The Pieces of the Puzzle

mid-December, 1998

"Thank you for letting me borrow your shed for this." Remus reversed the Shrinking Charm and watched as everything sprang back to its original size—the sheets of plywood, the elderly handsaw, the bundle of sandpaper, the small pots of paint in bright colours.

"Not at all," said Arthur. "I'm happy to help—and curious to see how you're going to use that armsaw!"

It was, Remus thought, a great relief to see Arthur taking an interest in Muggle things again. Even if his smile did seem a little forced, and a web of new lines creased his face.

"I know that Teddy's too little to understand what I'm doing," said Remus, rather sheepishly. "But it just doesn't seem proper to make his Christmas present right there in front of him." He grinned. "Besides, I'd like this to be a bit of a surprise for Dora—and Harry—as well."

"Christmas," said Arthur, slowly. "I suppose it will be here in no time at all."

Remus rested his hand on the slightly stooped shoulder, just for a moment.

Arthur's smile was bleak now. "I miss him all the time, you know. It always seems as though he must be right in the next room, ready to pop out and make some kind of mischief."

Remus felt his throat tighten. Teddy had been his child for only the tiniest fraction of the time that Fred had been Arthur's, and already the thought of losing Teddy was unbearable.

"And I worry so," said Arthur. "About Molly."

Remus nodded, grimly. Molly had been putting on a brave face whenever he saw her for some time now, ever since she got over the earliest, sharpest grief. But surely that was nothing but a mask she wore in public. "I imagine she's still taking it very hard."

"Actually," said Arthur, "that's one of the things that worries me. She insists that everything's fine, and she goes about with a sort of determined smile. But I don't think that's real."

Not only in public, then.

~o~

A few evenings later, Remus was in the shed again, ready to paint the jigsaw pieces in brightly coloured patterns. It was a brilliant design, if he did say so himself. The pieces could be fitted together in more than one way, and once he had finished painting them, he would Charm the patterns to shift and change accordingly. It was more or less the same as the puzzle he had made for Harry, so long ago—the one that had been destroyed in the wreckage of the nursery in the cottage in Godric's Hollow.

And now Harry could piece it together for Teddy, just as Sirius had done for Harry.

Remus felt again the giddy, heady rush of joy that came from thoughts like second chances and family in spite of everything.

Family that included Molly, who knocked on the shed door just then.

"Tea, dear?" she asked, brightly, bearing a tray with a steaming mug and a plateful of gingerbread biscuits. "I just had to look in and see how the floor jigsaw is coming along." She spotted the still-unpainted pieces, stacked on Arthur's worktable. "Goodness, but it's large, isn't it!"

Remus laughed. "It's for an older child, really, but it's something of a—family tradition."

And then he wished he could bite back those words, when Molly's carefully bright smile crumpled.

She deposited the tray on a corner of the worktable and covered her face with her apron before the storm broke.

"Oh," said Remus, helplessly. "Oh, Molly." He pulled her into a hug.

She rested her head on his shoulder for just an instant, before straightening and stepping away, wiping her face and patting at her hair. "Sorry," she whispered. She cleared her throat and stood as tall as her small frame would allow. "I've got to be strong. For Arthur."

Remus gazed, for a moment, at this little round woman who worried so much over everyone she cared about. Who had been so very frightened of him, in the beginning—the first werewolf she had ever (knowingly) met—until Order business threw them together often enough for her warm heart to break through her own prejudices.

Whose refusal to stop berating him for his stubbornness all through the long dark year of his undercover mission was a very large part of the reason why he was now so unimaginably happy with Dora—and Teddy.

Who was grieving, bitterly, over the loss of her son.

Alone.

"Molly," he said, slowly. "I don't think that's the right way."

She looked up at him with that bright smile pasted on again. "What do you mean, dear?"

"It was you who taught me," he said, stepping closer. "Don't you remember?" He took her hands in his own. "Grief shared is grief more easily borne."

She caught her breath. Fresh tears stood in her eyes.

"Don't make the mistake I made for so long." Remus found he had to push the words past a throat grown suddenly tight. "Don't shut Arthur out. He needs you as much as you need him."

She blinked up at him for a moment longer, and then dropped his hands, only to pull him into a quick, fierce hug.

"Stay and work as late as you like, dear," she said, shakily. "I think I'll just go and find where Arthur's got to."

After the door shut behind her, Remus began to lay out the pots of paint in a neat row. Fred. Sirius. Ted. Mad-Eye. Dumbledore. James and Lily. Dad. Mum.

Puzzle pieces were meant to fit together. Even if—especially if—some of them were missing.

~ fin ~

Notes: This story was originally posted at the rt_morelove community on LiveJournal for Twelfth Night Tales, January 2016. All credit for inspiration is due to an_english_girl—she wanted to know if Remus in the "By a Thread" AU ficverse would have built a floor jigsaw for Teddy's first Christmas, as he had done for baby Harry in her fic for the same event, "A Happy Memory".