Part The Second: In Which The Flat Uses Chinese Water Torture

It was so easy, he mused, to keep all of this completely hidden from everyone they knew.

Lyria lay next to him, still sleeping. It was clichéd, he knew, but he liked watching her sleep, taking in the ever-so-slight smile she wore only when she was sleeping, smoothing back the dark unruly curls he’d grown very well acquainted with over the past three months since the flat’s second bedroom had become the guest room once again. He’d moved in almost four months ago now, and save for Hogwarts, it was probably the best arrangement he’d ever had.

He looked over her shoulder at the clock on the bedside table and then shook Lyria, gently kissing her. “Good morning.”

“Mmf,” she said, opening her eyes. “Morning. I like you waking me up much better than the alarm clock. What time’s it?”

“Six-thirty. Still plenty of time for you to wake up, but we’d best start the process so you aren’t late for work.”

She laughed; it was almost a giggle. “Particularly after yesterday morning?”

“Need I remind you sharing the shower was your idea?”

“You’re the one what decided to shampoo my hair,” she retorted lightly.

“And you thought it was a fine idea.” He wrapped one of her curls around his finger.

Lyria leaned in to kiss him softly, and once again she was almost late for work that day.

~*~*~*~

“You know, you’re getting to be quite an excellent cook,” Lyria commented as she came through the door.

“You’re getting to be quite an excellent actress,” he retorted. “I think I burned the vegetables.”

She shrugged. “I don’t eat green things anyway.”

She was acting like her usual self, but he simply knew something was bothering her. He didn’t question those insights, really; they’d become fairly common of late. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing wrong, exactly. I talked to Eryk today, at work. He was interested to know how we’ve been here.” She paused. “I told him we were dating and he, um…”

“Wasn’t terribly receptive?” Remus offered. “I didn’t really expect they would be. I can think of a few problems your family might have with you dating anyone, nevermind me.”

“Oh can you?” She said, and there was a warning in her tone. “Such as?”

Remus knew she wouldn’t like hearing it, but it had to be said. “The fact that I can’t provide for you, the fact that I was a Gryffindor, the fact that I’m a halfblood, the fact that I’m a werewolf… would you like me to keep going?” He asked mildly.

“I don’t need to be provided for, we aren’t that bigoted, I wouldn’t carry on the family name anyway, it’s none of their business, and if I were you I’d shut the hell up,” she snapped.

“Lyria, you were the flower of Slytherin house, the daughter of Scotch purebloods who can trace their family back to what, the eighth century?”

“The seventh.”

“Let’s look at this reasonably, now; why don’t your parents want you bringing me back to MacLaren Manor for High Tea?”

“I don’t like what you’re implying,” she hissed.

He sighed. “I’m telling you the truth.”

“It’s just because they don’t know you.”

“Lyria, no one in your family *wants* to know me.” He scowled. Maintain control, don’t get angry, she usually got fired up enough for both of them, he mentally instructed himself. “I doubt we can just take them out to dinner and smooth things over.”

“So you’re telling me you want me to choose?!?” She bellowed.

She was *so* damn temperamental… “No! I don’t want you to have to choose, Lyria. But I’m pointing out to you that I don’t think your family is going to see things your way this time.”

“Who made you the bloody expert?!”

“If they’ve all got your temper, I don’t want to be the expert!” He yelled, finally frustrated.

She slapped him, stormed to their bedroom, and spelled the door locked.

He ran a hand through his hair absently. “Shit.”

~*~*~*~

Lyria had told the truth a few full moons ago; her bed really was nicer.

It was two o’clock in the morning, and Remus had yet to fall asleep. In truth, it was really hardly the bed’s fault. He was replaying the skirmish with Lyria over in his mind, and that was enough to keep him awake well into next week. While he was still angry, and she had still been a bit overdramatic, he missed having her next to him quite a bit.

Rain fell outside the window, heavy drenching rain that pummeled the roof in a desperate attempt to break through. It matched the atmosphere within the flat quite well, he mused as a raindrop fell from the ceiling and hit him squarely behind the eyes. Splendid. Now Lyria’s flat had decided to make use of Chinese Water Torture in addition to everything else.

The trouble was, he sometimes agreed with her family. What *did* he think he was doing, dating Lyria? She’d never said it, but he’d always gotten the impression that she saw things rather like they did; that she was waiting for some proper pureblood husband with an appropriate bank account to come along, and she’d make a perfectly suitable marriage, stop working, and bring up a baby or two. It had been part of why he’d accepted the offer to move in here four months ago; it would be completely innocent, and that would be that. It had all changed with such speed that he hadn’t contemplated it, really; he’d just delighted in the sweet simplicity of their little life together. Furthermore, did he even want to consider getting married? Did he want to marry her? Given their nice little row, he couldn’t say it was too appealing at the moment.

Drip. Another splat in the face.

He got up, put a bucket from the kitchen on top of the pillow in the guest room, and carefully meddled through the wards to get back into his own room. Lyria rolled over, not how she would in sleep, so she was facing away from him. “Lyria?” He called quietly.

“Did I *say* you could come in?” She snapped.

“Did I ask?” He replied dryly.

“Fuck you.”

“You hardly seem in the mood for that.” He closed the door and sat on the bed next to her. “I’m sorry we fought.” He stroked her hair.

“*Don’t* touch me.”

He ignored her, letting his fingers play in the soft curls. “Lyria, I think you know how I feel about you. I don’t think we really need to fall apart over this, but I do think we need to talk to your family.”

“It never even crossed my mind when I invited you here. That I’d fall in love with you.”

“I couldn’t have imagined it either. But for what it’s worth, I’m glad it happened,” he offered. “Am I allowed to stay?”

“I suppose.”

He smiled a bit, moving to cuddle up behind her.

“Don’t touch me. I’m still mad at you.”

He bit back a laugh – that certainly wouldn’t help matters – and slid into the bed next to her, making certain they weren’t touching. “Goodnight, Lyria.”

~*~*~*~

He woke up after her the next morning and went downstairs to find her holding a cup of coffee and gazing out the window. “Good morning.” He moved to kiss her cheek.

“Don’t touch me; I’m still mad at you.”

“And how long do you usually hold a grudge?”

“As long as I damn well please.”

He sighed and for the first morning in a while, poured his own coffee. “Well, you’ve let me back into the bedroom, which I suppose is progress, isn’t it?”

“Also, I saved enough coffee for you to have a cup.”

“There, it can’t be that bad. I can make it through this period of trial.”

“It’ll be all over soon,” she assured him. “Right after you come back to the house and have dinner with my family this weekend.”

Remus nearly slurped his coffee spoon down his throat. “What?”

“My parents invited us to dinner this weekend, there was an owl this morning.”

He just managed to stop himself from asking if he was on the menu. “Well, that’ll be interesting.”

“It certainly will be. However,” she began, sitting down at the table, “There are rules.”

“Are there?” He asked, slightly bemused. Alright, he could negotiate his way into something agreeable if he had to.

“First, you have to, absolutely have to, be nice to my parents no matter what they say to you. That’s for your own safety.”

“I’m not very likely to start being nasty to them,” he said mildly. For his safety… this sounded worse by the second.

“Also, I get to dress you, and you don’t complain.”

“No hats.”

“Fine. Lastly… they invited us to stay overnight and leave Sunday morning, and we are. We are going to have separate rooms, and you are going to deal with that.”

“Is this your idea or something enforced by your father?”

“Remus, my parents don’t share a room, nevermind my sharing a room with a man they don’t approve of.”

“There’s five of you, they shared a bed often enough,” he pointed out.

“That’s something you should *not* say if you want to leave the house intact.”

“I’m starting to think perhaps I shouldn’t say anything if I want to leave the house intact.”

“You know? That might be wise.”

~*~*~*~

“Dad, Mum, this is Remus… Remus, this is my father and mother,” Lyria introduced.

“Yes, we’ve heard about Remus,” Jessilyn MacLaren sniffed.

It was painful, but Remus made himself smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Lyria’s told me so much.” And so she had – over the course of the end of the week as some sort of Parental Visit Boot Camp. He set down Lyria’s bag, which he had decided he probably ought to carry, to shake hands with her father. “And you, sir.”

“Your reputation precedes you,” Angus told him. Oh damn, that was probably not a good thing.

“I’ll show you two upstairs. Lyria, you’ll be in your old room.” Jessilyn led the way into the Manor, and Remus immediately tried to take in as much as possible. Getting lost would be unfortunate.

Sure enough, his room was well down the hall from hers, and he was quite sure the door between them was the master bedroom. Trying to pass it in the middle of the night would result in finding oneself on the wrong end of Angus MacLaren’s wand.

“You two probably want to rest or something, dinner’s in about a half hour,” Jessilyn told them. She seemed to be inspecting Remus, but she turned and went back downstairs before he could say a word. Remus looked to Lyria desperate for some advice.

“Come on, you mean you aren’t dying to see what my room looks like from childhood?” She tugged him into it and closed the door behind them.

“Lyria, your father is going to kill me,” Remus managed.

“Just be nice,” Lyria soothed. “I need to fix your hair.”

“Did I have to wear green? It doesn’t suit me.”

“Remus? Shut up.” She straightened his hair. “Downstairs before they think we’re having a quick shag.”

He nodded and led her back downstairs, where they spent an uncomfortable twenty five minutes talking in the parlor while Angus watched until dinner.

“So, Eryk tells us you’re a jobless halfblood,” Jessilyn said by way of starting conversation. “And a werewolf on top of that.”

“MOTHER!” Lyria screeched.

Remus blinked. “Which is true enough. Did he mention, ma’am, that I was bitten at age four and have been forced out of every job and every home I’ve been able to acquire?” Remus asked, forcing himself to keep the same pleasant tone. “I’m certain he told you that your daughter, remarkable woman that she is, is able to see past that. I imagine you’re quite proud of her.”

“I’ve been prouder than I am at the moment,” Jessilyn sniffed.

“Well that doesn’t surprise me at all,” he replied, still smiling, still pleasant, willing the anger that was gnawing his insides to go away. Lyria placed a hand on his leg gently beneath the table. It helped a bit; certainly she wasn’t angry with him anymore, and that was a nice feeling. Though he felt a bit of resentment toward her too – she was the one subjecting him to this.

“Remus spent a year teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts,” Lyria said in an attempt to at least lighten the topic. She knew she wouldn’t be able to steer conversation away from Remus. Gently, she rested her hand on his leg, feeling guilty for having brought him here. But hadn’t he said she had to talk to her family about them?

“Did he now?” Angus growled, looking at Remus as if he hadn’t seen him before. It was a bit heartening, really, Remus thought. “And what brought that to an end? Certainly not Dumbledore.”

“I decided it probably wasn’t safe for the students,” he admitted. “Despite the precautions.”

“Responsible of you,” Angus remarked.

“So then you’d admit it’s not safe for Lyria to be around you, no matter the precautions?” Jessilyn asked, giving Lyria a meaningful look.

“I’ve been nowhere near her on full moons, ma’am. Honestly, I can really be quite normal most of the time.” He smiled, trying to somehow make it into a joke.

“Except of course when you become a bloodthirsty monster,” Jessilyn finished.

“Mum,” Lyria said warningly.

Remus’s hand was gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles were white. “Are you aware, Mrs. MacLaren, that it was hardly my idea to be bitten and that my greatest fear is attacking someone? Or is it easier for you to retain your prejudices if you forget that I spend most of the year more human than you are?” He got to his feet.

“Remus-“ Lyria began.

“No, Lyria. I suppose, ma’am, that you’d have gotten to joblessness next and moved that on into my halfblood status over dessert, but I’m afraid you unfortunately won’t get your opportunity to insult my Muggle mother, because I’m leaving. I can tell when I’ve overstayed my welcome – assuming, of course, that one existed in the first place.” He turned to Lyria. “I’ll see you at the flat tomorrow… or perhaps not, I suppose.” And he left. He’d apparated home before he reached the front gates.

~*~*~*~

Lyria got back to the flat perhaps fifteen minutes after he did. “Hi.”

“Here to kick me out?” He asked, still angry.

“No. After you left, I gave my mother a bit of a talking to, and she told me to tell you she apologizes.”

“I’m sure she does.”

“And when I left, my father was trying to actually bring her around. Seems he didn’t mind you so much when he saw how hard you tried to be nice to her and that you really did care for me rather than my flat.”

Remus blinked. That was interesting news… but then, Angus hadn’t said much, really.

“Not that he’ll ever like me with anyone and not that he can officially give us any sort of approval, but he said you’d be just fine for an ordinary girl.”

“You, of course, aren’t ordinary.”

“Of course not. I, my darling, am the only daughter of the MacLaren family. However, as the only daughter and therefore a spoiled brat, my father has decided to humor my little fling and endure your presence at family functions.”

“He won’t have to,” Remus said darkly.

“I was glad you told her off, you know,” Lyria said. “Honestly. For a minute I was completely horrified, but I wouldn’t want you to let her talk like that to you, not really.”

“So I’m allowed to tell off your mother now, am I?”

“On some occasions,” Lyria said. “You see, I love you, and it vexes me greatly to see you abused, even by my mother, who bless her means well but has an iron mindset.”

“So now you’re back to loving me?”

“Yes, and I suppose you’re allowed to touch me,” she said with a bit of a grin. “I’m the one who put you through that ridiculous exercise, and I believe I have to make it up to you.”

“I’m still too angry for that.”

“Oh no, you aren’t allowed to hold grudges. That’s my job around here.” She kissed him firmly, and despite himself he found the anger melting… or at least getting pushed aside. He kissed back, pulling her closer.

Eventually she broke the kiss. “Still angry?”

“Calming down.”

“That’s not the desired effect.”

He laughed softly. “Then perhaps we have to try that again.” He brushed her lips gently with his own.

They never actually made it to their bedroom the first time he picked her up.

~*~*~*~

“I don’t understand how you came out so normal growing up in that house.”

“Just lucky, I suppose.” Lyria snuggled closer to him. She rather liked spooning, especially when he slid his arms around her waist the way he was at the moment. “They honestly aren’t so bad. They don’t have any problem with halfbloods or Gryffindors or any of the things you are, just so long as their daughter isn’t bringing them home. They’d find something wrong with anyone I brought to the house, you just… saved them a background check, I suppose.”

“I suppose…” He was just leaning closer, his breath pleasantly warm on the back of her neck, when there was a sharp tap on the window. “I’m not letting that owl in.”

“It’s not the owl’s fault. Let me go, tomorrow’s Saturday and we’ll have all morning for spooning and shagging, if you like.”

He sighed but let her go, and Lyria wrapped the blanket around herself and went to the window. Blanketless and with the window open, Remus yelped. “Could you *possibly* hurry?”

“It’s for you, and it’s my mother’s writing.”

“Nevermind. I’ll endure being cold.”

She spread the blanket over the bed again and slid next to him. “Open it.”

“Lyria, please. I have you, stark naked lying next to me, or an undoubtedly nasty letter from your mother. I realize I’m patient, but I’m still mortal.”

“I could get up, and then you’ll just have the letter.”

He sighed but obligingly opened it. “So much for our morning… she wants to meet me for breakfast. Just me.”

Lyria cursed. “You’re going to go?”

“I suppose I ought to. I can’t promise I’ll stay, though.”

“That’s fair.” Lyria gently placed a hand on the side of his face. “Just don’t hex her.”

“That I think I can manage,” he agreed, chuckling a bit. “I’d really have the mother-in-law from Hell, wouldn’t I?”

Lyria was silent for a moment. “Mother-in-law?”

“It might still be a bit early for planning such a thing, but it could potentially occur, couldn’t it?”

“Could it?”

He ran a hand through his hair in his usual absent manner. “You know I love you, Lyria. Mind you, three months into a serious relationship is hardly time for dress shopping, but… is that an option for us, someday? Assuming we make it to such a point.”

“I love you, Remus, but I haven’t contemplated the idea of being anyone’s wife. I’m not saying it couldn’t happen, just that… it would take me some thought. Some time to get used to such an idea.” She shook her head a bit. “Lyria Lupin, eurgh, it sounds terrible.” She smiled.

“Well you’d never get me to take your name, so don’t even think about it.”

“No, that’d sound equally terrible,” she agreed. “See? We’re an awful match,” she teased.

“We are,” he agreed, also smiling a bit.

“You’re just a useless idiot Gryffindor werewolf who is infuriatingly calm at all times. Except when you had the audacity to tell off my mild-mannered mother.”

“And you’re a foul-tempered snotty little Slytherin princess who has never heard the word no,” he countered.

She laughed. “Terrible match. Awful.”

“Wouldn’t last a week,” he agreed.

There was a moment’s pause. “Lyria? Let’s get married.”

“Absolutely,” she agreed, kissing him softly.

~*~*~*~

MacLaren Manor was twice as intimidating without Lyria there, he mused, but Jessilyn had wanted him to come alone. He made sure of his wand one more time before he knocked. Jessilyn herself got the door and led him wordlessly to a small room she probably used for teas, where sure enough breakfast was waiting.

“Good morning, ma’am.” He absolutely would not apologize for what he’d said last night, he decided. Under no circumstances. He’d been right, after all.

“Good morning… have a seat,” she invited, sitting at the table. “I’m sure you’re aware this is essentially a business breakfast.”

He simply nodded as he sat across from her.

“I won’t apologize for what I said to you,” she said imperiously.

“Even if you did, you wouldn’t get an apology in return,” he replied.

She nodded curtly. “Angus, however, seems to think there’s something half decent in you. I’m not quite sure where he got that idea…”

“Perhaps he trusts your daughter’s judgment,” Remus suggested.

She scowled. “I don’t. Bless her, the girl can be foolish about romantic sorts of things. Clearly.” She paused. “My concerns about you are primarily concerns for her well-being.”

“Naturally. After all, given that over the past four months I’ve tended her through an injury, learned to cook for her, gone as far away as possible over full moons, and been the one to start making amends after several fights, you should be greatly concerned that I might kill her, bite her, leave her, or hurt her,” he said mildly.

“Cynicism is simply a cover for arrogance,” she said.

“Yes, my status lends itself quite well to arrogance.”

“You’re starting to take after my daughter,” Jessilyn said dryly, looking suddenly like Lyria. “I am, however, willing to put aside your many faults and call a truce for Lyria’s sake.”

Remus couldn’t resist. “I’m glad to hear that, as we’re engaged.”

Jessilyn nearly choked on her eggs. “You’re *what?!?*”

“Engaged. I proposed last night, there’ll be some ring shopping this afternoon,” he said casually. “Lovely view of the gardens out that window.”

Jessilyn was still trying to recover from her shock.

~*~*~*~

He returned to the flat just in time for lunch. “Is it still morning?”

“No. Because you didn’t wake me up before you left, you have lost your opportunity to kiss me good morning,” she told him with a teasing smile.

“Good afternoon, then.” He kissed her cheek and stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist loosely. “I have something for you.”

“Do you now?”

“I most certainly do.” He opened his fist to reveal a ring. He had been old-fashioned enough to feel that it was something he had to pick out himself for her. “Good?”

“It’s beautiful, and you really oughtn’t have, but I’m not going to say I’m not glad you did.” She turned and gave him a kiss.

“I know you like silver better, but it was simply not an option. The wedding bands are going to have to match, after all.”

“You picked it because it made you think of me, therefore, I think it’s wonderful.” She held out her left hand and let him slide it on. “And it fits perfectly, look at that.”

“Yes, well, I stole one of your other rings before I left this morning.”

“I’m engaged to such a smart man.” She laughed a bit, studying her ring. “It really is perfect.”

“You deserve better,” he said, sounding almost guilty.

“Shut up. If you’d come back with some ridiculously grandiose thing, I’d have put it in a display case. This I can wear without my hand dragging along behind me,” she teased.

“Good. I wouldn’t want to be held responsible for such a thing.”

“How was breakfast?”

“I told your mother we’re engaged. I thought I was going to have to revive her from a dead faint.”

“Well, it could have been worse. I could have had to tell her,” Lyria mused.

Remus wasn’t paying much attention, though. “You’re going to look perfect in a wedding dress…”

“You’ve turned into a sap on me overnight. I don’t approve,” Lyria said, mock sniffing in a way that forcibly reminded him of Jessilyn.

“If I have it’s entirely your fault.”

She kissed his cheek.

To Part 3