"There you are, Jamesy... there you are! Ah, what a pretty little slip knot you've made. Very good." Dora's voice was chirping happily and she grabbed hold of her son's head, her palm against his cheek and pulled him into her, kissing his temple, beaming in pride, "You're such a good learner! You always have been very bright."
"Aw c'mon, mum, it's just a knot," James said, his face red, a blotch of Dora's lipstick on his skin where she'd kissed him. She smiled at him endearingly as he crinkled his nose with and wiped at the kiss-smudge with his wrist. "It's nothin' to get all smushy about."
Dora nodded, "You're right, you're right of course, I'm just quite proud of my little lad."
James's brush only deepened.
"Now you've got your knot, you can tighten it 'round the tip of your needle... like this...:
James looked at her needles and took his little slip knot and looped it 'round his needle.
"Alright, then we cast on - loop the yarn about this way... over your finger like me, Jamesy - see, like this?"
He looped.
"Now it's just a little - a flip of your wrist, see, like this... and the needle swoops through here and... loop... and swoop... loop... and swoop... see what I'm doing?"
"Yeah, but yours looks better than mine."
"Yours looks darling, love," Dora clucked.
"It's wonky, see?" James held it up.
"It isn't - it looks lovely!"
James frowned at his loop and swoop work, his brow furrowed, still suspecting that his was wonky.
There were steps on the stairs. "And what have we here?" Lily asked, smiling as she came down to the living room, where James and Dora sat side-by-side with yarn in balls at their feet, Roger laying across James's lap, stretched long and lazily watching the yarn as it moved with James's looping and swooping, his paw batting nearly absent-minded-like.
"James is learning how to knit," Dora announced, beaming proudly.
Lily laughed, "Oh? And how is that going?"
"Wonkily," James replied at the same time as Dora answered, "Wonderfully!" James glanced at Dora, then looked to Lily and shook his head as Lily laughed.
"Well I think it looks splendid so far," she said, leaning over to look at James's barely made progress.
James laughed, "Of course you do. You have to. You're my mum and your opinion is highly biased seeing as you made me and all."
"Well I think you're doing great too," Lily said.
"And you're even more biased!" James accused. "You're nutter enough to marry me."
"I tried not to, if you remember," Lily said.
James grinned. "But in the end, you couldn't resist."
"In the end, you broke my senses and I went mad and that's landed me here. I'm not sure which of you is more to blame - you or Sirius! There I was, perfectly normal, perfectly sane... and along comes you lot..."
Dora said, "I know the feeling, honey. His father and Minerva were the same way."
James laughed, "I can't bloody believe Minnie was Dad's Sirius Black."
Dora smirked, "Oh no Jamesy. I was your father's Sirius Black."
James stared at Dora with one eyebrow raised. "Either you dunno Sirius well enough or else I don't want to know any more details."
Lily and Dora both laughed at this, and Dora murmured, "Oh I know Sirius isn't as innocent as he seems..."
"Mum the fact you think he seems is the indicator that you don't know the truth filthy depths of him," James laughed.
"Or else you don't know the true---"
"AHH AH AH AH!" James shouted over her, shaking his head. "You stop right there! I told you I don't wanna know."
Lily ruffled James's hair as Dora looked rather proud of herself. "I'm off to class," Lily said. "I love you."
"I love you too," James said, then, "Hey maybe by the time you get back I'll have knit you a sweater or something."
"Oh honey. Knitting doesn't work like that. Especially when you're learning the muggle way. It takes a bit longer than my class to knit a sweater." Lily kissed his head, "But thank you."
James looked at Dora, "It does?"
Dora nodded.
James looked at his little line of loop-and-swooped yarn. He looked at Lily. "Dunno if I have the patience for knitting," he said.
Lily laughed. "Good luck," she said to Dora, then scooped up her satchel and slung it over her shoulder, taking floo powder from the mantel and tossing it into the flame, headed off to university.
Remus was bent over his parchment in class, hands covered with charcoal, the thick black dust in fingerprints and smudges all up his arms and even on his face where he'd pushed his hair up off his forehead. He was concentrating very hard on the page before him, glancing up now and again at the pot of flowers and stack of books that the teacher had set for them to recreate.
Beside him, Lula was diligently working on her piece as well. She had her hair up in a huge bun on top of her head, tendrils of it hanging down over her cheek as she worked, similar charcoal smudges covered her, too, and smeared across her jeans where she'd wiped her hands. Past her, Stewie had already finished his and was leaning back, drawing with color pens.
"Lupin?" Stewie asked suddenly - for he had taken to calling him by his surname.
"Hm?" Remus asked.
"Can I ask you something rather personal that you're entirely welcome to ignore if you don't wish to answer it?"
"What's that?"
"Where did you get all the scars from?"
Remus paused mid-stroke of the charcoal, his eyes trained on his drawing, seeing all the imperfections and none of the beauty, and his stomach knotted a bit as he licked his lips, trying to decide how to answer this inquiry. Usually, people just weren't forward enough to ask such questions unless they were children.
"Stewie!" hissed Lula, rolling her eyes, "That's obnoxiously rude." She looked at Remus. "Don't feel like you have to answer him ReRe." - for Lula had taken to calling him ReRe.
Remus laughed, then, in a joking tone, he said, "A werewolf attack."
"Oh like a slasher film," Stewie laughed.
"Yeah, exactly," Remus started drawing again.
Stewie had his feet up on the chair next to him, "Keep your secrets, then, Lupin."
"I think they're cute, the scars," Lula said.
"They're hideous, but thank you for lying," Remus murmured.
Stewie snorted as Lula whined that she wasn't lying. "I've got a real nasty one on my leg," Stewie announced. "I was a kid and some bullies really tore me up once, stabbed me with a pencil. Still got some of the led in my calf, even."
Remus looked up, "Seriously?"
"Yeah, there were some nasty bastards 'round my grandfather's place."
"Sorry to hear that," Remus answered.
"You know how bullies are."
"I do," Remus said, thinking of Evan Rosier and the other Slytherins who had so horribly mistreated him and Sirius, too, through their time at Hogwarts. He didn't really feel like talking about it, though, so he let the topic rest at that.
After a time, Stewie said, "I hope you don't mind, I've been drawing you." He tossed his sketchpad onto the table top and Lula let out a shrill squeal, leaning over to see but not touching it because of the charcoal dust on her hands.
"Oh it looks so good!"
Remus glanced over and he was surprised to see a colorful version of himself, drawn with blues and purple ink, cross hatched to create shadows and dimension to his features, his face bent down - he'd been drawing, he knew, but the portrait captured a concentration he hadn't realized showed on his face. He could see lines at the corners of his eyes where the skin crinkled, drawn in perfectly by Spencer Stewart's incredibly detailed work.
Funny enough, Stewie had chosen to draw an intricate night sky behind Remus's head - a full moon forming a sort of halo 'round him. "I like the moon," Remus said. Only way anyone could ever see me under a full moon's light, he thought, smirking.
"For the werewolf in you," joked Stewie.
He'd even done the scars on Remus's face with an ice-blue ink that seemed to sparkle compared to the darker blue and purple tones that he'd used for the rest of Remus's face.
No wonder he'd asked about the scar, Remus thought. He'd been concentrating on it, drawing it.
Remus flushed and turned back to his drawing as Stewie took up the notepad and flipped the page over, starting on another drawing as Remus added details to his own. "Too bad I wasn't as handsome as that drawing," Remus said with a laugh.
"You are, though," Lula said sincerely, looking over at him with a sad expression.
Remus shook his head, pressing down on the charcoal to create a dark, hard shadow along the base of the vase in his picture, his throat tightening up.
The rest of the class went fairly quickly, and Remus was frustrated that he didn't get to finish up his work on the still life.
Lula and Stewie followed Remus through the quad, all talking about the various techniques they'd learned that day in the class - Stewie going on about how much he despised working with charcoal for quite some time - and they came to a stop at the bench where Sirius Black had met Remus the day before.
Lula looked around, "No Sirius today?"
"Not today, I'm afraid," Remus answered, shaking his head, "He actually got a job."
"Got a job? Good for him!" Lula said, beaming, "Where at?"
"That uh - that record shop - the one you told him about, actually," Remus replied absently.
"Spiller's?" Lula sounded confused.
"Ah - yeah, that's the one," Remus nodded.
"Spillers?" Stewie laughed, "In Cardiff?" He shook his head, "Sorry, thought you lived in London?"
"Yeah. That's right. Over by Waterloo."
Stewie shook his head, "What's he doing getting a job in Cardiff for?"
Remus looked at him stupidly a moment, confused, then it started to dawn on him.
"Bit of a commute, inn'it?" Stewie asked, chuckling.
Remus felt his face go hot. Of course to a muggle it really was quite a commute - at least two hours, sometimes longer depending on the rail, he reckoned. Not to mention the ticketing cost would likely completely negate any pay that a muggle man might get for the job. But of course Sirius wasn't taking the rail, and he wasn't paying a ticketing cost. He was disapparating from their alley way into a public toilet on the other side of the square and walking. But that certainly couldn't be explained to Stewie and Lula without breaking the Statute of Secrecy, and Remus flushed all the harder as Stewie raised an eyebrow and laughed, "What's the matter, Remus?"
"I - dunno," Remus said, "Yeah, long commute. Sorry. I got to go. I've got -- things." He waved good bye and started off down the road.
He could hear Lula's confused voice, "Well that was weird."
Remus couldn't walk fast enough out of there. He tripped on his own two feet and only just caught himself, then darted 'round the bend and hurried into the mouth of the Underground - checked both ways 'round himself to be sure he was alone, and disapparted back to the flat in East London feeling like an utter idiot.
Peter was in the living room playing a game of exploding snap with Bradley when Remus came through the door, still red as anything.
"You alright, Rey?" Peter asked, looking up.
"Huh? Yeah. Yes. Great." Remus hurried by into the kitchen and opened the fridge, pulling out the chocolate milk. "Bloody hell," he muttered to himself, taking big gulps of the stuff. He lowered the bottle with a hefty sigh.
Professor Laurie didn't even have to turnaround from his chalkboard after class and he knew - he simply knew Lily would be there behind him. "Mrs. Potter," he said, smiling as he put down the chalk and turned to look at her, "What is it that I can help you with today?"
Lily was hugging the plastic bag full of notes and writings that Regulus Black had left behind. She cleared her throat and said, "You told me not too long ago that I needed to work on loving enemies... But see, the thing is that I've found that the Magic works best when I'm touching the person I'm incorporating and... well, I mean I've done it without that, but the connections are much weaker than when I hold hands or something." Lily paused. "Are there any... tips... you might give so I can incorporate my - my enemy without actually... being near to him?"
Professor Laurie frowned. "Hmm... Well, you'll always have best results with the proximity, of course. Especially when you're incorporating enemies. The proximity of an enemy would symbolize the forgiveness - the advancement of your goodwill, taking the first step, so to say. If the other party has done you wrong - then being in proximity shows you've taken the step of putting yourself in their presence and have therefore opened your heart to the possibility of their goodness..."
Lily considered this. "Well if it's dangerous to be in their presence --"
"Then the weaker connection will have to do." Laurie thought for a moment. "Lily, you know that by enemies, I don't mean you have to go incorporating Death Eaters and He Who Must Not Be Named, but maybe start with - I don't know - someone who you've held a grudge against for years for something trivial... a teacher you didn't like, perhaps. A complete stranger. The strength of the magic is deepened when you reach beyond your immediate circle, when people who don't deserve it are given your love. Random acts of kindness, compassion on the poor, things of that nature... Those are things which come from deep reservoirs of love."
Lily said, "Everyone deserves to be loved in some capacity, Professor, isn't that true?"
"Absolutely," Laurie answered. "That's the spirit of what I'm saying exactly. Everyone deserves to be loved. It's the most basic human need... The muggle psychologists and mental mediwizards, they get it all wrong in their hierarchy of needs... They never actually name love. They label safety and security and intimacy and put it up somewhere in the middle. They think physical needs like food and water come first, that those things form the base of the pyramid... But that isn't right. We need those things to survive, yes, and we'd die without them, but human beings were not made to eat and drink. That is a side effect of being human - we must do those things, and we rely on those things to keep the body running, but that is not the purpose of our existence. To love and to be loved is a the core of every human - whether we outwardly reflect that or not. In fact, I argue that even those who are unlovable and who shun love the most - even He Who Must Not Be Named, Lily - even he is driven by the core of the need to love and be loved. If he was properly capable of loving, or if he was ever properly loved, perhaps he would not have become what he is, do you see?"
Lily nodded.
"This is why it is possible to die from a loss of a love, we lose the will to eat and drink... Humankind is irrevocably hardwired to love - and the most powerful is often the overlooked platonic. Sex is not what I speak of. Romance is not what I speak of. Love - and love magic - is deeper than that... like the difference between clothing and blood. Yes?"
Lily nodded again.
"So tips to help incorporate the enemies? Ah Lily. Remember that if someone has wronged you, they are most often reeling from having been wronged themselves. It's a cycle, isn't it? Someone is hurt or deprived of love and they lose sight of how to love, too, they react and they hurt others... then those hurt individuals, they reel and hurt others and those reel and hurt others and so on, like ripples in the water, ever outward. Break that cycle. Do good to others, regardless. Give the love back to the person who was reeling and has been hurt before. Smooth waters. Heal the broken places, the missing pieces. If you cannot gain the proximity, then do it from afar. Even the weakest love will be something... and it will grow stronger over time."
"Thank you, Professor."
Lily chose to go for a walk before going home that evening.
She didn't know what she was doing, only knew that she felt a bit restless, a bit anxious.
She'd gone across the bridge and was walking the embankment on the east side of the Thames, thinking about possibly popping by the dogs' flat and visiting them when she saw a form huddled against the barrier behind a bench. A homeless man lay on the stones, crammed against the barrier, so raggedy that he looked a bit like a pile of rags that had been forgotten long ago.
Lily paused, staring at the man, and she looked around. People were passing by, not even seeing him there, not even pausing...
Lily turned and there was a small coffee shop there across the way. She stepped inside the shop and the smell of coffee and baked items filled her nose - comfortable and warm, like a hug that one could smell. Outside, it was starting to rain, but inside the shop felt safe from that, like another world entirely. She selected a small sandwich from a cooler of premade items, and a bottle of orange juice. From the counter, she ordered two coffees and two warm baked cookies. She asked if she could get a gift certificate as well and purchased a slip of paper that said it was good for another ten pounds. She paid her money and took her bag and two steaming cups outside, crossing back over the embankment.
Lily was nervous. Her stomach knotted and her heart fluttered as she stepped up to the man who had sat up and pulled a hood up from the neck of his coat to cover his head as the rain came down. He looked miserable and dirty, his eyes and cheeks sunken and his lips chapped. She walked right up to him and held out one of the cups of coffee.
He looked up at her. He'd seen her go into the shop. Her bright red hair was hard to miss, especially on a dismal day like that one was. He stared at her for several moments, then took the cup without saying a word. Lily smiled, and held out the bag, too, the sandwich, cookies, juice, and the gift certificate all tucked inside. He stared at her again before taking the bag, and he unrolled the top and looked inside, then back up at her.
"What'chu doing?" he asked her, voice croaky and thick from disuse.
"I know it isn't much," Lily said, "But I thought you looked as though you could use a little love today."
The man stared down into the bag.
She glanced about and when she was fairly certain no one was looking, she reached into her bag, took out a hairbrush she carried with her and with the arm she had her wand tucked up the sleeve of, she shook the brush once - twice - and it became an umbrella, which she opened up. The man looked up at the sound of the umbrella opening and she held it out to him.
He took it, expression full of confused wonder.
Lily smiled. "Have a good day, sir."
And she turned and walked away.
It was small. It was nothing, really. A drop in an ocean. A single stitch in a sweater - like the one James thought he was going to knit her in a single day. She laughed as she walked away, heart lighter, happy she'd done something... however small.
But that man talked about the red haired angel who fed him and gave him shelter from the rain for years to come.
And he shared his certificate with a mate of his, didn't he? So that her generosity caused that man to give to another... who shared the sandwich he got with a third... who helped a woman cross a street later that day... and the woman dropped coins in the collection cup of a street artist who was playing the violin, who went and played the violin for sick people at a hospital, who were cheered and complimented a nurse, who hummed as she helped her next patient, who was reminded by the tune she hummed of a friend, who they called to say hullo to, and that friend was pleased to hear from their old mate and surely they, too, went on and did something wonderful as a response, but really the ripple went on and on and on for ages before it stopped, causing other ripples of small but good things.
Because love isn't always in the grand gestures.
Little things can change the world, too... a single stitch at a time.