Thicker than Water (Marauders Era)

3 October, 1989 - Godson

The day after that afternoon tea with Heather and Jasmine, Lavinia wrote a letter to Dumbledore asking him about little Harry Potter. She's considered just going up to the castle to ask him in person but... well. She had realized after the last time she'd gone looking for Dumbledore that though she'd been used to his near guaranteed presence in his office during the war, she couldn't count on that anymore. After all, strange though the thought was, she supposed Dumbledore did actually have a life of his own and where he'd once spent seemingly every free hour at that desk planning everything from battle fronts to safe houses, now he'd be doing other things. Normal things. Whatever that meant for Dumbledore.

So she merely sent him a letter and hoped it didn't take too long to reach him.

Thankfully, his return letter was swift, if almost completely useless.

Dear Miss Selwyn,

If you are available, I would prefer to discuss this matter in person. I will be in my office with tea ready at 3pm this coming Tuesday. I hope you can join me.

Best,

Albus Dumbledore

Lavinia scowled at the letter, then sighed and tossed it aside in mild frustration. The old man was probably right, actually. This was better done face to face. Not that Lavinia particularly appreciated that because something about the letter gave her the sneaking sensation that Dumbledore might want to talk about something more than just Harry. But as there was little she could do about that if it even was the case, Lavinia simply sent Paris back to the Headmaster with her agreement to join him for tea.

When the day finally rolled around, Lavinia was... nervous. Not that she would ever admit that to anyone, but it was true. It wasn't just that meeting Dumbledore always set her a bit on edge simply because she associated him with some of the less pleasant times in her life, but also that she felt like she was doing something wrong. Something dirty. And yes, she knew it was a good thing to check in on Harry, however indirectly, but part of her still felt guilty. Not because she was doing it but because... because she hadn't done it before. And she should have. That much she was absolutely sure of and the weight of it kept sneaking up on her and settling down, heavy and suffocating, at unexpected moments.

So it was that as the morning trickled into afternoon on the designated Tuesday, Lavinia was jumpy. She wanted to be standing and moving and doing something with the nervous energy that was filling her up. But she didn't know what to do at all so, as was her default, she started cleaning.

Unfortunately, because this was her default, Remus noticed. She could feel his eyes following her around as she wiped dust off the record player and picture frames and just as she decided that it had been a while since she'd given the windows a proper wipe down, Remus spoke.

"What's wrong?" he asked, setting his book down in his lap and pinning her with a patient stare.

Lavinia turned to him, frowning. "What makes you think something's wrong?" she hedged carefully.

Remus smiled a bit wryly. "Because you're cleaning things by hand," he replied easily, evidently having expected the question. "And you only clean things by hand when something's wrong."

Lavinia pursed her lips and frowned at him. "I've gotten predictable, haven't I?" she muttered, wrinkling her nose in mock frustration.

Remus chuckled. "You were always predictable Vin," he pointed out. "Now come on. What's wrong?"

Lavinia sighed deeply and fiddled with the dusty rag in her hands, debating whether or not to be honest. Harry was a sensitive subject with Remus, and for good reason too. Lavinia knew her friend had wanted nothing more than to be able to take the boy in, but... but no one had asked him. And with his condition he knew how unfeasible it was. But she knew that had never stopped him from wishing. And no matter what he said, Lavinia also knew it had never stopped him from blaming her for saying no so quickly. So easily. For not fighting for the child she should have laid down her life for. And then spending eight years hiding from her guilt over it.