so Remus wouldn’t get on Sirius’s back unless it started happening frequently. "I’m sure Molly was pleased. Who else did you have over here?"

"McGonagall stopped by and Molly convinced her to stay, much to Ron’s chagrin, but she spent most of her time lecturing Fred about the proper use of the pepper grinder. Kingsley came"— once convict and Auror had met, Sirius and the man hired to capture him had decided that they actually quite liked one another— "and Tonks dropped by. She was rather disappointed to find you weren’t here."

"Was she?" Remus asked noncommentally. He finished making the sandwich and joined Sirius at the table.

"Yeah. Remember what she used to declare as a four-year-old?"

"That her mother had sworn you were going to break you neck riding that motorbike of yours someday and then you’d be sorry you were hundreds of feet in the air?" Remus asked.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "No. The one about you."

"Ah. How she always used to ask me if I had been ill and recommend her mother’s cough potion, then?" Remus asked brightly.

"You’re being intentionally difficult."

Remus’s grin conceded the point. "And if I am?"

"She used to ask me if you were coming along to watch me every time I watched her— for some reason she was utterly fascinated by you. And while she said there was something bothering her about the werewolf registry, I don’t know that the fascination has gone away." He grinned. "And you never know what that fascination could become; she’s older now after all. . . ."

"Don’t be ridiculous, Sirius. I’m far too old for a twenty-something to be interested in me," Remus answered, rolling his eyes. "Fascinated, maybe, particularly now that she knows what I am." He shook his head and changed the subject before Sirius attempted to expand upon it. "Where’s Regulus, if not trying to herd you into bed?"

"He does act like my nanny sometimes, doesn’t he?" Sirius muttered, shaking his head. "He took something and went to bed about an hour ago, after Dung and Tonks and Kingsley left."

"Took what?"

"I don’t know. It was probably a potion, but it might’ve been Muggle sleeping pills or some other kind of depressant to help him sleep or drive off the nightmares," Sirius answered with a shrug. "About time he took one, really— it seems every time the Dark Mark burns, he won’t sleep for a week."

"You don’t know what he took?" Remus repeated.

"No, I don’t. I’m not his nanny anymore than he’s mine," Sirius answered, a note of irritation in his voice. He shook his head again and swept the cards off to the side. "We’re Blacks. We kept the peace the first fifteen years of his life because we didn’t ask each other what we were up to. That’s a tough habit to break."

"He seems to have broken it easily enough."

"Sometimes Reggie’s paranoia overcomes his respect for tradition," Sirius informed his friend. "That’s why he didn’t go by ‘Niger’ or whatever Black is in French—"

"Noir," Remus muttered.

"—because he’s certainly got at least some family loyalty. I mean, he’ll defend Dad and Phineas no matter what I say about them." Sirius sighed and shook his head. "What were you getting at, Moony?" he asked after a moment or two.

Remus shrugged. "It’s just that with the Ministry after you and Voldemort after Reggie, I’m half-afraid that I’m going to wind up trying to look after the both of you. If you don’t mind, Sirius, I’d rather have your cooperation if I’m going to have to do that."

Sirius grinned slightly and picked up the bottle of firewhiskey, swishing it around in a circle and watching to liquid climb up the translucent sides of the glass. "You’ve definitely got Reggie’s cooperation for it," he answered. "And as much as I hate to admit it, all of you’ve got a point about keeping me in. I’ll listen, if nothing else."

"I think that’s all we’re willing to ask," Remus murmured. "But with you, Sirius— we’re going to need it."

---

They were tackling the parlor a few days later with the help of a disgruntled Mad-Eye Moody, who had been ousted from the Auror office because of some top-secret development that he had at least four people promising to tell him about anyway. Regulus had recognized a cursed music box of Narcissa’s and was busily looking it over, trying to undo the curse and muttering about where their mother’s mind must have gone those last few years. Sirius was on the ground, trying to peer into the crack underneath a curio cabinet; Molly had the boys dusting and was directing them like a drill sergeant, and Remus and Hermione, who had arrived the previous day, were attempting to tune the grand piano in the corner, on the theory that if anyone could play they should at least be able to play pleasant music.

Albus Dumbledore wandered into all of this with a pensively absent look on his face, and nearly bumped into Moody. "Oh, hello, Alastor," he greeted the ex-Auror when he noticed Moody in front of him.

"Hello, Dumbledore," Moody rumbled. "What brings you here?"

"There were a few things I wished to discuss with Molly before attending another fruitless meeting with Cornelius about the education of my students," Dumbledore replied.

Remus looked up from the middle ‘G’ key, which persisted on going flat no matter what they attempted anyway. "Have you not found a replacement for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, then, Headmaster?" he asked.

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, Remus, I haven’t. As a matter of fact, I believe you were the last applicant. I had to persuade Alastor to agree, and thus far no one has risen to the occasion this year. I suspect Cornelius will have his way and appoint someone."

Sirius looked up from the curio and straightened, trying to wipe the dust off of his chest. "Who’s he going to appoint, then? Do you know?"

Dumbledore looked over at him. Rather than answer right away, he smiled slightly and said, "You appear to have been outright attacked by dust mites."

"Dust bunnies actually. I think they breed like the fleshy bunnies," Sirius answered absently. "I think I’m losing, too." He gave up on brushing the dust off of his front and said, "Well, really, who is he appointing?"

"I believe he will choose Doloris Umbridge."

Remus swore loudly, after which it took him a moment to realize that everyone was staring at him, Dumbledore and Sirius with expectant looks on their faces and everyone else in shock. After all, the kids had probably never heard him swear before.

After a moment’s silence, Molly Weasley announced, "Honestly, Remus, I expected better of you."

There were another few beats of silence. Then, because Molly’s stance and words undoubtably reminded him too much of Lily’s to contain himself, Sirius crossed his arms over his chest and declared, "Honestly Molly, even Ginny’s fourteen. It’s nothing they haven’t heard before."

The look Molly shot him would not have simply curdled milk; it would have fully solidified it into cheese.

Remus sighed. "Nevertheless, everyone but Hermione is her child, Sirius," he pointed out. He shook his head. "My apologies, Molly. I have . . . I’ve had a few too many past difficulties with that woman too react lightly."

"I’ll say so," Sirius answered. "What is she, a Death Eater?"

"Can’t be," Regulus answered. "Umbridge isn’t a pureblood name, and both the women and the non-purebloods were under a bit more Death Eater scrutiny in the bad old days. I’d have heard of her."

Remus shook his head. "No, she . . . she doesn’t like nonhumans. She used the . . . erm . . . my resignation as an excuse to pass more werewolf restrictions— it’s the reason I haven’t even had Muggle work since leaving Hogwarts."

"Ouch," Sirius muttered.

"Nevertheless, I don’t see another solution presenting itself," Dumbledore replied.

"There’s got to be one," Moody announced. "Fudge is trying to infiltrate Hogwarts from the inside; there can’t be any way you’ll stand for that, Dumbledore. Not on the most important subject they can take for the upcoming war."

Dumbledore smiled sunnily at him. "Then will you take it up again?"

Moody visibly balked, and his magical eye swivelled around the room.

Remus ticked the list off in his head. They had a number of children, two former Defense Against the Dark Arts professors, a convicted murderer and a Death Eater in hiding. There weren’t really any viable alternatives to put on the floor.

Except that Regulus looked up from the music box and said, "I suppose I could apply."

To Remus’s immense relief, the attention was suddenly off of his momentary loss of the control of his tongue and on Regulus, who shrugged. "I mean it. When you think about it, it’s not that likely that I’m a lot safer in Grimmauld Place than I am in Hogwarts, since there’s no way he’d dare try infiltrating it yet. Pettigrew doesn’t know I’m an animagus, so in a pinch I could become a fox. I’ll just grow a beard, get some color-changing contacts, and use one of my pseudonyms. If I remember right, Reginald Fox could even be called qualified— I did some research on the Red Caps in Normandy under that particular name four or five years ago.."

"I translated that into English," Remus remarked absently. "Then I made my second and third years read it and write a report on it."

"See?" Regulus asked, smiling slightly. "In a way they’ve already met me. And really, Headmaster, you can’t say I don’t have experience with the Dark Arts."

Remus shook his head. "I don’t like it, Regulus. Voldemort is going to be looking for you, and you might not be the best known of the Blacks, but there will be people who can recognize you."

Sirius scowled and shook his head. "Any of the three Lestranges would, but they’re in prison. Like he said, Remus, he can duck out of Lucius Malfoy’s way, and what the odds of Narcissa showing up at Hogwarts. Other than those, really, who would? He’s not the kid he was at Hogwarts, Moony, the whole persona has changed."

In a way, Remus could see the point. Sixteen years could make a person completely unrecognizable, and people remembered behavior patterns at least as much as they did facial features, especially over a decade later. And Voldemort certainly wasn’t going anywhere near Dumbledore until he was ready to come out in the open, which really did put Regulus in a lot less danger than Sirius.

"There aren’t really that many people looking for Regulus, Moony," Sirius continued. "People see what they want to see."

"I don’t like it," Remus muttered.

"Reggie’s the paranoid one and he’s okay with it," Sirius reminded him. "And if one of us doesn’t have to stay here . . . face it, we’re all going to drive each other mad." He shook his head. "And I really, really don’t like the idea of any of these kids not doing Defense Against the Dark Arts the right way this year."

Remus looked over at Dumbledore, since in any argument about the school the headmaster had the deciding vote.

"Well," Dumbledore answered with a shrug. "It’s an idea."

---

Author’s Note: All right, first of all, apologies for the month-long hiatus I took on this story, and thank you to Jackline for her concern. I have a lot of excuses-- an increase in schoolwork, winter drumline, plain bad time management for a very hectic week in late January-- but my main reason for taking this break was simply burnout. I'm 75,000 words into Double Trouble, all told, which is simply farther than I've ever gone on a story before. Updating this story every week had become more chore than fun, and I needed to step back for a few weeks. However, the juices are flowing again so I am hopefully back for the rest of 1995. All right -- thank you to everyone who reviewed this chapter; the response continues to delight and amaze me. For those who asked: I would assume that Voldemort is not one hundred percent certain how much Dumbledore knows about his plans, and would like to keep such information to himself if at all possible. Since not everyone is an Occlumens, therefore, it is on a need to know basis. : I'm not offended at all, and I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Gwinna: Welcome back. Until next week, Cheers! -- Loki