It had been a few days since the full moon passed. Remus had endured once again the aches and suffering of transforming into a feral beast that he despised with his entire being.

Sharp teeth. Sharp claws. Rugged fur.

It's nothing he's unfamiliar with.

What Remus still finds strange, even after four years of marriage and having a two-and-a-half-year-old toddler, is that life adapts around him. That his wife and daughter change their routine for him. Sometimes.

Sometimes it's impossible, especially with Lottie. She's a bit of a menace, really. Remus believes it's karma for all the mischief he caused back in school. Still, he wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world.

He loves waking up to the sound of small feet pattering across the wooden floor of the cottage. Giggling, no less. A very familiar voice calling her back to the bathroom. And the very feeble attempt at hiding when Lottie lies on the floor beside the bed, at Remus' side, which is conveniently tucked between the wall and out of sight from the doorway.

"What are you up to?" Remus asked quietly, looking down at his daughter with a raised eyebrow. The amusement and curiosity audible in his voice.

Lottie didn't reply except for a small giggle before clasping her hands over her mouth to stop herself from making any more noise. Oh, and she appears to have lost a sock on her way running here. Great.

"Lottie, I told you can't come in here when—" you said in a hushed whisper, obviously thinking Remus would be sleeping. Which he's not.

"When what, hm?" he replied, giving a subtle nod to signal that Lottie was there too.

A quiet sigh passed from you. "When you're sleeping," you clarified, slowly creeping towards Remus' side of the bed. "Seems like I have lost our lovely, troublemaking daughter."

"Really? I have no idea where she could be," Remus replied, looking down at his daughter, winking. The girl giggling, muffled by her own hands.