Work Text:
January 9th, 1999
The invitation's intricately decorated design was mocking him, belying its humble phrasing. As Remus Lupin looked down at what was probably the finest parchment his calloused fingers had ever touched, only the happy gurgles coming from his ten-month-old son made him conceal his disgust.
Granted, Draco Malfoy a) had once been his student, b) was barely nineteen years old, and c) could thus maybe be construed as not giving a second thought to including a scruffy, less than barely respected former Professor who just happened to be a war hero in a celebratory guest list that was certain to hold all and sundry.
Yes, Narcissa had saved Harry's life, and in the aftermath had tweaked the facts so that her husband and son had emerged from the post-Voldemort trials with barely a slap on their pale wrists, which of course they were free to celebrate to their pure-blooded heart's content, but... how could anyone in the Malfoy household possibly assume he'd want to set foot on their land, much less spend an entire evening having dinner with them? A dinner that was almost guaranteed to be served on silver tableware and / or cutlery, too - even without two decades' complication of war, this particular branch of in-laws would have done their best to make his life a living hell, and... And there had been a war, no sense in denying it; their side had killed almost every friend Remus had ever had, had killed the proudest and bravest man ever to have taught at Hogwarts, had killed the wife Remus had done his very best to love, had killed all the family left to him except his son - dear god, Narcissa Malfoy was Teddy's great aunt! - After all this, surely attending one of the Malfoy family's gloating post-trial New Year's dinner parties was a curtsey no-one could expect, even and especially of Remus Lupin?
It was only when he had resolved to throw the letter in the fireplace that Remus saw another, smaller and far less decorated piece of paper stuck to the back of the offensive writ. Annoyed but ever the victim of Gryffindorish curiosity, he pried it loose and frowned as he took in the unsigned note that intriguingly enough had not been jotted down by a Slytherin. During his short-lived teaching career, he had seen many a tentative essay from that hand, and he immediately recognized the blotchy but careful letters formed by Neville Longbottom:
Romulus - January 9th is an important day to celebrate you're alive. Don't worry - your aunt-in-law will have taken her husband to France.
He stared at the note for the longest time. It couldn't be true - how - but why would - January 9th - Harry saw him die - and Neville!?
It took a rattle thrown out of the crib and a very insistent gurgling sound indeed to eventually make Remus look up and smile. "I think we need to find your best romper suit, Teds - looks like we'll be heading for dinner at Malfoy Manor, after all."