Disclaimer: I'm not Ms. Rowling, but I do like to play in her sandbox, torture her characters a little, and then go home and amuse myself with my own toys.

A/N: These little more-than-drabbles-less-than-oneshots are all based in a fic-verse I call "Requiem". You needn't have read the original story because this first chapter should serve as an introduction to both the fic-verse and the little family. It's AU in which Lupin and Tonks dodge Rowling's scythe. This one is really short, but others might not be. They'll vary in length. The prompts were given to me by friends, but if you have any, please feel free to share them and I'll get round to writing them. If I've not bored you senseless by now, congratulations.

Oh, and I know I shouldn't be starting something new. It's just that when someone suggested I link all the stories in this fic-verse together, I couldn't resist.

1. Thicker than Water

November 2001

Teddy Lupin had been told that his sibling was going to be a brother. At three-years-old, this was not welcome news, but he had been coaxed into anticipation of a play-mate by his mother. She had told him that when his baby brother was old enough, they'd be best friends and he was looking forward to having someone smaller to boss around and take the blame.

So when his parents brought his two-day-old sister home, he was unimpressed. She took all of his mother's time and attention. His grandmothers fussed over her and brought her little gifts every time they crossed the threshold. He was constantly told by other people that his father was busy. In fact, the last time he had seen his father was two days ago and he was covered in flecks of yellow paint and there was a funny smell coming from the spare room, to which he was now denied access. He'd never had the urge to go inside it until he was told he was unofficially banned.

Almost as soon as he laid eyes on her, he decided he didn't like her. Girls, after all, were good for nothing. They wouldn't climb trees or play the right games. They tattled.

It's been over a fortnight and The Intruder is sleeping in the spare room – her room. He's allowed inside now that the paint has dried, but never on his own. His mother sometimes offers to let him hold The Intruder, with supervision and help, but he doesn't want to. He wants to pretend she doesn't exist. Unfortunately, his parents refuse to play along. They are under her spell.

He creeps over to her cot. Though it is dressed with a white linen canopy, he peers through the bars. He can just make out the tuft of auburn hair against her pillow. The Intruder can't change her hair colour like he can. She looks nothing like him. She looks a little bit like Daddy, he supposes, but not much. Daddy is tall and this thing is a shrimp.

She yawns and squeezes her eyes tightly closed, but as she closes her tiny, very pink, very wet lips, she turns her gaze on him. Her eyes, he thinks, are like big black blobs. They are Daddy's eyes and he has Mummy's. He's never tried to change his eye colour before – at least, not that he can remember. Emma's – The Intruder's – eyes twinkle at him. Her lips pull up at the sides. She appears to be attempting a smile.

"I don't care," he whispers. "I still hate you."