Sirius looked up, genuine anxiety in his eyes. "What happens if I can't keep her
alive? Any of them?"
"That's the thing about time," Remus reflected, a faraway expression on his face.
"It's a loop, you see. Every moment has already happened, we're just reliving it. The very
fact that we still remember everything from years ago—that we remember her—means that
she made it through this. The fact that she wasn't entirely broken must mean that it all
turns out right in the end."
Sirius glared at him, annoyed. "I miss the pessimistic and stressed out Moony. How
are you this calm with a pregnant wife ready to pop any second and a full moon in a week?"
Remus smirked, tilting his head to the side as he looked at Sirius. "The dosage of
Calming Draught I've been on the past three months would put a normal wizard in a
coma."
Sirius openly gaped at him, finally noticing Remus's eyes were hooded, and beneath
the lids, his pupils were dilated. "You're high?"
Remus grinned and raised his glass to toast. "Cheers to werewolf metabolism,
Pads."
April 13th, 1998"So, what do you want to do with the rest?" Hermione asked, holding a bundle of
wands in her hand. Her own had been returned to her, and she almost hated to hold it
now, knowing that Lucius Malfoy had used it to cast the Cruciatus Curse on Sirius and
nearly killed his own wife with it. But it was hers, and she forced herself to hold it
affectionately, determined to use it to bring about enough good to counter the evil it had
briefly caused.
Harry considered the bundle before nodding decisively. "Break them," he said and
then barely dodged a hex thrown at him by Sirius, who was sparring with him in front of
Shell Cottage.
"You sure you don't want to pick one from the bunch?" Ron asked Harry.