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r. lupin (tufty) wrote in silverage,

Remus turned to look at Sirius with the safest expression he'd mustered in a long time: a wrinkled pair of brows. "Tuney? Really?" Saying her name summoned the image of her teeth in his memory, it made him wonder if Lily really was her sister or really was an Evans...

"What does that Muggle know about raising wizard sons?" He couldn't wrap his head around it. He tried to imagine what life Harry might have in her Muggle hands as he turned back to his patchwork and poked at the faintly lined hole that was once open with his wand. It was not even close to a good spell work, but at least it didn't crumble at the lightest touch and it was ignorable...if you didn't look at it too hard.

In his mind, he saw an 11-year old James running around a kitchen with a brown-haired Lily with ugly teeth and a big man with a vague face reading the Daily Prophet...the Daily Prophet?

No, Remus couldn't imagine it.

"You would have done a better job, agreed," he said before a pebble fell out of the hole and he stooped quickly to catch it, spinning it around his fingers to replace it properly. "You are like Prongs with the height and long hair and without the glasses. Just slightly more reckless so I agree, you're the best choice for Harry." He turned to his friend with a small smile. But then...it must hurt thinking about that, too.

"Wouldn't Dumbledore have been a better choice than Petunia, though? Hold--" he flung his attention back to Sirius from the wall, "And what about Voldemort? How could Petunia defend against him?" His voice was rattled with alarm as was his wide gaze.