Smiling at Remus’ toast, Emme clinked glasses with the two of them before taking a sip. She didn’t want Remus to be so nervous. Even if her father had been making things a little easier for him, she knew he’d still have felt uncomfortable. Not that she could blame him. Emme wasn’t exactly in his shoes but she could imagine meeting your girlfriend’s dad would be a bit intimidating. Meeting him for the first time on a holiday for dinner may not have been the best time, but they didn’t exactly have very many opportunities throughout the year outside of summer to do so.  

However it did say something about how she felt about him. Even if she’d never had an opportunity to bring Roger home to meet her dad, she’d never considered that a possibility while they’d been dating. Meanwhile with Remus the whole subject of him coming back to meet her dad had been something she’d fretted over for a long while before finally breaching it.

Watching her dad and Remus then, finishing up their toast, Emme couldn’t hide her smile. Edgar was smiling at Remus, finally, and Remus in turn looked relieved. If it wouldn’t have been so awkward to do so Emme would have reached out for his hand right then to give it a squeeze, but as such she restrained herself. They could get through the dinner.

Despite the silence, Emme’s own worries seemed relaxed. There wasn’t any tension or awkwardness, at least none that she sensed. Remus and her dad ate and she poked at her food like usual. She just so happened to be pushing it around her plate when Remus spoke up, semi-startling her with the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand on hers. Smiling at where his hand rested on the table near hers she shrugged her shoulders.

“I guess,” she said with a breath, looking between the two men. “I dunno, it’s a bit surreal, yeah? Feels like the last few months have just flown by.” At least the last few months they’d been together. September and October had been horrible and awkward, and had taken ages to get through. The rest of the time had just disappeared. Between stolen kisses and patrols, comfortable silences and holding hands, suddenly they’d found themselves seated opposite her father discussing graduation.

It was a daunting subject, at least when Emme gave it any thought. All of the changes that awaited them were terrifying, especially with the war looming on the immediate horizon. 

Before she could say anything further, Edgar chose that moment to pipe up. “I can remember the day you left for first year,” he started, smiling warmly. Emme blushed, and looked away from her dad and towards Remus, embarassed. “Please not this,” she mumbled, instinctively reaching for Remus’ hand resting mere inches from hers.

“You’d been so normal that entire week. Too normal. I could remember wondering why you weren’t more excited. You were so quiet, and you spent so much time in your room. You wouldn’t let me help you pack. You were resolute about that. So I let you carry on like you always did, listening to records,” Edgar chose not to acknowledge the hands on the table but looked back and forth between the couple while he spoke.

“Now Remus I know you’re probably familiar with Emme’s dodginess when it comes to records, yeah?” He started, almost grinning now, ignoring Emme’s noise of protest. “Well, night before we have to leave she goes to bed early. I think nothing of it, go to bed, all’s well. I wake up to find Emme in her room, postively dead on her feet, still packing. I go, “Emme, when did you go to bed?” and she goes, in that sassy little way she has when she’s tired, she goes, “Daaad, I couldn’t just go to bed, I had to listen to them all.” The little bug stayed up all night listening to her records because she’d not be able to bring them with her. Of course I let her the next year, but I swear I’d never seen a funnier sight. All big, fluffy blonde hair and the darkest circles on her little face.”

“Daaad.” Emme protested then, hand covering her red face. Edgar simply ignored her and continued on. “Didn’t even wave at me through the window on the train, she’d already fallen asleep in her compartment.” Eyes warm, Edgar smiled at his daughter. “Can’t believe you’re almost graduated.” Looking over at Remus, he added, “The both of you. I know we’ve on just met, but it seems like Emme has been talking about you for ages.” 

“Really, you couldn’t just stop with the records story,” Emme mumbled under her breath, sighing and worrying her bottom lip. Again Edgar ignored her and continued, “I think it was second year? When she really started making friends, she mentioned you, something about you and Lily, and then a little more years later. And then suddenly, well, here you are.” With a shrug, Edgar gave Remus a nod and took another sip of water. 

Remus couldn’t eat whatever Emme was about to bring in the room. His heartbeat was in his throat. It would be physically impossible to swallow. How could he get out of dinner? That was sort of the point to being in this house. In this house, with this man, staring at him with an intensity that couldn’t be put to words.  Remus had never felt so off-kilter. Does he speak first? Is he a child again – speak only when spoken to? Why is this meeting-the-parents bullshit so awkward? Sure, Remus had never been all that social or outgoing. But he’d never been so quiet and weird. Merlin. Remus just wanted to scream. Scratch that. Howl. Howl at the moon and tear something up. It was so bloody frustrating. Trying to get someone to like you. Someone who probably hates you for messing up every step of the way to get his daughter’s heart. Fathers don’t want another man to have his daughter’s heart. It’s an instinctual hatred, and Remus couldn’t defend himself from it.

His heart felt like it was coming out his mouth. He was going to throw up. “Nerves shouldn’t feel like this,” he thought. He basically lunged at his glass and almost knocked it over. Picking it up with sweaty palms slipping on the condensation, he took a hurried swallow, and sighed in relief as the pressure was removed from his throat. His heart was still racing, faster than he thought possible, but it remained in his chest where is belonged. When Edgar spoke, Remus spluttered and waved his hands, inarticulate.

Emme, naturally, chose that exact moment to enter the room. Remus was sure he gave her an absolute deer-in-headlights look. She placed a warm hand on his back, and his heart slowed. It would be fine, right? No. It couldn’t be. His intentions with Emme? Bloody hell. Even Remus didn’t know the answer to that one. Blinking away the tears that had formed in his eyes after he coughed up half a lung, Remus looked at Emme, who tried, in vain, to bridge the conversation that was nonexistent. Despite himself, Remus smiled at her adorable toast. It was just so… Emme. She was bloody perfect, and Remus didn’t deserve her. Two-thirds of the people at the table knew it. Thankfully, she remained unaware of the discrepancy. Remus raised his glass, made eye contact with both of the Vances, and said, “To delicious food in front of us and the two people I get to share it with. Happy Easter.”

A sigh of relief tore through his lips when Edgar smiled at Remus. It held real warmth. “Success,” he wanted to shout. Instead, he was happy, internalizing this slight victory, and smiled back as their glasses chinked. Handling this. He was. He could do this. Yup. His hand only shook minutely as he replaced his glass on the table. A silence fell across the table, but Remus didn’t even feel uncomfortable. It felt almost like being at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Delicious food covered the table, and the girl he cared the most about was next to him. He chewed slowly, enjoying the flavors, ruminating about Emme. She must have a calming presence. Whenever she was out of the room, Remus was overcome with nerves. He thought he was going to throw up earlier! But when she returned, it was fine. Remus could, would handle anything for her.

Is that how you know? When you know you’d try anything for your girlfriend, or when she enters a room and you immediately know and everything gets better, or when you get the courage to meet her father? Merlin. What was he saying? Why was he asking himself so many questions?

“Excited to go back and be done?” he blurted, nudging Emme’s hand slightly. Remus’ face burned slightly, and he tried to recover. “We’re almost there. It seems unreal, doesn’t it?”

Perhaps she opened the door with more gusto than she imagined she would, but between the quick run down the hallway and the last minute primping, Emme couldn’t open it fast enough. She wouldn’t give him any chances to back out now. She’d known Remus was nervous for tonight. Though he’d never expressly mentioned it to her, he had to Lily. Besides that, she’d seen it written on his face when the subject had first been breached. Somehow, even after she’d told her dad about his being a werewolf and she’d explained how her dad didn’t object to their relationship (anymore), he’d seemed almost more worried.

Nevertheless he was here now, and Emme couldn’t help but beam at the sight of him. Her heart skipped a beat when he said her name, in that full and soft way only he seemed capable of doing, and she almost forgot her father behind them when she leaned forward into his warm embrace. “Missed you too,” she mumbled back, leaning into the chaste kiss her left her that too suddenly served as a reminder to the all too important man waiting behind her. However, before she could turn and introduce her dad, he decided to get things started.

“You must be Remus,” came Edgar’s voice just over Emme’s shoulder, a voice suddenly much more serious than it had been a moment before, and she shot Remus an almost apologetic look while he disentangled himself from her. Still, she was glad he felt confident enough to hold her hand, and when he squeezed she squeezed encouragingly back.

There was a moment of silence then, nothing horribly long but just long enough for Emme to want to turn around and push her dad out of the room. She’d started to turn around in the threshold of the door, silently suggesting her dad move so that Remus might be able to properly enter their house instead of being subjected to wait on the front step. Neither man seemed to notice as they looked each other over. Well, while her father appraised her boyfriend and Remus stood his ground. He was making eye contact, and when he spoke he sounded confident. Two things she was sure her father would appreciate. When Remus finally entered the house Emme let out a soft, relieved breath, and watched as the two shook hands. Remus was doing wonderfully, especially given the much too serious tone her father was setting. 

Before she could get to Remus, who had let go of her hand a few moments prior to entering the house in order to shake hands with her father, she felt her father’s hand on her shoulder. He managed to usher Remus farther away from her before leaving him alone to fret in the dining room.

“Dad,” Emme started, her tone on the verge of whining. “I asked you to be nice. Can’t you see he’s nervous?” She kept her voice low so Remus couldn’t overhear. Thankfully her father followed suit. “Just give me a few moments alone with him, yeah? Go fix up the salad or something.” When Emme opened her mouth to protest, Edgar cut in. “He’ll still be here when you get back. If he’s the man you think he is, he won’t have run for the hills by then.”

Mouth shut, Emme frowned and then nodded. “He is,” she replied proudly, chin raised slightly. “Just remember how much he means to me. How much tonight means to me.” And with that she left to prepare the quickest salad she’d ever made.

When Emme returned a few minutes later, salad in one hand and wand in the other levitating the other main dishes behind her, she peered around the entryway to see her Dad and Remus seated opposite one another at the table, both looking rather poker faced. Apparently they didn’t see her from where she peaked at them, as her father took that particular moment in the lull of silence as Remus picked up his water to ask him about his intentions with her.

“Dad!” She scolded, frowning at him as she moved into the room, food in tow and salad in hand. Edgar simply looked amused and shrugged at her, while Remus, who had been mid-sip, looked ready to choke. Moving to his side and putting the salad and the rest of the food down on the table, Emme laid a hand on his back before sitting down. 

When her father just continued to stare at the two of them expectantly, self satisfied grin on his face, and all Emme could do was wait for Remus to catch his breath, she made an attempt to fill the transition. “So um, there’s some ham and potatos, carrots, salad…” Trailing off, it seemed Remus had caught his breath. “We can just dig in and, well- wait!” Remembering herself, and the day, Emme picked up a glass while Edgar begrudgingly put down the fork he’d lifted. “We need to toast!”

Waiting a moment for the two to pick up their glasses, Emme allowed herself a second to take a breath. “To the two most important men in my life,” she started, looking down at the table with a small smile and a blush “Happy Easter.” Edgar raised his own glass and nodded, toasting the couple in front of him. “Happy Easter.” 

Remus paced across his floor, kicking away the clothes he had thrown around. He ran his hands through his hair and looked down at his bare chest. Nothing was good enough today. His closet was too small, and his hair was too fluffy, and he was too nervous, and he probably wouldn’t even be able to Apparate.  And, and, and — Remus was frustrated with himself. It was just a bloody dinner, not asking for Emme’s hand in marriage. His hands found his scars, and he stared into the mirror. He already had nice pants and shoes on. He just needed a nice, non-wrinkled shirt. Staring intently at this pile spread across his floor, he jumped when the knock came. He tried kicking the clothes into a more orderly pile and called out, “Come in!”

Red hair appeared in the doorway, and Lily greeted him cheerfully. When she took in the messy room and Remus’ sheepish grin, she sighed. “They said you’d be up here. They said it would be bad. I didn’t think you were… This, though.”

Remus shook his head, and somewhat defensively retorted with, “Well, you should’ve seen James before he met your parents!” Lily just rolled her eyes and hesitantly stepped around the room. She settled on Remus’ bed with a huff.

“Why are you so nervous? You know all about Emme’s dad. All you have to do is be yourself. It’s not like he’s a Muggle or is clueless about the Wizarding world.”

“That’s kind of the problem, Lil,” he replied. “He knows just how welcome werewolves are at your dinner table.” He grinned faintly upon her look of surprise. “Yes, Lily, he knows. I made sure Emme told him before tonight. It…” he trailed off. “Yeah, it sucks, I know, okay?”

“Remus, what in bloody hell are you worried about, then?” Lily shot back. “Obviously, he’s decided it doesn’t matter, that he’d rather meet you than dismiss you outright. He can’t just ignore Emme’s feelings and decision on the matter. Plus, it’s Edgar Vance. He’s about as liberal as it gets on rights and stuff. You know Emme didn’t have that bias growing up, Remus.” Her hand flew to her hair, and Lily continued, mercilessly, “You’re being an idiot, you know that. You’re making up excuses to be nervous.”

As she spoke, Remus continued to pace, seemingly ignoring the girl on his bed. He toyed with his father’s ring, stating, “I’m aware. Yes, I just admitted it. I’m just – People don’t like me, Lily. It’s not like I’m James or Sirius and know how to make people fall in love with me.” Remus rolled his eyes slightly, as Lily blushed. “They open their mouths, and people beg to know how to make them happy. I don’t make friends. They make me. I just act sullen and quiet until someone speaks to me, and even then, I don’t know what to say.” He settled on his bed next to Lily and faced her. “It’s not Edgar I’m scared of… mostly,” he said with a slight smile. “I don’t know how to be… I don’t know. The best version of myself?”

Lily shook her head. “Don’t tell James this,” she said conspiratorially, leaning in towards Remus. “But, Remus, you are the most likeable Marauder; you always have been, dear.” He shook his head but Lily held up her hand with a smile. “Be that sweet, bookish, slightly depressing but oh how hilarious, intelligent, loving man that I know you are. There is no version to be Remus, just completely yourself.”

“And, he’ll hate me,” Remus finished for her. “No, no, he won’t. I know. I’m just bloody nervous. You’re a damn good friend, Lily. What would I do without you?”

Lily rose from the bed and attempted to envelope Remus in a hug. He patted her back slightly, and she laughed. “Well, be a bit late, seeing as you have eight minutes to be on time, and you’re still shirtless.” Lily continued to laugh, as she made her way around the dirty laundry and the frantic boy, and paused outside the door. “Emme’s favorite shirt of yours is that grey plaid one, just so you know.” Red hair swung about the doorframe as cries of “Accio!” rang across the room.

Remus paused at the corner of the block. Four minutes remained, and he was already on Emme’s street. He smoothed down the wrinkles at the bottom of his shirt, trying to remember some sort of household spell that would permanently fix them and failing miserably. He debated whether Apparating to ‘Dromeda’s would take more than four minutes or not. He decided it wasn’t worth it, and Remus Lupin, freshly-brushed teeth, wrinkled shirt, and sweaty palms made their way to the black gate of the Vance family. “I’m going to throw up,” he muttered to himself. He ran one last hand through his hair, put on his most charming, er, grimace, and rang the bell.

He will swear that his heart didn’t beat during the entire twelve seconds it took Emme to answer the door. Remus was prepping himself for the door to open to her father, and it took him completely by surprise when Emme flung open the door. “Emmeline,” he murmured and took her into his arms. “I’ve missed you, my dear,” he said, finishing with a chaste kiss on her cheek. As he looked down into her face, all he could see were shining eyes, a huge grin, and it was enough. His nerves were gone. He could handle anything Edgar Bones tried to throw at him.

“You must be Remus,” a voice spoke quietly. Remus looked up quicker than he thought possible and detangled himself from Emme’s embrace, catching her hand and giving it a quick squeeze. Edgar Vance’s eyes followed Remus’ every movement. Remus thought he was prepared. He wasn’t. In the English language, there are no words to describe the nakedness you feel when the father of the girl you love stares you down. You’re instantly aware of every flaw you have. You recall every mistake, every blunder you’ve ever made, especially with this girl’s heart. You know that the man, staring at you from down the hall, you know he knows every thought you just had. There’s no way Remus can move. Edgar Vance’s eyes have turned into those of a basilisk, and he cannot escape.

But escape he does. “Yes, Mr. Vance. I’m Remus Lupin. Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Remus replied, equally as quiet. He took three steps forward and clasped the man’s extended hand. There was a moment, Remus was positive that the man was going to pull a move from a Muggle karate movie. The moment passed, and Edgar ushered Remus into the dining room.

Remus was left alone, as Edgar and Emme remained in the hall, almost assuredly talking about him. That didn’t make him nervous, nope. Not at all. Cool as a cabbage, or whatever Sirius had said. That was definitely Remus. He wiped his brow, quickly, and tried to take calming breaths. He could do this. He knew he could. He was going to be just fine, right?

“Sorry about that, Remus,” Mr. Vance came strolling casually through the door, like Remus wasn’t having a heartattack already. He wandered about his dining room, quietly showing off his ease and comfort with the place. “Emme is tossing the salad, and then we shall begin, yeah?” Edgar offered Remus a small smile, and he was quick to return it. Things wouldn’t be catastrophic, at least, right?

“You have to be nice, Dad.”

With a scoff and a tap of his wand on the table, Edgar Vance shot his daughter a wide eyed look, all the while twirling his wand around in his fingers and being rather useless in the task of setting the table. “Me? When am I not nice? I’m always nice. That’s ridiculous,” he quipped, shuffling past her and absentmindedly patting her on the top of her curly head.

Leaning against the table to let him through their small dining room, Emme continued to set the table, pouting to herself. “You know what I mean. And you haven’t really had any opportunities to always be nice, you know.”

There came a snort from where he’d disappeared to in the kitchen before peeking his head back into the dining room. “Who’s fault is that then?” he teased, “You never brought that Reginald back to meet your dear old dad last Easter.”

“Yes well that was different,” she replied primly, stopping to rearrange the cutlery so it lay straight on the folded napkins. “We weren’t even together then, and it wasn’t like that and- Dad, his name was Roger, not Reginald.” Shaking her head, she ignored his chuckle.

There was a pause in the conversation as Emme went around the table, smoothing down the table cloth as she went, and Edgar reappeared from the kitchen. “So things are different with this one, eh?” He finally asked, leaning against the door frame, watching his daughter fret over the table. “Yes,” she answered quietly, not bothering to look up.

“He means a lot, this bloke?” He prodded, arms folded as he watched her closer. She looked like her mum when she blushed, the way she tried to keep it almost to herself. Her mother hadn’t been quite as reserved as Emme was, but they both shared that same embarrassment over being caught flushed. Of course he’d never noticed his daughter blush so many times in one evening, and the bloody boy hadn’t even arrived yet. 

“Yes,” she stated, finally looking up, her eyes bright. “Remus means a lot. To me. And I’d appreciate it if you remembered that.” He’d heard enough about him through her letters to know he meant a lot. She’d barely written about her last beau. Even in her letters she didn’t expressly write about him. It would just be a line here, an insert there that gave the impression that this Remus was never far from her thoughts. Still, to hear his little Emmeline admit it aloud proved it. This bloke had his daughter’s heart.

With a loud sigh he walked over to his daughter and tucked her into his arm. “Oh, alright then. I guess I can remember my manners.” With a beaming smile Emme looked up at her father. She began to thank him when the doorbell rang, and she flew into a whirlwind. Quickly pulling out of his embrace, she made to smooth down the last corner of the table before rushing out of the dining room and down the hall. Edgar followed slowly behind. 

Smoothing down her ridiculous mop of blonde curls as she went, curls she’d clearly inherited from her mother, Emmeline looked down right flustered. Oh yes, this Remus had her heart.  If he broke it Edgar’d kill him.

“Emme, help me!”

“You are a wizard, dear. You have a wand.”

“But the point was this Muggle cooling charm sprayer! Lily called it a fire ex-quish-er! It’s kinda fun!”

Shortly after moving into their new place, September 1978.

“Drunk Remus is my favourite Remus.”

“I’m not drunk!”

“What’s that there on your head then?”

That one time Remus was drunk and Emme was tipsy in sixth year. Pre-dating, 1976.

sometimes I sicken myself with all the fluff I write 

and then I laugh and write some more.