ALL THE YOUNG 

DUDES 
BOOK THREE: ‘Til the End 

 
MsKingBean89 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 C O N T E N T S 
One Hundred & Fifty-one 
The War: July 1978 ● 1 

One Hundred & Fifty-two 

The War: Infiltration ● 10 
One Hundred & Fifty-three 
The War: Home Front ● 20 
One Hundred & Fifty-four 
The War: Autumn 1978 ● 27 
One Hundred & Fifty-five 
The War: Winter 1978-1979 ● 35 
One Hundred & Fifty-six 
The War: Auror Headquarters ● 50 
One Hundred & Fifty-seven 
The War: The Pack ● 58 
One Hundred & Fifty-eight 
The War: Captive ● 67 
One Hundred & Fifty-nine 
The War: Submission ● 75 
One Hundred & Sixty 
The War: Foot Soldiers ● 81 
One Hundred & Sixty-one 
The War: Blood Moon ● 91 
 
 One Hundred & Sixty-two 
The War: Moony’s Story ● 98 
One Hundred & Sixty-three 
The War: Late Spring 1979 ● 105 
One Hundred & Sixty-four 
The War: Summer 1979 ● 115 
One Hundred & Sixty-five 
The War: Dulce Et Decorum Est ● 123 
One Hundred & Sixty-six 
The War: Autumn 1979 ● 130 

One Hundred & Sixty-seven 

The War: Winter 1979 ● 137 
One Hundred & Sixty-eight 
The War: Spring & Summer 1980 ● 150 
One Hundred & Sixty-nine 
The War: Autumn & Winter 1980 ● 161 
One Hundred & Seventy 
The War: Winter 1980 & Spring 1981 ● 173 
One Hundred & Seventy-one 
The War: Triage ● 183 
One Hundred & Seventy-two 
The War: Summer 1981 ● 191 
One Hundred & Seventy-three 
The War: Autumn 1981 ● 199 
One Hundred & Seventy-four 
Armistice ● 206 
One Hundred & Seventy-five 
1982 ● 208 
One Hundred & Seventy-six 
1983 ● 213 
One Hundred & Seventy-seven 
1985 ● 218 
One Hundred & Seventy-eight 
1986 ● 226 

One Hundred & Seventy-nine 

1987 ● 233 
One Hundred & Eighty 
1989 ● 239 
One Hundred & Eighty-one 
1990 ● 245 
One Hundred & Eighty-two 
1991 ● 249 
One Hundred & Eighty-three 
Summer 1993 ● 256 
One Hundred & Eighty-four 
Summer 1994 ● 262 
One Hundred & Eighty-five 
Early Summer 1995 ● 271 
 One Hundred & Eighty-six 
Summer 1995: Grant ● 282 
One Hundred & Eighty-seven 
Summer 1995: Sirius ● 287 
One Hundred & Eighty-eight 
‘Til The End ● 292 
Epilogue: Out Of The Blue 
Part 1 ● 309 
Part 2 ● 319 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 ONE HUNDRED & FIFTY-ONE 
The War: July 1978 
 
All our times have come 
Here but now they're gone 
Seasons don't fear the reaper 
Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain, 
(We can be like they are) 
  
Come on baby, (don't fear the reaper) 
Baby take my hand, (don't fear the reaper) 
We'll be able to fly, (don't fear the reaper) 
Baby I'm your man. 
 
Sunday 2nd July 1978 
“Hurry u
​ p​, Potter!” Remus hammered on the glass in the door of the phone box. 
“Other people need to make phonecalls y’know!” 
James rather rudely turned his back, hunching his shoulders and speaking furtively 
into the receiver. 
“Leave him be, Moony,” Sirius murmured, leaning heavily on the fence. He was 
wearing very dark sunglasses and looked paler than normal. “And stop all the banging, will 
you?!” 
“Take another painkilling draught,” Remus tutted, “You’re just hungover, it’s your 
own fault for getting so smashed.” 
“I was the life and soul, I’ll have you know.” Sirius retorted, folding his arms as Remus 
came to sit beside him. 
The Potters had hosted the end of school party the night before, for all Hogwarts 
leavers and their friends. Yaz and Chris had come, even though they both had another year 
to go. A few members of the Order of the Phoenix were there too - no Dumbledore, but 
Ferox and Moody and Frank Longbottom and his pretty blonde girlfriend (now fiance, 
apparently). Moody had called Remus over to them a few times, only to be intercepted by 
Mrs Potter. 
“It's his school leavers party, Alastor!” She hissed, after the fourth time. “Let him 
enjoy himself for five minutes before forming a flipping war council!” 
She said this so sharply that they desisted - Remus was a bit shocked too. That was the 
closest he’d ever heard Mrs Potter come to swearing. 
The rest of the party had felt just like the Gryffindor common room - while at the 
same time feeling ​nothing​ like the Gryffindor common room. Remus tried not to be so sad. 

1 
He tried to imagine that one day he would find somewhere else that felt as much like home 
as Hogwarts had. 
Lily, Mary and Marlene all had to leave at midnight - they’d promised their parents 
they’d spend the night at Lily’s. Apparently their families felt that after seven years of 
boarding school, enough was enough. 
Which brought Remus back the the present, watching James through the phone box 
door, talking to his girlfriend. Who he had literally said goodbye to eight hours earlier. 
“So unfair, him making us race down here - as if I could ever beat James ‘hangover free 
since ‘73’ Potter.” Remus grumbled. “​And​ it was unsportsmanlike. He knows I have a 
handicap.” 
“I thought your hip was better since you got that stuff off Marls?” Sirius frowned, 
making his sunglasses slip down his nose. 
“It is.” Remus replied. “I meant my smoking.” 
There was a low rumble somewhere in the distance. Sirius sat up, suddenly, ripping off 
his glasses. 
“Is that?!” 
Remus sighed. 
“Sounds like it, yeah…” 
In a few moments, the neighbour’s motorbike came streaking through the village, 
growling all the way. Sirius gazed after it, starstruck. Once it was nothing but a shiny 
chrome dot in the distance, he leaned back, smiling to himself. 
“Ah, I’ve missed her.” 
“It would be a ‘she’.” Remus muttered, folding his arms. 
“Potter!” Sirius now got up to thump on the phone box door, “Get out here right now!” 
He turned to Remus, “Will you cheer the fuck up after you’ve had your phonecall?!” 
“Yes.” Remus said, petulantly, looking at his feet. 
It was another five minutes of ‘goodbyes’ and ‘speak soons’ before Remus got his 
chance. He dialed the number eagerly, and coiled the plastic cord around his fingers as he 
listened to it ring. 
“Yeah?” 
“Is that how you answer the phone?!” 
“Remus?” 
“Hiya!” 
“Crikey! Wasn’t expecting you, did we set something up?” 
“Nope,” Remus shook his head, grinning madly, “I finished school - I can call 
whenever I like now!” 
“Brilliant!” 
He heard some rustling on the other end of the phone and assumed Grant was making 
himself comfortable. Good. Sirius and James could wait a good long time. “So when you 
coming down to see me, eh?” Grant was asking now. 

2 
 “Soon!” Remus said, automatically. He could apparate to Brighton in a matter of 
seconds, now the thought struck him. But that would be a tough one to explain. “Next 
week?” 
That would hit the sweet spot between full moons, at least. 
“Working Saturday,” Grant replied. “On lates at the pub. Saving up for a holiday… er… 
August?” 
“Oh. Um. Well, ok,” Remus said, a bit disheartened. 
“Sorry, just I’ve been waiting for a proper summer holiday ages, and I’m getting on a 
plane and everything…” 
“No, no, August is fine!” 
“Good, I’ll remember to get some milk in. So where you living now?” 
“At my friend James’s. His parents are really nice.” 
“Not moved in with lover boy, then?” 
“He’s here too.” Remus explained, knowing it sounded a bit weird. “We’re going to 
start looking for somewhere to live soon, though. London, hopefully.” 
“He rich, then?” Grant snorted, “Shoulda’ guessed that. Looks well-heeled, don’t he?” 
“I s’pose.” 
“He does. Got that good posture. Oi, let me tell you about this bloke I had round the 
other night…” Grant said, and began a very long and almost unbelievable story about an 
encounter he’d had with a fisherman (“a genuine, honest to jesus fisherman, for fuck’s 
sake.”) who’d done something very odd in Grant’s bathtub before making a hasty exit in the 
early hours of the morning. By the end of it, Remus was hunched over in the phone box, 
wheezing with laughter, tears streaming down his cheeks. 
“What’s so funny?!” James and Sirius were keen to know, when he finally emerged. 
“Couldn’t possibly tell you,” Remus replied, hiccupping, “Muggle humour.” 
“Reckon we ought to see how Pete’s doing?” James asked as they walked back to the 
house. 
“Nah, you know how he is with hangovers,” Sirius replied, dark shades still firmly in 
place. 
“All right, but we need to make sure not to leave him out,” James said, opening the 
garden gate, “I think he’s worried about it…” 
“Yeah, yeah.” Sirius yawned. “Oi, quidditch?” 
“Yes!” James grinned, “Just let me change…” 
“I’ll get a book, then…” Remus rolled his eyes, though he didn’t mind really. They were 
going to treat the weekend as a holiday, it had been decided. Real life could start on 
Monday. 
The three boys thundered up the stairs, James slamming his bedroom door as he went 
in search of one of his many quidditch kits. 
Remus and Sirius were a little slower, 

3 
 “Brighton in August?” Remus asked quietly, now they were alone. Sirius’s face lit up, 
and he took off his glasses, 
“You want me to come, then? Yeah! Cool!” 
“Of course.” Remus nodded, reaching the top of the stairs. 
“Hello, boys,” Mrs Potter trilled, coming out of Remus’s room. He did a double take at 
that - he wasn’t used to adults going into his bedroom uninvited, even though it wasn’t 
really his room, only a guest room. 
“Hello, Mrs Potter,” he replied, politely, hoping to mask his unease. 
She was carrying a pile of his laundry, which was horribly embarrassing - at St 
Edmund’s he’d been doing his own washing since he was ten. 
“I see Sirius was so drunk he ended up in yours, Remus,” Mrs Potter laughed, folding 
Sirius’s jeans over her arm. “Honestly dear, you ought to have just shoved him out.” 
“Oh!” Remus felt his ears turning bright red as he gaped at her from the landing. 
“Actually,” Sirius came up the stairs after him, “Remus and I prefer sharing. If that's… 
er. Well we’d just prefer to, ok?” 
Mrs Potter looked at him, then at Remus, who was still blushing, but managed to 
splutter, 
“Yeah!” 
“Well, if you like,” she nodded, slowly. “I suppose the bed’s big enough for two. 
Whatever makes you happy, dears.” She patted Remus gently on the shoulder, and kissed 
Sirius’s cheek as she passed him on her way downstairs. 
And that was pretty much that. 
* * * 
Wednesday 5th July 1978 
They were permitted a longer holiday than expected - two days longer, in fact. The 
invitations came late Tuesday night; a note each from Dumbledore, requesting their 
presence at a secret location known only to James’s father, reachable only by portkey. The 
notes vanished as soon as they’d been read, simply dissolved away in their hands. 
They’d all been expecting something like it, but Remus was surprised how nervous he 
suddenly grew. He was not the only one. He and Sirius undressed for bed in silence, and as 
soon as they were under the covers Sirius was clinging to him, face buried under Remus’s 
arm. 
“Tell me something.” He mumbled, thickly, “Anything.” 
“I’m really scared about tomorrow.” Remus whispered. “It feels so real now. But I 
think it’s normal to be scared. I think anyone would be.” 
Sirius just made a discontented sort of grunt. Remus squeezed him and tried a 
different tack. “But d’you know what scares me more?” 
“Hm?” 
“The fact that we’re planning to move in together and neither of us can cook.” 

4 
 Sirius began to laugh, and eventually they must have both fallen asleep properly. When 
they woke up they were still wound around each other, sweat had gathered where their bare 
skin pressed together, and Remus had big wide red patches all over until he’d showered. 
It was a bit of a walk to the portkey, which turned out to be a bright yellow rubber 
duck, left in some long grass at the end of one of the fields surrounding the village. Remus 
didn’t mind, he liked stretching his legs now it didn’t hurt so much. 
“Can’t believe we’re only a few miles from London,” he marvelled, looking up at the 
cloudless summer sky, the rolling green hillsides. 
“Garden of England,” James grinned. 
Fleamont solemnly held out the duck for them all to put their hands on. 
“All got your wands?” He asked, sharply, and they each nodded, swallowing hard. 
Peter was sweating and looked faintly ill - Remus hoped he wouldn’t throw up until they’d 
arrived wherever they were going.   
They all touched the duck, and suddenly found themselves whirling through space and 
time at an incredible rate. It was worse than apparating, but better than floo powder, 
Remus decided. 
Moments later, all five men landed in a very small, chintzy living room. The carpet was 
thick, soft pink, the sofas an ugly yellowish cream fake leather, and the wallpaper a hideous 
floral design with metallic streaks that caught the light. 
“Fleamont?” A tall, thin, red haired man entered just as they were picking themselves 
up. 
Remus had only narrowly missed landing on the glass coffee table, which was adorned 
with a bowl of soapy smelling potpourri. 
“Arthur!” James’s father replied, cheerfully, reaching out to shake the man’s hand. 
“Sorry, Monty,” Arthur raised a finger, “But Moody would never forgive me if I didn’t 
follow protocol. Now, let me see… what was the nature of the last owl I sent you?” 
“It was a thank you card,” Mr Potter replied promptly, “Effie sent Molly a few of 
James’s old things for Bill and Charlie.” 
“Lovely.” Arthur smiled and finally returned Mr Potter’s handshake. 
“Boys, you remember Arthur Weasley,” Fleamont said, ushering them all forward to 
shake the man’s hand too. “This is my boy James, Sirius, Peter Pettigrew and Remus 
Lupin.” 
“Hello there, what’s this?” Arthur was looking at the duck portkey, which Remus was 
still clutching. 
“Er. A rubber duck.” Remus replied, looking down at it. 
“I see, I see, and what’s it for?” Arthur advanced on him, peering down at the yellow 
plastic toy with earnest curiosity. 
“Er… it’s just a rubber duck,” Remus shrugged. “D’you want it?” He held it out. Arthur 
beamed at him, taking it. 
“Better not tell Molly! She thinks I’m mad already.” 
Remus smiled, politely, privately thinking that Molly must be right. 

5 
 “How is Molly?” Fleamont asked, “And the boys? Twins, did I hear?” 
“Yes, three months old now,” Arthur nodded happily, “I did wonder if we ought to 
stop at five, but Molly’s keen to try for a girl; poor thing’s rather outnumbered, as things 
are.” 
As he spoke, he led them out of the hyper-feminine living room, down a narrow hall 
and into a tiny kitchen, which had a conservatory built onto the back. Frank and Alice were 
in the kitchen, lining up a queue of mugs on the counter. 
“Hello!” Alice smiled, “Tea?” 
She took everyone’s orders, while Frank divied up tea leaves in various teapots, and 
they were all told to go through to the conservatory for the meeting. 
“Whose house is this, dad?” James asked. 
“Best we don’t know too much,” Mr Potter replied, “Come on, now, they’ll all be 
waiting.” 
After the shadowy gloom of the narrow 1930s kitchen, the conservatory was blindingly 
bright and extremely warm. It had a clean terracotta tile floor, covered over with a 
homespun rag rug. The surrounding windows were glass and displayed an immaculately 
kept garden which had a double swing set and a slide; the roof was clear perspex and 
smattered with old dead leaves leftover from winter. There was a strong smell of fertiliser 
and geranium, potted plants were dotted about the place on shelves and end tables. 
Remus didn’t notice any of these things at first, because the room was packed full of 
people. There must have been twenty or thirty witches and wizards, gathered solemnly 
around a large wooden table, or else standing, or crammed into the wicker garden furniture 
in the corner. Hagrid loomed largest - Remus had never seen Hagrid anywhere but 
Hogwarts, which was so big that it sort of compensated for the gamekeeper’s gargantuan 
proportions. In this hot little sun room he barely seemed real. 
There were other recognisable faces; the Prewett twins, Mad-eye Moody, Professor 
Ferox, Ted Tonks, Emmeline Vance and Dorcas Meadowes - no Dumbledore, but to 
Remus’s delight, Lily, Mary and Marlene were huddled in one corner, looking awfully 
young and shy in such a crowd. They greeted the boys with an eager kind of relief. Mary 
clung to Remus’s neck very tightly. 
“You’re here!” He said, surprised. 
“I never was that bright,” she smiled ruefully. 
“Remus!” Marlene reached for him, “This is Danny!” 
A tall man stood just behind her. He had Marlene’s smile; her ruddy cheeks and straw 
coloured hair. 
“Oh, hello,” Remus nodded, suddenly shy himself. Sirius took a sideways step closer, 
so that they were shoulder to shoulder, 
“Hi!” Danny said, grinning. He had a fresh scar creeping up from under the collar of 
his robes, but nothing on his face; not yet. He extended a hand for Remus to shake, “I’ve 
been looking forward to meeting you, I owe you such a--” 

6 
 “Danny McKinnon!” James suddenly burst out. Having finally greeted Lily sufficiently, 
he’d only just caught sight of this awkward meeting. He strode forward, “Can I just say that 
you are absolutely, without a doubt, the b​ est​ Beater the Cannons have ever had?!” 
Danny laughed amiably, 
“Thanks. I hear you’re a bloody good Chaser - it is James Potter?” 
“Yes, and I’d love to--” 
“Hate to break up the social club, gents,” Moody barked, “But we’ve some business to 
get down to.” 
That shut everyone up, and they gathered around the table looking very serious. They 
began with a few introductions, though one way or another most people knew each other. 
When Sirius’s name was spoken there was a bit of hushed murmuring, but he just stared 
defiantly back at them all. Remus was proud of him - let them all see that you could never 
judge a book by its cover, or a man by his name. 
After that, someone read minutes from the last meeting - Remus didn’t understand 
any of it. They all seemed to talk in a strange, grown up sort of code, and no one stopped to 
explain things like they did at school. Lots of names were mentioned; people in different 
corners of the country who were on their side - or who had gone over to the other side. 
Various policies being pushed through the Wizengamot, ways to influence votes; how to 
convince people to come around to the Order’s way of thinking. 
Remus dared glance over at Sirius, James and Peter, and was relieved to see that they 
were just as puzzled as he was. Then the list of missing was read, and everyone followed 
that all right. Alice proposed a minute’s silence, which they all observed. 
There were some more updates - everyone wanted to know what Dumbledore was up 
to, what progress he had made. Progress with what, exactly, Remus had no clue. 
Assignments were also handed out - Frank and Alice needed to be in Anglesey every night 
next week at 6pm exactly. A man called Shacklebolt had to meet ‘our mutual friend’ ‘you 
know where’ on Friday. The Prewett twins were on the rota for guarding this location or 
that. Everyone nodded along as Moody singled them out. 
Finally, Moody called an end to the discussion. 
“Those who have to go, go,” he said, gruffly, “I’ll send word via the usual channels for 
our next meeting. Anyone needs to speak to me now, you’ll have to wait a bit.” He 
clambered to his feet, hands on the table. 
Suddenly, the little conservatory was no longer silent and solemn, as everyone began 
chattering with the person next to them, furtively agreeing things, or else just catching up. 
Remus blinked. That was it?! He frowned, and looked for Mr Potter, who was pushing his 
way around the room to them, 
“Come with me and Hagrid,” he said to their group, “You too, ladies, we’ll get you all 
up to speed, eh?” 
Remus relaxed, finally. Thank goodness for that. It was deeply unpleasant, feeling so 
out of the loop. He felt incredibly young and naive. 

7 
 “Not you, lad,” Alastor Moody had reached them too, and clapped a chapped calloused 
hand on Remus’s shoulder. “Ferox and I need a word. And you, McKinnon - Daniel, that is.” 
He added, to answer Marlene’s startled expression. 
Remus’s eyes widened and he silently pleaded to Sirius for help, only for Ferox to join 
them all, laughing, 
“Don’t look so jumpy, Lupin, I promise we’re not going to torture you.” 
Remus laughed weakly, accepting his fate. He and Danny followed Moody and Ferox 
out of the conservatory back into the house; through the poky kitchen and along the 
corridor, up the brown carpeted staircase, which creaked heavily underfoot. 
They entered a small box room, evidently a child's bedroom. There was a small bed in 
the corner with a stars and spaceships pattern on the duvet. The furniture was small and 
painted pale blue, and there were glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. 
“Sit down, chaps,” Ferox nodded at the little bed. Danny and Remus obeyed. Moody 
stood. Towering over them both, his electric blue eyeball whirring in its socket. 
“No prizes for guessing what we want to talk about.” He said. 
Remus said nothing, because he didn’t think an answer was required, but Danny did. 
“The werewolves.” 
“Right.” Ferox said, sitting in a small desk chair, leaning forward on his knees. 
He was as handsome as he had ever been, in Remus’s opinion. Still a broad, amiable 
‘man of action’. His golden blond mane of hair was as lustrous as when Remus was 
fourteen, only maybe with some grey streaks now. An old, comfortable warmth bubbled in 
the pit of Remus’s stomach - a crush he had never even recognised at the time, which felt so 
innocent now. He smiled, finally, feeling a bit more at ease. 
“I’m not sure how I can help,” Danny was saying, “I never met one until that night.” 
He shuddered slightly. 
“But Lupin here has,” Moody said, fixing both eyes on Remus. 
“You have?” Danny’s eyes flicked over Remus, taking him all in with surprise. 
Remus knew what Danny saw, obviously; it was what everyone saw, a skinny, gawky 
eighteen year old with a too long neck and scrubby blond curls and knobbly knees and so 
many scars. He swallowed, feeling like a stupid kid in a room full of men. 
“Yeah, I have.” He said, looking at his hands. “Two members of Greyback’s pack, Livia 
and Castor.” 
“Greyback?!” Danny said in hushed awe. “Bloody hell.” 
“Remus isn’t new to this sort of operation.” Ferox said. He sounded proud, but Remus 
looked up at him, beseeching, because yes he ​was​, he was absolutely new to all of this - 
spying and secret meetings and warfare. He didn’t like this feeling. Everyone was expecting 
a lot. 
“I just talked to them.” He said. “They don’t hurt me because Greyback told them not 
to, I think. They do everything he says, they’re loyal.” 
“Like an army.” Ferox said, nodding, as if he understood. Remus gave him a long stare. 
“No.” He said, “Like a family.” 

8 
 “They’re a dangerous cult.” Moody said, sharply. “I don’t care what we call it. We need 
to keep an eye on them. Insight.” 
“So what do you want us to do?” Remus asked, straightening his back. He felt more 
himself. Ferox was still looking at him, but with real respect now. 
“Yeah, what can we do?” Danny asked. 
Moody’s haggard, pitted face curved into a wicked grin. 
“Ever heard of Knockturn Alley?” 
 
(Song: Don’t Fear the Reaper - Blue Oyster Cult) 
 
 
 
 
 
 

   

9 
 ONE HUNDRED & FIFTY-TWO 
The War: Infiltration 
 
Whatever happened to 
All of the heroes? 
All the Shakespeare-os? 
They watched their Rome burn. 
Whatever happened to the heroes? 
Whatever happened to the heroes? 
No more heroes any more 
No more heroes any more 
  
Monday 17th July 1978 
Remus travelled to Diagon Alley alone for the first time via muggle transport. Well; he 
actually apparated a lot of the way, but caught the tube two stops just to make it look 
convincing. Moody had forbidden him from using the Potters’ floo connection in case he 
was followed, and Remus agreed. 
He entered the alley via the brick wall by the Leaky Cauldron, and headed straight for 
the pub. Danny was inside, waiting for him, nursing a tumbler of firewhisky. He smiled 
sheepishly at Remus, 
“Needed some dutch courage.” 
“Know the feeling.” Remus nodded, grimly. He ordered the same from the 
hunchbacked innkeeper. 
They moved away from the bar and found a quiet corner. Remus cast ​muffliato​ for good 
measure. They exchanged pleasantries, briefly - Marlene had begun training at St Mungo’s 
and was enjoying it, Danny wasn’t doing much of anything. 
“I’ve got savings, obviously; I’m not exactly hard up,” he sighed, “The Cannons paid 
pretty well, I could retire if I wanted. Just didn’t expect to this early.” 
Remus didn’t know what to say, because the idea of having a job at all still seemed too 
distant for him. The older man kept stealing glances at Remus’s scars, too. “Sorry,” he said, 
when he was caught staring, “I just… you know. Never seen…” 
“I know.” Remus replied, trying to relax a bit. He swallowed the last of his whisky and 
pulled out his cigarette case. “It’s fine. Do you have…?” 
“Only one or two.” Danny replied. “S’pose I’ll get more. Oh, and the bite, obviously.” 
His eyes darted around as he said this, in case anyone was listening in. 
“Of course.” Remus nodded, lighting his cigarette and inhaling desperately. “Do you 
know who did it?” 
“What’s it matter?” 

10 
 “It might,” Remus shrugged, “I think it’s important to them, anyway. I think the one 
who turns you… they have a connection to you, afterwards. You might recognise their scent. 
They might recognise yours.” 
Danny wrinkled up his nose in disgust. 
“How’d you learn all this stuff?” 
“Some of it’s just experience. Some of it from books. Have you read anything?” 
“No.” Danny looked away, “Never been one for reading. At St Mungo’s they said not to 
bother, anyway. Not like there’s a cure.” 
“No,” Remus frowned, somehow bothered by this line of reasoning, “No, there’s not a 
cure, but… well there are still things to learn. It’s not just a disease, you know, it’s who we 
are.” 
“S’not who I am.” Danny said, fiercely, his fist clenched on the table. 
Remus looked away too, embarrassed. Danny wasn’t ready for this, he realised. He was 
still in denial. Danny raised an arm, signalling to Tom at the bar for another drink. Remus 
wondered how many he’d had already. It seemed rude to ask; Danny was older than him, 
had been in the Order longer. 
“So.” Danny said, business like, “What’s the plan? Go in, ask questions?” 
“I don’t think so…” Remus said, carefully. God, Danny definitely wasn’t ready. “I think 
we need to be more… um… subtle.” 
“We want them to know who we are.” 
“They’ll know who we are the second we walk in. The scent.” 
“Ugh.” Danny wrinkled his nose again and downed his next drink. 
“Look, why don’t you stay here?” Remus tried, “Honestly, I’ve done this sort of thing 
before, I’ll be fine. I can send you a signal, if I get into trouble.” 
Danny shook his head. 
“Promised Ferox and Moody I’d do it.” 
“They won’t know, I won’t tell them.” Remus pressed, “Really, it’s fine, if you’re not 
comfortable, they shouldn’t make you---” 
“I said I can do it!” Danny slammed his fist down on the tabletop. 
Remus had a strange desire to start growling. It would be so much easier to settle this 
as wolves; he could just assert himself as the leader, and Danny would have to submit or get 
a cuff round the ear. He settled for just meeting Danny’s eye and holding it, sternly. It had 
the desired effect. 
“Sorry.” The quidditch player said, sighing, tense shoulders now sloping down, 
wearily. “I’m just wound up, with the moon coming on Thursday.” 
“I understand.” Remus said, evenly. “But you’ve got to keep it together in there, ok?” 
“Yeah. Ok.” Danny nodded. He paused, giving Remus an appraising look, “Marls said 
you were the cleverest kid in the year.” 
Remus felt his ears turn red. 
“Hardly,” he said. 

11 
 “She trusts you, though. I think I’d better too.” Danny had submitted. Remus 
straightened his back, a flush of animal pride running through him. 
“Thank you,” he nodded. “Ok, so they’ll know us when we go in. The scent - I know 
you don’t like it, but I swear, it’s one of the most useful skills you have now, so don’t ignore 
it, all right?” 
“It’s confusing, though.” Danny said, sounding frustrated, “Half the time I don’t know 
what it is I can… smell.” 
“What about me?” Remus asked, “Could you identify me?” 
Danny looked at him, quietly, concentrating. His nostrils twitched slightly. He 
nodded. 
“Good!” Remus said, a bit excited now - he’d never had anyone else to talk to about 
this before, “It’s like… like something familiar, isn’t it? Something you know really well. 
You’ll get better an distinguishing different scents, as long as you stop trying to ignore it. I 
find that if I relax it’s much easier - hardly any work at all, really, it just comes naturally 
after a while.” Then he remembered something else that Danny ought to know, though he 
wasn’t sure how to phrase it. “Uhm… You might notice that um… females smell different 
too. Er. More attractive.” 
“Right.” Danny nodded again, paling a bit. 
Remus looked down, cleared his throat, and resumed. 
“And the ones I’ve met? The ones in Greyback’s pack? They’re strong. They have 
really powerful magic, they don’t even need wands all the time. So it’s best not to make a 
move, because it won’t be like duelling - they’re hard to predict.” 
“Merlin.” Danny breathed. 
“Don’t worry.” Remus said, briskly, “They won’t try to fight us. I don’t think they will, 
anyway. It wouldn’t make sense; they want to recruit us.” 
Danny snorted derisively. 
“Fat chance.” 
“Try to be understanding, though.” Remus said, “Listen to them - we want them to 
think we’re interested, right?” 
“Right. Of course. Except we’re not.” Danny was looking at him oddly again. 
“Obviously not.” Remus snapped. “But we’re still there to make friends. We’re there to 
talk, which means first we have to listen.” 
“That’s not the impression I had from Moody.” Danny said, “This is reconnaissance, 
not a peace mission.” 
“Well Moody doesn’t know anything about it.” Remus said, “Danny, listen to me. Stop 
thinking they’re your enemies, because they’re not. The one who bit you - he was wrong, 
ok? He ought to be arrested, he ought to be punished. But someone bit ​him​, once. And 
because of that, his whole life changed, and no one looked at him like he was the same 
person any more. You understand that, don’t you?” 
Danny was staring at the bottom of his empty glass. He didn’t answer, but Remus 
knew he was paying attention. 

12 
 “They’re like us.” Remus said, firmly. “Except they’ve not been as lucky. You and me, 
we have people who care about us, who want to keep us safe, who know we’re more than 
just… just monsters. The ones we’re about to meet, maybe they never had that. Maybe 
Greyback was the first person who cared.” 
“​Person​.” Danny spat, “How can you talk like that. How can you give a toss about what 
happens to them? How can you be so ​calm​?! ” 
“I’ve been angry for long enough.” Remus replied coolly. “Now I’m ready to do 
something about it.” 
They ordered one more drink, and then they left. 
Danny said he had never been to Knockturn Alley before, and of course Remus only 
knew it by sight - and scent. The odour of dark magic was still there; acrid smoke, sour 
milk. It was a dim, cobbled street with crooked lanes winding off in different directions. 
The shop windows were dingy and displayed diabolical assortments of dark and dangerous 
artefacts. 
The pub was easy to find. The Manticore’s Head had a horrible swinging sign hanging 
on a bracket outside which bore the image of a manticore’s bloody severed head on a 
platter. The creature had the head of a man, but a thick lion’s mane. Its eyes rolled upwards 
and its mouth gaped in a silent moan of misery. It made Remus shudder. It looked like 
Ferox. 
He went in first, Danny more happy to follow than lead. He pushed the door open and 
the moment he crossed the threshold he caught the scent. It hit him like a wall, igniting 
him, making every hair stand deliciously on end. 
Five werewolves. He knew each one before he laid eyes on them. Three gathered 
around a table in the far corner. Two at the bar. There were others there too; creatures 
Remus had heard of, but never seen. A vampire. Two banshees. A whole gang of goblins. 
Danny was tense behind him, Remus willed him to calm down; it was so obvious. But 
there was nothing they could do now but go in; Remus heard the door bang shut behind 
them. 
It was fairly dark inside; the windows covered with threadbare velvet curtains. The 
mahogany wall panelling and countertops were grimy, covered in a strange sticky dust that 
glistened in places like glitter. Behind the bar were enormous mirrors covered with shelves 
and shelves of bottles, each one a different size, shape and colour, glowing in the firelight 
like a wall of jewels. The fire roared, but it was strangely cool. 
Remus approached the bar, as casually as he could manage. The figure standing 
behind it was heavily robed, hood pulled low, so that Remus couldn’t see its face. 
“Two firewhiskies, please.” He said, instantly regretting the politeness. He’d spent too 
much time at the bloody Potters’. 
The bartender turned around, and reached for a bottle. Remus fumbled in his robes for 
change. Danny joined him, standing close, looking around himself furtively. 
The two werewolves at the bar were watching them both. That was to be expected, of 
course; that was what they wanted. All part of Moody’s plan - Remus and Danny were 
invaluable to the Order, he said. A boy who’d been turned by Greyback himself; who 

13 
Greyback was interested in, and a man who’d been recently turned, who the others would 
see as vulnerable. 
Remus nodded at them, carefully. Danny didn’t move a muscle, but that was ok - it was 
clear that Remus was the leader. The other two nodded in return. Remus sensed curiosity, 
but not danger. He straightened up, more confident. 
They were male, both roughly the same height, only an inch or so shorter than Remus. 
One was stocky, with dirty blond hair, a square jaw, fairly handsome under any other 
circumstances. The other was one of Greyback’s. His hair was shaved close to his skull, he 
had a thick scar on one cheek, and of course the tattoos covering his arms and throat, 
spiralling moon phases. 
Glancing over these two men’s shoulders, Remus tried to get a read on the three in the 
corner. Two of them were female, one male, all Greyback’s. No Livia or Castor, which was a 
relief. 
The whiskies arrived, and Remus knocked his back, maintaining eye contact with the 
two werewolves at the bar - or at least the one who belonged to Greyback. Danny followed 
suit. Greyback’s man inclined his head slightly, considering, and then extended a hand. He 
had long, thick fingernails, black with filth. Remus shook it. 
“Welcome, brothers.” The man said, shaking Danny’s hand too. Danny was visibly 
horrified by this, but Remus thought it probably just came across as nerves. And who could 
blame him. “I am Gaius. Come and sit with us.” 
Remus glanced back at Danny, who nodded, and they both followed Gaius over to the 
table in the corner. The seats looked like ancient church pews, and they were just as 
uncomfortable to sit on. Remus tried to subtly maneuver himself beside Danny, but Gaius 
slipped between them, splitting them up. There was nothing to be done; Remus just hoped 
that Danny knew when to apparate. 
The scent of all of them gathered together was overwhelming and exciting. Remus felt 
alert, full of energy - but also very safe, almost comfortable. It was no wonder werewolves 
were so easy to recruit, he thought. People spent their whole lives in search of a feeling like 
this; it was a feeling he knew well. He’d had it ever since the marauders became animagi. 
Pack. Family. Home. 
“Brother, sisters,” Gaius was saying, “This is Jeremy,” he gestured at the fair haired, 
handsome man he’d been talking to at the bar. “And these two are…” 
“Daniel.” Danny said, stiffly. He drank from his glass, eyes darting around. He kept 
looking at the women, and Remus knew why. Gaius nodded agreeably, then looked at 
Remus expectantly. 
“Remus Lupin.” He replied, steadily. 
The atmosphere shifted, the two women leaned in closer, eyes glittering, teeth bared 
in what might have passed for a smile. 
“Remus Lupin.” Gaius said. “The cub who attacked our brother Castor and our sister 
Livia.” 
“I defended myself.” Remus said, raising his chin. Any sign of weakness would be 
exploited. 

14 
 “We were under the impression that Remus Lupin has made his choice.” One of the 
women said, her voice low and rasping. 
“I wanted to complete my studies. I’ve finished school, now,” Remus said, reasonably, 
“I’m exploring my options.” 
The two women continued to glare at him, clearly not believing a word he said. But 
Gaius raised his hand. 
“Our father is forgiving and generous,” he said, smiling, “He welcomes all of his 
children.” 
“Brother,” one of the women said, “He is not to be trusted! He is Dumbledore’s 
lapdog!” 
“He was elevated by Greyback h
​ imself​.” Gaius snapped, sharply, turning his head and 
twitching his left hand, turning the wrist. The woman who had spoken up went rigid, 
suddenly, eyes wide, as if she was gripped by some enormous pain. “So hold. Your. 
Tongue.” Gaius said, turning his wrist again. 
The woman relaxed, breathing hard. They could all hear her heart thumping. Remus 
felt sick. 
Gaius smiled around the table. 
“Brothers,” he said to the three new recruits, “Our father, Fenrir Greyback, welcomes 
you into his pack. We have been shut out, like you, we have been denied shelter, friendship, 
protection. Our father would return these things to you - and much more.” 
“How?” Remus asked, hoping his voice sounded pleasant and inquisitive. 
Gaius gave him a look. Remus returned it. It was strange. He knew that the thing to do 
- the correct thing to do for the mission, for his safety and for the other werewolves, was to 
lower his head, to look subservient, stay quiet. He had to get them to trust him. 
But he couldn’t do it. Maybe it was nerves, or the strength of their scent and their 
power so close to him, or maybe it was just that old Lyall Lupin belligerence, but Remus 
found himself doing exactly the opposite. He held high head higher, taking advantage of 
how much taller he was than the others, even seated. He made clear eye contact and said, 
“I just wanted to know how Greyback plans to provide us with shelter, friendship and 
protection.” 
“You will see, in time.” 
“Right, well that’s not very convincing.” Remus shrugged, “Sounds to me like a lot of 
promises, but not much of a plan, what do you two think?” He looked at Danny and Jeremy, 
the blond man. 
Danny just stared at Remus, looking appalled. Jeremy, unaware of what was going on, 
shrugged, 
“I don’t care how he does it, as long as he does. Got nowhere else to go, my folks 
kicked me out.” 
“What if you did have somewhere to go, though?” Remus said, quickly, “What if there 
was a safe place, and you didn’t have to pick any sides in the war--?” 

15 
 “Remus Lupin, you are confused.” Gaius said, raising his voice. “No such place exists 
for us. The humans have made it perfectly clear.” 
“The… the humans,” Remus said, carefully, thinking fast, “They’re in the wrong, I 
agree with you - The Ministry of Magic needs reforming - but change can only happen if--” 
“They are not interested. They are only concerned with murdering our brothers and 
sisters; locking us up, suppressing the wolf.” 
“And what exactly is Greyback going to do about that?” Remus persisted. 
He knew why Danny’s pulse was racing; why he kept raising his eyebrows at Remus 
desperately over Gaius’s shoulder, but Remus couldn’t think about that now. It sounded like 
madness, pushing Gaius like this when he was clearly giving off danger signs, but it was 
almost as if Remus couldn’t stop himself. 
“When you meet my father.” Gaius growled, “You will understand.” 
“I’d like to meet him.” Remus said, keenly. 
Gaius’s lips curled, 
“There will be time for that. When you have proved yourself.” He looked at the others, 
“When you have ​all​ proved yourselves, you will earn the right to call him father.” 
“And how do we do that?” Remus asked, leaning forward, keen to keep Gaius’s 
attention on him. He knew Danny would never join the werewolves, but this Jeremy kid - he 
was in real danger. 
Gaius’s whole posture had changed; he seemed larger, his shoulders broader, he 
frowned at Remus. 
“Three full moons spent with the pack,” he said, eyes blazing with intensity. 
“Great,” Remus nodded, “Yes, ok, I’d love to meet him, can we do that? Can you tell 
me where--” 
Pain shot through him, excruciating, burning; his bones were melting, his skin was 
bubbling, he wanted to cry out, but his jaw locked. Gaius’s eyes bore into Remus’s, furious, 
and suddenly Remus could hear him; hear Gaius’s voice inside his head. 
Remus Lupin you are a fool. 
It purred 
My father wishes you to live, but only you. You will be obedient, or I will kill everyone in 
this room. I will kill… 
Remus felt a strange, sifting feeling inside his mind, and knew what Gaius was doing. 
He tried to resist, but the pain was such a distraction, he hadn’t the strength. Gaius 
alighted on something he’d found, his eyes lit up maliciously, 
I will kill... James Potter and Lily Evans… and Peter, and Marlene and Mary and... I will 
kill Sirius Black...   
A surge of fury rose up in Remus and it was enough - only just enough, only barely - to 
break away from Gaius’s fierce grip on his mind and body. He roared, lashing out with his 
arms and legs, because his thoughts were too muddled to do anything else. Shaking his 
head, as if to rid himself of Gaius’s wicked voice, he lunged at the other werewolf, forcing 

16 
him back against the pew, half on top of him, wrapping his hands around his throat and 
squeezing. 
The other three werewolves - Greyback’s werewolves - all tried to move, but Remus 
was so full of anger and violent emotion that he barely needed to t​ hink​ and they were locked 
in place. 
“Is this what you mean by proving myself, Gaius?” He hissed, squeezing harder, so 
that the other man’s face was turning red, veins bulging in his temples. “Have I earned your 
fucking respect now?!” 
Gaius clawed at Remus desperately, but only when he was beginning to slacken and 
fade did Remus let go. He stepped back quickly, 
“Danny!” He said, urgently, “We have to go.” 
They had to leave first; they couldn’t be chased out, that would look like they were 
running away. ​Oh fuck​, he thought, o
​ h fuck, why did I do that?!​ What was he going to tell 
Ferox? Moody would have his bollocks! 
The last thing Remus saw before he and Danny appararted was Jeremy’s horrified face. 
* * * 
“Merlin!” Danny yelled, as soon as they were away from there. “What the ​fuck​?!” 
They were in a field, miles and miles outside of London. They were supposed to walk 
from there to a bus shelter, where Moody would be waiting for a debrief. 
“I’m sorry,” Remus panted, shaking his head, “I got -- I lost my temper.” 
“I’ll bloody say!” Danny ranted, “Wouldn’t have let you have all that firewhisky if I 
knew you were going to flip your shit and try and take on Greyback’s whole army 
single-handed!” 
“That was n
​ ot​ his whole army.” Remus replied sourly, wiping sweat from his brow. He 
was still buzzing from the agony Gaius had put him through. 
“And t​ hat​ wasn’t the bloody mission, was it?!” Danny retorted, “Subtle, you said! Just 
listen to them, you said!” 
“I realised that wasn’t going to work,” Remus tried to explain, “They’re a pack; you 
have to dominate the leader, you need to show them--” 
“You sound like them!” Danny said, suddenly. 
“What?” 
“You! All of your ‘special skills’ crap. You want to be like that, do you? No better than 
a pack animal? A fucking beast?!” 
Remus stared at him. He didn’t know what to say, he was too giddy, his thoughts were 
a mess. 
“Look.” He said, trembling, “Let’s just find Moody.” 
“Right.” Danny agreed, still red-faced, “Sooner we do, sooner I can get away from y​ ou​.” 
Remus didn’t reply, just started walking. His head hurt so much, a migraine building 
behind his eyes, the bright summer sunshine was like daggers after the gloom of The 
Manticore’s Head. His mind was running a mile a minute. How would he explain this? How 

17 
could anyone hear it and trust him ever again? What worried him most was that his first 
instinct was to lie. 
Danny was walking faster than him, but then he hadn’t just had his mind ripped apart 
by a… oh fuck. Was Danny right? Was Remus just like them, deep down? 
They reached the bus shelter - long abandoned, covered in yellow pollen and sprayed 
on graffiti. Moody was waiting, punctual as always. He looked at them both, blue eye 
whirring wildly between them. 
“What went wrong?” He asked, at once. 
Remus looked at Danny. Danny looked at Remus, then down at his feet. Remus 
swallowed, and bit the bullet. 
“I made a mistake.” He said. “I let my temper get the better of me.” 
Moody looked at him for a long time. He was completely inscrutable, and though 
Remus knew Moody wasn’t actually reading his mind - he knew how that felt, now - he felt 
as though he was being picked slowly apart all the same. 
“Tell me everything, lad.” Moody said, finally. 
Remus did his best. He didn’t mention the whiskies. He didn’t mention the loss of 
control he’d felt, even before Gaius had hurt him. He definitely didn’t repeat anything 
Gaius had whispered into his brain. He told only the story Danny might have told. And it 
worked. 
“Sounds like you acted in self defence.” Moody said, business-like, as if this sort of 
thing happened all the time. 
“I went too far.” Remus said. It was easy to be submissive now, to be polite and 
deferential to someone else. “I acted… I behaved badly. I put Danny in danger.” 
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Lupin.” Moody said, sounding almost kind. “You were 
in a tight spot. You both got out of it. Do you need to see a healer? Do you know what curse 
it was?” 
“It was wordless magic,” Remus shook his head, “And I’m ok. It wasn’t even as bad as 
a full moon.” 
This was a lie. He could still feel the remnants of it, his head throbbed and his nerves 
were vibrating. But it was going away. Pain often did, or else you just learnt to get on top of 
it. 
Moody laughed gruffly. 
“Good chap. Right, McKinnon, anything further?” 
Danny shook his head. He hadn’t said much while Remus was explaining himself, only 
interjected once or twice to confirm that it was the truth. He still didn’t look at Remus, and 
Remus didn’t blame him. Moody, if he noticed, didn’t comment on this odd atmosphere. He 
clapped his hands together. “Well then, I should say we’re ok to apparate now. Lupin, I’m 
coming with you, got another meeting. McKinnon, you’ll be ok to get back somewhere 
safe?” 
“Yeah. No problem.” Danny replied, hollow voiced. “See you.” And began to walk 
away, back into the field. 

18 
 Remus looked at Moody. 
“He’s angry with me. I don’t think we should pair up again like that.” 
“You won’t.” Moody said, briskly. 
Remus’s heart sank. So that was it. Moody didn’t trust him any more. The auror began 
to walk in the opposite direction from Danny, across the quiet country road. Remus hurried 
to keep up. The ground felt weird below his feet, like sponge. 
Moody stopped abruptly, having apparently judged the shady copse of trees they were 
now standing in a suitable place to apparate from. He glanced at Remus, 
“McKinnon can’t hack it, that much is clear. We’ll have him on communications or 
guarding a safe house. You’ll be prepared to go it alone, next time?” 
“I… What?!” 
“You showed them who you are, today.” Moody said, both of his eyes focused on 
Remus. “That's good. That’ll get back to the pack. Stir them up. We want Greyback 
distracted.” 
“I’m not sure I understand.” Remus frowned. 
“Don’t you?” Moody raised a bushy eyebrow. “I think you’re more canny than you let 
on, Lupin. Right, come on, I’ve an appointment with Fleamont.” 
That was that. No more questions. In a matter of seconds they were on the Potters’ 
back doorstep, answering the identifying questions from Euphemia, and then everything 
was normal; they were back in reality, surrounded by the gentle warm familiarity of the 
kitchen. It was like being jolted awake from a nightmare, and you just had to keep 
reminding yourself everything was ok now. 
Moody disappeared off towards Mr Potter’s study, and James and Sirius came running 
through the hallway to meet Remus. Sirius looked half mad, and they stood in front of each 
other for a moment, wide eyes full of words. Finally Sirius came towards him, enveloping 
Remus in a hug and burying his head in his neck. 
“You’re ok.” He whispered. 
“I’m ok.” Remus said, fiercely, squeezing him back tightly. And he wanted to say it, oh 
god, he really really wanted to. But he had no energy left, so he just kissed him, and James 
was right there, and so was Mrs Potter, but it was the only thing Remus knew that could tell 
Sirius what he needed to tell him. 
He put the rage away, the terror, the guilt and the fierce need for revenge. There would 
be a time for it. But not yet. 
 
(Song: No More Heroes - The Stranglers) 

   

19 
 ONE HUNDRED & FIFTY-THREE 
The War: Home Front 
 
Late summer, 1978 
He rolled over for the hundredth time, the sheets sticking to his hot skin. He hadn’t 
felt right since the full moon. Maybe even since before then. He was sleeping only a few 
hours each night, and now it was almost four o’clock in the morning, and he hadn’t drifted 
off yet. 
“Can’t sleep?” Sirius rolled over too. 
“No.” Remus sighed, sitting up. “Sorry. I should go in the other room.” 
“Please don’t.” Sirius said, rubbing his eyes, “It's fine, I’m up too now, I’ll keep you 
company.” 
“I’m really not in the mood to talk.” 
“That’s ok. I can talk, I’m always in the mood to talk.” 
Remus smiled, though he didn’t want to. Bloody Black. 
“Go on, then.” He murmured, lying back down slowly. His back hurt from the last full 
moon, and he’d rubbed some of Marlene’s ointment on there before bed, but it was wearing 
off already. Sirius rolled over onto his side, stretching an arm over Remus’s body and 
talking sleepily into his ear. 
“I can’t wait for tomorrow,” he murmured, “I can’t wait for you to see the flat finally. I 
never had anywhere that was just mine before.” 
“Me neither.” Remus replied, eyes closing. 
Sirius had bought the flat the week before, while Remus was recovering from the full 
moon. It had been - of course - an impulse buy, but Remus thought that was ok, really - he 
had too much on his mind to be much help, and it was Sirius’s money, after all. 
It was in London, and a muggle neighbourhood too. After the Potters’ initial surprise 
at the boys’ decision, Fleamont had insisted on ensuring that all of the standard security 
charms and alarms were in place before they were allowed to move in, so Remus hadn’t 
even seen it yet. 
“Tell me what it’s like.” Remus said, turning into Sirius’s body, curling up. He didn’t 
make himself small very often - after all he was bigger than Sirius, and it seemed silly. But 
just now, sleep deprived and filled with anxiety, it felt nice to bury his face in Sirius’s night 
shirt. 
“It’s small,” Sirius said, resting his chin on top of Remus’s head, “Just one bedroom, 
one bathroom, one kitchen.” 
“Sounds massive.” Remus replied. He meant it. He’d never imagined living somewhere 
like that, not in a million years. 
“We can have it however we want; furniture, wallpaper, anything.” 
“I’ll leave the interior design up to you.” 
“Fine. You can build the bookcases.” 

20 
 “Bookcases?” Remus raised his head. He hadn’t thought of that. 
“Yep, bookcases,” Sirius replied, a smile in his voice, “Space for the record collection 
too, obviously. And there are some garages nearby I might be able to rent…” 
“We’re getting a car?!” Remus was a bit alarmed by this; he’d only just agreed to keep 
James’s old broom for travel on Order related business, he really didn’t fancy learning to 
drive too. 
“Not a car…” Sirius said, evasively, “But I was just thinking… I mean, it would be really 
useful to have another means of transport.” 
“There’s the tube.” Remus said, “Buses. London is actually sort of famous for them, 
y’know.” 
“Yeah…” 
“Have you already bought it?” Remus pulled away to see Sirius’s face. 
“Er... “ 
“Sirius!” 
“What?!” Sirius was grinning mischievously, “It’s an early birthday present to myself.” 
“Your birthday isn’t for months!” 
“Housewarming, then. I’ll get you something too!” 
“Honestly,” Remus laughed, wrapping his arms around Sirius again, “You’re a liability. 
Spoilt brat.” 
“Care home oik.” Sirius replied, laughing, his voice muffled by Remus’s shoulder. 
They lay still and quiet for a little while, just like that. Remus relaxed a bit, but he still 
wasn’t going to sleep. It would be light, soon, surely. Every now and then he thought he 
could hear a bird singing in the garden. Wouldn’t get that in London. Just rattling milk 
floats and bin lorries and buses hissing and maybe the odd pidgeon. He couldn’t wait. 
He held Sirius a little tighter. They’d been hugging a lot, lately. Contact seemed vital; 
it reminded Remus he was human. 
“Everything ok?” Sirius asked, quietly. 
“Fine. Just can’t sleep.” 
“Still not in the mood to talk about it?” 
“No.” 
“Ok.” Sirius sighed a little. Then he moved his head against Remus’s shoulder, turning 
to kiss the softest part of his neck. Sirius’s hand slid down to Remus’s hip, slowly. “In the 
mood for anything else?” 
* * * 
Remus had sort of expected to see his new flat for the first time alone with Sirius. How 
foolish of him; he had forgotten that even outside of Hogwarts Sirius and James came as a 
pair. And wherever James went, Peter and Lily typically went. So it ended up being the five 
of them catching the train into London the next morning. 
Sirius was buzzing with excitement, unable to sit still the whole way. He bounced 
about the carriage, ran down the escalators at Waterloo, and hopped from foot to foot on 

21 
the underground platform. They were all in muggle clothes, and he was wearing his leather 
jacket, black jeans and combat boots. Remus liked to focus on these details, because if they 
were muggles then they weren’t at war today. 
The flat was off Leicester Square, in Chinatown. It was a seedy part of town, but that 
didn’t both Remus, nor did it seem of any concern to Sirius. It was crowded and noisy, the 
smell of chinese food and cigarettes and open drains permeating the air. The phone boxes 
were plastered with adverts for escorts, and they passed at least two peep show cinemas. 
“I love London.” Remus smiled to himself. Sirius flashed him a grin. 
They entered their building through a door in the back alley of an off-licence, filing in 
one by one, Peter loudly remarking on how small everything seemed, and how strange 
muggles were. Then up a short flight of stairs where they reached a concrete landing, with a 
bright yellow front door. Number 9. 
“Home!” Sirius said, as he jammed the key into the lock, beaming at them all. 
It was small. It was mundane, plainly furnished. It was basic. It was absolutely perfect. 
They stepped directly into the living room, which was very modern, with no entrance 
hall. There was a doorway to the left leading through to the kitchen, which was sunny and 
bright, a little window over the gleaming metal sink. Lily made a beeline for the fridge - 
she’d very sweetly brought a bottle of sparkling white wine to celebrate with. 
Remus went back into the living room, and down a hallway where there were two 
doors - one was the bathroom - sixties green tile with pink porcelain fittings - the other was 
a bedroom. Two suitcases - the clothes they’d packed up and sent ahead - sat side by side by 
the wardrobe. The bed was there already, neatly made with a maroon blanket and throw. 
Not a four poster; no secretive dark hangings. Just a perfectly ordinary bed for two. 
“Well?” Sirius asked, anxiously, entering the room behind him. “I know it’s really 
muggle-ish, but I didn’t want to go overboard on the money… and it’s much easier to 
protect, Monty even had Moody advising on some of the shield enchantments…” 
“It’s… great.” Remus nodded. He was so happy. He just smiled, staring around. “It’s…” 
there weren’t words. 
Luckily, Sirius was smiling too, watching him. 
“I always know it’s good when you don’t have something sarcastic to say,” he winked, 
“Come on, you barely looked at the living room!” 
Remus followed him back through. Lily was pouring out tumblrs of sparkling white 
wine (“We should have got you proper wine glasses as a present!”), and they all toasted, 
cheering loudly. 
“Mate, you’ve got to show me how that eclectic oven thing works,” James said, wide 
eyed, “And the radar-eater.” 
“​Radiator​.” Lily rolled her eyes, “Honestly, h
​ ow​ did you get an Acceptable in Muggle 
Studies?!” 
Peter was looking at the small brick fireplace, which was very out of place in the 
contemporary living room with its cream carpet and plastic venetian blinds. 
“Are you on the floo network, then?” he asked. 

22 
 “Yep,” Sirius nodded. “For Order stuff, obviously. And you lot. Moody’s made it 
untraceable. The whole flat is unplottable, too.” 
Remus couldn’t help feeling a bit put out by the fireplace. Even if it was essential, he 
didn’t like the idea that members of the order had access to their flat at any time of day or 
night. The thought of Alastor Moody’s head appearing in their living room made him 
shudder. Sirius, still watching Remus’s face carefully gave him a nudge, 
“I got something else, too,” he gestured to the couch. 
They all turned to look. 
“You’ve got a telly-phone!” James suddenly yelled, almost spilling his drink in 
excitement as he pointed at the device sitting on an end table by the sofa. 
“Calm down!” Lily chastised. 
“A phone!” Remus stared at it, amazed. “Is it connected?” 
“Yep,” Sirius nodded, proudly, “Just pick it up and dial - so I don’t have to hang about 
outside phone boxes any more--” 
He was cut off, because Remus had practically knocked him over, throwing his arms 
around Sirius, and then - because after all, they were in their own home now, took his head 
in his hands and kissed him long and hard. 
Lily and James cheered again, Peter downed his drink and went to pour some more. 
* * * 
“Do I look ok?” Sirius was peering at himself in the bathroom mirror. He kept 
buttoning and unbuttoning his shirt. “Should I wear a tie?” 
“No,” Remus laughed, standing behind him, pulling on a plain grey t-shirt over his 
damp hair. “Stop fussing, you look fine.” 
“Just fine?!” 
“Sorry.” Remus replied, deadpan, “You look incredible.” 
“Thank you.” Sirius smiled smugly at him through the mirror. “I just don’t want to let 
you down, I’ve never met anyone’s mum before.” 
“What about Mrs Potter?” 
“The Potters’ don’t count, they’re like my own parents, I don’t need to impress them.” 
“You’ll be standing next to me,” Remus shrugged on a cardigan to cover his arms, 
“She’ll be impressed.” 
“Don’t do that,” Sirius tutted, “I bet she thinks the sun shines out of your arse.” 
“Are you ready?” 
“As I’ll ever be.” 
They left the bathroom, making their way out of the flat. They had only been moved in 
for a week and a half, and there were still boxes everywhere, but it already felt like home to 
Remus. He loved the jangle of keys in his pocket; the sensation of closing the front door on 
the world; having a place to be himself completely. The cramped soho flat was nothing like 
as grand as Hogwarts, but already Remus liked it better than anywhere else he had ever 
lived. 

23 
 (Grant had put it best - Remus phoned him as soon as he had the chance - “A fixed 
address, eh? Blimey, we h
​ ave​ moved up in the world.”) 
They apparated from the landing outside, which had become a habit; it was secluded 
enough that no one would see them. In mere moments they found themselves on a quiet 
residential road in Cardiff, where it was - of course - just starting to rain. 
“Sorry, should’ve warned you,” Remus laughed as Sirius yelped and scrambled to yank 
up his shirt to protect his hair, “Welsh summers aren’t much better than Scottish ones.” 
They made the short walk to the hospital quickly, and Remus led Sirius to Sparrow 
ward with much more confidence than that first time he’d met Hope. He smiled and gave a 
little wave to the nurse on duty, before walking to the end of the ward to see his mother. 
The curtain was drawn halfway across, so he peered around it first, to check if she was 
asleep. But no, she was sitting up in bed, flicking through a fashion magazine. He cleared 
his throat and she looked up. A huge smile spread across her thin face, showing every 
pearly tooth, 
“Remus!” 
“Hi,” he said, ducking his head shyly and walking around to greet her. 
He kissed her lightly on the cheek. He’d done that three times now, having graduated 
up from her kissing his hand. Progress was slow, but every milestone felt enormous. 
“I was hoping you’d come today!” She beamed, clutching his hand and looking him 
over as he folded himself into the orange plastic chair by her bed. 
“Sorry it’s been so long,” he apologised, “I finished school, and then I moved… um. I’ve 
brought someone to meet you,” he glanced up at Sirius, still standing just behind the 
curtain, looking at Hope nervously. “Mum,” (second time he’d ever said that to her face), 
“This is Sirius Black.” 
Sirius came around and stood at the end of the bed, hands in front of him. He looked 
like he was trying very hard not to fidget. 
“Pleased to meet you, Ms Lupin,” he said, politely. 
She didn’t correct him on the name, only smiled benignly back at him, 
“Hello, Sirius. Are you a friend of Remus’s from school?” 
“That’s right,” he nodded. 
“Sirius and I live together, in London.” Remus said, testing the water. He watched her 
face, but she was inscrutable. She could be an auror, no problem. 
“Doesn’t that sound like fun,” she said, glassy eyed, “Your dad used to take me for 
trips to London, I loved a go on the double deckers.” 
Ah. She was in the mood to talk about Lyall. These were far from Remus’s favourite 
visits, but he let her talk, because it seemed to make her happy. She started on a long and 
rambling story about all the times Lyall had taken her to London, where they’d seen all the 
sights, and then all of the various other places he had taken her - Edinburgh and Blackpool 
and Aberystwyth. Remus tried not to listen too hard. He didn’t want to start wondering 
whether Lyall would have taken them both to these places, if things had been different. 

24 
 Eventually, with Hope showing no sign of stopping, Remus gestured for Sirius to take 
a seat, and he dragged one over from the next bed, which was empty. As he settled in, 
Remus noticed the suitcase at the foot of the bed. It wasn’t usually there. Was she finally 
allowed to go home? 
“...and I had my first ever curry in a little restaurant in Wembley…” she was saying 
now. 
“We’re in Chinatown,” Remus said. 
“Lovely.” She smiled, though she clearly had no idea where that was. She was growing 
increasingly childlike, he thought, must be the medication they had her on. It ought to have 
been annoying, but it actually helped him empathise with her. “And you’ll have your exam 
results soon, will you?” 
“We’ve had them,” Remus replied, “I passed everything.” 
“He came top in the school in three subjects,” Sirius said, out of the blue. “History, 
Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy - and top marks in everything else!” 
Remus blushed. That wasn’t strictly true. Ok, he’d earned ‘Outstanding’ in most 
subjects, but he’d only got an ‘Exceeds Expectations’ in Transfiguration. 
“That’s my clever boy,” she grinned dozily, “Just like his dad.” 
“Are you going somewhere, mum?” Remus asked, still bothered by the suitcase. 
“Oh yes,” she nodded, resting her head back against the pile of pillows propping her 
up, “Yes, I’m off to the hospice tomorrow.” 
Remus’s insides turned ice cold. His throat went dry. ​No​, he thought, n
​ o, I need more 
time​.   
“Tomorrow?” He choked. She squeezed his hand again, her eyes sharpening, 
“I’m ready, love. It’s time.” 
“But…” he didn’t know what to say. He thought he might cry, but he didn’t want to 
upset her. 
Sirius looked confused. He didn’t know what it meant. 
“I’m making sure everything’s in order,” Hope said, matter-of-factly, suddenly 
sounding much more mature than usual, “If you leave me your address, I’ll make sure 
everything ends up where it ought to. And of course the funeral - I’ve told Gethin you’re to 
be notified as soon as possible, and that you’re sat at the front. Don’t let them put you at the 
back like some poor relation. You’re my son, and I’ve no shame at all, understand?” 
“Mum, please…” Remus looked away, shocked by how distraught he felt. “I’m not… just 
not yet, ok?” 
Her face softened. She sighed, 
“All right, my darling. I’m sorry.” 
Who the fuck is Gethin?! ​He wanted to shout. H
​ ow many surprises are waiting for me, after 
you’re gone?​ He’d known this was coming, but it was still the worst news of his life. He 
couldn’t shake the sense of betrayal. They’d only just found each other. 
Sirius grew uncomfortable in the silence that followed. He didn’t understand Hope 
and Remus’s shared inability to say the important things; Sirius could never see why 

25 
everyone didn’t just say what they felt as soon as they felt it. But he respected their privacy, 
and got up, 
“I’m going to get a cup of tea, Remus,” he said, gently, “Would you like one?” 
Remus nodded, 
“Canteen’s down the hall,” he said, staring at the floor, still holding Hope’s hand. “I’ll 
meet you there, in a minute.” 
“Can I get you anything, Ms. Lupin?” 
She shook her head, 
“No thank you, dear. It was lovely to meet you.” 
He inclined his head, gallantly, smiling politely - god, he could be charming in even 
the most desperate situations - then quickly left. 
Remus let go of Hope’s hand, and buried his face in his palms. F
​ uck​. Couldn’t he just 
enjoy something for five minutes without a tragedy? 
“He’s a very nice young man.” Hope said, brightly 
“Yeah,” Remus replied, huffing a joyless laugh, rubbing the back of his head, 
nervously. 
“I can see why you like him.” She prompted. 
She wanted the unpleasantness over, clearly. Perhaps she wanted to go back to talking 
about Lyall. Well, he wasn’t going to let her. She wasn’t the only one who could drop 
bombshells. 
He looked at her, trying to meet her eye. 
“Look, there’s something I really feel like I ought to explain, er. About Sirius. About 
Sirius and me.” 
Hope closed her eyes with a soft smile and gently shook her head, 
“It’s all right, ​cariad​,” she took his hand and patted it, “I knew the moment I saw the 
two of you.” 
“You… really?” Remus stared at her. He’d never talked about this with anyone older 
than himself before. 
“I’ve had a feeling for a while. I won’t pretend it makes no difference at all,” she 
replied, choosing her words carefully, “But it doesn’t change who you are, my darling boy.” 
She reached for his hand again and he held it. She stroked his knuckles softly with her 
thumb. 
“You love him, don’t you?” 
“I…” Remus felt the familiar panic rising at the sound of that word, but as it was just 
the two of them, and he felt he owed it to her to be honest, he nodded. “Yes.” 
“And he loves you.” 
“I think so. Yes, he does.” 
“That’s all I need to know, then.” She smiled again. She let out a great sigh, “Love. It’s 

the only thing you get to take with you, you know.”   

26 
 ONE HUNDRED & FIFTY-FOUR 
The War: Autumn 1978 
 
Stop your messing around (ah-ah-ah) 
Better think of your future (ah-ah-ah) 
Time you straighten right out (ah-ah-ah) 
Creating problems in town (ah-ah-ah) 
  
Remus peered over the top of his book through the cafe window to see if there had 
been any change in the street ahead of him. He looked at the clock on the greasy wall 
beside him. Five minutes to go, if Pete wasn’t running late. 
Remus looked at his book again. He hadn’t really been reading it, he was too 
distracted. He found himself rarely in the mood for studying, these days, between Order 
meetings, strange and half-explained assignments, visiting Hope in the hospice - which he 
tried to do every other day, now. 
On top of this, Remus and Sirius were learning to look after themselves for the first 
time. After a week of takeaways, Remus admitted defeat and asked to borrow a recipe book 
from Mrs Potter. Results had been mixed, so far. Sirius, meanwhile, seemed to have reached 
crisis point at the state of the bathroom, and dedicated several evenings to finally learning 
some cleaning spells. 
They’d had a fight over whether or not to get a television (Sirius was bizarrely 
suspicious of this muggle technology; he couldn’t see the point), and then another one over 
the motorbike (Remus hated everything about it, but most of all the highly dangerous flying 
charms Sirius was attempting). 
Other than that, things were going pretty well. Well. As well as anyone could expect.   
The clock kept ticking. Remus lifted the chipped mug of tea to his lips, drank, then 
grimaced. Stone cold. He’d been there an hour at least, but it wasn’t as if he had anywhere 
else to be. 
Since the botched mission to Knockturn Alley back in July, Remus had noticed a clear 
shift in the nature of his missions. He was often paired with Peter, and generally only sent 
on ‘soft’ assignments - passing on messages, collecting dead portkeys - once or twice he’d 
been stuck making sandwiches for visitors to the Potters. 
Meanwhile, Sirius and James’s fortunes had taken them in a completely different 
direction. They both spent much of their time with Frank and Alice, or the Prewett twins, 
up to all sorts of interesting things like advanced defense, guard duties, and even one or two 
midnight raids. 
Sirius was having the time of his life. Remus was miserable, but not saying so. In other 
words, business as usual. 
Finally, Remus looked up and saw movement. It was the end of the working day, and 
men in smart suits and hats began to fill the pavements. If you looked very closely, you 

27 
could see that some of these men and women were dressed a bit less conservatively than the 
others. It was the end of the day at the Ministry of Magic, too.   
Remus got up, quickly, banging his shins on the orange plastic chair beside him. 
Hissing through his teeth, he limped slightly on his way out. Outside it was muggy - not 
sunny, but hot and sticky; headache weather. Thick, queasy storm clouds hung above the 
grey buildings, and a powerful reek rose up from the cafe bins, old food putrefying in the 
unseasonable September heat. 
Remus hung back a moment, waiting and watching, not wanting to be seen. A tall, 
handsome young man strode past, wearing black robes and a bottle green waistcoat. He had 
sharp cheekbones and platinum hair, though he was very young - Remus recognised him at 
once as Lucius Malfoy, the man Narcissa had risked her life to marry. Remus watched him 
stalk up the street, fleetingly commending Sirius’s cousin on her excellent taste. 
“Oh, hello Moony,” 
Remus jumped. Peter somehow still had the ability to take him by surprise - you 
almost never saw him coming. 
“Christ, Pete, you scared me.” 
“Well if you hadn’t been perving on Malfoy’s arse--” 
“Shut up.” Remus was already in a bad mood, and much too sensitive to be teased by 
Peter Pettigrew, of all people. 
“Didn’t expect to see you,” Peter was saying, glancing at his pocket watch and tucking 
it back into his trouser pocket. 
He was wearing a tweed jacket and a stupid little bowler hat, mustard coloured. He 
looked like an off-brand leprechaun. 
Remus scolded himself internally, ashamed of himself for being jealous of his friend - 
who despite only having scooped up a handful of NEWTs had managed to walk into an 
entry level position in the ministry, no bother. 
“What do you mean?” Remus frowned, “I’m on time, aren’t I?” 
“Didn’t you get Arthur’s message?” Peter looked up at him, innocently, “Got 
cancelled. They sent Caradoc.” 
“Oh.” Remus pursed his lips. 
“So we can go home!” Peter said cheerily, “Thank Godric too, I’m exhausted. Work 
was mayhem today, I’m rushed off my feet.” 
“Right, of course.” Remus nodded, his shoulders slumping. 
He hadn’t got out of bed until midday. Then all he’d done was read the papers and 
smoke and eat half a loaf of bread - which Sirius had bought only the morning before. This 
had been his longest conversation with another human being all day. 
“Are you sure they don’t need us?” He said, hopefully, “Maybe if we went along 
anyway--" 
“Best not,” Peter shook his head, “You know what Moody’s like about protocol. 
Anyway, I’m starving, I barely had time for lunch.” 
“Really? Want to go and get something at the Leaky Cauldron?” 

28 
 “Sorry, promised mum I’d be home. She worries, you know.” 
“Oh. Of course.” 
“Padfoot is at your flat, isn’t he?” 
“Yeah, he should be back by now.” 
“See you at the next meeting, Moony!” 
“Yeah, see you.” 
They walked off in opposite directions, Peter heading for the nearest floo grate (he 
still hadn’t learnt to apparate), Remus for the nearest quiet alley he could slink into and 
vanish in peace. 
He tried to cheer up a bit as he stood outside the door to his flat. He shook himself, 
attempted to clear his mind, forced a smile. He opened the door. 
“You’re back early!” Sirius’s voice trilled from the kitchen, and that was enough to 
throw Remus back onto his dark mood. It felt like an accusation. 
“Mm.” He grunted, shutting the door and pulling off his cardigan, the hairs on his 
arms itching and prickling in the heat. It made his scars raised too, like barbed wire. 
“What's up?” Sirius appeared. He’d showered recently, his hair still gleamed. 
“Something happen?” 
Remus snorted, kicking his shoes off and flinging them under the coffee table. 
“Nothing happened. It got cancelled. Or someone else did it. Doesn't matter anyway, it 
was just busy-work.” 
“No it wasn’t.” Sirius tutted. “Why would Dumbledore give you busy-work?” 
“Because I can’t be trusted to do anything else but they still want to keep me on side 
so I don’t suddenly go evil.” 
“Moony…” Sirius had his hands on his hips, now. 
Remus sighed and waved a hand. 
“Forget about it. How was your day?” 
“It was… busy. Long.” Sirius said, carefully, obviously not wanting to provoke Remus 
any further. “The usual stuff, you know.” 
“I don’t know.” Remus muttered. “You get to hang around with Aurors all day. The 
best I get is ​Wormtail​.” 
“Don’t be like that.” Sirius sat beside Remus on the couch, “You’re doing plenty of 
useful stuff, still. And they sent you on that mission at the beginning of the summer, that 
was huge!” 
Remus didn’t say anything. He hadn’t told Sirius what had happened, how he’d lost 
control ​yet again​, and how Moody clearly didn’t trust him anymore, and Danny probably 
hated him. 
In the pause that followed, Sirius tutted. 
“Look, if you’re in a mood, I’d rather just get out of your way. I haven’t had a brilliant 
day either.” 
“Fine.” Remus said, sharply. 

29 
 It wasn’t fine. Part of him wanted to grab Sirius for a kiss, pull him into the bedroom, 
and apologise for being a dick. The other part wanted a full blown fight, with lots of 
shouting and swearing. Either way, he didn’t want Sirius going anywhere. 
Sirius sighed and got up. 
“Fine then.” He grabbed his keys on the way out. “Going to work on the bike,” he said. 
“I’ll get bread on the way back, seeing as we’ve run out ​again​ .” 
Remus grunted in response, staring at a hole in his sock, rather than meet Sirius’s eye. 
They’d make it all up later, they always did. 
* * * 
The problem with not being at Hogwarts was that Remus never had any idea where 
anyone was. He missed the marauder’s map sorely, and felt anxious when he pictured 
Sirius, James and Peter out in the world, facing who knew what. 
It typified the way he felt about almost everything now that school was over. At 
Hogwarts he had been in control; he’d had a place, a certain status. In the real world, he 
was nothing and nobody; back to the bottom of the deck. 
As a mature and educated young man, he knew that he ought to face these new 
challenges with fortitude; set out to prove his worth, like James and Sirius - and even Pete. 
But Remus didn’t. He sulked. 
After the cancelled mission with Peter there had been another long and confusing 
meeting with the Order, and barely anyone had glanced in Remus’s direction. Moody hadn’t 
been there, nor Ferox, so Remus couldn’t even go and ask them whether there had been any 
developments on the Greyback front. 
It was nice to see the girls - Lily was apprenticing in the potions research department 
at St Mungo’s, and she and Marlene had made a whole gang of new friends at the hospital. 
Mary was at muggle secretarial college, and - like Remus - had been unimpressed with her 
assignments from the Order so far. 
“S’pose they don’t want my mucky blood blowing anyone’s cover,” she rolled her eyes. 
He snickered. Good old Mary. 
Since that meeting, Remus had spent much of his time alone. He slept in, listened to 
the radio, went downstairs to the cornershop to buy fags, and pretended to read. He told 
Sirius he was researching defensive magic, but he couldn’t see the point in studying for no 
reason. 
Remus was sprawled on the couch one day doing the crossword in a free paper he’d 
picked up somewhere. Well. He wasn’t so much ‘doing the crossword’ as trying to write the 
most imaginative swear words he could think of into the boxes. He was stuck on twelve 
down, ‘_ _ _ E _ _ _ _ F’, when the phone rang. 
It made him jump; the phone never rang. 
“H-hello?” He said, croakily, realising it was after one ‘clock in the afternoon and the 
first time he’d spoken. 
“Wotcher sweeheart.” 
“Grant?” 

30 
 “Someone else calling you sweetheart? You slag.” 
Remus laughed, grinning ear to ear. 
“Sarky tosser. Where have y​ ou​ been?” 
“Here and there. Sorry, I’ve had a bit of a busy summer… er… you’re at home, then?” 
“Yeah.” 
“Brilliant, I’m five minutes away.” 
“What?!” 
“See you soon!” The line went dead. 
Not knowing what else to do, and mildly stunned, Remus went to the bathroom 
quickly to check himself in the mirror. He was wearing a creased t-shirt, and threw on a 
jumper lying on the floor to cover up his scarred forearms. His hair never seemed to 
change, no matter what he did, so he ran his fingers through the curls and watched them 
spring back into place. He wished he’d showered when he woke up that morning, but it was 
too late now. 
There was a knock at the door and Remus hurried to answer it, pointing his wand at 
the kettle as he passed the kitchen door to flick it on. His pulse quickened, and he realised 
how excited he was to see someone not involved in the war. 
He wrenched the door open harder than he needed to, so that it nearly slammed into 
the wall. 
“Hiya,” Grant stood in the doorway, wide-eyed but grinning, his face round and sunny 
as it had been at fifteen, chipped tooth and bright clothes and everything else that was right 
in the world. 
“Hi!” Remus breathed, standing back to allow Grant entry, “I’m so happy to see you!” 
“Blimey,” Grant nudged him with his trainer as he came inside, “If I’d known I’d get 
this sort of welcome I’d ‘ave shown up weeks ago.” 
He stood in the middle of the living room, hands on his hips, staring around it awe. He 
let out a low whistle, “Done alright for yourself ‘ere, eh? Very nice.” 
“Yeah, I s’pose,” Remus rubbed the back of his head. It was a bit messy, old 
newspapers and half empty mugs of tea all over the place, not to mention the overflowing 
ashtrays. Suddenly he was very embarrassed. 
“What you got a fireplace for?” Grant chuckled, “Thought these modern flats all had 
central heating?” 
“Mm.” Remus mumbled, “Cup of tea?” 
“Champion.” 
Remus went into the kitchen, and used a bit of wordless magic to hurry it all along, 
before bringing the mugs through to the living room, where Grant stood inspecting the 
book case. He looked so well. His clothes were clean and smart - he was even wearing a 
dress shirt, which had a wide floral collar and cuffs. 
Remus gave him his tea, and did a bit of quick tidying before sitting down. 
“I can’t believe you’re here.” He said. Grant laughed, 

31 
 “Me neither, to be honest. Been a long time, eh?” 
“How was your holiday?” 
“Oh, er…” Grant appeared to be blushing. His ears turned cherry red. “That was a bit 
of a fib… I just didn’t want to jinx anything.” 
“Jinx what? What have you been doing?” 
“I um. Look, don’t laugh at me, all right? I’ve been doing evening classes. You know, 
get my O-Levels.” He looked down. 
“That’s brilliant!” Remus said. Grant looked up at him cautiously, as if waiting for the 
punchline. 
“Better late than never, I s’pose. I had my CSE Maths exam today, over in Russell 
Square. Bloody difficult, but I reckon I did enough to pass. Fucking Pythagoras was a right 
tosser, eh?” 
Remus laughed. 
“Well done, though! What brought that on?” 
“Want to work somewhere other than a pub, one day.” Grant shrugged, “Shagging all 
them students opened my eyes a bit. Don’t want to be a thicko all my life.” 
“You are not thick.” Remus said, firmly, giving him a stern look. 
“Well, we’ll see,” Grant waved a hand, shy again. “If I get my Maths and my English 
sorted - and I reckon I did ok on English too - you ought to see my spelling, it’s miles better 
- then I’m ‘oping I can start A-Levels in January. I wanna do psychology, I think.” 
“Psychology.” Remus said, in awe. 
“Yeah,” Grant chuckled, “Ricky - that’s one of the students I was seeing - ‘e reckoned I 
better do Politics, but to be honest I’ve had it up to ‘ere with Trotsky. ‘E was a communist.” 
“Trotsky?” 
“Ricky.” 
“Right.” Remus sipped his tea, thoughtfully. Everyone was doing things. Everyone had 
a direction. And here he was, just sitting by and watching, as per usual. Self-hatred rose 
inside him. 
“So… how’s Sirius?” Grant asked, politely. 
“Yeah, good. He’s out just now. Um... Uni lecture.” 
“Nice. And… your mum? How’s she?” 
“Dying.” Remus grunted. 
“Bummer.” 
Remus practically spat his tea out, laughing. Grant grinned. 
“Oi, did ya hear about St Eddy’s?” 
“What about it?” Remus frowned. 
“Shut down. Last Approved School in Britain, apparently - they’re all ‘Community 
Homes’ now.” 
“What happened to all the boys?” 

32 
 “Some of them sent to Borstal. The rest got re-housed. They’re knocking it down, 
putting up flats instead.” 
“Good riddance.” Remus said, darkly. 
“I’ll drink to that,” Grant snorted, raising his mug of tea. They chatted for a bit longer, 
reminiscing. Grant wasn’t seeing anyone serious, and didn’t know how much longer he’d be 
in Brighton. He missed London, but he knew he needed to save up more money if he 
wanted to move back and make a proper go of it. He was so different from the last time 
Remus had seen him. 
“‘Nuff about me, what about you? You at uni too?” 
“I’m not really doing anything.” Remus sighed. “It’s hard to get a job right now. I’ve 
mostly just been here.” 
“Lucky you’ve got this set up, eh?” Grant gestured around, picking up the cigarette 
box on the coffee table and shaking it. Remus nodded, and took one himself too. 
“Yeah, lucky.” He said, glumly, as he lit it. 
“You need to get out more, sweetheart.” Grant said, sounding serious. 
“What?” 
Grant tutted, blowing smoke and looking Remus up and down. 
“Look at you, you miserable git. I’m not blind, y’know. Cooped up in here feeling sorry 
for yourself, is it?” 
“No, I--” 
“Remus,” Grant sighed, shaking his head, “I’m not being ‘orrible, I’m just saying. 
Remember when I left St Edmund’s, and I lived in that squat?” 
“Yeah…?” Remus wished he could forget that, but it was burned in his memory. The 
dirty mattresses, the bare floorboards, the damp. 
“I thought it was great at first - no more school, no more matron telling me what to 
do, just me looking out for myself.” He shook his head, pursing his lips, “I liked running 
away. I done it all the time, when I was a kid. Run away from me mum, from me grandad - 
the prick - from anywhere people tried to keep me in. And the thing is, they always ​let​ me. 
Matron never called the police, mum never tried to find me. Actually, you were the only 
person who ever tried to track me down.” 
“I…” Remus hadn’t known that. 
“I dunno how you did it,” Grant chuckled, scratching his chin, “Maybe you’ve got a 
magic wand or summink. But you found me. Twice. Thought about that a lot, over the past 
year.” 
“I just wanted to make sure you were ok.” 
“I know ya did,” Grant smiled, softly, “That’s what amazed me. Here’s this lad - this 
clever, funny, posho lad - who ​gives a shit​ about me, when no one else ever did. Made me feel 
like someone worthwhile. So I thought I’d better do something worthwhile.” 
Remus didn’t know what to say. He put his tea down. 
“That’s why I wanted to wait ‘til my exams were all done before I saw ya,” Grant 
continued, “Even if I fail the lot, I wanted to tell you I’d done it, I’m trying to be better.” 

33 
 “You never needed to prove anything to me,” Remus said, earnestly. 
“I know,” Grant nodded, “I did it for me, really. I did it because running away and 
avoiding all the stuff that made me feel like shit was pointless in the end. If you want 
people to think you’re worth it, you’ve got to start acting like you want it.” 
Remus laughed humourlessly, 
“Sounds like you’re already taking psychology.” 
“Been reading lots,” Grant winked, “You get what I’m telling you, then?” 
“Yes.” Remus sighed. ​Do something worthwhile. Stop moping. 
“Good.” Grant said, brightly, “Cos if you’re not happy here, I’ll switch wiv ya. Nice 
flat, lots of books, gorgeous boyfriend…” 
Remus laughed again, and kicked Grant’s shin playfully, 
“Shut up.” 
“Never. Anyway, best be off, I’ve got a train to catch - I’ll be popping back in a month 
or so, though, s’long as I get the results I need.” 
“You will.” Remus said confidently, “I know you will.” 
“Cheers. Give me a ring soon, eh?” 
They hugged at the door, and Remus watched him go, hopping down the steps two at a 
time, whistling a pop tune. 
Remus felt lighter; his cheeks ached from smiling. He closed the door and looked at 
the messy room. He felt like doing the washing up. Then he might nip to the shops and get 
something in for dinner. Sirius had been out all day; he’d like coming home to a proper 
meal. 
Tomorrow, Remus could make a proper start on everything else. There was so much to 
do. 
 
(Song: A Message to You Rudy - The Specials) 

   

34 
 ONE HUNDRED & FIFTY-FIVE 
The War: Winter 1978-1979 
 
Rows and flows of angel hair 
And ice cream castles in the air 
And feather canyons everywhere 
I've looked at clouds that way 
  
But now they only block the sun 
They rain and snow on everyone 
So many things I would have done 
But clouds got in my way 
  
Saturday 23rd December 1978 
“Jesus Christ.” Remus grumbled, opening his sticky eyes. 
He fumbled on the bedside for his glass of water, and found it empty. “Aguamenti,” he 
rasped, his wand hand shaking. 
The glass filled with water, and he gulped it down greedily. He rolled onto his back, 
pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, hoping to mitigate the headache threatening 
to start gnawing on his brain. He turned his head slightly and addressed the lump under the 
duvet, 
“You awake?” 
There was a sort of a shudder and a grunt. Remus tutted. It was too hot in the 
bedroom, even for December. He got up and went to the window to crack it open. He 
pressed his forehead against the cold glass and let the cold air wash over his hot skin. 
They’d been out at the Leaky Cauldron the night before - pre-Christmas drinks. The 
marauders and Lily would be spending Christmas itself at the Potters, but everyone who 
was working had finished for the year, and Mary had suggested blowing off some steam 
away from the older members of the Order of the Phoenix, for once. 
As with most of Mary’s ideas, it was brilliant fun. Marlene came, and brought Yaz, 
who was visiting the McKinnons because her family didn’t do Christmas anyway. Frank 
and Alice popped by to say hello, and Sirius and James insisted on getting in every other 
round. 
After last orders, those still standing had piled into a taxi back to Remus and Sirius’s 
flat, where they may not have had any milk or bread in, but the bar was always fully stocked. 
Everything had been a bit of a blur, after that. Remus had a horrible feeling that he 
and Lily had started singing muggle Christmas Carols at some point. 
He groaned loudly, “Why did you let me drink so much?!” 

35 
 “Oi, don’t blame me!” Lily suddenly appeared, her fluffy red hair sticking up like a 
dandelion as she emerged from under the duvet. 
Remus jumped, whirling around. He wrapped his arms protectively around himself, 
“Fucking hell, Evans, what are you doing here?!” 
“Couldn’t get James to leave,” she yawned, “And I wasn’t going to sleep on the couch, 
they started building a fort.” 
“This is the second time you’ve shown up in my bedroom unannounced, Evans, people 
will talk.” Remus searched for a t-shirt. 
“Second time I’ve caught you in your pants too,” she laughed, “Oh get back in, you big 
jessy, it's still early.” 
He did, but only because the room was cold now, and he didn’t fancy finding out what 
James and Sirius had done to the living room. T-shirt on, he crawled back under the duvet, 
and Lily wrapped her arms around his waist, her long hair tickling under his chin, like 
Sirius’s did. He stroked her shoulder. She was so nice and small. 
“D’you reckon if I’d agreed to go out with you in fourth year this is what our life would 
be like?” He asked, conversationally. 
“Oh god,” she groaned, covering her eyes with her fingers, “Do you have to remind 
me?!” 
He laughed, 
“I don’t know why you’re embarrassed, I was the oblivious one.” 
“I had such a crush on you!” 
“Shh,” he chuckled, “James took weeks to forgive me, I had to swear under truth 
serum that I had no nefarious intentions towards you.” 
“That idiot. I love him.” 
“Mm.” 
“I’m so glad it’s Christmas,” she sighed, “We all need a break, don’t we?” 
“Yeah.” 
“I’m supposed to be packing today, then at James’s parents this evening - will you be 
there?” 
“Sirius might,” Remus said, “I’m visiting my mother. You know she's… um. She’s in 
the hospice, now.” 
“Oh, of course!” Lily gave him a squeeze. “Sorry love. How is she?” 
“I don’t think they expected her to make it all the way to Christmas. But she's hanging 
on.” 
“Oh Remus.” Lily sighed, sadly. 
“S’fine.” Remus pulled away, deciding he might as well get up after all. “Right. I need a 
cup of tea and a ciggie.” He said, getting out of bed and pulling his jeans on. 
“Ugh, you two really need to give up smoking,” Lily said, sitting up, “This duvet 
stinks.” 

36 
 “Don’t tell me you’ve never had a cheeky post-coital fag, Evans?” Remus winked, 
heading for the door. 
“Post c--?… oh my god, ​Remus​!” 
He was still smirking to himself when he entered the living room, which looked like a 
bomb had hit it. The sofa had been moved to the middle of the room for some reason, and 
the cushions removed. James was fast asleep, sprawled across what looked like a giant 
cream mattress on the floor. Sirius was curled up at James’s feet with one of Remus’s 
jumpers rolled up under his head. 
Remus edged into the kitchen, flicking the kettle on. Every surface was sticky with 
something sweet and alcoholic; there were mugs and glasses sitting about, half full, some 
with half-smoked cigarettes floating in them. Remus grimaced and felt his stomach 
contract, so he opened a window for air. He really didn’t want to be sick, if he could help it. 
Mary had written ‘Merry Christmas, Blood Traitors!’ on the fridge door in cheerful 
pink lipstick, with three big ‘X’ kisses below. She was spending the rest of her Christmas in 
Jamaica - the first time she had ever visited her grandparents’ home country. Remus was 
glad of it. Christmas had never been a good time as far as the war was concerned, and 
having Mary as far away from danger as possible made him feel a bit better. 
He wasn’t thrilled about doing Christmas at the Potters - though he felt guilty even 
thinking that. Sirius would never consider spending the holiday anywhere else, so of course 
Remus would go along with it - and it wasn’t anything to do with Mr and Mrs Potter, who 
had been better to him than any real family he had. It was the war, and the Order, and 
bloody Moody, who was sure to be there too. 
“Is that the kettle?” Sirius wailed from the living room. 
“Yep.” Remus called back, “Two ticks.” 
“You’re a hero amongst men, Moony,” James said when Remus arrived in the living 
room with a tray of milky cups of tea. 
“Oh, I know,” Remus nodded, sipping from his cup. He perched on the arm of the sofa, 
“What the fuck have you done to my furniture?” 
“Brilliant, isn’t it?” Sirius grinned up at him, cross legged on the gigantic sofa 
cushion, “Prongs’ idea - we did an engorgement charm.” 
“Shall we help you two clean up?” Lily asked, padding through from the bedroom. She 
picked up a cup of tea and sat down next to James, leaning into his shoulder sleepily. 
“Breakfast first.” Remus said, quickly. “Fry up?” 
“Fry up.” They all agreed in unison. 
They went to the nearest greasy spoon cafe and ordered Full Englishes all round, after 
which everyone felt much better prepared to face the day. After breakfast, Sirius, Lily and 
James started work tidying the flat, while Remus (at Sirius’s insistence) got himself ready to 
visit Hope. 
He didn’t wear a suit; that would have been overkill, even at Christmas, but he made 
an effort, ironing his cleanest grandad shirt and putting on a brown corduroy jacket he’d 
picked up at Portobello market. He even polished his shoes. 

37 
 Sirius had offered to come with him, but Remus preferred to go alone. It was easiest if 
he had time to process his interactions with Hope in private, which he hoped Sirius 
understood. Anyway. No one wanted to be stuck sitting in a building full of dying people 
two days before Christmas. 
The Hospice itself was on the other side of Cardiff. It didn’t feel much different from 
the hospital, except that the rooms were private, and furnished with a bit more care. She 
had fresh flowers every day now, which was nice. Remus brought a poinsettia, because Lily 
had told him they were christmassy, and Hope was no longer eating solid food, so 
chocolates were out. 
Someone had wound gold and silver tinsel around her bedframe, and blu-tacked 
christmas cards to the walls. There were so many it looked as though she had special festive 
wallpaper. 
“She said that if you came while she was sleeping, I was to wake her up straight away,” 
said the cheerful nurse on duty. 
“Thanks, I’ll wake her,” he smiled. 
His mother lay dozing softly in her big hospital bed. He wondered how tall she was, 
standing up. Quite small, he imagined - based on the pictures he had of her with Lyall, and 
how tiny her hands were. He had only ever seen her lying down, and now he realised he 
might never see her any other way. 
He touched her hand, gently, squeezing it with his fingers. Her eyelids fluttered, and 
she frowned, the pain evident in her face. She turned her head and saw him, and her brow 
smoothed at once, 
“Hello my darling,” she said thickly, as if her mouth was full of cotton wool. 
“Merry Christmas, mum.” He said, sitting down. 
“​Nadolig llawen​,” she said, in neat earthy Welsh. 
“How are you?” 
“Better for seeing you,” she smiled. “I’m so glad you’ve come.” 
“Of course.” He said, earnestly. “It's Christmas.” 
There had been no talk of his visiting her on Christmas day itself. They’d both skirted 
around the issue and Remus assumed that she wanted to spend it with her real family. 
She asked now, though. 
“Where will you be? At home with Sirius?” It was strange to hear her say his name, 
with her soft rolling r’s. 
“At our friend’s parents,” he replied, “The Potters - you met Mrs Potter, once, she told 
me. Euphemia.” 
“I won’t remember,” she shook her head. “I’d invite you here, but it won’t be much fun 
for you, I’m afraid.” 
“Whatever you like, mum.” He said, hoping he didn’t sound disappointed. 
“You’ll be happier with your friends.” She said, as if to herself. 

38 
 “Mr Potter knew Lyall,” Remus prodded a bit harder, wanting to talk about something 
more substantial. “They worked at the ministry together, and they went to the pub 
sometimes, and James - their son - he was born in March, same as me--” 
“I don’t remember,” Hope said, more forcefully this time. “I’m sorry Remus, I don’t. 
Lyall kept those things separate. It’s often better that way, you’ll learn.” 
He thought about this. Thought about how little he’d known about his parents for 
most of his life, and how little he’d known about himself as a result. He thought about 
Sirius, and how they always fought because Remus wasn’t open enough. How much it hurt 
other people to keep secrets, even when you were trying to protect them. 
“I don’t agree.” He said, simply. “I don’t think it’s good to hide things all the time.” 
“Well.” Hope said. She looked away, and withdrew her hand from his. 
Remus realised that she was annoyed with him. It was an odd sensation, and a first for 
their relationship. He wasn’t sure how to react. If he’d known her all his life, then he would 
know what to do; it would be old hat, bickering with your mum. His temper rose the more 
he thought about it - this was all her fault, his stupid stunted emotions, his complete 
inability to be comfortable with other people, and here she was, avoiding him. 
He wanted her attention, and he only knew one way to get it. 
“Mrs Potter - James’s mum - she’s great.” He said, “She makes the best mince pies 
ever, and a full Christmas dinner, ​and​ she always gets me a present, even though I’m not her 
kid.” 
Hope pursed her lips, but still didn’t look up. 
“That sounds nice.” She said in a small, tight voice. 
Remus ploughed on, 
“Yeah, James is really lucky. I’d never even had a proper Christmas until I went to the 
Potters.” 
“Yes you did!” 
She looked up at him, suddenly, and he saw his own anger reflected back in her eyes. 
“You did!” She said, “We had lovely Christmases when you were little!” She was 
staring at him as if he was mad, as if he was the one who was ill, not her, 
“Don’t you remember the tree with the gold angel, and the nativity set? I thought 
you’d swallowed baby Jesus one year, but you had him under your pillow, because I’d told 
you about nasty old king Herod and you wanted to keep him safe - you were so sweet. And 
we bought you that hobby horse, and the farm set - you loved the farm set, the little pink 
piglets, I was forever finding them in the garden. And the hand puppets, and the army tank 
- remember your tank? I told Lyall you were too young, you were a sensitive boy, I didn’t 
like you playing wars, but you loved it, and daddy used to make it move with his magic, and 
you’d chatter away together for hours...” 
She trailed off, clearly upset. Remus gawped at her, 
“I don’t remember any of that, mum.” He said. He search for her hand again, and 
squeezed it. “I wish I did, though. It sounds nice.” 

39 
 “I think about you every year.” She said, tearfully, voice shaking, “Every night I used to 
light the advent candle and think about you, Remus, and I’d talk about you… I’d tell Siân 
about you, too.” 
He snapped to attention. She was watching him warily, as though afraid he might lash 
out. Aware of this, he kept his voice even, 
“Could you tell me a bit about Siân?” 
Hope gnawed her lip. She looked so exhausted from the pain and the drugs and 
fucking cancer, he was starting to feel guilty. But they were almost out of time. 
“She’s eight,” she said, finally. “She’ll be nine in February.” 
“And she’s your daughter with… with Gethin?” Remus asked, feeling as though all of 
the air had left the room 
Hope nodded, closing her eyes. Tears spilled out under her lashes, streaming down her 
cheeks. “I never re-married - not after Lyall. But I fell in love. I had my Siân.” 
“Only Siân?” 
She nodded again. Remus frowned, 
“When I first came to see you, the nurse said you were always talking about your kids - 
I thought you had more than one.” 
“I do,” she looked at him, puzzled, blinking through tears, “You and Siân.” 
“Oh.” He felt dreadful. All this time he’d thought he was one of Hope’s terrible 
secrets. 
“I’ve never been ashamed.” She said, a note of defiance entering her voice. “Not of my 
lovely boy. Never.” 
“Mum…” he felt as though he’d been punched in the gut. He was crying too, all of a 
sudden, and he squeezed her hand desperately. 
“Come here,” she reached out for him, and he got up to sit carefully on the edge of the 
bed, leaning over so that she could wrap her arms around him. He rested his head on her 
shoulder, trying not to put too much weight on her frail body, but she was stronger than he 
gave her credit for, and held him tightly. 
“I’m sorry, mum,” he said, his words muffled by her soft nightgown. She smelled of 
talcum powder and lavender, and family. She stroked his hair, 
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. I love you.” 
“I love you too,” he wept. 
I​ 've looked at clouds from both sides now 
From up and down, and still somehow 
It's cloud illusions I recall 
I really don't know clouds at all 
* * * 
Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels 
The dizzy dancing way you feel 
As every fairy tale comes real 

40 
I've looked at love that way 
  
But now it's just another show 
You leave 'em laughing when you go 
And if you care, don't let them know 
Don't give yourself away 
  
He stayed at the Hospice for longer than usual, and by the time he had apparated to 
the Potter’s front gate, he was exhausted. He felt like laundry that had been wrung out and 
splayed on a clothesline, weak and bare and empty. 
James had to question him at the door - it was second nature now. 
“Which film did we see in the summer of 1974?” 
“The Great Gatsby.” He replied, grimly. 
James saw the look on his face and stepped aside at once. 
“All right, Moony?” he asked, putting a hand on Remus’s shoulder. 
“Yeah,” Remus nodded, hoping he just looked tired, “I don’t want to be rude, but 
would it be all right if I just went to bed? Um. Tell your parents I’m really sorry, I’m just…” 
“Yeah, of course, mate!” James said eagerly, “You go up, I’ll tell ‘em you’re knackered.” 
“Thank you.” Remus smiled. He climbed the familiar stairs to bed. He really hoped 
Mrs Potter wouldn’t mind - he’d be fine in the morning, but just now he wasn’t sure if his 
nerves could handle seeing her. She always hugged him, too, and being hugged by one 
mother today was about as much as he could take. 
Of course, it wasn’t long before Sirius poked his head around the bedroom door. 
“I’ll leave you be, if you want,” he said, carrying in a tray loaded with cheese, pickle, 
ham, crackers and of course Mrs Potter’s famous mince pies. “I just thought you might be 
peckish?” 
“I’m starving,” Remus grinned at him, “Thank you.” 
Looking very pleased with himself, Sirius crossed the room more confidently, and set 
the tray down on the bed between them. They sat quietly for a while, cross legged on the 
duvet cover, Remus eating, Sirius pretending not to watch him. When he was finished, 
Sirius took the tray away, and Remus lay down, stretching out his aching limbs. 
“Shall I go?” Sirius asked. 
“No.” Remus said. “Just… don’t expect too much, ok?” 
“Ok.” He lay down next to Remus, on his back. 
“How’s the hangover?” Remus asked, remembering the state they’d all been in that 
morning. 
“Fine,” Sirius snorted, “Evans and her potions.” 
“Great.” 

41 
 Remus closed his eyes, letting the events of the day settle in his mind. It was good to 
have Sirius there, he decided. Being alone might be really awful. If only there was a way to 
express that without having it come out wrong. 
“I’ve got a sister.” He said, finally. “She’s eight.” 
“Wow.” 
“Mm.” He reached for Sirius’s hand and held it. “It took her months to tell me. God 
knows what else I don’t know. I wish we had more time together.” 
Sirius squeezed his hand sympathetically. Remus licked his lips, steeling himself for 
the next bit. “I wish we had more time, but I also… I also wish she would be more open. It 
really hurts, knowing that there are parts of her she keeps private.” 
“Oh?” Sirius was doing an excellent job of keeping his cool. If Remus hadn’t been so 
sad it would be comical. 
“Yeah.” He said. He turned to look at Sirius. Sirius turned to look back at him. “So I’m 
sorry,” Remus said, nervously, “If I ever make you feel that way.” 
“Moony--” 
“--It’s just that I get worried,” Remus said quickly, “That you won’t… if you knew some 
things…” 
“There’s nothing you could tell me that would change how I feel.” Sirius said. 
Remus was speechless at that. But it was a good feeling. A happy feeling, even 
considering the circumstances. He couldn’t look at Sirius any more so he rolled onto his 
side. Luckily, Sirius seemed to understand and followed suit, draping an arm across 
Remus’s body. Remus breathed in slowly. 
“That mission I did, back in the summer? It went really badly.” He said, feeling the 
weight already lifting. 
“I thought something had happened.” Sirius said. “Go on.” 
“I… do you remember how I got, the last time there were werewolves nearby? Like… 
really pushy and sort of not thinking? That happened again. No one got hurt, but I’m pretty 
sure Danny thinks I’m dangerously mad now.” 
“It didn’t happen to him?” 
“I think he must have felt it. But we reacted differently. I sort of - took charge. Not on 
purpose, it just felt natural at the time.” 
“That makes sense,” Sirius said, “That's what you do on full moons, we have to let you 
be the leader.” 
“Yeah, I hadn’t thought of it like that.” 
“So… if no one got hurt, what happened?” 
“One of the werewolves tried to attack me, but I overpowered him.” Remus said, “I 
was supposed to get information, but all I did was rile them up.” 
“What did Moody say about it?” 

42 
 “He was… cryptic. I don’t think he was angry. He asked me if I minded going alone 
next time - without Danny. But he hasn’t sent me on any other missions, not proper ones, 
and it’s been months…” 
“They have to be saving you for something.” Sirius said, “I know they have to be - 
James keeps telling Frank and Alice how good you are at defensive magic, and they just say 
they can’t do anything without an order from someone above them.” 
“Maybe.” Remus sighed. 
“Did he really say you had to go alone next time?” 
“He didn’t say I h
​ ad​ to… just asked if I minded. And I don’t think there’s any other way 
- Danny won’t work with me again, he was too scared. So I suppose… yeah, it’ll be just me 
next time.” 
Sirius’s arms tightened around Remus. 
“I hate that.” 
Remus didn’t have a response, and Sirius didn’t seem to be looking for one, so they 
just lay like that quietly for a while, until Remus fell asleep. 
* * * 
Boxing Day 1978 
As Lily had predicted, Christmas Day 1978 was a welcome break from everyone’s 
troubles. In fact - perhaps because it had been a particularly difficult year - Remus always 
remembered that Christmas as one of the most pleasant and happy they had together. 
Mr and Mrs Potter were slowing down a bit - Euphemia said she wasn’t up to hosting 
a big party as she usually did, and anyway, the Ministry had warned against large social 
gatherings. Mr Potter had to be locked out of his study - James and Sirius stole the key - but 
he saw the funny side, and joined in with the festivities whole-heartedly. 
Remus noticed that this year it was really James and Lily who were the hosts. She 
co-ordinated most of the cooking, the decorating, the card writing; while he made sure that 
everyone always had a drink, that all of the usual christmas games were played, and that the 
house was full of joy at all times. 
As for presents, it was all of the usual fare - sweets and nuts and candied fruit, new 
socks and underwear, a pair of pyjamas from Lily as a joke (“so I stop catching you in your 
knickers!”), and a shiny new pair of doc martens from Sirius. 
Surprisingly, Remus also received a gift from Grant, that year, and felt guilty for not 
getting him one in return. He laughed when he opened it - a filofax organiser. Grant had 
written his own address and phone number in the first page, and in the back where the 
notes had written the heading: “​New Year's Resolutions: 1. Stop and smell the roses​.” 
Christmas Day over and done with, James and Lily were heading to the Evans’s for 
Boxing Day (James was absolutely dreading it, having met Lily’s sister twice already, and 
failed to impress her either time.) So Sirius and Remus went back to their own home to 
settle in and get ready for the New Year. Sirius rather liked the idea of hosting his own 
party, and Remus was prepared to give in, as long as they only invited people they knew. 

43 
 “How many do you reckon we can fit in this flat anyway?” Remus asked as they 
opened the door. “It’s not like we’ve got a ballroom, there’s only one sofa!” 
“We ought to knock through the kitchen, have it all open plan,” Sirius replied, as they 
walked in. The phone was ringing, and he went to answer it. “Hello?” He frowned, then 
held out the phone to Remus, “For you, I think?” 
Remus took the receiver from him. Of course it was for him - Sirius didn’t know 
anyone who could use a telephone. 
“Hello?” 
“Hullo? Is that Remus Lupin?” It was a man with a deep voice and a broad Welsh 
accent. Remus’s insides went cold, and he sat down on the arm of the couch, steadying 
himself. 
“Yes, that’s right…” 
“Ah, good. Ah. My name’s Gethin Rees.” 
Remus swallowed, and found his throat dry. 
“Is she... She’s gone, isn’t she?” 
There was a long quiet on the other end of the phone, and Remus began to cry. Finally, 
Gethin spoke, his own voice sounding very rough. 
“I’m sorry, lad. Funeral’s next Wednesday.” 
I've looked at love from both sides now 
From give and take, and still somehow 
It's love's illusions I recall 
I really don't know love at all 
* * * 
Tears and fears and feeling proud 
To say "I love you" right out loud 
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds 
I've looked at life that way 
  
But now old friends are acting strange 
They shake their heads, they say I've changed 
Well something's lost, but something's gained 
In living every day. 
  
Wednesday 3rd January 1979 
Remus sighed, staring out of their bedroom window watching the raindrops sliding 
down the glass. When he was a little boy and it rained, he would sit on the biggest 
windowsill he could find at St Edmunds and pick two droplets, then pretend they were 
racing to the bottom of the pane. An idea he’d got from a poem; maybe one Hope had read 
him, which he’d forgotten now. 

44 
 It always rained at funerals in films. That was called ‘pathetic fallacy’, Remus had read 
about it in an old A-level English textbook. Of course, if you had a funeral in Wales in 
January, the chances of rain were extremely high, too. It was a strange thing to be glad 
about, but it seemed proper. A sunny day would have been intolerable. 
“Ready?” Sirius asked, very gently, entering the room. 
Remus looked up at him, feeling numb, and nodded. Sirius looked gorgeous in a black 
suit, his hair tied back. Remus felt scruffy, though they were dressed identically, Sirius just 
wore clothes better. Remus had wanted to cut his hair short, to make it look tidier, but he’d 
been convinced not to, in the end. Still, the urge to do something drastic was there. 
“Take your time,” Sirius said, “We’ve got an hour or so.” 
Remus nodded again. The service was supposed to start at eleven, but Gethin had said 
that if he wanted to come earlier and greet the mourners, then he was welcome to. Remus 
still wasn’t sure. 
Sirius closed the bedroom door, and came to sit next to him. He held his hand, and 
stared out of the window too. 
“Have you ever been to a funeral before?” Remus asked, finally. 
“Uncle Alphard’s,” Sirius replied, “I was only little, though. Nine or ten. Don’t 
remember it. I’ve never… lost anyone close.” 
“Mm.” Remus inclined his head, still watching the raindrops against the grey sky, “I 
don’t know if I knew Hope all that well. I didn’t even know her for a whole year.” 
“I don’t think that matters.” 
“Nor do I.” Remus bowed his head. 
He wasn’t going to cry again, he didn’t think he could. It had felt good at first, a big 
rush of emotion. But since then, nothing. Just a blankness, and empty feeling he hadn’t had 
before. 
Sirius gripped his hand again. 
“I’ll be with you the whole time.” 
Remus looked at him and smiled weakly. 
“Thank you. Ok, I think I’m ready.” He stood up, finally whirring into action. “Oh 
shit!” He said, slapping his forehead, “The flowers! Padfoot, I forgot to pick up the bloody 
flowers!” 
Sirius put a hand on his shoulder, 
“I got Wormtail to do it, he’s got them. And Lily’s got the address for the church, so 
we don’t get lost - Prongs has the food for the wake, his mum sent along some pork pies 
and sausage rolls, and I’ve got the umbrellas sorted. All you need to do is apparate, 
everything else is taken care of, all right?” 
Overwhelmed, Remus grabbed him and hugged him tightly. 
“Thank you,” he said. 
Sirius hugged him back, 
“Anything for our Moony, eh?” 

45 
 Remus smiled, breathing in Sirius’s hair, his scent, letting it anchor him. The words 
popped into his head almost out of nowhere, and finally, f​ inally​, it was easy to say. 
“Sirius?” He whispered, still holding on. 
“Yeah?” 
“Love you.” 
Sirius kissed his cheek, huffing a soft laugh, which sounded like relief. 
“Love you too.” 
They walked into the living room hand in hand. James and Peter were also in suits, 
and Lily in a simple black dress, her usually vibrant hair neatly tied back in a bun. She was 
carrying an enormous bouquet of flowers. They all gave Remus cautious, sympathetic 
smiles, which he was getting used to now. He nodded back at them all, gratefully. 
“Right.” Sirius said, taking charge, “Let’s do this.” 
It was a small village church, just outside of Hope’s hometown - it was where she had 
been christened, and if she had married a muggle, it was where the wedding would have 
been. Remus knew from their brief conversations that Hope had not been particularly 
religious, but that her family belonged to the Church in Wales, so she went along for 
tradition’s sake. 
It was a very pretty building - or at least it would have been, if it wasn’t raining so 
hard. Soft grey granite, with a bell tower and a pointed steeple, simple but pretty stained 
glass windows. Like a church in a picture book. The graveyard was full of ancient 
tombstones and stone crosses, but Hope would be cremated, as per her wishes. 
The marauders and Lily approached slowly, walking up the sodden pathway to join the 
cluster of mourners gathered in the doorway. Remus spotted Gethin straight away, standing 
just inside the porch, shaking hands with each attendee as they entered. He was a tall man, 
like Lyall, but not as spindly. He had dark hair, thick black eyebrows and rather a weak 
chin. He looked completely broken, and Remus was instantly less nervous about meeting 
him. 
Lily, James and Peter hung back, looking for somewhere to put all the food they’d 
brought for the wake, which was supposed to be in the church hall around the back. Remus 
and Sirius silently waited their turn to go in. 
“Hullo,” Gethin said, barely looking up as Remus approached, “Thank you for 
coming…” 
“I’m Remus.” Remus said, shaking the proffered hand. Gethin looked up at once, 
blinking. They were about eye-level. 
“Remus.” Gethin shook his hand weakly, his dark eyes raking Remus over. “Hope 
talked about you all the time. It’s a shame we’re meeting like this.” 
“Yes.” Remus nodded. 
They stood awkwardly for a while, just looking at each other, before Gethin came to 
his senses, “Go in,” he said, gesturing, “Your mum was keen on you sitting in the front row, 
but it’s up to you…” 
“Thanks,” Remus nodded again. 

46 
 “See you after, eh?” Gethin patted his shoulder. 
“Yeah. Good,” Remus said, aware that he was speaking in single-syllables. 
In the end, Sirius had to nudge him into the church, as he seemed to have forgotten 
how to move. They made their way slowly to the front, and sat down. Remus could hear 
people whispering about him; a few of them knew who he was, and the reaction was mixed. 
He ignored it. He was there for Hope, and no one else. 
The service itself was a blur, and he barely listened. He just stared at the eagle shaped 
lectern and tried to conjure up a decent memory of his mother. 
They didn’t sing a hymn, they played a Joni Mitchell song instead. Hope had never 
mentioned Joni Mitchell to Remus, but he supposed it must have meant something to her. 
That was a painful thought. They’d had so little time. It wasn’t fair. 
Siân was there, of course. Remus recognised her at once - she was the only child 
present. She was dressed in a cream coloured frock with a black satin sash, and kept her 
head buried in the lap of an old woman Remus didn’t know - he assumed that was Gethin’s 
mother, Siân’s grandmother. She cried all the way through, and for some reason that was 
comforting to Remus. Hope must have been a wonderful mother. 
Afterwards, Remus’s legs felt like lead; he was rooted to the spot. He didn’t get up 
with the rest of the family to walk out (there was no coffin to follow - her body was already 
at the crematorium, apparently), but waited behind for the church to clear. Sirius waited 
with him. 
When the church was all but empty, Sirius whispered, 
“You ok?” 
Remus nodded. 
Sirius touched his knee lightly, but no more than that. “That was really sad. It’s ok if 
you’re tired and want to go home?” 
“No, it’s fine.” Remus shook his head, “I ought to go. I told Gethin I would. Just. Five 
more minutes?” 
They had to leave eventually, the caretaker wanted to tidy up. 
The church hall was very small, and crammed full of people and people’s emotions. 
Some of them were laughing, reminiscing. Others were still red-nosed and sombre. It was a 
drab little room, which needed refurbishing; the wooden floorboards were splintering in 
places, there were notice boards dedicated to drawings by the children who attended 
sunday school there, and another one for the local scout troup. 
Three trestle tables were groaning under the weight of the food people had brought - 
piles of sandwiches, meat pies, crisps, cheese and pineapple skewers, fruit cake, leftover 
turkey curry, slices of ham and other cold cuts. It was a dry funeral, and an old lady in the 
corner was serving weak cups of milky tea. For once in his life, Remus was not hungry. 
Worst of all, there was a table covered in framed photographs and albums. Most of 
them were of Hope, and apart from one or two snaps of her as a little girl, not one of them 
had been taken before 1965. Remus looked at them all, tried to fix the imagine in his mind - 

47 
a happy, healthy woman who had always tried to do what was best, even when other people 
let her down. 
“She’d be so glad you came.” Gethin appeared beside him. He reached out and stroked 
the glass on one of the photo frames. Hope’s black and white face beamed out at him, static 
and lifeless. 
“I had to.” Remus said, quietly. Sirius stood at his other shoulder, ready for anything. 
Remus looked at Gethin, “I wish I had been there. For… well, to say goodbye.” 
“It was very quiet, like she was.” The older man said. “She was awake on Christmas 
morning, and went to sleep after lunch. There was no pain.” 
Remus hadn’t thought about her being in pain. He wished Gethin hadn’t put that in 
his head. 
“I know what you’re thinking,” Gethin said, nodding at the photo display, “No 
pictures of you. It wasn’t deliberate - she put them all in a box for me to send to you, only 
I’ve lost track of your address…” 
“I don’t want them.” Remus shook his head. 
“Remus,” Sirius said, softly, “Don’t make any decisions yet.” 
Remus just shrugged. 
“There are a few other bits,” Gethin said, eyeing Sirius with some confusion, then 
looking at Remus again, “I’ll hang onto them as long as you like.” 
“Bits?” Remus looked at him blankly. 
“Things she wanted you to have,” Gethin said. “Not money, or anything--” 
“I’m not interested in money!” Remus said, sharply. 
Gethin frowned, he looked hurt. His eyes were rimmed red, with dark rings under 
them, like smudges of coal dust. Remus pursed his lips, and took a step back, shaking his 
head. 
“I’m sorry. I can’t be here. I’m sorry.” And with that, turned and walked straight out of 
the hall. 
It had stopped raining by now, but the grass was still wet and the scent of delicious 
earth rising all around. There was a group of old men sitting on some benches outside. 
They’d loosened their ties and sat slouched, smoking and passing around an illicit flask of 
something very strong smelling. Remus tutted, disgusted, and kept walking, wanting to get 
away from everything. 
“Remus!” Sirius came jogging up the path to catch him, Lily, James and Peter not far 
behind.   
“I want to go.” Remus said. 
“You can come back to mum and dad’s if you want?” James suggested, “Mum said 
she’ll do us all dinner.” 
“No,” Remus shook his head, he grabbed Sirius arm, and looked at him, imploring, 
“Please, can we just go back to the flat? Just you and me?” 
“Of course we can,” Sirius put his own calm hand over Remus’s desperate one, and 
Remus felt his heart begin to steady. 

48 
 So that was what they did, Remus promising himself that he would apologise to the 
Potters and his friends another time. 
But if he’d been hoping for a respite from the rest of the world, to lock himself away 
with Sirius and pretend that just for a moment, nothing else mattered, then he was in for a 
disappointment. 
There was an owl sitting on top of the mantelpiece when they got in, with a note tied 
to its scaly leg. 
 
Remus. 
My condolences. 
Please meet me at the Auror’s Office at 9am on Monday. 
A. Moody. 
* * * 
I've looked at life from both sides now 
From win and lose and still somehow 
It's life's illusions I recall 
I really don't know life at all 
 
(Song: Both Sides Now - Joni Mitchell) 

   

49 
 ONE HUNDRED & FIFTY-SIX 
The War: Auror Headquarters 
 
Monday 8th January 1979 
“Please let me come with you?” Was the last thing Sirius said as Remus left the flat 
early Monday morning. 
“I’ll be fine.” Remus shook his head, trying to give Sirius a reassuring smile. He didn’t 
say what he was thinking, which was ‘how would that look?!’. It was bad enough he’d been 
summoned to Moody’s actual office at the ministry; what would he think if Remus brought 
his boyfriend along for moral support? 
Still, Remus had to admit that he had a difficult time leaving their cosy little home that 
morning. He’d barely left the bedroom since they’d returned from the funeral, let alone got 
dressed or left the flat. To go to the ministry he had to wear full robes for the first time 
since school, which helped a little bit - at least he’d be able to blend in. 
The visitors entrance for the Ministry of Magic was about twenty minutes’ walk from 
Soho, and Remus found the early morning stroll more pleasant than he’d expected. It was a 
crisp, cold January day, and his breath turned white in the winter air. Peter was there to 
meet him, 
“Hiya Moony,” Wormtail smiled up at him, giving him an awkward pat on the arm, 
“How’re you holding up?” 
“Oh, you know.” Remus shrugged. Grief was a funny thing. He never knew if he was 
doing it right. 
“Looking forward to saturday!” 
“Yeah, me too.” 
The full moon was due on the thirteenth. So far since Hogwarts the marauders had got 
away with apparating (Peter side-alonged) to the most remote places possible and 
transforming there. So far they’d been to the Brecon Beacons, the Outer Hebrides, 
Dartmoor and the Forest of Dean. No one in the Order had brought it up yet, though Remus 
supposed they all assumed he was registered. 
Peter and Remus entered the ministry via a telephone box. Peter needed to be there, 
because after Remus had stated his business, a small silver visitors badge dropped out of 
the telephone’s change slot. Wormtail picked it up quickly, and muttered the incantation to 
turn it to tin, before giving it to Remus. 
They descended into the ministry atrium, which was heaving with activity. It was an 
enormous hall, bigger than Gringotts, with rows of fireplaces lining the walls. Green lights 
flashed intermittently from each hearth as wizards and witches arrived for work. 
Peter led Remus through the security stand, where his wand was weighed by a mean 
spirited wizard with a long beard. Remus was incredibly grateful to have a friend with him, 
and secretly quite glad it was quiet, genial Peter, rather than Sirius who had a tendency to 
get a bit overprotective of Remus when it came to the wizarding community. 

50 
 Next they moved through to another hall with a set of lifts, and entered the nearest 
one. 
“You’re on level two,” Peter explained chirpily, “I’m with the Floo Network Authority 
on four. Do you need me to show you where the Auror’s office is?” 
Remus thought he would quite like Peter’s help, if only Peter wasn’t so clearly 
enjoying having the upper hand. 
“No,” he smiled, “I’ll manage. Cheers mate.” 
Peter gave him a kind smile as he left the lift. Remus nodded back, and the door slid 
closed. 
Soon enough the tannoy announced; “Level two, Department of Magical Law 
Enforcement; including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and 
Wizengamot Administration Services.” 
Remus shuffled his way out of the lift and onto the corridor. The lift doors closed 
behind him with a ‘ping’ and Remus stood there for a few moments, blindsided. It was a 
very busy hallway, wizards and witches striding up and down, some deep in conversation, 
others hastily scribbling down notes on scraps of parchment - and some of them muttering 
to themselves. Over his head, purple paper aeroplanes zoomed back and forth, fluttering 
into the office doors which lined the corridor. 
He wished he hadn’t been so proud now, and asked Pete to walk him to the right 
office. There had to be a sign somewhere… 
“Lupin!” A loud and familiar voice boomed. Remus turned around with some relief 
and smiled, seeing Ferox barrelling towards him, hand raised in salutation. 
“Hi,” he said. 
“Lost? Come with me!” 
Remus followed Ferox along the hallway, past office after office until they reached an 
elaborate door with a carved wood frame. ​Auror Headquarters​. 
“Nervous?” Ferox glanced at him sideways. Remus looked back, 
“Is it that obvious?” 
Ferox laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, 
“I’d be concerned if you weren’t. C’mon now, it’s only Moody.” And he pushed the 
door open with one big hand, the other still on Remus’s shoulder, as if to stop him from 
running away. 
As a child, Remus had had some experience with muggle law enforcement. Only ever 
for silly things like running away from the Home, or being caught ‘causing a disturbance’ - 
which usually meant he was just somewhere public and other people would prefer him not 
to be. The police were extra rough with you, once they clocked you were a St Edmund’s boy, 
they’d call you things and shove you in their car, or else give off thinly veiled threats of 
physical violence if you didn’t do as you were told. As a result, Remus had never felt that 
comfortable around authority figures, even if he was a poshboy nowadays. 
He wasn’t sure exactly how similar the Aurors were to muggle police. He’d only met 
Moody, Frank and Alice so far. Moody was completely terrifying, but Remus had known 

51 
him long enough now that he was used to him. Alice and Frank were very nice, very earnest 
people - but then, they didn’t know what he really was. 
The inside of the office was very busy, with rows of desks divided up into cubicles. 
There were posters of criminals, magically enchanted maps and printed lists on notice 
boards all around the walls, and memos whizzing back and forth. But the most striking 
thing about it for Remus was the incredibly concentrated scent of strong magic - and dark 
magic too. 
Ferox, hand still on Remus’s shoulder, steered him towards a desk near the back 
corner, which had the best vantage point over the rest of the chaotic office. 
Moody’s desk and the shelves around it were cluttered with weird and wonderful 
magical devices; whirring telescopes, glowing crystals, strange humming orbs. Moody 
himself was bent over a map. Forgetting his nerves, Remus peered over his shoulder to look 
- he’d never got over his interest in cartography - and Moody barked, 
“Never sneak up on an Auror, Lupin.” 
Remus jumped back, alarmed, and Moody turned to face him, grinning. His mad eye 
swivelled sickly in its socket. 
“Leo,” Moody reached out and shook hands with Ferox, then with Remus. “Glad to see 
you’re nice and punctual. Have a seat.” 
He gestured at a long velvet covered seat against the wall of his cubicle which hadn’t 
been there a moment ago. Remus and Ferox sat down as Moody cast a spell which muted 
the noise around them, creating a bubble of peace around his desk that was not dissimilar 
to James and Sirius’s silencing charms. 
Remus was relieved by the quiet, but Moody’s spell had done nothing to mitigate the 
overwhelming scent of power which filled his nostrils, swam down his throat and filled up 
his chest with glorious rich syrupy magic. He tried to relax, to let it find its place in him 
rather than fighting it, but he felt ever so slightly drunk with it all the same. 
“Once again, Lupin,” Moody said gruffly, sitting down in his office chair which looked 
like a plush green leather armchair, but swivelled on one stem. “I was sorry to hear about 
your loss. I didn’t know Hope myself, but--” 
“That’s ok.” Remus said quickly, “I barely knew her either.” 
He was keen to keep his mother out of any conversation he had today. He hadn’t the 
strength for two things at once, and if Moody had a mission for him, then that had to be his 
main concern. 
Moody - who was either an excellent legilimens or simply extremely astute and 
empathetic, nodded manfully and continued. 
“Straight to business, then.” He said, “Good chap.” He swivelled slightly in his chair to 
pick up the map he’d been looking at, and handed it to Remus. 
Remus took it eagerly, and looked. It was a map of Britain and Ireland, but not like 
ones he had seen before - there were no roads marked, no towns or cities, only the 
woodland areas, rendered in mossy green splodges of ink. Some of these splodges seemed 
to shimmer and twinkle, as if there were stars hiding beneath the tree branches. 

52 
 “Got that from the Control of Magical Creatures office,” Moody explained, “Thanks to 
Ferox here. Know what it is, lad?” 
“It’s…” Remus poured over it, “It’s all of the forests with magic in it? Or magical 
creatures?” 
“Exactly.” Moody nodded, looking very pleased with him, “We’ve noticed that most of 
the werewolf sightings over the past few years have been in enchanted woodland, forests 
with a denser population of magical creatures. Now, that could just mean they’re keeping 
their ears to the ground for you-know-who, or that there are other creatures working with 
them…” 
Or because the scent of all that natural magic is just too good to resist​, Remus thought, his 
own blood fizzing like champagne just from the twenty or so powerful wizards nearby. He 
didn’t say this, of course, for his own sake. 
“...and for the last couple of full moons there’s been a lot of activity here,” Moody 
pointed a stubby, scarred finger at a point on the map, somewhere in the midlands. 
“Why are you telling me now?” Remus asked, “If you’ve been following them for 
months?” 
“It’s time.” Moody said, fixing him with a hard stare, one blue eye, one brown. 
“Greyback’s in the country for the first time since the sixties; it’s been confirmed.” 
“Oh.” Remus pursed his lips to quell the rage inside him, rearing up like a cobra, 
showing its teeth. ​Where is he?! Take me to him right n
​ ow​! “Right.” 
“Last time you made contact you came back with some good information,” Moody 
continued, “Those who want to join Greyback need to transform with the pack three times, 
that right?” 
“Mm.” Remus nodded. He wanted to stand up and pace, or do something physical, but 
he couldn’t afford for either Ferox or Moody to know that there was anything wrong. 
“And the next full moon is on Saturday?” 
Remus nodded. He looked at Ferox, then Moody again, 
“You want me to go already? To start… to…” 
“Just for the moons,” Ferox said, his voice calming, “Just until they trust you.” 
“But once they trust me,” Remus said, looking at his hands, “Then… I need to meet 
him, right?” 
“Let’s see how things go.” Moody said, choosing his words carefully. “We’ve three 
months to plan for that.” 
“Ok.” 
Remus didn’t know what else to say. His head was full and his nerves were raw and he 
felt almost ready to explode, but for some weird reason he just sat there like a polite 
schoolboy, listening to Moody lay out the plan. 
He was given a lot of rules. He would have to go alone. He could take his wand, but 
nothing else. He could tell nobody, not even the other members of the order, not even his 
best friends. Ferox began suggesting things Remus could say or do to get the pack to trust 
him, but Remus ignored him. He knew what to do. 

53 
 “I’ll walk you out, shall I, Lupin?” Ferox said finally, with a note of paternal kindness. 
“Thank you,” Remus said, standing up quickly. 
“You’re a man of few words, Lupin,” Moody said, standing up too, holding out his 
hand once more for Remus to shake, “But I’ve every faith in you. I’ll send the coordinates 
before Saturday. Make sure you’re at home to receive them.” 
Remus nodded blankly, shaking the proffered hand. Just as he had guided him in, 
Ferox led Remus back out of the Auror Headquarters. 
“Alright there, fella?” Ferox asked, once they were clear of the doors. The corridor was 
a bit quieter than it had been at nine o’clock. 
“Yes. Fine.” 
“If there’s anything you think you need, if you want me to ask Moody for something 
that will help, you can just--” 
“How will it help?” Remus asked, suddenly, stopping in the middle of the halway. He 
twitched his thumb and cast ​muffliato​, without any effort at all. Ferox blinked, surprised, 
“How will what help?” 
“Me, meeting Greyback? I’ve met three members of his pack now, and it’s only made 
things worse each time.” 
“That’s not true. You’ve given us some extremely valuable information.” 
“If I have,” Remus said, “Then I want to know what you’re using it for.” 
“To win the war, Remus.” Ferox shook his head. 
“When I met Castor last year,” Remus said, his voice very low, but more out of anger 
than a desire to be discreet, “He told me in no uncertain terms that they were planning an 
attack. I told Dumbledore, and what happened? Nothing. The attack went ahead. So I’ll ask 
again. If I’m gathering information for the Order, if I’m risking my life to do it, then I want 
to know what for. It’s obviously not to save lives.” 
“Remus, that was an extremely complicated situation--” 
“Explain it.” 
“We couldn’t act, we couldn’t let the werewolves know you were telling Dumbledore 
anything, we had to preserve your connection with them--” 
“What?!” Remus stared at him, “People died! People had their whole lives ruined! 
Because of me?!” 
“You can’t think about it that way.” 
“How would you think about it?! I trusted him! I thought I was doing the right thing!” 
“Remus, calm ​down​!” 
Remus realised that he couldn’t. He wished he could apparate right then and there, but 
nothing happened when he tried, so he marched towards the lift instead. 
“Don’t follow me.” He growled at Ferox, who held the doors open, stopping him from 
leaving. 

54 
 “You need to get your head straight, kid.” Ferox said, very seriously. “This is war. It’s 
not noble, and it’s not always about saving individual lives. You need to get used to that in 
time for Saturday.” 
“Don’t worry.” Remus turned his head, glaring at the panel of buttons. The doors 
began to slide shut, grinding loudly as Remus tested his magical strength against Ferox’s 
physical muscle. “I’ll be ready.” 
The doors shut, Ferox snatching his fingers clear at the very last second, and Remus 
began to move up, back towards the real world. 
* * * 
Remus had barely stepped out of the visitor-entrance phonebox and he was standing 
before his own front door - he’d stored all of that leftover magic up like a battery, and he 
only needed to have the slightest want and the magic did the rest. He remembered the curse 
Snape had thrown at James, which he’d deflected on the last day of school. It would be a 
useful skill, if only he could depend on it. 
Not only was he full of magic, but his temper had reached boiling point now that he 
was home. It was a peculiar feeling - similar to the moments before transforming, right 
before the mind-numbing pain kicked in. A howling, grasping animal longing. God he 
needed to… he needed… 
“Sirius?!” He burst through the door, yelling. No luck, the flat was empty. Remus gave 
a frustrated growl and kicked the wall, knocking a hole through the plasterboard. “Fuck.” 
He muttered. ​Sirius come h
​ ere​. 
He pressed his palm against the top of the wall and forced some magic out. The hole at 
the base of the wall closed over at once, thank goodness. It wasn’t enough. He had more; he 
needed to vent it, a release valve. He pulled off his robes and then his jumper, tossing them 
onto the couch, pacing the room in his thin t-shirt and trousers. He could go for a run. He 
could apparate to the Lake District for a few hours and just run around like a madman. He 
could turn the wall to sponge and start punching it until he’d run out of energy. He could 
drink himself into oblivion. As long as he did ​something​. 
“Moony?!” 
The front door opened, and there was Sirius. 
“You’re here!” 
“Yeah, weirdest thing,” Sirius closed the door behind him. He smelled of petrol and 
motor oil and leather, and Remus felt himself stiffen instantly. ​Oh. That would work. “​ I was 
working on the bike up the road, and then… I dunno, I could have sworn I heard your voice. 
But if you only just got back then it can't have been--” 
Remus couldn’t take it anymore, he crossed the room in two strides and pushed Sirius 
up against the door, kissing him hard. Sirius kissed him back, eager to please as always. 
Remus pressed harder, taking Sirius’s lovely white wrists, smeared with oil, holding them 
and pushing a knee between his legs. He began to kiss down Sirius's neck, next, nipping at 
the soft flesh there, and Sirius gasped, 
“Bloody hell, are you all right?” 
“Mmm.” Remus moaned, “Just want to…” 

55 
 Sirius moved his hip slightly, pressing into Remus’s rigid cock - it felt like electricity, 
and Remus almost lost control altogether, squeezing Sirius’s wrists, slamming his eyes shut 
as he fought to hang on. He wasn’t the only one that felt it, 
“Fuck,” Sirius panted, helpless in Remus’s grip, “Was that you? You feel… what… 
what’s…” 
“Magic,” Remus managed to stammer, eyes still closed, rolling his forehead against 
Sirius shoulder dizzily, “There was so much… I just… um…” 
And suddenly it was Sirius who was in control, he’d turned the tables and now he was 
pulling Remus to the bedroom, and thank god the flat was small, and thank god there was 
no need anymore for silencing charms or secrecy, because this was simply ​not the time​. 
“Need you,” Sirius was saying incoherently, pulling off his shirt and then tugging at 
Remus’s, black greasy fingerprints getting everywhere, “Need to feel you everywhere...” 
“Yes,” Remus returned, intoxicated, “Yes yes yes…” 
Whatever he was feeling, he knew Sirius could feel it too, as he pushed the magic 
outwards, filling the room with it, igniting every touch. 
Remus groaned as their bare skin finally met and Sirius closed his eyes and shuddered. 
Grasping fingers and gritted teeth. Any sense of concern or shame was obliterated by the 
heat erupting between them. Remus gave in and thought of nothing else as he selfishly 
arched and bucked against Sirius, who kept feverishly whispering, “Oh Moony, Moony…” 
over and over. Their fierce rhythm increased as they began to tense and contract. Gasping 
as the world exploded, for a few blissful seconds everything went white. 
That wasn’t enough. They had to go twice more before Sirius was satisfied, and Remus 
still felt like he could run a marathon. 
“If you're planning to visit the Auror’s Office again,” Sirius breathed hoarsely, “I’m 
going to need some warning.” 
“Sor--" Remus started, but Sirius clapped a hand over his mouth, grinning, 
“Don’t you dare apologise. I mean fucking hell.” 
Remus laughed, pulling his hand away. He waved a hand at the window lazily, and it 
slid open, letting cool winter air in. 
“Wow,” Sirius raised his eyebrows, “How long does that last?” 
“It's going away,” Remus said, closing his eyes. It was; he could feel his heart slowing 
down, his muscles relaxing. “Last time Snape’s curse drained it, so I s'pose any kind if 
counter magic works.” 
“Well I’d prefer this to cursing you…” Sirius rolled over and stroked Remus’s bare hip. 
“Mm.” Remus murmured in agreement, eyes still closed. 
“So…” Sirius said, his hand still now, his voice more solemn, “It either went really well 
or really badly at the ministry…?” 
“Both.” Remus flung his arms over his face. “Do we have to talk about it?” 
“Yeah I think we do.” 
Remus sighed heavily. He sat up, reaching for his cigarettes. 

56 
 “Greyback’s in England.” He started. 
Sirius sat up at once, frowning. He took a cigarette from the box Remus held out, 
placed it between his lips, lit it, and looked at Remus very seriously. 
“Tell me everything.” 
And Remus did. 

   

57 
 ONE HUNDRED & FIFTY-SEVEN 
The War: The Pack 
 
Once upon a sunshine, 
Before the final bell, 
I told my story to big boy, 
With connections straight from Hell. 
His fiddle was his sweetheart, 
He was her favourite beau, 
And hear me saying was all he playing 
Them songs from long ago. 
And then I told my story to the cannibal king 
He said baby, baby, shake that thing. 
  
Saturday 13th January 1979 
First Moon 
“I hate this.” Sirius said, chain smoking. 
“I know you do.” Remus replied. He rubbed his temples. He was getting a headache, 
not uncommon on a full moon. 
“I mean I ​really​ hate this.” Sirius puffed, staring out of the window. He stood there, 
one arm folded across his narrow waist, other arm crooked at the elbow so that he could 
hold the cigarette to his lips. He had to keep stretching up on his tiptoes to blow the smoke 
out of the gap in the window - it was too cold to open it all the way. Every time he reached 
up, his t-shirt rode up almost to his belly button, displaying soft skin and a line of fine dark 
hair. 
Remus lay on the couch, a cold flannel on his forehead, watching Sirius inhale, stretch, 
puff. Lovely, lovely creature. How had Remus ever got so lucky? 
“It’s bloody mental, sending you on your own. Why can’t I go with you? I could go as 
Padfoot.” 
“No.” Remus sighed, “You still smell human. They’d tear you apart.” 
“What if they tear y​ ou​ apart?” Sirius turned sharply. He looked distraught, his cheeks 
were pink, which was incredible for he-of-the-porcelain-complexion. 
“Me?” Remus snorted, trying to sound careless, “Greyback’s prodigal son? Not likely.” 
“What’s a prodigal son?” 
“Oh right, er… just means I’m going to get a warm welcome. Gaius said not to hurt me. 
Livia called me her brother.” 
“Could I come with you for a bit? Just before anyone else shows up?” 
“It’s not safe, Padfoot.” Remus said, gently. 

58 
 Sirius stubbed out his cigarette angrily on the windowsill. Remus wished he’d stop 
doing that - they would need to repaint it soon - but now was not the time to scold him. 
“Why don’t you go to the Potters’?” He suggested, “Don’t spend the night here by yourself.” 
“I don’t care where I spend the night.” Sirius flung himself into the armchair. 
“Well I do,” Remus tutted, “I need to know where to go after the moon’s down.” 
“Shit, yeah,” Sirius sat up, sweeping his hair back, “Ok, I’ll go to the Potters - then if 
you need any patching up Euphemia will be on hand. Fuck, what if you can’t apparate? 
What if you--” 
“I’ll send a patronus.” 
“But if you’re not strong enough…” 
“I will be.” Remus replied simply. He was going to an enchanted forest, based on the 
co-ordinates Moody had sent. If there was even half the magic there that there was in the 
Forbidden Forest, then Remus foresaw no problem getting himself out. Unless someone 
with equal strength tried to stop him, but he was trying not to think about that. 
A faint chiming sound echoed through the walls. They hadn’t met their neighbours 
properly - only waved shy ‘hellos’ in the hall - but they knew they had a grandfather clock, 
because it went off every hour and was so loud they could hear it in their living room. It was 
four o’clock, and the depths of winter, which meant sundown was imminent. 
Remus sat up slowly, tossing aside the flannel. His back ached, early pangs telling him 
the moon was on its way. 
“I’d better get going,” he said. 
Sirius stared at him, stricken. Remus tutted, getting up. He went over and kissed 
Sirius’s forehead. “Go to the Potters’. I’ll be fine. Honestly, you go on missions all the time.” 
“Not like this! Defensive stuff, guard duty, carrying messages, not…” 
“Someone has to do it,” Remus shrugged. “I’d rather it was me.” 
He thought of Danny again, and flinched, shaking his head to rid himself of the 
negative memory. It kept coming up, ever since Remus had learnt the truth about why 
Danny had been turned. God, the McKinnons had every reason to hate Remus. 
He put his shoes on, tying the laces carefully, though he knew he’d only have to take 
them off again soon. He wore muggle clothes - this had been Ferox’s suggestion. The 
werewolves had no idea where Remus was living, or how he was living. If Remus could 
convince them he had been shunned by the wizarding world, then all the better. 
They hugged at the door, Remus’s skin already burning up, Sirius clinging to him so 
tightly Remus thought he’d have to take him after all. 
“I love you.” Sirius said into his shoulder. They hadn’t said it since Hope’s funeral, but 
Remus had no trouble at all responding instantly, 
“I love you too. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you so soon, I promise.” 
And then he left, and he apparated, and when Remus opened his eyes he was very 
much alone. 
* * * 

59 
 He was somewhere in Derbyshire. At least he thought so. It was rapidly growing dark, 
and the thick forest canopy made it darker still. The night air was very cold and clean, but 
Remus was already too warm, and began to strip down at once. He was alone, after all, there 
was no need to be shy. Except he was not alone; not completely. This was definitely a 
magical forest, he could taste it on the breeze, hear it in the rustling of the wintry tree 
branches. 
The moon began to rise and Remus felt his body start to change. He braced himself 
against an oak, clawing at the bark with his nails, toes curling in the mouldy leaf litter. 
The trees seemed to empathise. The earth rose up to meet him, damp ground cooling 
his feverish skin, owls and foxes and bats and all the nocturnal creatures of the woodland 
crying out as he screamed and his skin burst open and his bones cracked and his teeth 
sharpened, until he was no longer Remus, and he howled along with them. 
The wolf snarled, whipping its tail. It did not know where it was, or why it was alone. Where 
were the others? Where was the black one? It sniffed the air, sensing something nearby. It threw 
back its head and howled once more, singing to the moon. 
For the first time in its life, the wolf did not sing alone. A cacophony of beautiful voices joined 
in, answering, and he ran towards them at full pelt. With every beat of its wolfish heart it panted; 
home, home home. I am home. 
* * * 
Sunday 14th January 1979 
Coughing and spluttering, Remus returned to his senses. He came back piece by piece, 
confused and sore and exhausted. He opened his eyes and squinted at the cold yellow 
morning sun flashing at him through bare branches. All around him, the sounds of others 
waking up, some broken sobs, rough gasps, and female laughter. Their scent was so 
delicious, so safe and so comforting. 
Remus propped himself up on his elbows, dead leaves sticking to his 
mushroom-clammy skin. He had a long claw mark along his right thigh, three stripes 
oozing blood. Around him, six or seven others lay naked on the forest floor, slowly coming 
awake. 
“Brother!” A familiar cackle sounded out. 
Remus twisted around to see Livia crawling towards him on all fours, her hips 
swaying, a deranged grin on her face. In the daylight her tattoos looked like animal 
markings; they covered every inch of her scrawny body in great sweeping spirals, “I knew 
you would come!” 
She knelt at his feet, and he tried to draw his knees up away from her, but she shot out 
a hand and grabbed his ankle. “You were beautiful, Remus Lupin, beautiful,” she purred, 
leaning forward, her hand moving up his leg, 
“Get off me, Livia,” he growled, trying to kick at her - but she held him fast. 
“Shhh,” She said playfully, leaning over even further, her hand moving ever closer, 
“Just relax my love, my darling brother…” 
She stretched out her hand and ran three splayed fingers down the cuts on his leg. It 
felt weird. His whole body seemed to tingle and quiver, he felt warm and - worryingly - on 

60 
the verge of arousal. He did pull away then, scuttling backwards on all fours like a crab. 
Livia laughed at him, holding up her three bloody fingertips, then sucking them into her 
mouth one by one, grinning and murmuring with pleasure. 
Disturbed, he stood up quickly, finding that whatever Livia had done, it had healed the 
wound. He was left only with a silvery scar. 
The others were up too, and closing in on him, walking towards Remus through the 
trees, eyes burning with curiosity, sniffing at the air. Some of them were cut or scratched, 
but they each healed each other, just by touching and channeling the natural magic which 
surrounded them. Many of them had shaved heads and the beginnings of the same tattoos 
Livia had. Others were perhaps more recent initiants, and had longer hair, clear skin. 
Remus wanted to summon his clothes, and ideally his wand too, but it seemed a bit 
rude when everyone else was starkers too. Besides, he wasn’t cold, at least not yet. He 
wasn’t frightened, either, which seemed strange. He looked around at the other faces. Still 
that voice deep within him said; ​pack, pack, home​. 
“Gaius,” Livia said, suddenly, standing up. Gaius was at her side in an instant. He 
smiled at Remus, licking his lips, 
“Welcome, brother.” 
“Welcome, brother!” The others echoed, one after the other, like a peel of bells. Remus 
felt a surge of adrenaline, of strong, undeniable connection. 
“We’re so glad you could join us,” Gaius said. Livia turned to him, and began to lick 
his wounds, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 
Castor was there too, but he hung back. Since Remus had last met him, Castor had 
received a wound which slashed his face, a long split across the nose. It was healed over, 
but it ruined his once beautiful face. 
Remus remembered himself, and found his voice, 
“I’ve had enough,” he said, raising his chin. “I’ve had enough of the humans, I want to 
see what else there is.” 
Gaius’s grin widened, and Livia looked up too, blood on her lips and teeth. 
“Our father will be so pleased,” they said in unison, 
“So pleased!” Repeated the group. 
“I want to meet him,” Remus said, “Will you tell him that?” 
“In time, Remus Lupin.” Livia and Gaius said. 
“In time…” 
Something was happening, though, the pack was retreating. They walked away, back 
into the trees, the brush, fading into the landscape like the predators they were. Remus felt 
a tug in his chest. He wanted to follow them; he didn’t want to lose their company yet. 
“Where are you going?” He asked Livia, as she too began to back away. 
“We will see you next month, Remus Lupin,” she said, her face softening somewhat - 
she looked almost kind, if you ignored the blood drying in the corners of her mouth, “It is 
not long to wait.” 
“But I…” 

61 
 They both turned, and did not look back. 
Now Remus started feeling cold. The chill seemed to begin inside him and work its 
way out. He felt a horrible empty loneliness that hadn’t been there before. Their scent was 
gone, their familiarity, the safety they represented. J​ esus Christ, Moony​, he hissed at himself, 
Sort yourself out, you’re not ​really o
​ ne of them! 
He summoned his clothes quickly, and held his wand tight. It felt weird; somehow 
vestigial. Much easier to simply summon the strength in his own body, at his very 
fingertips, no need for a silly stick. He frowned. He did not feel himself. Best to apparate 
back to the Potters’ quickly, before he turned completely feral. 
He apparated to the back door, and knocked weakly on the glass of the french 
windows. He felt much more tired by then; perhaps the effort of apparition, or just being 
away from the forest and back in mundanity. Mrs Potter was already in the kitchen, and 
came over at once, opening the doors. 
She beamed at him with creased and wrinkled eyes, 
“Remus, dear,” she said, her voice very quiet - the others must still be sleeping. “I’d 
better ask you something… let me see… oh, I’m no good at this… ah; where did you and the 
boys go on holiday before your seventh year?” 
“Cornwall,” Remus replied promptly, grateful to be reminded of that wonderful 
summer, “Near Truro.” 
“Lovely,” she opened the door. “Now, are you all right? Anything hurt?” 
“No, I’m fine,” he said, stepping into the kitchen, extending his arms as if to prove his 
good health to her. Oh god, now he was in the house he could smell Sirius, and everything 
in him wanted to seek him out at once. 
“Lovely,” Mrs Potter smiled, tiredly. “Well then, I think I’ll go back to bed, it’s hours 
until breakfast. The boys are sleeping, Sirius is in his room, but if you wanted a bit of peace 
and quiet I’ve made up the spare bed too.” 
“Thanks, Mrs Potter!” Remus said, practically running up the stairs to the bedroom 
Sirius was in. He remembered himself just before slamming the door open, and instead 
pushed it gently, peering inside. 
It was quite dark, the heavy curtains drawn over the early sunrise. “Are you awake?” 
he whispered - redundantly, because he knew that he was. 
“Moony!” Sirius sat up immediately. 
Remus hurried over to the bed, hanging back at the last moment, because no, he 
wasn’t a wolf now; he was human and he had to act it. 
“Are you ok?!” 
“Yes,” he nodded emphatically, “It was fine, it was nothing. We just hunted.” 
“Hunted?!” Sirius’s eyes widened. 
“Rabbits.” Remus clarified. He could still taste the gamey flesh between his teeth. His 
stomach flipped and he grew warm once more, “Honestly, it was fine. Easy.” 
“I was so worried about you, I didn’t even sleep… don’t you want to get in?” He pulled 
back the covers. 

62 
 “Er…” Remus shifted, still standing, “I’m a bit… on edge.” 
Sirius frowned, confused. Remus cleared his throat, 
“You know. Like the other day?” 
“Oh!” Sirius reached out and touched Remus’s arm lightly. He bit his lip, shivering 
delightfully, getting a taste of the same feeling. “So you are. Um…” 
He reached out and put his hands on Remus’s hips, curling his fingers in under the 
waistband of his jeans, Sirius tugged him towards him, “That's ok, I can sleep later…” 
They did sleep later, both of them, and thankfully James and Lily and the Potters left 
them undisturbed. When they woke up at five o’clock in the evening, Remus felt like the 
worst guest in the world, though of course Sirius was perfectly at home. 
Remus tried to explain the night’s events to Sirius, but there were things he couldn’t 
help glossing over. Livia healing him in that intimate way. The desire he’d had to stay, to 
follow them. It wasn’t lying. He was being as honest as he thought was safe. 
Later, he told Moody and Ferox an even more censored version. They didn’t ask for 
much detail, to be fair, and Remus didn’t see why he should give them everything. He was 
keen to keep the other werewolves’ identities private for as long as he realistically could, 
and for now they were only interested in Greyback. 
As for Remus, he was the closest he had ever been to the thing he had wanted ever 
since he was a child. He was going to meet the man who destroyed his life. And he was 
going to kill him. 
* * * 
Sunday 11th February 1979 
Second Moon 
In the intervening month, Remus tried to retain a semblance of normality. He 
attended meetings and met his friends - often he would go and see the girls on their lunch 
break; Lily and Marlene at St Mungo’s, Mary only a short bus trip away in Kensington. He 
phoned Grant if Sirius was away and he got lonely, and he listened to records and he read 
books. 
But he couldn’t ignore how different he felt. Sometimes it caught him off guard; a 
memory would come to him, or a scent, and his toes curled and he licked his teeth. His 
dreams became almost exclusively about forests and howling and cool soft moonlight. 
He was better prepared, the second time. Just as nervous, though. He apparated to the 
same spot as before, in case they came to meet him - but they didn’t and he transformed 
alone. 
The wolf found its pack even faster this time. They keened and yapped in greeting, the alpha 
bitch nipped his ear and rubbed herself against him, the younger wolves ducked their heads in 
submission. Then the hunt began. The wolf could not remember ever having felt such 
uncomplicated joy before, even with its other pack. The rage and the fear and the hunger slipped 
away with the wind in its fur, the scent of the herd they stalked. 
When they finally caught up to the deer, Remus, Gaius, Livia and Castor were the first in; they 
took down the stag. The others followed suit, closing in on the struggling beast. The wolf leapt and 

63 
dug in its claws, relishing the panicked heartbeat of its prey. It sank in its teeth and tore away flesh, 
and hot rich blood slid down its throat. 
When Remus woke up, he was not hungry. 
He allowed Livia to lick his wounds clean this time, too dopey and satisfied to think 
too hard about any of the implications. 
“Will I meet Greyback next month?” He asked, before Castor and Livia could melt 
back into the shadows. 
“Our father is looking forward to meeting you Remus Lupin,” Livia said, “You must be 
a little more patient, my brother.” 
“Have I proved myself?” 
“It is not for us to decide.” 
He stayed in the forest longer than usual - perhaps just out of laziness. Even alone, he 
felt better there than he had anywhere else. He would have liked to curl up and sleep 
beneath the trees. When Remus finally reappeared outside the Potters’ back door, it was the 
middle of breakfast. 
Lily, James and Sirius were there, faces anxious and drawn, nursing large cups of 
milky tea. Mrs Potter was standing at the window peering out, and jumped when Remus 
arrived. She swung the door open. 
“There you are!” 
“Sorry,” he murmured, a bit wobbly on his feet. 
“Oh my god, Moony, are you ok?!” Lily was at the door now too, and she pointed at 
him, horrified. He looked down and saw the blood - it had trickled down his chin and neck, 
pooling in the hollow above his collar bones, and dried there without his even noticing. 
“Shit,” he rubbed at his mouth self consciously, “It’s not mine, it’s not--” 
James came to the door next, and Remus suddenly felt very queasy, covered in stag’s 
blood, having feasted on deer only hours before. He stuck out an arm to lean against the 
wall, giddily. 
“Come on, Moony,” Sirius ducked between James and Lily and touched Remus’s hand 
lightly, “Let’s get you cleaned up…” 
Gratefully, Remus allowed himself to be led upstairs to the bathroom. Sirius ran a 
warm bath, and then stood leaning against the sink while Remus soaked himself, blinking 
dazedly at the rust coloured swirls in the warm water. 
“It’s not human,” he said, shakily. 
“I know,” Sirius said, “It’s deer, I can smell it.” 
“You can?” Remus looked up at him. Sirius wrinkled his nose, 
“I have to concentrate, but yeah. I was talking to Prongs about it, the longer we’re 
animagi the more weird things we notice. Hope I don’t go colour blind next, eh?” 
Remus tried to laugh at this attempt to alleviate the tension, but he was too shaken up. 
“Was it bad?” Sirius asked, gently, lowering his voice as if Remus was an invalid. 

64 
 No​, Remus thought to himself. ​It was wonderful. I was happy; I was normal. ​He was 
disgusted with himself.​ What’s happening to me? 
He looked at Sirius and nodded. “Yeah. It was bad.” 
* * * 
Tuesday 13th March 1979 
Third Moon 
“I don’t want to go back to the Potters’ this time.” Remus said, before he had to leave 
for the third moon with the pack. 
“What?” Sirius came out of the kitchen, where he’d been doing the washing up. He 
was becoming steadily more house proud - or maybe it was just nervous energy; the war 
was hotting up for everyone, not just Remus. 
He was wearing a pair of bright yellow marigolds, which Remus had bought him as a 
joke, but he loved so much he wore every time. They were wet and shining, dripping suds 
on the carpet. 
“I said I don’t want to go back to the Potters’.” Remus repeated, “In the morning. You 
can stay there, obviously, but I… I just won’t, ok? I don’t know how safe it is, I don’t want 
anyone to follow me.” 
“We’ve been fine so far…” 
Sirius had been doing that a lot; saying ‘we’ when it was really only about Remus. 
“I think we’ve been careless.” Remus shrugged. “I won’t put them in danger again.” 
“Ok.” Sirius nodded. He peeled off the gloves slowly, “Where do you want to go, 
then?” 
“I don’t know. I thought maybe Cornwall? That castle ruin we visited, do you 
remember?” 
“Of course I remember. Shall I meet you there?” 
“Wait for my signal. I want it to be safe.” Remus shifted from foot to foot. He wanted 
to pace; his back was aching again and he needed to go soon, but he kept still in case it 
worried Sirius. 
“Moony, if it’s not safe then I’d r​ ather​ be there so I can help. I know Prongs and 
Wormtail and Evans will too--” 
“No.” Remus raised his voice. “No, please.” 
“But Moony---” 
“Look, I have to go.” He practically flew out of the door; he didn’t even put his coat on. 
He hadn’t said a proper goodbye. He hadn’t even said ‘I love you’, which they had been 
doing every time they were separated, just in case. But of course Remus thought he was 
coming back. He couldn’t have known what the pack had planned. 
* * * 
This time it was a relief to shed his human form and give up responsibility for a few hours. 
They ran and played and fought and howled through the night, rustling fairies up from the 
underbrush, following scents they picked up. 

65 
 As the moon began to fade, the wolf slowed down, started to whimper as it felt its body 
shrinking back to pathetic human form. The others stopped too, and drew in close. 
Livia was the first to pounce, and Remus, half wolf, half man by this point, tried to 
struggle but she held him fast, her paws becoming claw-like hands. Castor and Gaius had 
him too, pinning him down as Remus groaned and clenched his teeth through the pains of 
transformation. 
And then he was human once more, pressed into the ground by the pack, braced 
against their tangle of strong, hot limbs. He raised his head, yelling, 
“What are you doing?! Let me go!” 
Livia laughed, astride him, throwing her head back, and then it happened. That weird 
sucking, squeezing sensation as all four of them apparated, Remus helpless to do anything 
but cling on and pray he didn’t get splinched. 
Suddenly the ground beneath him was hard, cold stone, rocks digging into his bare 
back. The others finally got off him, and he scrambled to his feet, staring around wildly. 
They were indoors, in a high ceilinged chamber, like a - was it a c​ hurch​?! It was cold, and it 
reeked of the pack, and ancient magic. The others stood around him, smiling madly. 
“Where the fuck am--” Remus started, but stopped short as Livia stepped to one side 
and a tall, dark figure approached. Remus knew that scent, he knew those burning yellow 
eyes. He froze, paralysed by terror. Greyback stepped towards him, teeth bared in a cruel 
smile. 
“Welcome home, cub.” 
 
(Song: Shake That Thing - The Sensational Alexander Harvey Band) 

   

66 
 ONE HUNDRED & FIFTY-EIGHT 
The War: Captive 
 
As they pulled you out of the oxygen tent 
You asked for the latest party. 
With your silicone hump and your ten-inch stump 
Dressed like a priest you was; Todd Browning freak you was. 
Crawling down the alley on your hands and knees 
I’m sure you’re not protected for it’s plain to see, 
The diamond dogs are poachers and they hide behind trees. 
Hunt you to the ground, they will, 
Mannequins with kill appeal. 
  
Wednesday 14th March 1979 
“​Welcome home, cub​.” 
Remus said nothing. For now, he had nothing to say. He just wanted to get a good 
look. 
Fenrir Greyback. Remus had expected him to be taller. He wasn’t short by any 
standards, but when Remus stood up straight they were eye level. That was good. That gave 
him a flutter of courage. 
He may not be taller than Remus, but Greyback was certainly bigger in every other 
way; hulking broad shoulders, thick squat neck, muscular arms. He had long, thick yellow 
fingernails, dark wiry hair covering his forearms and sprouting up over the collar of his 
cloak, meeting a dark beard that was more like fur than hair. His eyes were dangerous, 
inhuman. 
The magic radiating off him was not like a wizard’s; at least not any Remus had 
encountered. Like a full moon, it was searing. The scent, while sickeningly familiar, was not 
inviting. 
Remus had felt at home with the pack; he had felt he belonged. But not with this man. 
He was the enemy, and always would be. 
“Like what you see?” Greyback’s smile widened, showing sharp, predatory teeth, long 
yellow canines. 
Remus stared impassively back, mouth shut. 
He realised that Greyback did not like it. Greyback had expected him to speak - to beg, 
or to rage, or even panic. And Remus knew exactly what to do with bullies who wanted a 
reaction. 
He cocked his head, pulled a nonchalant face and shrugged. 
“S’ok, I s’pose. Oi, could I get my clothes back?” 

67 
 Greyback’s pupils seemed to dilate, or maybe Remus just imagined it. Either way, he 
recovered quickly, still smiling stiffly. 
“Where are my manners? Castor!” He snapped his claw-like fingers. 
Castor appeared at Greyback’s side in a moment, straight-backed and wrapped in a fur 
cloak, carrying a bundle of clothes. Livia was there too, gazing adoringly at her father. The 
old church they stood in had no ceiling, and in the rosey dawn light Remus could clearly see 
Castor’s face for the first time. There were three long pink scars down one side; claw 
marks, pink and soft as burnt skin. 
Greyback saw him staring. 
“Shame about that,” He said said, reaching out and stroking Castor’s cheek with one 
filthy fingernail. Castor did not flinch. “Hated to ruin something so pleasant to look at, but 
he’s learnt his lesson, haven’t you, cub?” 
Castor nodded, staring straight ahead like a soldier. 
“Good boy.” Greyback stroked his scarred cheek. “Still beautiful though, eh Remus?” 
Remus said nothing, and looked away, disgusted. 
“And I thought you were a connoisseur of beauty.” Greyback tutted with 
mock-disappointment. “That’s why I sent you my loveliest children.” 
Livia gave a shiver of pleasure at that, tossing her head proudly. 
Castor held out Remus’s clothes, and he took them, dressing carefully. He felt in his 
jeans pocket for his wand, but it wasn’t there. 
“Ah,” Greyback growled, “Looking for this?” 
He withdrew the long thin stick from his own mud-spattered robes. Remus felt a 
horrible twist of longing for it. “I’m afraid we don’t allow these foolish human toys.” 
Greyback smirked. He took Remus’s wand in both hands and snapped it clean it two. 
Remus had to struggle not to cry out. That had been ​Lyall’s​ wand. In fact, it had been 
the only thing Lyall had ever given Remus that wasn’t completely worthless. He bit the 
inside of his cheek, hard. 
Greyback handed the wand fragments to Livia, who twiddled them gleefully between 
her fingers like batons. Remus raised his chin, defiantly, 
“What do you want from me?” 
“I want what I have always wanted, cub,” Greyback stepped closer, so that Remus 
could smell his sour breath, their noses only inches apart, “I want to take care of you.” 
He reached out to place a hand on Remus’s shoulder, and it took every ounce of 
Remus’s will not to flinch, or duck away. Greyback’s long fingers squeezed him in a fatherly 
manner - but a bit too close to his throat for comfort. 
“I’ve come to join you,” Remus breathed, struggling to hold his nerve. 
Greyback tilted back his head and laughed. It was a gruff, wheezing laugh from deep 
inside his chest. 
“That’s what my children tell me. R
​ emus Lupin has joined us​, they say, h
​ e has cast off the 
human world​… But I wonder...” He licked his lips, looking Remus up and down lasciviously, 
“I wonder if Remus Lupin has truly changed his ways…” 

68 
 “I’m here, aren’t I?” Remus protested, “I’ve spent three moons with--” 
“And where were you between the moons?” Greyback challenged. He sniffed the air 
between them. “You reek of humankind.” 
With that, he released Remus’s shoulder, pushing him backwards, hard. Remus hit the 
stone floor with a thump, and a gasp of surprise and pain as his back jarred. Greyback 
walked away, his pack dividing to let him through. 
“Castor, Livia,” he snarled, “Look after our guest. See if we can’t wring some of that 
humanity out of him.” 
Remus climbed to his feet stiffly, and went to chase after Greyback, but Livia and 
Gaius blocked him with their bodies. Over their shoulders, he watched Greyback leave the 
church through an open archway, and disappear into the bright green foliage beyond. 
Alone and wandless, Remus backed away from the others warily. He wondered if he 
could apparate, but he didn’t dare - and after all, surely this was the mission? He had 
achieved what he’d set out to; he was in Greyback’s pack. Pushing any thought of home or 
his friends aside, Remus faced his captors. Now was the time to be brave. 
Livia approached him first, tossing his splintered wand parts away and grabbing his 
arms, twisting them hard behind his back. Castor came next, same stoic expression on his 
face. He was unwinding a length of rope, holding it out. 
“Oi!” Remus struggled against Livia, “Piss off, you’re not tying me up!” 
“It is not for long, brother,” Livia hissed in his ear. “It is necessary.” Then she ​licked 
him - she ran her long tongue up from the nape of his neck almost to his hairline. He 
shuddered in disgust, struggling harder, but she only laughed - she was so strong. 
They bound him tightly, then forced him forwards, Castor leading, tugging on the 
rope around Remus’s arms and body; Livia pushing from behind. 
He stumbled awkwardly through the church, still unsteady on his feet, having only just 
transformed. 
He was shoved towards what must once have been the altar. Behind that was an old 
arched ambulatory, and beneath those shadows a set of steps leading down into a grave-like 
cellar. They began to descend, the strong smell of damp earth rising. 
“Where are we?” Remus tried asking. 
“We are home.” Castor replied, without looking back. 
Livia gave him a rough jab in the back, and he didn’t ask any more questions. 
They reached the bottom of the stairs, which opened out into a crypt, the vaulted 
ceiling only just tall enough for Remus to stand straight. 
There was not much there. A weird, milky light filled the room but appeared to have 
no natural source. There were gated chambers either side of the walls, once for tombs, 
Remus assumed, but now emptied. They had been replaced by blankets, old stained pillows 
and animal furs. 
Remus blinked hard, his eyes adjusting to the light, and before he could get his 
bearings was thrown forward into one of the cells. Livia growled some incantation and the 

69 
wrought iron bars slammed closed across it, the heavy black chains coiling tight over the 
lock. 
“Oi!” Remus threw himself wildly against the bars, “What the fuck?!” 
“Sit.” Livia barked. Remus’s legs folded beneath him and he was down. She smiled at 
him. “Rest, brother. Patience.” 
“I came here to join you, you can’t treat me like --" 
“Do ​not​ make me silence you.” She hissed. 
He shut his mouth - voluntarily. Perhaps it would be better to wait and see, for now. 
Livia licked her lips. “Try to rest.” 
She stalked away. Castor was left behind, staring at Remus, face inscrutable, body still 
rigid. Remus stared back. His poor face. Had that been because of Remus? Had he been 
punished for that last time in the Forbidden Forest? His dark eyes bore into Remus for a 
long time, unflinching, until Remus scowled at him, 
“What?!” 
“Is Remus Lupin truly here to join the pack? To submit himself to our father?” 
“What d’you think?!” Remus jutted out his chin, though he knew he hardly looked 
dignified, sitting on the filthy floor with his arms bound against his body. 
“I think…” Castor inclined his head slightly, as though nobody had ever asked him 
about his own thoughts before. “...I think that Remus Lupin does not yet know what he will 
do.” 
Remus didn’t have a response for that. Obviously he’d like to think that was not true, 
that his will was iron, unbreakable. But just now, trapped and unarmed and exhausted, he 
couldn’t muster up much pride. 
Castor didn’t seem to mind. He just nodded very slightly, and then backed away, into 
the room. “Rest, Remus lupin.” He said, before turning his back. 
The crypt was filling up now, the other werewolves were arriving, saturating the room 
with their scent and their energy. Remus backed into a corner, knees up to his chest, and 
watched them from the shadows. Their ages only varied slightly - Remus didn’t think any of 
them were older than thirty. In various states of undress, he could see that all of them were 
thin and scarred, and some tattooed. None of them were particularly clean. 
Still, as they all settled in, apparently to sleep off the events of the full moon, Remus 
couldn’t help but feel some sense of security and warmth. He was still getting used to being 
surrounded by his own kind, and the urge to settle down and make himself comfortable as 
they were all doing was strong. As if their hearts were all beating as one; they were all part 
of the same body, and now was the time for sleep. 
Livia was nowhere to be seen, nor Greyback, and Remus took some comfort from this. 
The dark chamber grew warm, and as the pack settled in quietly, murmuring and 
whispering amongst themselves as they bedded down, Remus’s eyelids grey heavy and his 
limbs soft, and eventually the exhaustion caught up with him and he drifted away. 
* * * 

70 
 “Where are you, you filthy little beast?!” Matron’s nasal voice screeched as she stalked up and 
down the echoey hallways, high heels clicking like a predator. “When I get my hands on you I’m 
going to wallop you into next week!” 
Remus curled up even tighter in his hiding place, covering his ears with his hands and 
squeezing his eyes shut. She’d never find him; he was too good at hiding, and very very small. 
He was underneath one of the big boys’ beds. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be in their dorm, 
he’d get beaten up if one of them found him; but he knew how to keep quiet. He’d learnt that in the 
first few days at St Edmund’s, and now he’d been there for some time he hardly ever got picked on 
unless he’d really got in someone’s way. 
Remus didn't feel very well. He was starting to hurt all over, and his skin was all hot and 
prickly. 
He wanted his mummy, but he didn’t know where she was anymore. Maybe she’d gone 
somewhere with Daddy, and they’d come and get him soon. Maybe they were hunting down the bad 
man who hurt him. 
Remus pinched himself, hard. He didn’t want to think about the scary man. He couldn’t 
remember very much of it, except when he was really frightened. Pinching helped, except now the 
hurting all over was getting even worse. The bones in his legs stung, and he desperately wanted to 
stretch them out, but then someone might see him. 
Finally it was too much, and another wave of pain forced him to uncurl, letting out a cry. 
“Owww….” 
“Ah ha!” 
Oh no. Matron. Suddenly there was a hand around his ankle, and she yanked him hard out 
from under the bed. 
“There you are you little monster! Come with me, you know you’ve got to go to your room.” 
“No…” he moaned, as she hoisted him up and carried him under one arm. Not the room. He 
hated h
​ is room; it was so scary. “Let me go!” He beat his fists against her, but she barely reacted, 
marching down the corridor, down the stairs and towards his cell. 
“Let me go!” He screamed, crying now, snot and tears running down his face, “I want my 
mummy! I want my mummy!” 
“She’s not here.” Matron snapped. She opened the door and set him down inside, slamming it 
shut hard in his face. He heard the bolts go and began to cry harder. 
It was so dark. 
He was scared of the dark, ever since the bad man, and Mummy always let him have the 
hallway light on. But Matron wasn’t like Mummy; she never did nice things, only horrible things, 
because he’d been so bad. Was he here because he was bad? Was that why Mummy didn’t want 
him, and Daddy went away? 
He sobbed and screamed, but nobody came. It was too scary, and too dark, and it hurt, it hurt 
it hurt…. A horrible growling filled his head, and suddenly Remus remembered why he didn’t feel 
well, and why he had to be locked in his room. 

71 
 Remus awoke with a start. His face was wet with tears, and he was sweating all over. It 
took him long seconds to remember that he was nineteen, not six, and not locked in his cell 
at St Edmund’s. 
He hadn’t thought about the Home for a long time - and he tried never to re-hash ​those 
memories. His heart pounded in his ears, adrenaline coursed through him and he struggled 
to get his emotions back under control. 
He was being watched. It was Jeremy - the young man Gaius had been recruiting back 
in the Manticore’s head. He was leaning against the bars, peering at Remus, 
“Bad dream?” He asked, his voice rasping, as though he was getting over a bad cold. 
He was thinner than Remus remembered. 
Remus straightened up quickly, reaching up to wipe his face with the back of his 
sleeves, finding that the ropes had mysteriously vanished. Had someone come in and untied 
him? Had Livia done it somehow? 
The room behind Jeremy was empty, now; it was just the two of them. 
“It’s ok,” Jeremy said, conversationally, “I had bad dreams too, when I first got here. 
We all do. They tell us it’s all of the old stuff coming to the surface; the memories we don’t 
need. Once they’re gone, we can start our new lives with the pack.” 
“Were you all locked up like this?” Remus asked, his throat sore. He was thirsty, but 
he didn’t want to look weak. 
“No.” Jeremy shrugged. “Just you. They’re worried about you. After what you pulled 
back in the pub. And there are other stories. They talk about you sometimes.” 
“Who does? Livia? Castor? Greyback??” 
Jeremy shrugged again, apathetic. 
“Yeah. That lot. They’re in charge. Livia’s first, because she was turned by Greyback. 
You get better stuff, if you’re a direct descendent.” 
Remus snorted. He wondered if Jeremy knew that he had been turned by Greyback 
too, and whether or not being tied up and thrown in a cell counted as ‘better stuff’. 
Jeremy began to cough, a deep, chesty crackle, which wracked his body and doubled 
him over. He pulled his fur cloak tighter around his skinny frame, and Remus finally felt 
something beyond fear or anger. He felt sympathy. 
“Do you all live here, in this place?” He asked, softly, looking around at the dank 
cellar. “Between the moons?” 
Jeremy nodded. 
“Better than where I was before.” He said. Then, as if bored with the conversation, he 
simply stepped away. “I’m hungry.” he said blandly. “I’ll tell someone you’re awake. See 
you.” 
And Remus was alone again. He climbed to his feet, carefully, checking that nothing 
was broken or sprained or too sore. No, he actually felt better than he usually did, after a 
moon - even with Madam Pomfrey’s care. If only he wasn’t trapped. If only they hadn’t 
destroyed his wand. He reached into his jeans and found that they’d left him with his 
pocket watch, at least. 

72 
 Remus held the heavy metal object in his hand, letting it grow warm against his skin. 
He thought about Sirius - though he knew he ought not to; he didn’t know who was 
listening in on his thoughts, and even if nobody was; Sirius was a weakness. 
Was he worried? He must be, Remus told himself. That’s what love was, surely. 
Had he gone to the castle ruin in Cornwall, where they’d agreed to meet? Had he 
waited and waited, wondering where Remus was, what had become of him? Perhaps he’d 
raised the alarm; told the Potters first, then got hold of Moody, or even Dumbledore. Remus 
didn’t think either would be much help. As far as they were concerned, Remus would be in 
one of three situations: 
1. Dead. 
2. Completing his mission to infiltrate the werewolves. 
3. Turned double agent and ​actually​ joined the werewolves. 
And from Moody’s perspective, whichever it was, Remus was best left where he was. 
He hoped no one had said that to Sirius. 
Already feeling his resolve slipping. Remus forced Sirius to the back of his mind. 
There was nothing he could do but try his hardest to see the mission through, stay alive, 
and get back to him. That ​had​ to be his focus. 
He paced the cell a few times. It wasn’t big; maybe five steps across, three deep. The 
animal pelts it had been lined with were deer and bear, and something else Remus didn't 
recognise. Not wolf. Not anything native to Britain. He touched the bars; they felt weirdly 
warm and seemed to hum against his skin. Magic. 
Having a sudden brainwave, Remus stepped back and closed his eyes. He was a bit 
stiff and still foggy from sleep, but the magic was there, in the room. Leftover from the 
pack, and from Livia’s binding spells. He tried to gather some of it into himself. It was very 
difficult, without a wand, and with his nerves so shaken. 
He pulled and tugged at the atmosphere around him, but it was like trying to smoke 
an unlit cigarette. Nothing came through, and he just got out of breath. The magic seemed 
just beyond his grasp. 
“Admirable efforts, dearest.” 
Remus opened his eyes and jumped, seeing Livia now standing in the middle of the 
room. She grinned at his discomfort, and gestured to Jeremy, who was coming down the 
steps behind her, holding a large pewter jug and a plate with some food on it. Bread and 
meat - it smelled like rabbit, and Remus hoped it was. He began to salivate almost at once. 
Livia snapped her fingers, and the jug and plate left Jeremy’s hands and appeared on 
the floor of Remus’s cell with a *pop*. So, he thought. You could transport things through 
the bars. That meant he could get out of them, if he tried hard enough. 
“Eat up, my darling,” Livia purred. “Father wishes us to be strong.” 
“Thank you.” Remus said. He made eye contact with her, and tried to hold it. That had 
worked with Gaius - and accidentally with Danny. They’d submitted to him, eventually.   
Livia returned his stare and smiled, looking very pleased. 
“That’s my boy.” 

73 
 “Where’s Greyback?” 
“Show some respect.” Her eyes flashed, and Remus felt a stabbing pain in his skull. He 
gasped, pressing a flat palm to his forehead, “He is our father.” Livia hissed. 
“All right!” He yelped, “Where is our… our father?” It made him sick to say it. 
“That is none of your concern.” 
“I want to speak to him!” 
“In time. Once you have proved yourself.” 
“How am I supposed to prove anything locked up in here?!” Remus raged, frustrated. 
Livia just smiled back at him. 
“Remus Lupin will find a way. Goodbye, brother. Do remember to eat something.” 
She turned and stalked out, snapping her fingers at Jeremy as she did so. He scurried 
to follow her back up the stairs, giving one backward glance at Remus as he did, and 
mouthing, ​‘Sorry​.’ 
Remus watched their feet disappear as they reached the stop of the stairs, and then 
heard a loud grinding noise as something heavy closed over the hatch. The strange light 
that had illuminated the room all this time went out, like a light switch, and Remus was left 
alone, locked in the dark. 
 
(Song: Diamond Dogs - David Bowie) 

   

74 
 ONE HUNDRED & FIFTY-NINE 
The War: Submission 
 
Oh! You silly thing 
You've really gone and done it now 
Oh! You silly thing 
You really gone and done it now 
  
Sunday 25th March 1979 
Remus was going mad. 
That was the only explanation. 
Time passed slowly, each second eeked out over weeks - and then hours whooshed by 
all at once, like missiles, knocking the breath out of him. 
They brought him meals, and that was the only way he could measure out his days. No 
one spoke to him; perhaps they had been warned not to. Perhaps it was part of his proving 
himself. They looked, though. They stared. 
The pack returned every night to sleep - sometimes Livia, Gaius and Castor were 
there. Other times not. Never Greyback, though sometimes Remus thought he could smell 
him - but that might have been the madness. After two days in the dark he didn’t trust his 
senses. 
After a week, he trusted nothing. 
He was never quite comfortable, always restless and exhausted; pacing until his feet 
were bruised. He slept little and often; caught between fitful bursts of unconsciousness and 
insomnia. And he had terrible dreams. Every bad memory squirmed its way up to surface of 
his mind. Mostly St Edmund’s, but also that summer after fifth year, when he’d been at his 
loneliest, and hated Sirius. 
He grew paranoid, convinced that it was the others - they were controlling his mind, 
somehow; forcing him to see things he didn’t want to see; things that weren’t there. 
Sometimes he dreamed Sirius was dead. Then, when that had wrung all the terror out 
of him, he dreamed of each of of his friends dying, one by one. Their ghosts visited him, 
weeping or raging. When he woke up, he never felt like they’d quite gone. 
Other times Remus wondered if in fact ​he​ was dead, and this was some extremely 
specifically designed hell. 
By the end of the first week, he had lost all sense of shame. He wept, he howled, he 
keened. He laughed maniacally, or else curled up in the corner and whispered to himself. 
He tried to have conversations in his head, but it didn’t work the same way as before. 
Grant’s calming voice transformed into Livia, Sirius into Castor, and Remus was left with 
no escape at all. 
In moments of lucidity, he tried to summon more magic, but it was very hard, and he 
was so weak. 

75 
 Sometimes he thought he could do it. One of the others might perform a spell (always 
wandless; none of them ever did magic the wizard way) to summon something, or 
illuminate the room - and Remus felt that old stirring of power. But it never lasted long 
enough. 
Finally, Remus’s parents appeared to him - in his head, but also in the cell. Hope was 
crying - she was still sick, even in death, her face gaunt and haggard. She wore a white 
shroud, and there was earth in her fair hair - even though Remus knew she’d been 
cremated. 
Lyall was the worst, though; maybe because Remus had no solid basis for him, beyond 
a few candid photographs. The Lyall his feverish imagination dreamt up was heartlessly 
cruel, with a plummy, upper-class accent and cold blue eyes. 
“Let that animal destroy my wand, did you?” T
​ he spindly ghost whispered in his ear,​ “I 
should have put you out of your misery, all those years ago.” 
While the other ghosts shamed him, made him feel small and sorry, Lyall had only ever 
made Remus angry. He raved like a madman at his father, and flung himself at the walls of 
his cage. 
“Peace, brother.” Castor appeared at the bars, after Remus had been doing this for 
some time. “This is not the way.” 
“Fuck off!” Remus snarled, holding his head in his hands as he tried to ground himself 
in reality. 
Castor withdrew. Remus continued to suffer. He curled up on the floor and covered his 
head like a wounded dog. That made him think of Sirius. 
Stupid thoughts occurred to him, like - where was Sirius staying? At the Potters’? At 
their flat? Remus didn’t like the idea of Sirius all alone. Was he eating properly? Was he 
smoking too much? Had he fallen off that stupid bike yet, and broken his neck?! 
Was anyone even l​ ooking​ for Remus? 
He shut his eyes and tried to pretend he was somewhere else. At home in his tiny 
London flat, reading the paper. Or in his old bed at Hogwarts, with the curtains drawn over. 
At night in the crypt, Remus could hear the rest of the pack breathing, snoring, rolling 
over. Some of them cried, maybe when they thought no one else was awake. Most of the 
coughed, a result of the damp conditions. After a week, Remus caught the cough too, and 
felt weaker than ever. 
He’d never been b​ ulky​, exactly - he’d always been decidedly skinny, even after seven 
years of Hogwarts food. But now Remus barely recognised his own body - the bones in his 
hips became sharp, his drainpipe jeans slipped down his waist, his ribs stuck up like 
branches on a winter tree, and his skin grew dry and raw, cracking in places. 
This physical weakness only compounded Remus’s despair - who did he think he was, 
joining some stupid rebel army right after school? Had none of the hundreds of books he’d 
read imbued him with any common sense?! 
Of course​ he couldn’t go up against Greyback - the idea was laughable. So laughable, in 
fact, that Greyback wasn’t even going to kill him. Remus was not worth the effort. He was 
simply going to waste away to nothing in this cell, and nobody would ever know. 

76 
 “You are not trying.” Castor said, returning to view him. 
Maybe it had only been a few hours since the first time he’d tried to get through to 
Remus. Maybe it had been days. 
It must have been daytime, because no one else was in the crypt. 
“Let me out!” Remus babbled, clutching at the bars of his cage. “Please!” 
“Let yourself out.” Castor returned, coldly. 
“I don’t have my wand!” 
Castor tutted at him. He held out his empty palm, and a blood red flame appeared in it. 
It lent a soft, alluring glow to Castor’s features, blurring the jagged edges of his scar and 
making him beautiful again. 
“We do not need wands, Remus, we do not borrow magic like common humans.” 
“I don’t have enough.” Remus groaned, slumping back. 
“Idiot.” Castor said, closing his hand over the flame, burning it into a fist. “You are 
brimming with it. You are still thinking like a human. Why do you think he put you here?” 
“To watch me die.” 
“Idiot.” Castor repeated, shaking his head disdainfully. 
“​Why​, then?!” Remus growled. 
Castor glanced around covertly to confirm that they were alone. He came closer. His 
scent was stronger as he positioned himself right up against the cell bars, and Remus felt an 
involuntary pull of attraction towards him. Castor lowered his voice, 
“You are being tested, you fool. You are only the fourth child of Greyback to return to 
him - do you know what position that gives you?! What kind of power?! You’ve seen Livia 
and Gaius, you know what you are capable of.” 
“But why--” 
“You attacked Gaius. Last summer. Greyback is worried about you now - he won’t say 
it, but he is. No one challenges those two,​ no one​.” 
“I didn’t mean to challenge anyone, he attacked me first, and I--” 
“You acted like a wolf.” Castor said, triumphantly, his soft lips curling at the corners, 
“And that is what you must do now.” 
“Why are you telling me this?” Remus eyed him suspiciously. Because it made a weird 
kind of sense, now, as if Castor had shaken him awake. 
“Because you are no good to me in this cage.” Castor said, dark eyes burning with 
intensity. “A year ago Remus Lupin spoke to me of change. Of a better life. I have not 
forgotten.” 
“I seem to remember you laughing in my face.” Remus returned, bitterly, “‘The pack is 
everything’, wasn’t that what you said?” 
“The pack ​is​ everything.” Castor said, fiercely. “That has not changed. Other things 
have. You are not without allies, here.” 
“If you want my help so badly, then y​ ou​ get me out.” Remus said. 
Castor raised an eyebrow, giving Remus a long hard appraising look. 

77 
 “It will be better for you if you do it yourself. The others ​must​ see you succeed.” 
Remus was about to ask another question, when the atmosphere changed - Livia was 
coming. Castor backed away quickly, and said nothing more. Remus watched him from a 
distance, his mind finally beginning to work. 
* * * 
He needed magic. He needed power, and he needed a good strong emotion to get it all 
going. Luckily, Remus had always had strong emotions in abundance. That, and patience. 
Buoyed by Castor’s intriguing proposition, Remus found it much easier to 
concentrate, and to stay calm. Now that he knew he was not entirely alone, the ghostly 
apparitions became easier to ignore. 
And he started to notice things. Like how the other werewolves were not as 
homogeneous as they first seemed. They were all fairly young - clearly Greyback had a 
preferred type; not one of them seemed older than twenty-five. They were all thin and 
scarred. 
But the more Remus watched them, the more he saw their differences. Friendships 
and alliances; grudges and feuds, likes and dislikes. 
When he paid very close attention, Remus could even tell how long each of them had 
been werewolves - it was clear from the hierarchy. The younger set fell in two camps; 
fanatics who worshipped Livia and Gaius, and those who were less sure, less comfortable 
with this weird subterranean lifestyle. They tended to side with Castor; sleeping on one 
side of the crypt, talking amongst themselves. 
Gaius in particular seemed troubled by this group. He stalked the crypt floor every 
evening, demanding quiet, ordering them to lie further apart. Remus knew from their first 
meeting in the Manticore’s Head that Gaius had a short fuse, and as soon as Remus latched 
onto this idea, he knew he had to come up with a way to exploit it. 
Help eventually came from an unexpected quarter. Jeremy, one of the very youngest 
members of the pack, and so far the only one who’d spoken to Remus other than Castor and 
Livia, got bored easily. He had a mischievous side which reminded Remus of James and 
Sirius - he often cracked jokes to make the others laugh, and was one of the more vocal 
complainers when it came to living conditions. 
Gaius disliked him immensely, of course, and never missed an opportunity to put him 
back in his place. 
One evening, as everyone was settling down to sleep, Jeremy was struck by a 
particularly violent coughing fit. In Remus’s opinion, he was definitely hamming it up, it 
went on a lot longer than was probably necessary. 
“Control yourself, brother.” Gaius hissed, on his feet at once, crossing the crypt to 
stand over Jeremy, teeth bared. 
“Sor-​ry​,” Jeremy spluttered, scowling sarcastically, “I can’t help it, it’s the damp!” 
“Your brothers and sisters seem to manage well enough.” Gaius returned, bored. 
Jeremy snorted. Gaius raised a hand, as if about to cast a spell. 
“Perhaps you need to be reminded how to behave.” 

78 
 Jeremy licked his lips, nervously, and fell quiet. Castor, who had been sitting nearby, 
stood up. He placed a hand on Gaius’s shoulder, 
“I will speak to him, brother. Do not concern yourself.” 
“Our father demands obedience.” Gaius hissed. Castor’s eyes flashed, 
“I am well aware of our father’s demands.” 
Gaius clearly wanted to retort, but seeing the fire in Castor’s expression thought 
better of it and withdrew, skulking away, snapping angrily at three young women huddled 
together who had been watching the whole thing. 
Castor crouched and whispered to Jeremy, “Do not provoke him.” 
“He’s a prick! He’s not Greyback, he can’t order us about!” 
“Do ​not​ provoke him.” Castor repeated, a note of warning in his voice. It was not 
heeded. 
“I was coughing! I couldn’t help it! Not as if I was whistling a jaunty tune!” 
Giggling from the women nearby. 
“Peace.” Castor said. 
Everyone seemed to settle down after that; order and quiet were restored. Remus sat 
leaning against the back wall of his cell, arms hugging his knees. In one hand he clutched 
his pocket watch, which had grown hot and slippery from being held all the time. 
Suddenly, there was a long, low whistle. Remus’s eyes snapped open, his stomach 
turning over. ​That maniac​. 
The girls near Jeremy were giggling again as he began to whistle a little tune - Remus 
thought it sounded like ‘Mary had a Little Lamb’, but he wasn’t good with nursery rhymes. 
It only lasted a few bars - Gaius was on him in seconds, snarling, hands around 
Jeremy’s throat. The young man’s body went stiff as a board, and Remus could instantly 
smell the charcoal black magic Gaius was using to subdue him. 
It was like a faint tingling sensation; all of the hairs on his arm stood up. Remus closed 
his eyes and inhaled, drinking in the magical energy as though he had been thirsting for it. 
The deliciousness was heightened by Gaius’s terrible rage; by his flaming desire to hurt. 
That was it. That was ​it​! Remus was giddy with excitement as the pieces clicked into 
place. 
“Brother,” Livia’s voice now. She slinked across the floor towards Gaius, languid as a 
cat. “Leave the pup. He is restless and spirited, that is all.” 
Gaius released Jeremy, who collapsed back, coughing harder than before now. Remus 
could smell the salt from his tears. Castor knelt beside the young man, a kind hand on his 
shoulder. 
Remus began to think quickly. He was rubbish at whistling - he could wolf whistle 
(and did Sirius ​love​ the irony of that), but he couldn't carry a tune. What else would be 
annoying? He needed Gaius’s attention - he needed his rage . 
He cleared his sore throat. “​Still dunno what I was waiting for…​” Remus tried, his voice a 
bit croaky and reedy from lack of use. 

79 
 There was a flutter of movement, a sense of ears pricking up, as if they were waiting to 
see what he was up to. It was badly out of tune, too, but it was the only song he could 
remember all the words to. 
Remus swallowed, and raised his voice louder, standing up and approaching the bars, 
“​And my time was running wild, a million dead end streets, and…​” A bit more movement now, a 
few of the younger ones were sitting up, peering over at him, “​Every time I thought I’d got it 
made, it seemed the taste was not so sweet…​” 
A few sniggers. Someone whispered, “He’s finally lost it.” 
“​So I turned myself to face me...​” Remus shut his eyes and bellowed, rolling his forehead 
against the cold bars, “​Though I’d never caught a glimpse, of how the others must see the faker--​” 
“Silence!” Gaius’s sharp voice rang out. 
“​I’m much too fast to take that test…​” 
“SILENCE!” 
Remus tipped his head back and took a deep breath, 
“​CH CH CHANGES! TURN AND FACE THE STRANGE CH CH CHA-ANGES!​” 
“Remus Lupin!” Gaius was up, striding towards him, one hand raised. “Stop this AT 
ONCE!” 
“​DON’T WANNA BE A RICHER MAN…​” Remus continued, feeling Gaius’s fierce 
magical energy filling the space between them, like a tidal wave of hot air rushing over him, 
drenching him. He squeezed his pocket watch tighter, and drew the magic out of that, too, 
sucking it into his bones, his very marrow. 
Remus opened his eyes, and the bars of his cell vanished like smoke. Grinning, he 
stepped forward, crossing the threshold into the crypt. He was free. 
“​Time may change me…​” he half-sang, half laughed at Gaius, who stood before him, 
gobsmacked, 
“Get back! Livia! Castor! Help me--” 
“Shut up, Gaius.” Remus raised his hand, barely thinking about it, just letting the 
magic do the work. Gaius was silenced. His mouth opened and closed a few times, eyes 
wide with terror. Remus felt a surge of pleasure at this. ​Yes! Fear me​. “Good boy,” he 
smirked. “Now, in you pop…” 
He stood aside and pushed Gaius forcefully into the cell, before snapping his fingers 
so that the bars reappeared at once. Gaius found his voice and roared, furious, 
“Let me out!” 
Remus laughed. He was about to turn, to address the rest of the pack - they were all 
murmuring now, various degrees of nervousness and excitement. He felt a hand on his 
shoulder. Livia appeared on his left, Castor to his right. They were both smiling, pride 
gleaming in their eyes. 
“My brother,” Livia whispered, “At last! Father will be so proud.” 
 

(Songs: Silly Thing - The Sex Pistols, Changes - David Bowie)   

80 
 ONE HUNDRED & SIXTY 
The War: Foot Soldiers 
 
I count the corpses on my left, 
I find I’m not so tidy. 
So I’d better get away, better make it today 
I’ve cut twenty-three down since friday. 
But I can’t control it. 
My face is drawn, my instinct still emotes it. 
 
The hot swell of power in Remus’s body did not dissipate as quickly as it had before - 
perhaps simply because it was always there - only now he knew how to tune into it. Or 
maybe it was a defence mechanism, because instinct told him what was coming next. 
Everyone in the crypt could feel it. A few of them stood up anxiously. Livia closed her 
eyes and sighed with pleasure. 
The heavy, swift footsteps echoed through from the church above. Adrenaline flooded 
Remus’s body as the concrete slab covering the entrance of the crypt was pushed aside. 
Greyback descended. He looked different from before. He was not on the defensive 
now. He was smiling, his posture and scent welcoming. Amiable. 
Remus’s heart skipped a beat. 
Greyback smiled, his eyes dark and secretive as the forest. 
“Remus Lupin,” he said. “I think it's time for a chat.” 
Remus nodded, awestruck. 
Greyback nodded too, still smiling, then turned and began to climb the stairs again. 
Remus followed without even glancing back. Finally, finally, this was his chance. To do 
what, he didn’t know yet. All Remus knew in that moment was that his father had come for 
him, and he was elated. 
The air grew fresher and cleaner as they surfaced in the ruined church, and Remus 
breathed in deeply, closing his eyes. It was close to evening; cool and quiet. Under the 
dimly lit clouds the forest around them was transforming from day to night, the nocturnal 
creatures yawning and stretching and creeping out of their holes and tunnels. 
Greyback led Remus up the aisle of the church, through to the arched exit, and they 
walked - not very far - through the slender beech saplings, past sturdy English oaks, down a 
narrow hidden pathway which led to a kind of cave at the base of a hill. A den. 
Without looking back, Greyback entered, stooping only slightly at the entrance before 
straightening up as the mouth of the den opened up wider and higher than Remus could 
have anticipated from the outside. He followed, because there was nothing else to do. 
Inside it smelled like home. Earth and forest and meat and wolf. 

81 
 Though there was no natural light source, as soon as Greyback entered a series of 
torches along the walls of the den lit themselves, creating a cosy, welcoming space. There 
was even a fire with a pewter cauldron hung over it brimming with something that smelled 
thick and savoury. A wooden table beside the fireplace was laden with food of all kinds – 
freshly killed and skinned game, bowls of nuts and berries, mushrooms, nettles and bread. 
The sides of the cave had been carved out into shelves and hollows full of books and 
scrolls. There were a few wooden stools scattered about, and Greyback gestured that Remus 
be seated. 
Remus sat, staring about. Further back, hidden in shadows, he could smell a bed - or at 
least the place Greyback slept. 
More distracting, though, was the smell of the stew. Remus had taken most of his 
meals cold over the past week and a half in the dark. The delicious smell of a hot meal 
threatened to overwhelm him. 
He watched his captor take a porcelain bowl from a shelf and ladle a small portion of 
stew from the cauldron, then pick up a spoon and carry it over to him. Greyback handed 
him the bowl and Remus took it, still unable to take his eyes off Greyback. 
His shape filled the entryway, hard, muscular and unmoving. His coarse dark hair was 
pulled back in a knot and his yellow eyes bore down on Remus, both curious and 
challenging at the same time. 
Despite his larger than life demeanour, there was also a quietness about him that 
Remus had only seen in wild animals. A still silence which promised something more 
sinister, like a spring-loaded trap. 
Greyback took a seat opposite Remus, hands on his knees, and nodded at the bowl of 
stew warming Remus’s hands. 
“Eat.” He said. 
Without hesitation - Remus did not yet know if he was following orders because he 
had to, or because he wanted to - he scooped up some stew and put the spoon in his mouth. 
He could have cried. It was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted, hot and full of 
flavour – some kind of dark meat and rich onion. He chewed, as instructed, before 
swallowing hard. 
Greyback licked his sharp pointed teeth, “Good cub.” 
Remus ignored him, and continued to eat, suddenly starving hungry. A poem he had 
once read popped into his head, like a warning: 
Though the goblins cuffed and caught her, 
Coaxed and fought her, 
Bullied and besought her, 
Scratched her, pinched her black as ink, 
Kicked and knocked her, 
Mauled and mocked her, 
Lizzie uttered not a word; 
Would not open lip from lip 

82 
 Lest they should cram a mouthful in. 
Of course, that was goblins. You mustn't eat food given to you by fairies, or goblins - 
there was nothing he’d read about werewolves. But then, what had he ever managed to 
learn about werewolves? 
Greyback watched him a while longer, as though they were sitting down to supper 
together; old friends. He waited until Remus had almost finished eating to speak. 
“Picked on Gaius in the end, eh? Interesting, that. I thought perhaps Castor.” 
“He was being cruel.” Remus answered. 
“He’s a good cub. Beautiful wolf; powerful. But he has a few things to learn about 
leadership, that I’ll grant you. What do you think of my other children, eh?” 
Remus finished eating. He swallowed, and sucked on the spoon thoughtfully, before 
setting it back in the empty bowl. He looked Greyback in the eye. 
“I feel sorry for them.” 
“Sorry?” 
“For the way they live. There’s no dignity in it.” 
Greyback’s eyes gleamed. 
“Dignity. What a delightful creature you are, Remus Lupin. Yes, dignity. That’s exactly 
the word. Exactly.” Greyback was stroking his beard, thoughtfully. “It is a temporary 
situation, of course. When this war is won--” 
“When this war is won,” Remus said, steadily, “Werewolves will be more hated and 
feared than ever before. Because of what you have done. Because of your crimes.” 
Greyback tossed back his head and laughed, showing long yellow teeth, 
“​Truly​ delightful, cub. I worried that so long in that cell might have softened you, 
but…” 
Greyback raised a bushy eyebrow, and Remus felt an unpleasant wriggling inside his 
brain, as though someone was swirling their fingers through his thoughts. He screwed up 
his face, and Greyback gave a low chuckle deep in his throat, “No. Still unbroken. My good, 
strong cub.” 
Remus stared at him. The wriggling sensation stopped. 
“You mean,” he breathed, “You didn’t want to break me?” 
“Of course not.” Greyback spat, scornfully, “Is that what you think? Are these the vile 
lies spread about me? Why would a father wish harm upon his children?” 
Remus cocked his head, 
“You tell me. Why would you attack a five year old? Why have me locked up?” 
“Trivia,” Greyback waved a long-nailed hand dismissively, “These are not the 
questions you want answers to, do not pretend.” 
“How do you know what I want?!” Remus felt his temper rising, and struggled to keep 
it under control. He tried to hang on to the feeling of power he’d taken from Gaius, to soak 
up the magic he could feel in the earthen walls of the den. 

83 
 “I know everything about you, Remus Lupin.” He looked at him with razor sharp eyes 
once more, and Remus felt that unpleasant shuffling through his thoughts. 
“No, that’s not fair.” Remus shook his head, trying to build a wall up against Greyback. 
“You’re using legilimency!” 
“Pah. A wizard trick. Wolves do not read minds. Wolves see souls.” 
It sounded like the same thing to Remus. Greyback’s lips curled into a wicked smile 
once more, 
“No, Remus Lupin. It isn’t the same. One can change one’s mind, after all. Remus 
Lupin might sympathise with his packmates one day, and revile them the next. That is the 
mind. But Remus Lupin’s ​soul…​” 
Greyback closed his eyes and inhaled, as if Remus smelled particularly delicious. 
“Stop it!” 
“Make me.” 
Remus tried. He tried very, very hard, forcing the magic within him back out, through 
his eyes, through his thoughts. It seemed to work. His mind calmed, and Greyback leaned 
back, looking pleased. Remus was so confused now - he didn’t ​want​ to please Greyback, not 
ever. 
“It's perfectly all right to hate me, you know.” Greyback said, stretching his arms out, 
rolling his shoulders as though he was preparing for bed - or for a fight, “It is natural to 
resent one's father.” 
You’re not my father.​ Remus thought, in the part of his brain where he still felt like 
himself, ​I’ve never had a father, and I’ve never needed one. 
“Answer my questions.” Remus said, as forcefully as he could manage, “If you care 
about me so much… like a… like a father, then why turn me?! Why hunt me down for years, 
then stick me in a cage the second I show up?!” 
Greyback was laughing at him again, rows and rows of teeth, long red tongue. 
“You can thank Lyall Lupin for your transformation.” 
“Right.” Remus pulled a face, “Awfully human, isn’t it?! Revenge?” 
“Self-preservation.” Greyback countered, scratching behind his ear amusedly. “Lyall 
had ideas about how my family should be treated. Uneducated ideas. He needed to learn.” 
“Then why not attack ​him​--” 
“Because he was ​weak​.” Greyback hissed, “I could smell it on him. No backbone at all, 
a hypocrite. And I was proved right. A better man would not have abandoned his pup and 
his bitch. Though perhaps I ought to thank him. He destroyed himself before any of that 
weakness could creep into you.” He licked his lips, “It’s become my motto. Get ‘em young, 
grow ‘em strong.” 
Remus felt like throwing up. He hated Greyback so fiercely it was as if his insides had 
turned to bile. 
“If you believe that,” he carried on, stoically, mouth full of saliva making his words 
thick and sloppy, “Then why wait so long to find me? You could have snatched me out of 
the Home any time.” 

84 
 “I considered it,” Greyback nodded, tilting his head thoughtfully, “I took Livia when 
she was barely speaking. Castor and Gaius when they were tots. But you were a different 
case. Dumbledore had his paws all over you before Lyall was even in the ground. I knew 
what the old codger was thinking - his own pet werewolf; his own tamed beast, all trained 
up and given a head full of wizard tricks and wizard lies. An educated monster.” He licked 
his lips lasciviously, “I knew all of this, and I thought… why not? Let the cub come to me 
when the time was right, let him learn all he can learn of the wizarding world, and we shall 
see, then, which side wins out.” 
“Side? You mean… you or Dumbledore?” 
“Nature or nurture.” Greyback sniggered. Remus recoiled, disgusted, 
“So I’m an experiment?!” 
“In a manner of speaking.” 
Remus finally tore his eyes away, unable to stare into Greyback’s laser beam gaze any 
longer. His eyes caught on the bookcase to his right. They were all classics. ​The Strange Case 
of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, The Island of Doctor Moreau, The Count of Monte Cristo. 
“And the cage?” He asked, shakily, staring at the gold lettering on each leatherbound 
book. “Was that part of the experiment?” 
“It was clear that you had grown too reliant on the tricks Dumbledore taught you.” 
Greyback said, as if it was all perfectly reasonable, “You were confined only as long as was 
necessary, to ensure that your true gifts were strong enough to shine through. And they 
were, cub. Look at you now; just b​ listering​ with power.” 
Remus looked up at him, finally, meeting those wolfish yellow eyes once more. Fine, 
then. If he was so powerful, he could use it. Burning with bitter, acid hatred, Remus pushed 
out once more, focussing as sharply as he could on Greyback’s body. 
Make him weak, make him hurt. 
Greyback straightened his back in his stool, and closed his eyes, grinning as though 
Remus was caressing him, not firing every foul thing he could. Then the werewolf raised a 
hand - and Remus saw that it was trembling, very slightly. Still, Greyback was incredibly 
powerful, and Remus could feel his own magic countered and blocked. Worth a try. 
“Very good, Remus Lupin,” Greyback said, after a long time, his voice a little more 
hoarse than it had been. “Very good, cub…” He sighed. “Enough, for tonight, perhaps. We’ll 
speak again.” 
Remus stood quickly, feeling as if all this time he had been weighted down to the 
stool; and now the weight was gone. 
“One moment…” Greyback rose as well, and pushed past Remus into the shadowy 
sleeping chamber behind. He returned seconds later with a large grey fur, and handed it to 
Remus. “A gift, cub. Welcome to the pack.” 
Remus took it, and held it over one arm, cautiously. It was beautiful; the soft fur silver 
and black under his fingers. 
“I can go?” He asked, glancing at the den mouth, now unguarded and open. He was 
suddenly nervous. 

85 
 “Of course. You know the way back. You are not in the wizard world now; you are free. 
Go where you please. Return to the pack. Or else… if you prefer to sleep here?” His face 
turned hungry again, his smile mocking, as he stepped aside and gestured towards his own 
bed. 
Remus’s stomach turned again, and he backed out of the den as quickly as he could. 
He stood outside by himself for a long time. The thought of apparating - of getting out 
of there as fast as he possibly could; going home to Sirius and London and his friends - 
occurred only fleetingly. 
Night had fallen in the forest. Remus breathed in the lovely air, and looked up at the 
fine lights in the sky. Owls swooped overhead, on the hunt for prey. Foxes crept through 
the underbrush, moles ploughed through the soil below his feet. He felt as much a part of 
this place as they were. A natural creature, coming to life. 
A cool breeze rustled the leaves above him, and he shivered. Without thinking, Remus 
pulled the fur cloak over his shoulders, wrapping it tight around himself. It felt good, like a 
second skin. He breathed and exhaled once more, to savour the peace and quiet of being 
alone. Then he turned away from the den, and returned to his pack. 
* * * 
Things changed, after that, of course. By the time Remus returned to the pack that 
evening he already had a new place in the hierarchy. Gaius had been freed from his prison, 
and he did not meet Remus’s eyes; did not challenge him, just slunk away to his corner. 
Livia made it clear that Remus now outranked Gaius, by approaching first and stroking his 
new furs, purring with joy, 
“Beautiful,” she said, “beautiful.” 
And when it came time to settle in and sleep, Remus had his pick of anywhere he liked 
on the crypt floor. This had to be a carefully thought through decision; sleep beside Livia, 
the alpha bitch, and what was that saying? It would certainly tell Gaius exactly where he 
stood. It’s what Moody would suggest, if Moody had half a clue how to conduct himself in 
such a situation. 
He had reservations about Castor too. For one thing, instinct told him to side with the 
handsome young man - and he knew that it wasn’t entirely to do with the fact that Castor 
had helped him. Remus was used to the scent now, but that didn’t make him any less 
attracted. For another thing, Castor was clearly a dissenter. Siding with him might give rise 
to suspicion from other members of the pack. 
But he was tired and sleepy, and he had made so many life altering decisions already. 
So he chose Castor, who felt safe at least. Remus would have to beg forgiveness later. 
In the days that followed, Remus got to know the pack not only by scent and as fellow 
outcasts - but as individual people. Plenty of them, like Jeremy, were recent converts. 
Teenage runaways, disowned children of shamed wizarding families. All of them had 
difficult stories of hunger and suffering and terrible abuse. 
For the first time in his life, Remus felt he had had a privileged childhood. So what if 
Matron was a stone-hearted old cow who hated children. He’d had a roof over his head. 

86 
 Some of them were kind and funny, some of them were silly and immature. Some of 
them were sad and shy. Every day Remus grew more desperate to help them; to find a better 
place and a better life for each and every one. 
But of course they didn’t all have the same story. Some of them were not with 
Greyback for protection or shelter - some of them really w
​ ere​ there for revenge. They 
believed in their father’s philosophy wholeheartedly; murder for them was not a crime, only 
the nature of a predator. The world owed them blood, and they were going to take it. 
“I believed it too.” Castor said, the next morning. He had offered to show Remus their 
hunting trails in the forest. They caught rabbits and other game using instinct and magic. 
“I believed everything he said, for a long time. He's the only teacher I ever had.” 
“But you changed your mind?” Remus asked, half hoping, because he still wasn’t quite 
sure about Castor’s motivations. 
“Yes.” Castor replied, not noticing Remus’s trepidation. “It was a slow process.” 
“What triggered it?” Remus was puffing a bit to keep up with Castor, who was lithe 
and muscular, the epitome of good health, despite his scars. 
“No one thing in particular,” Castor said, stopping still and looking around, as though 
he’d caught a scent. He seemed to think better of it, and carried on walking, head held high, 
eyes sharp. He was so natural and relaxed in himself. Remus didn’t think ​he​ could ever be 
like that. It vaguely made him think of Sirius - except of course Castor talked a lot less. You 
had to really drag answers out of him. 
“Nothing in particular?” Remus panted, “Something must have--" 
“Books.” Castor said, striding ahead, on the trail of something. 
“Books?!” 
“Father encourages us to educate ourselves. To develop independent thoughts. And I 
did. It is the way of nature, to rebel against one’s father.” 
That sounded eerily like Greyback. Castor often did that - they all did. They spoke 
with one voice, and it was always his. 
“But if he encourages that, then why haven’t more of the others--" 
“I said that we are encouraged, not forced.” Castor said, a small ironic smile playing 
on his lips. 
“Oh.” Remus said. He remembered Livia quoting Plato to him. Being educated didn’t 
mean you all came to the same conclusions. 
“I listened to what you said, too.” Castor said, finally. “When I was trapped by the 
dryad, in Scotland. I knew you were my enemy, but I did not want to harm you. And then I 
realised I did not want to harm anybody. I think we can live in peace, away from mankind, 
as other creatures have learnt to.” 
“Is that really what you want--?” 
Castor put a hand out quickly, and crouched low. There was a rabbit not five feet 
away. Remus held his breath and watched as Castor crept forward slowly, whispering a 
calming incantation. When he reached the creature, it hopped dozily into his lap. He 
stroked it softly for a moment, still whispering. Then he broke its neck. 

87 
 Remus wanted to be disgusted, to feel sorry for the rabbit. But he could already smell 
the blood and his stomach growled. Castor smiled at him, greyish eyes lighting up. He held 
out the rabbit, blood sliding down his wrist, 
“For you, Remus Lupin.” 
Remus was flattered. 
Jeremy showed Remus some of the pack’s ‘gathering’ techniques, which basically 
amounted to theft. There were towns around the outskirts of the forest, and all they needed 
to do was apparate there and find an empty house, which could be done by scent. 
They were standing in the bedroom of one such house when Jeremy spilled the whole 
truth about the pack’s part in the war. 
If Remus hadn't been bothered by a rabbit being unceremoniously slaughtered in front 
of him, then burgling a house wasn’t going to curl his hair. In fact, it brought back a few 
fond memories of his criminal youth. Still, he didn’t really participate. Just nosed through 
the clothes in the wardrobe while Jeremy searched for jewellery in the dresser. 
“The way I see it,” Jeremy said cheerfully, “Greyback might be a bit full of himself, bit 
high and mighty. But he’s done a lot for me, and plenty others. He cares more than anyone 
else has since I got this bloody bite.” 
“Have you done any of this self-educating stuff?” Remus asked, casually. 
“Not for me.” Jeremy said, “Never much into reading. Preferred quidditch.” 
“Hm.” 
“Ugh, pearls.” Jeremy tutted, lifting a knot of them out of a green velvet box. “Hate the 
way they feel in your hands. My mother always wore them - pureblood heirloom.” 
“You’re a pureblood?” Renus turned around, mildly surprised. 
“Nah, mother is. Dad’s a mix. Doesn’t mean much anymore. I’m worse to them than a 
mudblood, now. Bastards.” He slammed the drawer shut angrily. “That's one of the things 
Greyback’s right about. They deserve what they’re getting.” 
“Who does?” 
“The purebloods.” 
“What do you mean?” Remus knew he sounded stupid, but he was genuinely confused. 
He had always been told that some of Voldemort’s greatest allies were the pureblood 
houses - that it was the half-bloods and the muggleborns who he targeted. 
He said as much to Jeremy. 
“Oh, yeah,” Jeremy nodded blithely, “We’ve done one or two of those. But most of the 
time we’re really a scare tactic to keep the old families in line.” 
Remus pressed for more information and Jeremy - who had been eager to do anything 
he could for Remus ever since the Gaius incident - was all too happy to elaborate. 
Voldemort was using the werewolves as little more than hired muscle. If any of his 
influential wealthy supporters started questioning him a little bit too much, started having 
doubts, then all it took was a visit from Fenrir Greyback and a few of his mad, feral acolytes 
to get everyone back on the same page. 

88 
 “Seen loads of mansions lately,” Jeremy cackled with laughter. He caught the look 
Remus was giving him. “Oh, what?! I told you, they d
​ eserve​ it. They shouldn’t have gone 
over to his side in the first place.” 
“Wait, so you don’t even support Voldemort?!” Remus gaped at him. 
“Course not, he’s a right weirdo. Scares the shit out of me, to be honest. But, y’know. I 
didn’t choose this side, it's just the hand I got dealt.” 
“But if you did have a choice, if you--" 
“There is no choice, Remus Lupin!” Jeremy said fiercely, that voice coming out of his 
mouth which wasn’t his own. “There is the pack. We can trust no one else. You must get 
used to it, if you want to be one of us.” 
And that was as far as he could get with any of them. After a certain point, they all 
reverted back to the same old script. Greyback was their leader, and even if they did not 
agree with him in everything, most if them felt indebted to him, and trusted him before 
anything else. 
By daylight, Remus was never sure if he could really trust Castor or Jeremy - or any of 
the others. Even Castor, who was interested in hearing what Remus had to say, and who 
was determined to convince the others to withdraw from the war. 
“It is not an easy thing.” Castor tried to explain, “To realise that our father is wrong, 
that we must have no part in any wizard affairs, least of all war. It would mean splitting the 
pack.” 
“Can you do that?” Remus asked, impressed. Castor gave a small shrug of his 
shoulders. 
“Perhaps.” 
Helpful. 
Remus expected to see Greyback again, now he had been fully initiated, but the pack 
father stayed strangely remote. He occasionally summoned Livia, who Remus learnt had 
been with him the longest - almost all of her thirty years. (Remus was shocked to learn her 
age - she seemed at once too young and too old.) Otherwise, Remus was left to his own 
devices. 
He could have left whenever he liked, that made been made clear to him. But he’d told 
the others in the pack that he had nowhere else to go, like them. He needed their trust, and 
for that they needed to be able to relate to him. So he never tried to sneak away and send a 
message to the Order - he wasn’t even sure if that was possible, but he didn’t try. He knew 
he might never have this chance again - and after all, it was what Dumbledore had bred him 
for. 
As far as Dumbledore and Moody and Ferox and every other adult who liked pushing 
Remus around their chess board was concerned, he was exactly where he was supposed to 
be. And he wasn’t miserable. He was lonely, of course; he longed for Sirius like a missing 
limb, and he’d have done anything for a shower, a cigarette and a bar of chocolate. But the 
forest had begun to feel like a place he belonged - the other wolves felt like family. His 
mission grew clearer with every day, and he knew he couldn’t leave. So he stayed in plain 

89 
sight at all times, and didn’t speak a word about his friendships and connections back 
home. 
Friendship was different among the werewolves. Pack solidarity was everything, and 
Remus felt it too - sometimes he thought he would die to protect them, even Gaius. The 
only feeling that had ever come close to it was when the marauders were in their animagus 
forms back at Hogwarts - and Remus supposed that made some sense. 
Sex was different with them, too. Midway through the month, Remus noticed a few 
pack members pairing off, vanishing into the woods for an hour or so at a time, returning 
with that all to familiar scent. It was obvious what they were all doing, but no one seemed 
to mind, or take much notice. It was just another instinct they all accepted and followed 
without question. 
“The desire grows stronger as the moon approaches,” Castor explained, as they lay in 
the crypt one night trying to ignore the quiet gasping and fumbling around them. 
“I’d never noticed before.” Remus lied, staring up at the ceiling. 
“If you choose to mate,” Castor whispered, “Choose wisely. They look up to you, they 
will notice favoritism.” 
“No.” Remus said. “I’m not… I have someone already.” 
“A human?” 
“Yes.” 
“Then you plan to return.” Castor finished. He sounded so sad about it. Remus wanted 
to turn and apologise, comfort him somehow, but that was dangerous territory and he knew 
it. The air was already thick with lust, and he didn’t know what he’d do. 
“I have to, eventually.” Remus said. “But I want to make sure you’re all safe, first.” 
“We will survive without you, Remus Lupin.” Castor returned, his voice no longer its 
usual calm steady timbre. "You are not our leader yet." 
 
(Song: Running Gun Blues - David Bowie) 
(Poem: Goblin Market - Christina Rossetti) 
 
 
 
 
 

90 
 ONE HUNDRED & SIXTY-ONE 
The War: Blood Moon 
 
Remus had almost spent a full month in Greyback’s pack before he was truly given a 
reason to leave. He woke late one morning to find himself almost alone. Confused, he sat 
up, staring around - he’d grown used to having Castor and Jeremy nearby, he felt horribly 
exposed without their body heat. 
“Father summoned them.” A voice came out of the gloom. 
Remus raised his palm to create a heat-free flame for light, as Castor had taught him. 
It was easier than ​lumos​, though not as bright. Gaius stepped out from the shadows of one 
of the chambers. He stared down at Remus. “Father came this morning. Summoned Castor 
and Livia. Only them. I suppose Castor is forgiven, now.” 
“Will they be back soon?” Remus asked warily, drawing his cloak around his shoulders 
protectively. 
“I don’t expect so.” Gaius mused. He was fiddling with something shiny, kept glancing 
down at it, “They’ve gone to meet the Dark Lord.” 
“What?!” 
“It’s almost the moon. He’ll have plans for the pack.” 
“...plans?” Reality came clanging down on Remus’s head, like glass shattering; like a 
car crash. 
“You know,” Gaius said, apparently uninterested in Remus’s crisis of conscience, “I 
always wondered why father turned three males. I thought perhaps he wished us to learn to 
lead together; to share the burden of responsibility. But now I realise. He means us to 
compete.” 
“What do you want, Gaius?” Remus stood up, squaring his shoulders to remind Gaius 
that he was bigger, and stronger, when he wanted to be. “Want me to sing you another 
song?” 
Gaius sneered at him, cheeks red. He backed away. 
“You will not triumph.” He said. He threw the shiny object down at Remus’s feet 
before turning to leave, and it made a hard, metal sound. It was Remus’s pocket watch. 
“Oi!” Remus yelled, stooping to grab it up. But Gaius was gone. 
Remus slumped against the wall, running his fingers through his grimy hair. His heart 
raced, his breathing quickened, and he began to panic. S​ hit. Shit shit shit. 
Of course t​ hey were still working with Voldemort - the war hadn’t stopped simply 
because Remus was there. He felt stupid and naïve - and worst of all, he felt guilty. He was 
supposed to be on a bloody mission! But he hadn’t been thinking of the Order, not really - 
he’d been more concerned about protecting the pack than getting back to his friends; his 
true family. All this time, Remus had thought of himself as a victim - when really he was the 
worst kind of traitor. 
He shrugged off his fur cloak. He didn’t want to look like them. 

91 
 He badly wanted to see Sirius - after weeks of suppressing it, his longing burst up like 
a geyser, so that he couldn’t get a grip on it and squash it back down again. Sirius would 
know what to do - or he’d at least make Remus feel better about everything. 
Remus looked down at his watch, the only connection he still has to his friends. The 
gold had lost its lustre, and he rubbed it on his filthy trouser leg to see if that helped. Then 
he opened and closed it a few times, running the pads of his thumbs along the smooth vine 
leaf engraving. It had stopped working the day he used it to escape his cell; he’d squeezed 
all the magic out of it like a sponge. Another betrayal. 
Once he had at least calmed his breathing down (​Jesus Christ what I wouldn’t do for a 
fag​), Remus tried to think rationally. His first instinct was to get out immediately; just walk 
into the woods and disapparate. 
But then what? Explain to Moody and Ferox that while he’d had a lovely few weeks 
away, things had got a bit too scary so he’d turned tailed at the first opportunity? No. If 
Greyback was meeting with Voldemort then that had to mean an attack was coming. Remus 
couldn’t let that happen. 
He would wait, at least to find out if Castor would tell him anything. In the meantime, 
Remus did his very best to conjure up a happy memory. He would need to send a patronus 
as soon as possible. 
* * * 
Brothers! Sisters! Gather near. 
Livia’s voice inside his head had to be one of the least pleasant experiences Remus had 
had since joining the pack. It worked, though, he scrambled up the stairs of the crypt into 
the ruined church, where the others were congregating. Greyback stood by the pulpit, 
Castor and Livia either side of him, backs straight and heads high. 
“My children,” Greyback addressed them all, raising his arms like an evangelist 
preacher, “The moon approaches, our time is near.” 
There was a murmur of excitement at this. For many, the full moons represented a 
chance to be free; to be one’s true self. 
Greyback raised a finger to silence them. He smiled paternally, “I have spoken with 
our benefactor. This moon, we shall feast on our enemies. We have been given the gift of 
prey.” 
Some of the pack members cheered and whooped, chattering with even more 
excitement. 
Oh no​, Remus’s stomach lurched, ​oh no, oh no… 
“Livia and Castor will lead you.” Greyback said, “You will bring the girl-child to me - 
the parents you may keep for yourselves.” 
More cheering. Not everyone - Remus saw a few of the younger ones glancing at each 
other shiftily, and Jeremy’s wide eyes were practically burning a hole in Castor’s back. ​Not 
all of them​, Remus thought,​ they ​can b​ e saved, they can, they can… 
Remus Lupin.​ A
​ voice popped into his head. He blinked, stunned - it was Castor. ​It is 
not safe to speak of this here. You will join me in the forests. 

92 
 Remus looked over at Castor, who was staring blankly ahead, as always, inscrutable. 
He hadn’t tried communicating like that before, but the pack was close enough, and the 
magic of the forest pressing in, so he concentrated hard. 
Yes. I understand. 
Castor made no sign that he had heard, so Remus just had to hope. Greyback left 
shortly after that, giving Remus a cruel wink as he passed, 
“Your time to shine, cub.” He said. Remus knew he ought to nod, or something, but he 
was too tense, and just stared stiffly back. 
Castor announced that he was going hunting, and Remus quickly agreed to join him. 
Livia gave them both an appraising look. 
“Do not tire yourselves, brothers. We have such games ahead of us.” 
They walked through the woods in silence. It was late afternoon, and quite mild for 
April; the sun lowering but still bright. They’d had very little rain so far this year, but that 
hadn’t stopped the trees and plants around them from exploding into life. Everything was 
lush and green and bountiful, and as they approached a small clearing Remus saw that the 
bluebells had begun to spring up, and the woodland floor ahead of them was carpeted in a 
glorious haze of soft mauve. 
“Won’t you miss this?” Castor asked, quietly. He obviously judged them far enough 
away from Greyback. 
“Yes.” Remus replied. He meant it. He had hated nature all his life - even the 
forbidden forest. He loved London; the concrete and pollution and the noise. But the past 
month had changed him, and he knew how much he would miss the peace and quiet, and 
feeling so close to the earth. 
“But your time with us grows short.” Castor said. “I think perhaps all our time is 
short, now.” He sighed heavily, and looked at Remus with completely human eyes; grey and 
penitent, “ I am ready to defy my father.” 
“Do you mean -- will you help me?” 
“We shall help each other. For the good of the pack. I have a plan, but Remus Lupin, 
you ​must​ listen to me, and you m
​ ust​ obey me. I need to know that you will do what needs to 
be done.” 
“I will never kill for him.” Remus said, fiercely. 
“But you might kill.” Castor responded, raising an eyebrow. 
It wasn’t a question; it was a statement. And Remus did not deny it. 
* * * 
Thursday 12th April 1979 
There were no goodbyes, of course. Remus did not even know who was on their side - 
his and Castor’s. No names were spoken, he just had to have faith. 
On the morning of the full moon Remus crept as far away from the pack as he could to 
cast his patronus. He hoped that the others wouldn’t pick up on the spell, which was 
powerful and sure to attract attention. 

93 
 He’d never sent a message via patronus before, and once again regretted the creature’s 
fearsome size and aspect. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too terrifying for Sirius to hear Remus’s 
voice coming from the giant silver wolf’s jaws. He could only manage three words. C
​ astle. 
Tomorrow. Dawn. 
And that was his escape route taken care of - if he survived the night. Castor promised 
- Remus made him swear on their very blood - that if Remus did not live, then he would get 
a message to Sirius and the Potters. There was no other way, Remus decided. He had to be 
there for the attack; the last time he’d warned the Order about werewolves nothing had 
been done. So he would have to do it himself, and damn the consequences. 
Obviously, he’d prefer not to die, though. 
An hour or so before moonrise, the pack apparated together. It was just as well that 
Remus hadn’t run away to tell Moody at his first opportunity - because he had absolutely no 
idea where they were going. He was forced to side-along with Livia, and they landed 
together on a soft mossy patch of grass. 
Remus wrenched his arm away from her and stared around at his new surroundings. It 
was such a weird place - just a flat plain of grass, a few trees, a fence - ah. He realised 
stupidly that they were in a park. Man-made nature. The whole place smelled human and 
muggle-ish. The rest of the pack were arriving around them, one by one with a *crack* and 
a thud. 
“That’s the place,” Castor said, addressing everyone. He pointed over the fence to a 
row of houses across the road. The park was in a quiet muggle cul-de-sac. “With the green 
door.” 
Remus crept as close to the fence as he dared, and peered over at the building. Had his 
parents lived in a similar house, once? It looked like the sort of place Hope belonged. 
It was a small, detached house. The front door was a cheerful shade of green, and the 
porch light glowed soft amber in the twilight. Remus could make out the silhouette of 
someone moving in one of the upstairs windows - the pale pink blind was drawn down, so 
he could only see shadows. That must be the child’s room, he thought with a terrible wave 
of nausea. 
He couldn’t let this happen. He wouldn’t. If he had to kill Livia. If he had to die 
himself, he wouldn’t let-- wait a ​minute​. 
A gust of wind blew a scent in his direction. One he recognised. He sniffed the air 
again. What ​was​ that? Someone he knew? It smelled almost like Sirius, ​almost​, but not 
quite. Old blood; old magic. A relative? Not Regulus, he wouldn’t be caught dead on a street 
this muggle-ish. Nor either of their parents. It was feminine too, it was more like Narcissa, 
or… surely not Andromeda?? 
He couldn’t be sure, he’d only met her once, when he was thirteen. But she had a 
daughter. A daughter who would be about five or six, now. Heart pounding, Remus 
desperately wanted to get closer, to find out more. 
Then, in an amazing stroke of luck, the green door opened, letting light out into the 
street. A man stepped out, carrying a shiny black bin bag. He walked to the end of the 
garden path, opened the dustbin lid, dropped the bag inside, then returned to the house. 

94 
  
It was Ted Tonks. 
No, no no​, Remus thought to himself - if something happened to Andromeda, to her 
little girl… Sirius would never forgive him. Remus didn’t know if he would forgive himself. 
“Remus!” Castor whispered from the bushes behind him, “It is almost time.” 
Remus turned and nodded. He hoped this would work. He’d never been so close to 
praying in his life. A stab of pain shot through his back. The moon was rising. 
He backed into the park, where a few of the others had curled up on the ground, 
preparing for the agonies of transformation. 
Remus looked at Castor, standing beside him. It was a peculiar sensation - he had 
transformed in front of the marauders before, but never with others who were experiencing 
the same thing. Castor caught his eye, and seeming to understand at once, reached out his 
hand. 
Remus took it, gratefully, and gripped it hard, clenching his teeth as the pain swept 
through him. Castor gripped back, sharing his suffering, but also lending strength. They 
both fell to their knees at the same time, and Remus remembered no more. 
The wolf stretched its limbs and sniffed at the night air. Pack. Prey. Magic. 
He rolled over in the grass, pleased to be free, unencumbered by human worries. 
His pack mate nudged him, huffing softly, and he remembered - he had something to do. This 
was not a night for playing, or for hunting. 
The she-wolf, and the one that hated him both snapped at the others, and the young ones 
ducked their heads, lowered their haunches. 
But he would not - he was not a cub; he was full grown. He was strong as them. 
The pack-mate with the scarred nose smelled good, he was strong too. He growled at the 
others, so the wolf did too; puffing up his body and showing all his teeth so that they knew. 
The scarred one gave out a bark, then, and turned away, running for the trees. Some of the 
others followed, confused. 
The dark wolf, the wolf who hated him, snarled and leapt at the scarred one, onto his back. 
They grappled, turning over in the grass growling and snapping. 
The she-wolf watched. She sat, and yawned. She need not involve herself. 
The rest of the pack watched avidly, panting and yapping as blood was drawn. 
He wanted to help, to jump in and start biting - but the scarred one needed to win it himself. It 
was his fight. 
The scent in the air changed, and the she-wolf stood, ears up, tail swishing. 
A human. 
They had been heard. She began to stalk towards the fence, hunting, as the stupid human 
shouted in its stupid human language. 
Not quite knowing why, he howled, long and as loud as he could. 
The she-wolf whipped around, growling fiercely at him, pulling rank, but he howled again. 

95 
 The human retreated, fast. They knew now. They would bring back others. He had endangered 
the pack. 
The she-wolf barked at the dark one, but he was already pinned to the ground by the scarred 
one. Victory. The young wolves looked up to the scarred one now, sniffing at him and lowering their 
heads. 
The scarred one barked, then climbed off the dark one. He turned and began to walk away. 
Some followed. The pack divided. 
The she-wolf ran after the scarred one, to bring him back, to restore order. But she would not 
catch them. They were a new pack now; unless she killed the scarred one they would not follow 
anyone else. 
He wanted to go too. He wanted to run with them forever, and be their leader, and chase deer 
through the dark nights… 
But no. He had to do this first. He had to protect… to protect… what was it? It was so hard to 
think, when the delicious scent of human meat was so close; coming in on all sides. 
The dark one limped to its feet. Remus growled. It snarled back at him, jaws frothing, eyes 
baleful. 
He remembered, now. Protect the pack. He pounced, jaws wide and claws bared. 
* * * 
All he knew was pain, pain and blood, as Remus’s body pulled itself back into it's 
human shape. He screamed, and Gaius’s blood ran down his gullet, rich and warm. It was in 
his teeth, under his tongue, it was everywhere, and Gaius’s body lay there, limp and pale, 
throat dark and glistening. 
There was no time for shock. The moon was setting, and people were coming, and 
Remus wasn’t even fully human yet, but there was no time! He squeezed his eyes shut, 
gritted his teeth, and apparated. 
*CRACK* 
He landed flat on his face with a hard grunt. His ankle cracked sickeningly against a 
rock. He gasped, rolling into a ball, tears springing in his eyes as he vowed never to 
apparate right after a transformation ever again. 
His whole foot throbbed, shooting all the way up his shin, making him feel giddy. He 
was still sticky with blood and without any clothes all he could do was curl up in pain on 
the grass. Was he even in Cornwall?! He couldn’t tell; where was the castle?! 
“Fuck!” He sobbed, exhausted and defeated. 
“Moony?!” A shout came up from over the side of the hill. 
Remus rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, so relieved he thought he’d faint. 
“Sirius!” He called back, as the heavy footsteps pounded closer. 
And then he was there, and o
​ h god R
​ emus just about fell apart. Sirius threw his cloak 
over him and pulled him close and wrapped his arms around him. Remus clutched him 
back, trembling, the pain in his leg now threatening to overwhelm him. 
“You came back!” Sirius gasped, voice shrill, “You came back!” 
“Of course I did...” Remus said, woozily. 

96 
 “Are you bleeding?!” 
“Not my blood…” and then everything was going dark around the edges, and he was so 
exhausted he closed his eyes. And nothing more. 
 
 
 
 
 
 

   

97 
 ONE HUNDRED & SIXTY-TWO 
The War: Moony’s Story 
 
He came to in a small white room, with a low ceiling striped with black beams. There 
was a little square window, but the curtains were drawn over. Someone had washed the 
blood off him, thank goodness, though he could still smell it, faintly, and taste it too. He 
was lying in a single bed, and other than a little bedside table with an old lamp on it, there 
wasn’t much else in the room. 
The door was slightly ajar, and Remus could hear voices in the corridor outside. 
“Marlene’s here,” James’s voice came through clearly, “Should I let her up? Did you 
ask him any questions?!” 
“Yeah, send her up. He’s not awake...” Sirius said, his voice sounding odd. “But it's 
definitely him. Has to be.” 
“You're sure?!” 
“The first thing he said when he landed was ‘fuck’, I’m pretty certain.” Sirius snapped. 
“Fair.” James replied, without humour. He lowered his voice to a whisper, “Padfoot… 
all that blood. And with the attack last night--" 
“Let's just see what he has to say, before we jump to any conclusions, shall we?! Send 
Marlene up.” 
“But if it's not s​ afe​.” 
“Then I’ll stay in the bloody room. Can we please just get someone to look at him, for 
fuck’s sake?! He hasn’t even got a wand!” 
“Ok, ok…” James relented. 
God​, Remus thought, as shame settled over him like dust. ​They think I’m not me. They 
think I’m a spy​. How bad had the war become, in the month he’d been away? He racked his 
brain quickly for a way to prove his identity. The thought of Sirius not trusting him was too 
painful to bear. 
There was a mess of footsteps in the hall outside, and finally the door opened. Remus 
tried to sit up at once, pulling himself up by his arms as Sirius entered the room, 
“Padfoot, I swear it's me, it's Moony! I helped you make the marauders map, and we 
put rose hips in Snivelllus’ bed, and we went skating on the lake at Christmas and I hated it 
but you were really good, and… and…” 
“Shh, Moony,” Sirius soothed, sitting on the bed carefully and placing gentle hands on 
his shoulder, “Lie down for fuck’s sake, Godric knows what you broke apparating like that 
you silly sod…” 
“You know it's me?!” Remus gripped Sirius’s arms, but allowed himself to be put back 
to bed. 
“Of course I do.” Sirius leaned over and kissed his forehead, “I’d know you anywhere. 
Look, sorry about Prongs, he’s just on edge. Things have just been a bit…” 
“All right, all right, give him some room!” 

98 
 Sirius whipped around as Marlene stormed into the room, green Healer’s robes flying 
and leather bag in hand. 
She shoved Sirius off the bed and leaned over Remus, laying a cool hand on his 
forehead and looking in his eyes, her freckled face full of sweet concern. She smiled, 
“Hello sweetheart,” she said softly, “Where have you been, eh? You’ve had us all 
worried sick.” 
“Hi Marlene,” Remus smiled back fondly. “Did you qualify as a Healer while I was 
gone?!” 
“Hardly,” she laughed, “Still very much a novice. But I’m the best the Order could do 
at short notice so…” She straightened up, hands on her hips, “Right. What's the damage?” 
“Hurt my ankle,” Remus reached down to pull up the blanket over his sore foot. It 
looked awful in the light of day, all swollen and black with bruising. Sirius covered his 
mouth, but Marlene just tutted, 
“Easy enough.” She tapped it with her wand, and Remus felt a funny ticklish feeling 
before *pop* - and it was as good as new. “You’ll still need to rest,” Marlene cautioned. 
“You’re a legend, Marls,” Remus said gratefully, and then began to cough, that rough 
raspy bark he’d almost got used to now. “Sorry,” he spluttered, eyes watering, “Got a bit of a 
cough.” 
Sirius was wincing, and looked more distressed than ever, hand still over his mouth. 
Marlene pulled down the bedsheets and lay her head directly on Remus’s bare chest, 
listening. 
“‘Bit of a cough’ my arse.” She tutted, surfacing, “You’ve got a stonking great chest 
infection, is what.” 
She began emptying her bag, pulling out ointments and potion bottles, “I’ll have to ask 
someone at St Mungo’s what's best for that, I haven’t done infections yet… now… Madam 
Pomfrey asked me to make sure you got this, it’s her own sleeping draught. I’m working on 
one myself, but hers will be stronger…” 
“Don’t give it to him yet!” Suddenly James was in the room, starting forward with his 
arm out. Everyone turned to look at him, and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, 
“Er… sorry. It’s just that I’ve finally got hold of Mad-Eye and he’s on his way…” 
“It’s fine,” Remus said to the room. 
Marlene tutted again. She set the potion bottle down on the bedside table. 
“One of you make sure he drinks the whole thing as soon as possible, ok?” She gave 
James and Sirius a severe look, and they both nodded earnestly. “I have to go to work before 
I’m missed.” She said, straightening up once more. 
She squeezed Remus’s hand. “So happy to have you back, darling.” 
He squeezed back, feeling a bit better about everything. They cared about him. He was 
safe with them. He lay back on his pillow and tried to focus on that feeling. 
James and Sirius stood about awkwardly. 
“Hi Prongs,” Remus tried, a bit wary. 
“Hiya Moony,” James smiled, his eyes tired and dark, “You all right?” 

99 
 “Felt worse.” 
James made a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. 
“Where are we, anyway?” Remus asked, looking around at the pokey little room. 
“Cornwall.” Sirius said. “Remember the pub near the castle? Rented a room. You 
were… when you got here, I didn’t want to move you. Seemed like the best place. Out of the 
way.” 
“Does anyone else know--” 
“No.” James said. “Only us, Marlene and Moody. It’s been… things have been hard, and 
with the attack last night, we thought--” 
“Attack?!” Remus sat up again, as the events of the night before came flooding back in 
a riot of blood and teeth and hair. “Shit, what happened?! Did anyone… was anyone…” 
“Not on our side.” Sirius said. 
That didn’t make Remus feel any better, but he tried to look happy about it. He 
couldn’t let his friends know just how blurry the lines between ‘our side’ and ‘their side’ had 
become for him. 
“Moony,” James started. “Last night, were you there--?”   
The door swung open once more, creaking loudly, and Alastor Moody came hobbling 
into the room, his face set with a look of grim determination. James and Sirius backed out 
of the way, as Mad-Eye approached Remus’s bed. Remus’s first instinct was to duck under 
his blankets and hide like a little kid.   
“Lupin.” Moody nodded, his electric blue magical eye whirring in its socket, giving 
him a very thorough once-over. “You made it back, then.” 
“Yeah.” Remus croaked. 
Moody held his wand up, pointing it in Remus’s face. 
“Oi!” Sirius started, but James held out an arm to stop him. 
Moody fixed Remus with a very serious gaze. 
“Mother’s maiden name?” 
“J-Jenkins!” Remus stuttered, terrified. Moody nodded, and lowered his wand. 
“No offence,” he said, glancing at Sirius, “Protocol.” 
“Right.” Remus swallowed, heart pounding. 
“How are you? Been seen to?” 
“Marlene was here a minute ago,” James said. “She’ll be back later.” 
“No one else, do you hear?” Moody said, “Not until I say so. We need to limit his 
exposure for now, until the furor’s died down.” He waved his wand, and a chair appeared 
from thin air. Moody sat down, and looked at Remus once more. “Potter, Black, you can 
go.” 
“No.” Sirius said, raising his chin. His defiant look hadn't changed since he was 
eleven. “I’m not going anywhere.” 
Moody gave him another look, his tongue playing in the corner of his mouth. 
“Fine.” He grunted. “But keep your mouth shut. I don’t want to hear a peep, got it?” 

100 
 “I um. I’d better go.” James said, rubbing the back of his head again, “Sorry Moony, I 
need to get home…” 
“Of course.” Remus said, though he didn’t really understand. Did James no longer 
trust him? 
James said something to Sirius before leaving, but Remus didn’t catch it, and didn’t try 
to eavesdrop. He was too busy holding his nerve against Moody. 
He wasn’t up to a battle of wills, not after the last few weeks. Now that he knew the 
building they were in was muggle, he felt the absence of magic more keenly. He’d been 
used to the enchanted forest, with its unending pool of shared power. Back in the real 
world, everything felt so mundane. He felt weaker than ever, and began to cough again. 
James left, and Sirius handed Remus a glass of water. 
“This can’t take too long.” Sirius said to Moody, “He’s supposed to rest, after a full 
moon, Marlene said--” 
“Not a peep, Black.” Moody snapped, his blue eye fixing Sirius with a hard stare, the 
normal, brown one still watching Remus. 
Sirius was quiet, but he was clearly not happy about it. He folded his arms petulantly, 
and looked away. Remus felt a rush of love for him, the spoilt brat. 
“I was there, last night.” Remus said, quickly, to get things moving. He thought it was 
probably best to be as honest as possible from the beginning. “I was at the Tonks house, I 
know what happened - well, most of it - was anyone… did anyone…?” 
“One body recovered.” Moody said. “One of Greyback’s.” 
“Gaius.” Remus said. He wasn’t sure how he felt. He’d killed somebody. 
“Let’s not start there.” Moody said, watching his face, “I want to start at the 
beginning. Where have you been for the past month? Leave nothing out.” 
Remus was weak and exhausted and sore, but he was not an idiot. He left plenty out. 
But he also said a lot more than was probably safe. He didn’t look at Sirius the whole time; 
he knew that would make things impossible. 
He explained how the pack had kidnapped him, and locked him up for a week and a 
half. How he’d finally met with Greyback - he heard Sirius breathe in sharply at this, but 
Moody’s expression didn’t even flicker. He told them most of the things Greyback had said, 
though he knew none of it was useful to anyone except him. He confirmed that the pack 
had been working with Voldemort, keeping the old families scared enough to stay loyal. 
“You were imprisoned the whole time?” Moody asked. 
“I… no.” Remus twisted his mouth, nervously. “They broke my wand, but… I could have 
left any time. I didn’t because I thought… well, I knew it was only a matter of time before 
they planned an attack, and I wanted to learn as much as I could.” 
He kept his voice steady the whole time, and hoped he was still a convincing liar. 
Moody did not comment. 
“And the attack?” 
“Right, yeah.” Remus nodded. “I had to go with them, because Cas-- one of the other 
werewolves, he was planning to break from the pack. He wanted to be peaceful, to get away 

101 
from Greyback. He was my ally.” Remus felt Sirius’s eyes on him, and hoped it was all in his 
head. “So I helped him, and he helped me. He led the others away, and I stayed back to stop 
anyone from trying to attack the house.” 
“While you were a wolf?” 
“Yes. I can think better, when there are other wolves there. I tried to warn Mr and Mrs 
Tonks, I howled, so they’d know they were in danger.” 
“Ah. So that was you.” Moody nodded, “Ted said something about that.” 
“You’ve seen them? Are they ok?!” 
“Shaken up, but no harm done.” Moody gave a curt nod. “How many of Greyback’s 
pack have defected?” 
“I don’t know. At least half? Maybe there are only four or five left who are loyal.” 
“Good to know. Can you give me names?” 
“They didn’t use any names.” Another lie, but he just couldn’t do it. 
“Right.” Moody nodded. He watched Remus for a bit longer. Then he sniffed and 
stood up. “Lie low for a bit, eh? I’ll be in touch.” He turned to leave. 
“Wait!” Remus reached out. Moody turned back, a curious look on his face. Remus bit 
his lip. “The body.” He said. “Gaius. That was me. I killed him.” 
Saying it out loud made it distressingly real. He felt queasy, and didn’t think he’d be 
able to look Sirius in the eye ever again. Moody kept looking at him. He tilted his head. 
“While you were a wolf?” 
“Yeah.” 
“And he was a wolf? Trying to attack a young family?” 
“Yeah, but--” 
“This is a war, Lupin. Get some rest. Don’t dwell on it.” 
And he left, and that was it. Everything Remus had put himself through for almost 
thirty days, boiled down to a few key tactical points. He fidgeted with the blanket. It was 
old, and bobbly, and reminded him of the rough army-style blankets he’d grown up with. 
Sirius was still standing by, watching him, but Remus couldn’t look up, he just couldn’t.   
Thankfully, Sirius broke the silence first. 
“Got your patronus. Bloody hell, where did you learn to do that?” 
“Oh,” Remus nodded, still looking down, “Yeah, I dunno, I’d seen Ferox do it once.” 
“Without your wand?” 
“I didn’t need it, not always…” 
“Oh.” 
More silence. And then -- “I missed you so fucking much!” Sirius burst out, with such 
force and passion that Remus finally looked up at him. His eyes were wide, and shimmering 
with tears. He looked as exhausted as Remus felt, and Remus realised that he must have 
been up all night, too. 
“I missed you too!” 
Sirius bolted towards Remus, arms out, but hung back at the last moment, 

102 
 “Can I… is it ok?” 
Remus nodded, reaching for him, and Sirius came over and enveloped him in a hug 
that went on for long, wonderful minutes. Remus felt as if he’d finally been given 
permission to exhale, and he closed his eyes and felt the warm, comforting weight of Sirius 
against him. 
“I’m sorry,” Remus whispered into Sirius’s hair, “I’m so, so sorry I was gone so long.” 
Sirius pulled away finally, wiping his eyes briskly, 
“You’d better have this potion.” He reached for the bottle and uncorked it. 
“Thanks,” Remus said, too tired to argue. He took the potion and gulped it down in a 
few seconds. 
“Shall I let you rest?” Sirius asked, anxiously. Remus shook his head vehemently, 
“No, please stay? Will you lie here with me, for a bit?” 
“There's not much room…” 
“Calling me fat?” Remus poked his tongue out, shuffling aside to make space. Sirius 
grinned at him, and lay down. 
He put an arm gently across Remus’s shoulder, and they lay on their sides facing each 
other. 
“Does James hate me?” Remus asked, finally. 
“What?” Sirius frowned. Oh god, he was so beautiful this close up, how had Remus 
forgotten? “No, of course not. He's got a lot on his mind. His parents aren’t well.” 
“Oh no, what's wrong?!” 
“I think they’re just old.” Sirius said, sadly. “The war… it's been so much harder, 
lately.” 
“Please tell me.” 
“You should sleep.” 
“Please?” 
Sirius sighed. He looked down, then back up, and his eyes were shining once more. 
“We lost the Prewetts. Gid and Fab.” 
“No!” 
“It was awful. Five Death Eaters. F
​ ive​.” 
“I can’t believe it. Is Molly ok?” 
“I don’t think any of us are.” 
“Oh Sirius.” Remus hugged him again. “I wish I could have been with you…” 
“I thought…” Sirius shut his eyes, then shook his head, hair rustling against the pillow. 
“No, never mind, it's over now. You're here. You’re safe.” 
“I’m here.” Remus repeated, feeling the sleeping draught start to kick in. Sirius 
stroked his hair gently. 
“Remus…” 

103 
 “Mm,” Remus shifted, making himself more comfortable, “Please call me Moony? No 
one has for so long.” 
“Moony.” Sirius leaned forward and kissed his cheek very gently. “I love you.” 
“I love you too.” Remus smiled, slipping into a warm and happy dream. 
 
 
 
 
 

   

104 
 ONE HUNDRED & SIXTY-THREE 
The War: Late Spring 1979 
 
I would say I'm sorry 
If I thought that it would change your mind 
But I know that this time 
I have said too much 
Been too unkind 
  
I try to laugh about it 
Cover it all up with lies 
I try and laugh about it 
Hiding the tears in my eyes 
Because boys don't cry 
Boys don't cry 
  
They stayed in the room above the pub for two more nights. Marlene came back on the 
first evening, as good as her word, and brought a potion for Remus’s chest infection. She 
prescribed rest, but the next day Remus was going mad from being cooped up, so he and 
Sirius caught the bus to the beach. 
It was too cool for swimming, being April, so they just walked. It was very quiet out of 
the tourist season, so it was ok to hold hands, too, for a little bit. 
Remus closed his eyes and breathed in the sea air, smiling. The sky was grey, 
threatening rain, but wind was fresh on his face, and he felt better. 
“When we get home,” Sirius said brightly, “We’ll go to Ollivander’s to get you a new 
wand.” 
“Great.” Remus nodded. He hadn’t done any magic since he’d been back. Didn’t trust 
himself. 
“That’s if Mary’ll hold off on your welcome home party,” Sirius chuckled, “She was 
going bonkers worrying. I think she must still have a thing for you.” 
“Ha.” Remus replied. 
“And Lily, obviously. She really wants to tell you something, but she said to wait until 
we’re all in the same room.” 
“Mm.” 
“Can’t wait for everything to be back to normal. Back to being marauders, eh?” 
“Yeah.” 
“D’you remember what sort of wand Lyall had? Maybe you can get the same one 
again.” 
“Nope.” 
105 
 “Moony?” 
“Mm?” 
“Are you ok?” 
“Yeah.” 
Sirius was quiet after that, and Remus felt guilty. After his brusque de-briefing with 
Moody, Remus hadn’t been in a very talkative mood. He was too anxious to say very much - 
he didn’t know what Sirius might think of him. And on top of that, Remus was struggling 
more than he thought he would, being away from the pack. He was thrilled to be back with 
Sirius, of course. But at the same time, he felt he was missing something. 
He didn’t want Sirius to worry, so he did his best to be normal. 
“So nice to be outside.” He commented as they walked. 
“Are you sure you’re Moony?!” Sirius teased, pretending to be affronted, “​My​ Moony 
hates going outside…” 
“Well spend a week locked in a dungeon and tell me how you feel about fresh air.” 
Remus muttered. 
Sirius stopped and looked at him, his mouth slightly open, expression hurt. “Sorry.” 
Remus said, guiltily. He took Sirius’s hand again. “I didn’t mean that.” 
He’d been doing that a lot, since he got back. Snapping. The smallest thing might set 
him off, and Sirius was bearing the brunt. 
“It’s ok.” Sirius replied, shakily. “I shouldn’t make fun of you. After everything.” 
“No, I don’t want… you shouldn’t have to treat me like I’m fragile, or something. I just 
need to get over it, it’s my fault.” 
Sirius didn’t say anything for a long time. Remus fought to urge to probe his mind, as 
the werewolves had taught him to do. He didn’t know if it worked on non-werewolves, but 
he did know that Sirius had extremely strong feelings about having his private thoughts 
invaded. 
“You don’t have to ‘get over it’.” Sirius said, finally. “But it might help to talk.” 
“About what?” 
“What happened, in the pack.” 
“I‘ve talked about that already; I’ve told Moody everything. You were there.” 
“Remus.” Sirius raised his voice slightly. “Come on. You didn’t tell him ​everything​. I 
know you.” 
“Everything important to the war effort.” Remus said, firmly. 
“So nothing else happened then?!” Sirius let go of Remus’s hand, because his own 
hands were suddenly in the air, gesturing wildly. “They just locked up up, then let you go, 
and it was all ​fine​??” 
“Obviously not.” Remus folded his arms, suddenly feeling the chill. “But no one wants 
to hear about things like that.” 
“Maybe I want to hear.” 
“Here we go.” Remus rolled his eyes, “Well then? What do you want to hear?!” 

106 
 “Why did you go in the first place? Why didn’t you come back to me?” 
“I knew it.” Remus said, tightening his arms around his body, “You’re angry with me!” 
“I’m not, I’m just...” 
“That's what you meant, wasn’t it?! The night I got back!” 
“What are you talking about?!” 
“You know! ‘​You came back​’ that's what you said! You thought I wasn’t going to! You 
thought I’d left for good!” Remus was shouting, all of a sudden, and he wasn’t sure how he’d 
got so angry, but now it was just burning him up. 
“Of course I didn’t!” Sirius shouted back, “I just… I just didn’t know ​what​ to think! Do 
you know what it was like for me?? You just disappeared, and no one would let me look for 
you, and fucking Ferox wouldn’t tell me anything, and James was a mess with his parents 
getting sick, and the fucking Prewetts...” 
Sirius didn’t shout often, not as often as Remus anyway, and his voice got very high 
very quickly, suddenly sounding incredibly posh and haughty. This just riled Remus up 
even more. 
“Oh ​poor you​! Jesus, I thought you’d got over this spoilt brat routine by now! We’re not 
twelve anymore Black!” 
Sirius’s mouth fell open now, utterly affronted. Remus felt more alive than he had in 
days, but he wasn’t ever going to admit it. He just kept shouting, shattering the peace of the 
empty beach, voice ringing against dark wet sand. 
“I’m sorry if I’m not like you, I don’t want to whinge about every unpleasant thing that 
happens to me!” 
“Like what?!” Sirius yelled, cheeks red, and eyes bright, so that for a moment Remus 
questioned whether Sirius was enjoying this just as much as he was, “Go on, if I’m so 
selfish and terrible, please enlighten me on the true nature of noble suffering, Remus, I 
know that's your speciality!” 
“Oh ​up yours​!” 
“Well? Why ​didn’t​ you come back?!” 
“Because they were fucking with my head!” Remus practically screamed this, the 
waves seemed to crash louder and seagulls cried overhead in answer. 
He was ablaze, filled with words that came tumbling out of him as soon as he thought 
them, 
“Because I never felt like that before - they were my family, and we were all the same, 
we were all at home there, and it was… it felt like the only place in the world I was meant to 
be! All that, it was all that except…” and now tears were coming, scalding hot, “Except h
​ e 
was there, that fucking… that monster. He was so evil, so… and I was scared, and I wanted to 
come home, to you, I ​did​, but I couldn’t just leave them with a man like that. And they 
could… they could ​do​ things I didn’t know I could do, they taught me… And I just didn’t 
know who I was anymore.” 
He wiped his face, the tears dripping off his chin. He looked Sirius in the eye. “I don’t 
know who I am.” 

107 
 They stared each other out, as the echoes subsided. Remus was breathing heavily, his 
cheeks hot, but he felt g​ ood​. Relieved. 
Finally, Sirius spoke. He put his hands in his pockets and squinted around, off into the 
distance. He smiled, 
“Why is it always this beach eh?” 
“What?” Remus blinked, caught off guard. Sirius looked at him, eyes twinkling. 
“Why is this the beach where we have all the big revelations?” 
“Maybe we’re just dramatic.” 
“How v​ ery dare​ you!” Sirius was smirking, and Remus laughed, despite himself. 
“Well?” Sirius said, “Feel better?” 
“Yeah. Oi, wait a minute, did you just deliberately try to piss me off??” 
“No…” Sirius looked away again, piously, “Not at first…” 
“Dickhead.” 
“It worked.” 
Remus didn’t respond, because he really did feel better, and he didn’t want to fight 
again. They kept walking, and eventually reached roughly the spot where they had all 
camped out two years ago. The wind was kicking up, sweeping across the grassy sand 
dunes, and the campsite was empty. It didn’t look like the same place. 
“Think we’ll ever come back here?” Remus asked, hands deep in his pockets to stop 
his coat flapping in the breeze. 
“I hope so.” Sirius replied. “It’s my patronus thought, this place.” 
“Is it?” Remus looked at him, surprised. 
“Haven’t had any better summers yet.” 
“Fair point.” 
“Oi, look!” Sirius wandered off towards a group of rocks, bent and picked up a big long 
stick. He waggled it at Remus, grinning, “Want to play fetch?” 
Remus laughed, 
“Go on then.” 
Sirius glanced around covertly to confirm they were alone, then transformed into 
Padfoot. Remus was grateful - he’d done enough talking now, and it was a relief to just play 
with canine-Sirius for a few hours. The big black dog raced up and down the beach, chased 
waves, played fetch and generally had an excellent time, and on the bus back to the pub 
both of them fell asleep. 
It wasn’t until much later that night, after dinner (​oh, how Remus had missed real food! 
Mashed potato! Sausages! Gravy!​), when they were getting ready for bed, that Sirius brought it 
up again. 
Remus was yawning as he crawled under the covers, and Sirius got in beside him, 
quietly, turning off the bedside lamp. The bed was so narrow that Remus had to lie with his 
back to the wall, an arm around Sirius’s waist and a face full of silky black hair which he 
didn’t really mind. 

108 
 “I know who you are.” Sirius whispered into the empty quiet of the dark bedroom. 
“Hm?” Remus asked, sleepy and confused. Sirius pulled Remus’s hand to his mouth 
and kissed his fingers. 
“You said you don’t know who you are any more. But I do. You’re my Moony. Always 
will be. Ok?” 
“Ok, Padfoot.” 
For now it was enough. 
* * * 
Moody got word to them that they could return to their flat, provided that Remus kept 
a low profile for a while - he didn’t specify for how long. This meant no Order meetings and 
no missions - he wasn’t even allowed to visit the Potters’ house. For all intents and 
purposes, Remus Lupin had vanished off the face of the earth a month ago and never 
returned. 
“I bet he just wants to wait for the next full moon to get the all clear.” Sirius 
suggested. “Anyway, you deserve a break.” 
Remus just shrugged. 
“Served my purpose now, I s’pose. They don’t know what to do with me.” 
“Don’t talk about yourself like that.” Sirius snapped irritably. They’d been stuck in the 
same tiny room for too long. 
They apparated back, and Remus began to feel a bit more himself once he was really 
home. The flat was immaculately tidy - apparently Sirius had a lot of nervous energy while 
Remus was away - but otherwise everything was as it should be. 
No one was supposed to know that Remus was back, but of course James had told Lily 
and Peter, and Marlene had told Mary, so the first evening they were home everyone came 
over at once. Luckily Lily had the presence of mind to bring food, because Sirius had 
nothing at all in the house. 
“Been eating at the Potters’.” He mumbled, bashfully. 
Remus and Lily went into the kitchen to set out sausage rolls, cheese and pineapple 
sticks and sandwiches out on plates. Lily set down her carrier bags on the counter and flung 
herself at him, arms around his waist, head on his shoulder. Remus patted her gently, when 
he realised she was crying, 
“Argh, Lily, please don’t…” 
“I’m sorry!” She sobbed, her voice thick and muffled against his best woolly jumper, “I 
just… I didn’t think I’d ever see you again!” 
“God, you’re making more of a fuss than Padfoot.” 
“Not likely,” She laughed, stepping back and wiping her cheeks, “He was a complete 
wreck while you were gone - you wouldn’t have recognised him. I don’t think he even 
combed his hair.” 
Remus felt a horrid stab of guilt. He didn’t want to be gloomy in front of Lily, though, 
so he just gave her a breezy smile and said, 
“So you’ve got something to tell me?” 

109 
 “Oh! Er… when everyone’s here…” Lily was blushing, and suddenly focussed very hard 
on chopping up carrots for the dips she’d brought. 
It didn’t take much longer for Marlene and Peter to arrive, straight from work. Peter 
even had a briefcase now, with his initials on it. Apparently he’d been doing all right for 
himself at the Ministry, and Remus tried not to be too bitter about it. 
Marlene insisted on giving Remus another once-over in the bedroom, checking his 
ankle, which was good as new, and his chest, which was much better. 
“Honestly, I can’t believe you’re still smoking.” She tutted as he lit up, buttoning his 
shirt. “You know it kills muggles.” 
“Die young and leave a pretty corpse,” he winked at her, trying not to think about 
Hope’s lung cancer. The fact was that smoking and drinking were the only things he felt 
like doing these days. 
Mary burst into tears as soon as she arrived, and leapt into Remus’s arms. 
“You absolute bastard!” She whispered into his neck, “I could kill you!” 
“Missed you too.” Remus said, squeezing her back. 
Once they were all together, James and Sirius took over as hosts, which was a relief. 
Remus felt suddenly very tired, and sat on the couch like a ghost, watching his friends 
chatter and laugh and act like nineteen year olds for once. He just smiled at them all. 
Smiled, and drank. 
Eventually, the food was nothing but crumbs, and the booze was running low too. 
James, Sirius and Peter had the idea to summon beers from neighbouring flats via the 
window, and the girls were trying to convince them not to, when Remus remember what 
Lily had said in the kitchen. 
“What’s your news?” 
“Oh!” Lily’s head turned sharply towards him. She was standing by the window, arms 
around James’s shoulders, trying to pull him away from his thieving attempts. James turned 
too and they shared a sheepish look. 
“Everyone,” James cleared his throat, “Um. Lily and I have something to--” 
“Oh Christ!” Mary said, suddenly, from where she was lounging in the armchair 
opposite Remus, legs flung over the arm. “Lily, I thought you were on the pill!” 
“Mary!” Lily turned an even deeper shade of red, “ Not that!” 
“Phew!” Mary laughed, closing her eyes, “Because we’re not even t​ wenty​ yet, we’re 
much too young to be thinking about--” 
“We’re getting married!” Lily yelped, quickly, before Mary could make any further 
comment. 
You could have heard a quill drop. 
Remus blinked a few times, watching James’s face to check that it wasn’t all a big joke. 
But he was beaming down at Lily with so much love and pride in those soppy brown eyes of 
his, that Remus simply smiled to himself. ​Yes​, he thought. O
​ f course​. Remus’s second 
thought was Sirius, who had been half leaning out of the window when the announcement 
broke. Now he spun around so fast he smacked his head on the frame. 

110 
 “You what?!” He stared at James, a strange mix of surprise and displeasure plain on 
his face. 
“Yep,” James grinned, oblivious, wrapping his arms around Lily. “She asked - and who 
was I to refuse?” 
“​You​ asked?” Marlene poked Lily, “Bloody feminist hero, Evans.” 
“It was a bit more mutual than that,” Lily laughed, “We were just talking, and--” 
“But we only just left school.” Sirius said, his voice dull. 
“A year ago,” Peter reminded him, straightening the lapels on his green-checked 
blazer. 
“You don’t even l​ ive​ together.” Sirius folded his arms. Remus felt trapped - these were 
all the warning signs that Black was getting ready for a fight - except for once it was not 
Remus he was fighting with. 
“I’m going to move in with James’s family for a bit,” Lily said, her smile faltering as 
she realised that Sirius was not sharing their joy. 
“Yeah, you know how much they love having her around,” James said. His voice had 
hardened, and he kept his arms around Lily as if protecting her. “She’s been amazing while 
they’ve not been well.” 
“Have you really thought about this though?!” 
“I’m sure they have, Black, chill out.” Mary said, trying to lighten the mood. She got 
up, “Shall I pop out and see if we can get some cheap fizz? This deserves a toast!” 
“Yeah!” Marlene stood up too. She hugged Lily then kissed James on the cheek, 
“Congratulations you two!” 
“Congratulations!” Peter raised his beer can drunkenly. 
“Have you all gone mental?!” Sirius almost shouted. Remus caught the look of dismay 
on Lily’s face and decided that was enough. He stood up. 
“Padfoot.” he said, firmly, using ​that​ voice, “​No​.” 
Sirius glared at him now. His mouth shut abruptly, and he tossed his head like a 
moody teenage girl, before pushing past them all and marching out of the room. The 
bedroom door slammed. 
“Silly sod.” Mary said breezily. “I’ll nip out to the shop - coming Marls?” 
“I’d better…” Remus jerked his head in the direction of the bedroom and followed after 
Sirius. 
He didn’t knock, just walked right in. After all; it was his flat too. Sirius was ready for 
him, and started as soon as Remus closed the door behind himself. 
“You can’t possibly tell me that you think this is a good idea!” He ranted, pacing the 
room. “Prongs is being ridiculous! We’re too young, there’s a bloody war on, his mum and 
dad are ill, and he wants to have a fucking wedding?!” 
“I think those all sound like good enough reasons to have a fucking wedding, 
actually.” Remus sighed, sitting down on the bed. 
“You’re joking! We’re kids!” 

111 
 “They’re in love.” Remus tried reasoning. Sirius laughed - a mean, cruel laugh - 
“Oh, and ​you’re​ going to start waxing lyrical about love, are you Moony?!” 
“Watch it.” Remus stood up, sharply, using his height to tower over Sirius. “I don’t 
know why you’re being such a tosser to James and Lily, but I’m not going to sit here and 
have you fling bitchy little comments at me.” 
Sirius was about to retort, when the door swung open again, and this time James 
barrelled in, angrier than Remus had ever seen him. 
“You dick!” He yelled, “What the fuck are you playing at?! Moony, don’t defend him!” 
“I’m not!” Remus said, stepping away and crossing his arms, “I was saying the same!” 
“Well?!” James rounded on Sirius again, “Want to explain yourself?!” 
“No, I want you to explain yourself!” Sirius snapped, “What the fuck?! You’re getting 
married, just like that? I know you’ve had this mad thing for Evans since you were twelve, 
but bloody hell! What’s the rush?!” 
“It’s not a ‘mad thing’!” James shouted, “I love her! I’ve been in love with her forever, 
as you well know!” 
“So you have to get married all of a sudden?!” 
“I ​want​ to get married, and it’s not sudden! We’ve been talking about it for ages.” 
“First I’ve heard of it!” 
“Yeah, well, I don’t have to tell you everything! I didn’t want to say anything until 
Moony was back.” 
“What about your parents?! What do they think??” Sirius was losing steam, but 
obviously not willing to stop being angry yet. 
“They’re thrilled, actually! They love Lily! And I thought you did too! You’re my best 
friend, I thought you’d be supportive!” 
“Oh!” Sirius’s eyes gleamed, “Because you’ve always been so supportive of my 
relationships!” 
James’s eyes flickered towards Remus, then back again - it was only a split second, but 
Remus definitely felt it. What the hell was t​ hat​ about? 
“You know that’s not...” James said, fiercely, jaw clenched. 
Remus took that as his cue to leave. Whatever was going on between the two of them, 
he didn’t want any part in it. He went straight to the kitchen and looked under the sink. 
There was a bottle of firewhisky he’d put there after the last party for safekeeping. He 
uncorked it and took a long swig. 
“Remus?” 
He almost choked as Lily entered the kitchen. She laughed and reached out a hand, 
“Give us some, then? Mum always said never to drink alone.” 
He laughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve and handing her the bottle. 
She drank deeply, and didn’t wince - Remus watched her with awe and thought that if you 
had​ to marry a girl, then she’d better be exactly like Lily Evans. 
“Sorry I ruined your homecoming party.” She said, forlorn. 

112 
 “You didn’t,” Remus shook his head, “Sorry about Sirius.” 
“Oh, don’t be silly - you’re not his keeper.” 
“He’s being a prat.” 
“He’s just jealous, I knew he would be.” She laughed, catching Remus’s look, “Not like 
that​, Moony, it’s obvious he’s madly in love with you, I mean he’s worried he’s going to lose 
his best friend.” 
“You’re probably right.” 
“I’m usually right.” She raised an eyebrow at him, and he laughed again. 
“Congratulations,” he said, sincerely, this time. “I think it’s brilliant.” 
“Thanks, love,” she smiled softly. “It is a bit rushed, I know - my parents went spare; 
Pet was only married last year, and she’s three years older than me. But… you know 
Euphemia and Monty aren’t well?” 
“Yeah, I wish I could go and see them, but… Moody’s orders, y’know.” 
“They understand.” She touched his arm gently, “Anyway, they’re really… I mean, 
they’re not suffering or anything, but they’re very old. I knew how much it meant to James - 
having them see him with me. They want to know he’ll be ok when they’re gone.” 
Maybe he’d had too much to drink, but tears pricked in Remus’s eyes unexpectedly. He 
covered his face and groaned, 
“Jesus Christ, Evans, can I have five minutes without an emotional breakdown?!” 
She laughed and hugged him again, 
“Lovely boy.” 
“We’ve baa-ack!” Mary and Marlene sang as they stumbled into the flat once more, 
giggling merrily. 
“Hide that, quick!” Lily gave Remus his bottle back, and he stowed it back under the 
sink behind a box of laundry powder. 
By the time Mary had poured everyone a glass (or a mug) of babycham (“the closest 
thing to champagne you can get in Soho after midnight”), James and Sirius had re-emerged 
from the bedroom, both still red faced, but apparently on better terms. Sirius joined in the 
toast, at least, and even gave Lily a polite kiss on the cheek. 
Still, the atmosphere had changed, and everyone left within the next hour or so - 
Marlene was staying over at Mary’s in Croydon, Peter went back with James and Lily. When 
the door closed for the last time at one in the morning, Remus felt like curling up on the 
couch, covering his head and staying there for a week. 
Sirius didn’t say much, just did a bit of perfunctory tidying up, then went to the 
bathroom. Remus heard the lock click shut and took the opportunity for one last glass of 
whisky and a cigarette before bed. He felt grimy; his teeth were furry, his throat scorched 
and his eyes itching, but it suited his mood. 
He didn’t feel like talking anymore; especially if it led to another fight. He even 
considered just falling asleep on the couch. But then - that might just mean a fight in the 
morning, and he already knew he was going to be hungover then. Only one thing for it. 

113 
 Sirius unclicked the door and Remus heard him padding through to the bedroom. 
Maybe if Remus took his time brushing his teeth Sirius would doze off before he got there - 
they’d both had a lot to drink. He hoisted himself off the couch and headed for the 
bathroom. 
Remus washed his face and the back of his neck in cold water, and stared at himself in 
the medicine cabinet mirror above the sink. He’d been avoiding his reflection since he got 
back. He looked like shit; still too hollow in the cheeks, eyes darker and wider somehow. He 
was pale from too much drink and his scars stood out like silver wires under his skin. 
Did he have that same haunted look that they had; the pack? Had he caught that feral 
glint, that rangy wolfish smirk? Or was he just seeing the angry, frightened care home kid 
that has always been there? 
He sighed, defeated, and flicked off the light, going to bed at last. 
The lights were still on, and Sirius was under the covers, only his silky black hair 
visible, draped over the pillow. He always slept like that; hidden. With a flash of clarity 
Remus was reminded of the child Sirius had once been; alone in a big house full of family 
who couldn’t understand him, the weight of expectation pressing in on all sides. 
Remus turned his loneliness inwards; always had. But Sirius - he pushed his loneliness 
out​, and let other people take it from him. So he got a bit possessive sometimes, a bit 
panicky - so what? Nobody was perfect. Softening, Remus got in beside him and very gently 
stroked Sirius’s hair. 
“All right?” He whispered. 
Sirius’s head bobbed in a sort of nod under the duvet, and he reached out to wind his 
arms around Remus’s waist. Remus sighed, relieved. It felt so good to be back in his own 
bed. They could always just ​not fight​, he thought to himself. “Love you,” he murmured, 
kissing the top of Sirius’s head. 
Sirius’s arms grew tighter around him, and soon enough they both fell asleep. 
 
(Song: Boys Don’t Cry - The Cure) 
 
 
 
 
 

   

114 
 ONE HUNDRED & SIXTY-FOUR 
The War: Summer 1979 
 
Ride the blue wind, high and free 
She'll lead you down through misery 
Leave you low, come time to go 
Alone and low, as low can be. 
  
Lily and James’s wedding was set for late September. It was going to be a relatively 
small affair - order members and school friends, mostly - and it would be held at the 
Potters’ estate. They were hoping the weather would be nice enough to have it in the 
gardens, but even if it rained there was plenty of room indoors. 
After making such a fuss on the night of Remus’s homecoming, Sirius was clearly very 
embarrassed by how he’d acted, and made up for it by doing pretty much anything James 
and Lily asked of him. He ordered dress robes for the boys in Madam Malkin’s, went to pick 
up the rings from the jeweller, and offered his entire record collection up for use at the 
reception. 
Remus, who had never been to a wedding, tried to stay well back. As far as he knew, 
his duty as groomsman was to show up, keep Sirius’s head from exploding, and make sure 
none of Lily’s muggle family saw anything too scarring. 
Sirius’s most bonkers act of contrition was to hand-write all of the invitations. His 
talent for calligraphy was still one of Sirius’s darkest secrets, (and Remus’s favourite thing 
to tease him about) but he was determined to be the perfect Best Man, so he sat hunched 
over the dining table one afternoon and worked at it for a solid four hours. 
“Fifty-eight!” Sirius said, triumphantly, finishing the last invitation with a flourish of 
his quill. 
“Well done,” Remus said, glancing over the top of his newspaper, “Ahh, look at your 
pretty handwriting! So dainty!” 
“Better than your chicken-scratch!” Sirius poked his tongue out. 
“Just don’t tell anyone you did them,” Remus advised, “Or you’ll start getting 
requests.” 
“Do you really think they’re that good?” Sirius asked, holding one up to the light to 
inspect the delicate whorls of black ink. 
“They’re gorgeous. Really.” Remus said, fondly. 
“Well, this is the only time I’m doing it,” Sirius sniffed, tidying up the pile, “This is the 
one and only wedding I will ever support.” 
“What if Mary got married? Or Pete?” 
“I’d show up and get drunk, but secretly I would hate every minute.” 
“Very reasonable,” Remus nodded. 

115 
 “Another thing you can blame the noble and most ancient house of c​ ack​ for.” Sirius 
said, “Do you know how many engagement dinners and weddings I’ve been to? Ugh.” He 
shuddered visibly. “So I’m sorry, Moony, but you’ll never make an honest man of me.” 
“Oh, and I was just about to propose,” Remus said dryly, getting up, “Tea?” 
“Please.” Sirius nodded, rubbing his sore knuckles. 
Remus entered the kitchen, tapping the kettle with his wand - they’d gone to get it the 
same day as the dress robes. It had reminded Remus a bit of going to get his school shoes as 
a boy; Ollivander measured him and then hummed and ahhed and muttered to himself 
under his breath. He’d rummaged about in the stock room and bought out box after box of 
wands for Remus to try. Eventually they’d settled on a flexible cypress number, with a 
unicorn hair core. 
He’d been trying to get used to it. It wasn’t the same as Lyall’s wand (which he’d found 
out had been blackthorn, with a kelpie hair core) - it seemed less rigid, more inclined to do 
what Remus told it. Which meant that Remus had to remember not to put too much force 
behind his magic, as he’d grown used to doing. 
He watched the steam rising from the kettle spout thoughtfully. 
“It would really piss them off, though,” Remus called through the thin wall. 
“What? Who?” 
“Your family.” Remus said, plonking two tea bags into two mugs, “If you married a 
bloke. A half-blood, werewolf, bloke.” 
“Don’t forget poor!” Sirius laughed. “Merlin, just imagine sending my mother an 
invitation to that!” 
“Imagine sending a
​ nyone​ an invitation to that,” Remus snorted, “Christ, I can already 
hear James making horrible puns about the honey ​moon​.” He carried the mugs of tea back 
through to the living room, setting them down on the coffee table. 
“I’ve already been engaged once, I really don’t fancy doing it again.” Sirius said, with 
an air of finality. 
“Oh yeah, you’re welcome for that.” Remus winked. 
* * * 
Well, if I had a nickel, I'd find a game 
If I won a dollar, I'd make it rain 
If it rained an ocean, I'd drink it dry 
And lay me down dissatisfied. 
  
It's legs to walk and thoughts to fly 
Eyes to laugh and lips to cry 
A restless tongue to classify 
All born to grow and grown to die 
The wedding planning was actually a very welcome distraction, as the summer opened 
up before them. Sirius, James, Peter and Lily were often called out urgently for order 

116 
missions, and the list of missing read out at the beginning of every meeting was growing 
longer. 
Benjy Fenwick, who had been working with Moody for years was horribly murdered - 
they couldn’t even have a casket at his funeral; there wasn’t enough of him left. Darius 
Barebones - who Remus had never liked, but who was nonetheless a dedicated agent - was 
found flayed alive in his own office at the ministry. They were miserable times. 
Remus was finally allowed to return to the Order officially after two full moons had 
passed without incident. Ferox believed that the split Castor had instigated meant that 
Greyback’s pack was too weak to be much use to Voldemort - and somehow everyone had 
got the idea that Remus was responsible for this. 
Dumbledore actually shook his hand, saying, “You’ve done us all so proud, Mr Lupin.” 
Danny McKinnon had even apologised to him - Remus thought that was probably 
Marlene’s doing. 
By July, the Order’s numbers had dwindled so much that even Remus was getting sent 
out - and he was often paired with Mary, which made things bearable. Their general orders 
were to backup Aurors by standing guard, or managing surveillance on some of the better 
known death eaters. Remus and Mary spent a lot of time sitting in cafes together, or hiding 
behind bushes. 
One such mission involved following a death eater called Travers, who was known to 
drink at a wizard’s pub near Stoke Mandeville. They were just supposed to see where he 
went; how he spent an average day. Caradoc Dearborn, a hero of the Order of the Phoenix, 
had last been seen entering the pub, but no one had heard from him since. 
“You came back,” Mary whispered, as they waited in the backseat of an ancient Ford 
Cortina, parked across the road. “So maybe Caradoc will too.” 
“I hope so.” Remus replied. 
“I just can’t bear not knowing.” Mary’s leg was shaking nervously, “I keep imagining… 
and what they did to the Prewetts!” 
“Don’t think about it.” He put a hand on her knee to keep her still, and searched for a 
distraction, “Hey, did Lily decide on flowers in the end?” 
“Anything except lillies or petunias,” Mary said, with a grateful smile, “Me and Marls 
are wearing lavender, so whatever goes with that.” 
“Sounds nice.” Remus nodded, though he couldn’t for the life of him picture the colour 
lavender - was it purple? Or blue? 
“I’m so glad you’re here with me, Remus,” Mary said, “I could only ever get my 
defensive spells right in your study groups.” 
“We’re just here to watch. Everything will be alright.” 
They waited for hours, and when Travers finally came out, staggering and reeking of 
spirits, he was not alone. Remus had to nudge Mary, who’d nodded off, lolling against his 
shoulder. 
“Oh shit!” She whispered, her voice hoarse with terror, “Six of them, Remus!” 

117 
 Remus held a finger to his lips, signalling her to be quiet. He watched the death eaters 
spill out of the pub onto the quiet country road. He recognised a few of them from pictures 
Moody had shown the order - Karkaroff, Dolohov, and Alecto Carrow. Two of them he 
recognised by scent. 
“Fuck.” He said under his breath, “It’s Mulciber and Snape.” 
“No!” Mary grabbed his arm, peering to look, “Oh my god! We’ve got to get out of 
here!” 
The problem was, the car was just for show, and anyway neither of them could drive. 
“Stay calm,” Remus said, “We’ll just wait for them to go - I bet they’re going to app--” 
“Oooh, muggles!” Alecto Carrow, a stocky, horsey faced young woman pointed 
gleefully at the Cortina, “Let’s play!” 
“Fuck.” Remus said again. The six dark robed wizards glided towards them, drawing 
their wands. Remus pulled his out too, Mary following suit. “Quick,” he said, “Let’s get out, 
maybe we can--” 
“​APERIO​!” Travers whipped his wand at the car, and the doors ripped away, wrenched 
from their hinges with a horrible, crunching metal sound. 
Mary screamed, but she kept her wand up. Remus pushed her backwards, shielding 
her with his body and hoping they could get out the other side. He’d feel much better with a 
car between them and the six dangerous killers. 
“They’re not muggles!” One of the death eaters said, gleefully - was it Mulciber? 
“They’re mudbloods!” 
“Ahh even better!” Alecto cackled. 
“​Impedimenta​!” Remus yelled, as he and Mary got free of the car. 
“​Loony Lupin​, is that you?!” Snape now, “What luck! ​Sectumsc​--” 
“​LANGLOCK​!” Mary cried, with so much emotion that Remus heard the click as 
Snape’s teeth snapped shut, and he clutched his jaw with both hands, unable to speak. 
“​Crucio​!” Mulciber shouted, aiming at Mary, but Remus jumped in quickly with a 
shield charm. 
“​Stupefy​!” Mary got Mulciber, but the others were still advancing, even Snape, though 
he was still disabled. 
“Quick, Mary!” Remus grabbed her hand, and they disapparated, landing just about on 
their feet in the middle of Cardiff town centre. Luckily it was so late there were no muggles 
about - except for a very drunk looking tramp, who rubbed his eyes at the sight of them. 
“Where are we?” Mary asked, shakily, her eyes huge. 
“Doesn’t matter,” Remus panted, “We need to do it again - six times to be safe, 
remember?” 
“Right, yes, ok,” she nodded, clearly in shock. Remus realised he’d have to do it again. 
He squeezed her hand once more, and they were in Essex, only a mile or so from St 
Edmund’s. The landing was even harder this time, and Remus had to bend forward to stop 
his head spinning. 
“Again.” He grunted. 

118 
 “I’ll do it.” Mary took his hand, and dragged him whirling through space once more. 
Next they had arrived in an industrial estate somewhere, trucks and lorries parked outside 
big warehouses, glowing under faint yellow street lamps. “Ugh,” Mary pressed a hand to 
her forehead, wincing, “Ok, again.” 
The fourth time, they had to cling to each other to stop from falling over. The fifth 
time, they landed on their backs - thankfully in a soft grassy field somewhere in the Lake 
District. Remus hauled himself up, his legs practically jelly, his head spinning. He pulled 
Mary up too, and she stumbled against him, woozy. 
“I’m going to be sick.” She said, then promptly turned around and threw up. Remus 
rubbed her back gently, blinking sweat out of his eyes, 
“You’re doing so well,” he choked, “Just once more…” 
It was almost dawn when they got back to London, exhausted and queasy, heads 
throbbing. Mary stayed at their flat, saying she couldn’t go to her mum’s looking so rough. 
Sirius summoned Moody through the fireplace, and he arrived immediately, interrogating 
Remus and Mary who sat shaking on the couch, wrapped in blankets and sipping weak tea. 
“Excellent work, you two,” He nodded to them before leaving, “Keep it up, and you’ll 
both make it through.” 
Mary burst into tears. 
* * * 
It was bad all round. Remus and Mary’s narrow escape that night was not their last, 
nor were they the only ones to find themselves in a tight spot. Remus frequently had to 
leave the room while James and Sirius recounted their own misadventures, and Peter had 
developed a bit of a stammer whenever anyone mentioned death eaters. 
All told, the wedding felt like the only bright spot in their rapidly shortening futures. 
They’d certainly had their fill of funerals. 
So, in late August when Remus and Sirius had an unexpected visit from Lily, who was 
in a state of panic, they immediately assumed the worst. 
“Oh, thank god you’re here!” She said, bursting into their living room. Her hair was up 
in a messy ponytail, and she looked over tired and overworked. 
“What’s the matter?!” Remus stood up, quickly. 
“Not you,” she brushed him aside dismissively, then turned to Sirius, “I need ​you​!” 
“What’s up?” Sirius looked just as puzzled as Remus. Lily never needed his help. “Is it 
Prongs?” 
“Yes, the bastard.” 
The worry left Sirius’s face and he smirked. 
“Look, if this is about the stag do…” 
“Oh, I don’t care what you lot get up to,” she tutted impatiently, “This is much, much 
more important.” 
“I’ll put the kettle on, then…” Remus said, disappearing into the kitchen. He could still 
hear them through the wall. 
“So, what is it then?” Sirius was asking. 

119 
 “I can’t dance.” 
“What?!” He scoffed, “I’ve seen you dance.” 
“Yeah, I can shake my hips to pop music, but I’m talking about ​proper dancing​. With 
steps, and James leading, and counting ‘one two three’, the whole shebang!” 
Sirius was laughing, now. 
“It’s going to be t​ hat​ sort of wedding? Prongs practically promised me there would be 
modern music!” 
“There will be!” Lily returned, defensively, “But… well it’s traditional to have a first 
dance, and I think his mum would like to see it. I agreed to do it ages ago; I thought ‘fine, 
we’ll just stick on something soppy and just sort of cling on to each other for a few 
minutes’, but that ​wanker​ just casually mentioned the fact that he’s been ballroom dancing 
since he could walk!” 
Sirius snorted, 
“Yep, sounds about right. Look, Evans, you’re the one bonkers enough to marry a 
pureblood, you’ve made your bed now.” 
“But you have to help me!” 
“Ohhhh no…” 
Remus re-entered the room with a tray balancing three mugs of tea. 
“Go on,” he said, slyly, “I’d love to see this.” 
“Absolutely not.” Sirius folded his arms decisively. “Get Pete to do it! He’s a pureblood 
too!” 
“He’s too short,” Lily shook her head, “And… well I don’t want to be mean, but he’s 
very clumsy, and I don’t want him stepping on my feet while I’m breaking in my wedding 
shoes. They’re white satin. ​Please​, Sirius? I’m a fast learner, I swear, you just need to get me 
through one dance.” 
“Moony!” Sirius pleaded, as Remus sat beside him, “Save me!” 
“I think you should do it,” Remus replied, sipping his tea, “For James.” 
“Yes!” Lily nodded enthusiastically, “For James!” 
“He doesn’t deserve me.” Sirius grumbled. “Fine. O
​ ne​ lesson. A waltz is easy enough. 
Moony, go away.” 
“Absolutely not.” Remus sat down on the couch, settling in for the show, “I’ve never 
seen you waltz before, and I’m not going to miss it.” 
Sirius held up his middle finger, then tossed his head and turned to Lily. 
“Right,” he said, haughtily, “Give me your hands…” 
As amusing as it first seemed, fifteen minutes into the lesson Remus was completely 
entranced. 
Sirius worked hard to hide his pure-bloodedness most of the time. Ever since they 
were kids, Remus had been aware of Sirius mimicking his accent, and sometimes even his 
mannerisms in an effort to seem less privileged. He slouched, he swore, he wore ripped 

120 
jeans and leather jackets. But here was proof that Sirius Orion Black, heir to the most 
prestigious and ruthless magical house in Britain, had not completely forgotten his roots. 
At the time, Remus found it charming - as he found almost everything about Sirius 
charming. He held his head high, showing off his long white neck and regal jawline. He 
took Lily in his arms like a real gentleman - like a courtly prince. When he moved, he 
glided; not a step out of place. He was the picture of incorruptible nobility. It drove Remus 
mad. 
“Thank you so much!” Lily gushed, rather pink cheeked after two hours of dancing, “I 
have to get back, or he’ll wonder where I am, but I seriously owe you one, Black.” 
“Oh, just your first born will do.” Sirius waved a hand gallantly, grinning. He looked 
like he’d enjoyed himself too. 
Lily grabbed her bag, kissed them both on the cheek, and left via the fireplace. Sirius 
turned to Remus, who was still watching him from the couch. He pulled a face, 
“Go on then, take the piss…” 
“Never,” Remus smirked, getting up and walking over to him, “I love how fancy you 
are.” 
He slung his arms over Sirius’s shoulders and leaned in for a kiss. It went on a long 
time; Sirius pressing against him, affectionately at first, but then with more eagerness as 
the kiss deepened. Since Remus had returned from the pack things had been a bit dry in 
that department - not that they’d been monks, exactly, but on the rare instances neither of 
them was exhausted, sex had become pretty functional. 
Sirius grinned against Remus’s lips, tilting his head back. Remus’s hands were on 
Sirius’s waist, and his thumbs found their way under the waistband of his jeans, stroking 
circles on his hip bones that made Sirius squirm. 
Remus grinned too, pulling back, 
“Wanna dance?” 
* * * 
So tell my baby, I said so long. 
Tell my mother, I did no wrong - 
Tell my brother to watch his own 
And tell my friends to mourn me none 
  
Three days after the dancing lesson, Sirius and Remus found themselves with a 
miraculously free Sunday. There were no missions; there were no meetings; there were no 
wedding-catastrophes to solve. And as far as Remus knew, neither of them were in mortal 
peril. So they spent it the best way they could think of - sleeping. 
They had the longest lie in since Hogwarts had finished, and it must have been almost 
twelve by the time Sirius got up to let the post-owl in - it had been angrily pecking at their 
bedroom window for fifteen minutes. 
The owl hooted indignantly, circled the room, then dropped the Daily Prophet on 
Remus’s legs, while Sirius rifled around in the bedside table for a knut to give it. Remus 

121 
rolled over, groaning. He considered covering his head with the duvet and just going back 
to sleep. 
“Shall I do breakfast?” Sirius asked, picking up the paper. “Breakfast in bed?” 
“Have I told you how much I love you?” Remus smiled, eyes squinting open. He 
stretched a bit, yawning, “I think we’ve run out of eggs though, so--” 
“Remus!” Sirius grabbed his arm so hard he’d have bruises the next day. He shoved the 
paper in his face, and Remus - startled and half awake - blinked at the headline. 
BLACK HEIR CONFIRMED DEAD 
“Eh?” Remus scratched his head, confused, “That's mental, you’re not--" 
Then it hit him. Oh. He felt so stupid. He looked up at Sirius, who was white as a 
sheet, eyes wide and pained. 
“Oh" Remus said, helplessly reaching out, “Oh no, Sirius…”  
I'm chained upon the face of time 
Feeling full of foolish rhyme 
There ain't no dark till something shines 
I'm bound to leave the dark behind 
 
(Song: Rex’s Blues - Townes Van Zandt) 
 
 
 
 
 

   

122 
 ONE HUNDRED & SIXTY-FIVE 
The War: Dulce et Decorum est 
 
Sirius didn’t speak again. At first Remus tried to be understanding; he did everything 
he could think of. He got up, he made tea, and offered whisky, though Sirius shook his head 
at that. 
He tried talking to him, but Sirius just stared at the article. 
“Is there anything you need? I’ll get you anything at all, just say…?” 
Nothing. Sirius just blinked, and began re-reading from the top. There was a 
photograph of a tall terraced house in a posh part of London, but Remus couldn’t see much 
else, and Sirius was clutching the newspaper so hard his knuckles turned white. 
It was frightening. Remus stood beside him, reached out and touched his shoulder, 
which was as stiff as a statue’s. Sirius barely reacted. Remus left the room. 
He went to the front door, where their two jackets were hung, one soft and brown, one 
silver studded black leather. He reached into the pocket of the leather jacket and pulled out 
the silver compact mirror inside. He cracked it open, 
“Prongs?! Prongs!” 
James’s face appeared, dark eyed and concerned, 
“Moony?” 
“It's Sirius - something’s happ--” 
“I know,” James cut him off, “I just saw the paper. I'll be two minutes.” 
He vanished, and the mirror just flashed back Remus’s own distressed face. Still; that 
was a relief. James would know just what to do. 
Remus hated himself for thinking it, but one thing kept blaring in his mind like a 
foghorn; ​was it werewolves? Was it Greyback?​ He needed to read the article; he needed to find 
out as much as possible. 
The fireplace suddenly blazed green, and James stepped through, casting around. He 
looked at Remus. 
“Bedroom.” Remus said. James nodded and went straight through without a word. 
Remus closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He could make more tea. He really wanted a 
proper drink, but it was early in the day, and if Sirius didn’t want any then it would look 
pretty bad if Remus started on the gin. F
​ uck​. Sirius had been s​ o good​ when Hope died - 
how?! At the time Remus had taken it for granted, and now he couldn’t think of a single 
useful thing to say or do. 
Regulus was dead. Sirius’s brother was dead. 
Remus went back into the bedroom. James was sitting on the bed, an arm around 
Sirius, talking in his ear very low. Sirius looked as though he was only half listening as he 
stared into space. The paper had been dropped, finally, and lay on the floor, half under the 
bed. 

123 
 “He made his choice a long time ago,” James was saying, “You mustn't blame yourself, 
you mustn’t let this--” 
“It doesn’t say what happened.” Sirius said, finally speaking, his voice deeper than 
usual, “Does anyone know? Your dad, or Moody? Was there an attack last night, or--?” 
James shook his head, arm still around Sirius, 
“No, nothing that would suggest… but of course, we could have missed something. 
There’s evidence that he - that Voldemort’s been killing death eaters. To um. To keep them 
in line. Some of them are having doubts, you know.” 
Remus remembered the werewolves’ sinister occupation. Perhaps Greyback hadn’t 
been enough of a threat for some of the old families. Voldemort had to make an example. 
That made some sense. Apparently it did to Sirius, too. His eyes focussed, narrowing. He 
sniffed, though he hadn’t shed one tear, and straightened his back, shrugging off James. 
“Well then.” He said brusquely, “Got what he deserved, didn’t he.” 
James glanced back at Remus, and they shared a worried look. 
“Mate,” James said, “He was your brother, it’s ok if--” 
“No.” Sirius stood up, sharply, forcing James to get up too, staggering back against the 
wardrobe, “He wasn’t my brother. They’re not my family. That was always made very ​clear​.” 
“But you--” 
“He was my enemy. He’d have killed every one of us without a second thought. So I’m 
glad he’s gone. One less Death Eater. Good. Brilliant.” He looked at James and Remus, as if 
challenging them. Neither of them dared. “I’m going to take a shower.” He said, and left the 
room. 
Remus gnawed his lip. James let out a heavy sigh. 
“At least he’s up, I s’pose. Ugh, ​Regulus, you little shit​. It’s like his final act was to mess 
with Sirius’s head.” 
“I know what you mean.” Remus said, trying to see the funny side. “It feels like any 
time things start getting back to normal another catastrophe hits.” 
“Moody would say ‘that’s war, lads’.” James replied, just as humourlessly. 
They were quiet for a bit, and heard the boiler in the bathroom grinding as Sirius 
turned on the hot water. James ran his fingers through his hair, “It’ll be over for good, one 
day. I know it will, Moony. We’ve just got to do our best until then.” 
Remus nodded - and he did feel a bit better. James had that power; he could bring 
optimism to even the darkest hour. 
“How are your folks?” Remus asked, aware that James had left his sick parents very 
suddenly. 
“They’re ok. Mum’s panicking about flower arrangements. Pete and his mum are 
visiting, and Lily’s there, so they’re not alone. I didn’t tell them about this… there wasn’t 
time, and I don’t want to put any more strain on them. They’d want to come over and check 
on him.” 
“If he’s decided to be like this about it,” Remus said, “Then I think it’s best not to fuss 
too much.” 

124 
 “You’re right.” James nodded, tiredly. He gave Remus a soft smile, “You were always 
right, when it came to him, eh?” 
Remus shrugged, because he thought James was being awfully kind - usually Remus 
thought he was doing a terrible job taking care of Sirius. 
“I tried to contact Moody,” James continued, back to business, “See if he knows 
anything - but he’s not answering. To be honest -” James lowered his voice, leaning in to 
confide in Remus, “I don’t think Regulus was particularly high priority for anyone. It’s only 
because he’s a Black that he ended up in the paper at all.” 
“You think it was Voldemort, though? Who killed him?” 
“Seems likely. He’s getting desperate, dad reckons. No one thought the war would go 
on this long - it’s not just our side that’s flagging.” 
They went through to the living room, and Remus made more tea. They were almost 
out of PG tips, and he scribbled down a note to pin to their cork noticeboard which hung 
beside the fridge. Once they’d sat down, Remus finally read the article in the paper.   
* * * 
BLACK HEIR CONFIRMED DEAD 
Regulus Arcturus Black II, only child of Orion and Walpurga Black, has today been confirmed 
dead in a statement issued from the Black family home in Islington. Born in 1961, the heir to the 
Black house and fortune was eighteen years old. He had recently completed his education at 
Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, where he distinguished himself as an impeccable 
student and gifted quidditch player. 
Regulus is survived by his parents and his cousins who will attend a private memorial service 
later in the week. The family have requested privacy. 
* * * 
That was all. There wasn’t much else to say about such a short life, Remus supposed, 
and what had been said was largely untrue, or at the very lease a smudged version of the 
truth. There was no mention at all of how he had died - but Remus thought that was 
probably a good thing; at least it definitely wasn’t Greyback. The Daily Prophet wouldn’t 
miss a chance to slip in a bit of werewolf bashing. 
Sirius came into the living room, hair dripping, towel around his waist. 
“I think I’ll work on the bike, today.” He said to the room, not really looking at either 
James or Remus, “Go home, Potter, I’m fine.” And left again, presumably to get dressed. 
James and Remus looked at each other again. 
“Will you be ok?” James asked, “If I go?” 
“Yeah, of course.” 
“Ok.” James hoisted himself up out of the armchair and went to the fireplace. “You 
have the mirror, if you need me. I’ll pop back this evening.” 
“We’ll be fine.” Remus said, getting up to say goodbye. “He just needs a bit of space.”   
“Don’t give it to him.” James said, suddenly, looking Remus in the eye, “Moony, I need 
you to keep an eye on him, ok? Don’t let him go anywhere. Don’t let him… don’t let him try 
to get in touch with anyone he’s related to. Except Andromeda, I s’pose.” 

125 
 Remus nodded. That wouldn’t be too hard - Sirius never spoke to his relations. 
“No problem.” 
“I mean it. He might do something stupid, and we can’t risk it. Plenty of people still 
think Sirius is… you know, untrustworthy, because of his name, and something like this is 
going to…” James pinked the bridge of his nose, as if he was getting a headache. “Bloody 
Regulus.” He muttered again. 
“I’ll look after him.” Remus said, firmly. “Don’t worry.” 
“Thanks, Moony,” James gripped his arm, and it was as if they were thirteen again; 
juggling responsibility for their wayward best friend. 
James left, and Sirius reappeared at once, as if he had been waiting. 
“Were you talking about me?” 
“Of course we were,” Remus jutted out his chin, “We’re worried about you.” 
“What did Prongs say?” 
“That I’m not to let you out of my sight.” 
Sirius snorted, “You’ll have to come to the garage, then.” 
“Fine,” Remus smiled, breezily, “Lead the way.” He was determined to do as James had 
instructed - if only because he had no idea how else to be useful. 
Remus had only ever been to their shared garage once. There were a few things stored 
there - mainly Sirius’s quidditch kit and various childhood things which wouldn’t fit in the 
flat. And the bike, of course. It was a Triumph Bonneville T120, the same as the one Sirius 
had first fallen in love with years ago at the Potters’. He’d painted a lion on the tank, and 
done some kind of enlarging spell on the body. 
Sirius pulled out a rag and polished it, though it was already glistening. Remus stood 
quietly by, watching. Sirius prodded it with his wand in a few places, oiled it in others. 
“When do you think it’ll be finished?” Remus asked, finally. “Ready to ride?” 
“Last week,” Sirius replied, not looking up. 
“You what?” 
“It’s done. Engine runs, flying function works. I’m finished. I think so, anyway, haven’t 
taken it out yet.” 
“Why not?” 
Sirius just shrugged, and resumed his polishing. Remus watched him a bit longer. 
Obviously Sirius didn’t feel like talking, and that was fair enough - Remus understood that 
better than most people. But he also understood the need to do ​something​ when you couldn’t 
express yourself properly. 
“Let’s go, then.” He said. Sirius, crouching in front of the bike rocked back on his 
heels and looked at Remus. 
“Go? Go where?” 
“Anywhere you like,” Remus shrugged, “Let’s take it for a spin.” 
Sirius blinked, 
“Really? You’ll come with me?” 

126 
 “Well I’m hardly going to let you fly off on that deathtrap alone, am I?” Remus 
laughed, “What sort of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t follow you into the jaws of certain 
doom?” 
The ghost of a smile flickered on Sirius’s face, and he stood up. 
“Ok, then,” he nodded, “Let’s do it.” 
Remus had never liked flying. He was competent on a broom these days, but it would 
never be his chosen form of transportation. He just didn’t like heights very much. 
Still, he would do almost anything for Sirius, so he clambered onto the back seat and 
wrapped his arms around Sirius’s waist and took lots of very deep breaths. Sirius actually 
laughed at him, which was progress, 
“Moony, are you sure you want to do this? I can feel your heart pounding!” 
“Absolutely.” Remus nodded, squeezing his eyes shut as Sirius gripped the handlebars, 
“I’m sure I’ve faced worse than your driving.” 
“Well, if you’re sure…” Sirius revved the engine and Remus clung on even tighter as 
the seat began to rumble. 
They went slowly at first, Sirius navigated carefully out of the garage, pointing his 
wand at the door so that is closed and locked behind them, then trundled slowly along the 
quiet back street. Then he flicked a switch, and pressed down his foot, and they sped away, 
Remus still trying not to look, his stomach doing backflips. 
“Here we go!” Sirius called out, and Remus buried his head in Sirius’s shoulder as they 
lifted off the ground, engine roaring as they gained height. Remus felt himself sliding 
backwards and yelped as his tailbone hit the metal back of his seat. 
“Christ…” he whimpered. He really was going to die. Sirius laughed again, 
“We did it, Moony!” He cried, “Open your eyes you big wuss!” 
Remus did, and instantly regretted it. They were a few hundred feet above the London 
skyline already; he could see the broad concrete rooftops and beige streets below. The 
people looked like tadpoles and the cars like beetles and it was s​ uch​ a long way down.   
“Oh my god…” he moaned. 
Sirius cheered happily 
“Isn’t it amazing!?” - he was facing forward, eyes on the horizon. It was blue skies as 
far as the eye could see. The wind rushed past their ears, cold and fresh, and Remus had to 
squint against the sun. 
“‘mazing,” he shouted back, feeling quite sick, but pleased that Sirius was happy. 
They zoomed all over London for the better part on an hour - going as low as Sirius 
dared along the winding Thames, taking sharp corners around skyscrapers and almost 
crashing right into the dome of St Paul’s. Finally, the engine began to slow, and Remus 
noticed they were losing height. He looked down, bravely and squinted at the unfamiliar 
streets below, 
“Where are we?” 
“Islington.” 
“What?! Sirius!” 

127 
 Shit​! He was supposed to be keeping him ​away​ from the Blacks, and now they were 
heading right for them! 
“Calm down,” Sirius replied, as they sank even further. They appeared to be aiming for 
a huge stretch of green space - a public park with trees and a lake and neat gravel paths 
around brightly coloured flower beds. 
The landing was less than perfect. They hit the grass so hard they drove great muddy 
tracks in it, and Remus was finally thrown from the saddle altogether (though he was so 
relieved to be back on solid ground he could have kissed the grass). 
“Bugger,” Sirius said, cutting the engine and leaping off gracefully, “I’ll get better at 
that bit - you ok?” He held out a hand to help Remus up. 
“Fine, I think,” Remus brushed his trousers and arms. “Where are we?” 
“Highbury Fields.” Sirius cast o
​ bfuscate​ on the bike and then did his best to mend the 
ruined lawn. “I used to come here a lot before I left home.” 
“Oh, right,” Remus said, softly, “With Reg?” 
“Sometimes,” Sirius sniffed, “Our governess brought us.” 
Remus decided to store away this new revelation that Sirius had had a ​governess​ for 
another time. 
“It’s nice,” he said, looking around at the lush green parkland, “Pretty. Want to show 
me around?” 
Sirius smiled at him gratefully, and they went for a quiet Sunday afternoon walk. Here 
and there Sirius would stop and point something out - a tree he had climbed once, or a 
bridge he’d hidden under. Remus enjoyed listening. He had rarely heard any happy 
childhood memories from Sirius, and for a little while he even forgot why they were there. 
They stopped by the war memorial. It was particularly fancy - Remus supposed 
because there was a fair bit of money in Islington. Atop the white plinth stood the green 
hued statue of a young woman in ancient robes, holding aloft a laurel crown. An allegory 
for victory. 
“I did my first magic here.” Sirius said with a grin, “When I was four.” 
“Really? What did you do?” 
“Set fire to her head,” he nodded at the statue. “Always been a rebel.” 
“Amazing,” Remus laughed. 
“Yeah, Douceline - our governess - went mad trying to put it out. But we kept 
laughing, me and Reggie, and every time she extinguished it I just did it again, because it 
made him so happy.” 
Sirius looked down. He was quiet for a while, and Remus just put a hand on his 
shoulder, to show that he didn’t have to speak, if he didn’t want to. 
They looked at the plaque on the memorial. ​How sleep the brave who sink to rest, By all 
their country’s wishes bless’d​. Remus couldn’t help but wonder about the names of the men 
listed below. How old had they been? Robert Fenn, Peter Cross, Arthur Hill… Had they all 
thought they were doing the right thing? Had they all been brave in their last moments? 
Had they thought of their family, their brothers? 

128 
 And when this war was over, would there be a plaque just like this in Diagon Alley? 
Whose names would it bear? Not Regulus’s. 
“Come on.” Sirius said, finally. “I’m ready to go home, now.” 
 
 
 
 
 

   

129 
 ONE HUNDRED & SIXTY-SIX 
The War: Autumn 1979 
 
Well I take whatever I want 
And baby I want you 
You give me something I need 
Now tell me I got something for you 
  
Come on come on come on and do it 
Come on and do what you do 
I can't get enough of your love 
I can't get enough of your love 
I can't get enough of your love 
  
Friday 7th September 1979 
“Uuurrgh, bugger!” Remus groaned, cradling his shoulder and biting his lip. 
Padfoot came bounding over, yapped, then transformed back into Sirius, 
“What’s up?” 
“Dislocated.” Remus grimaced, still clutching his arm. “Have you got my wand?” 
“Yeah, hang on...” 
“All right, Moony?” James and Peter came sauntering out of the thicket. “That was 
great!” 
“Yeah, great…” Remus accepted his wand from Sirius and pointed it at his sore arm. 
He thought about Livia and Castor, as he did every full moon since meeting the pack. He 
hoped they were both safe, and he sort of wished he had them nearby, just for the healing 
benefits. 
Arm fixed - or as close as he could get it, he struggled to his feet and pulled on his 
clothes, stashed under a nearby bush. 
“Ok?” Sirius asked, watching him warily, “You look a bit shaky.” 
“Just hurts a bit,” Remus said, having to stop himself from shrugging, “Can I 
side-along with you to get back?” 
“Of course. Oi, Prongs,” Sirius nudged James with his elbow, grinning, “Bloody good 
stag do, eh? Eh?? S​ tag​ do?!” 
“Yes, Padfoot, very funny,” James snorted, “Just as funny as the last hundred times.” 
“I’m wasted on you lot,” Sirius sighed. 
“Less than twenty-four hours to go!” Peter said, “How are you feeling?” 
“Tired.” James said, with a yawn. “Shall we?” 

130 
 They apparated back to the Potters’, which was already a hive of activity. They’d hired 
four extra house elves in preparation for the wedding the next day, and the tiny little 
creatures darted back and forth across the kitchen whipping up a feast. 
Lily and Mrs Potter were sitting at the kitchen table - Mrs Potter in her dressing gown 
and slippers, which she was never out of these days. Lily jumped up to kiss James, 
“Morning darling - I just stayed long enough to see you, but I’ll be off now. How are 
you, Remus?” 
Remus nodded, blank and exhausted. 
Lily cocked her head and tutted, “Go to bed, the lot of you, you all need your beauty 
sleep. James, I’ve left you a list of things you need to get sorted this afternoon - give me a 
ring when it’s all finished or I’ll never sleep. Sirius, did he give you the rings? Oh no, silly 
me, I’ve got them, here you go… Remus, will you make sure he doesn't lose them? Pete, your 
mum popped round and I said you’d gone out with the lads and were sleeping off a 
hangover, so better if you don’t go home. I’m sending Mary over this evening with the 
buttonholes for you all, and the ties if Madam Malkin hurries up and gets them finished… 
oooh, do you all have shoes?!” 
“Merlin, Evans,” Sirius yawned, “Anyone would think you’re getting married 
tomorrow.” 
She stuck her tongue out at him, kissed James, hugged Remus and hurried out the 
door. 
“Go to bed, boys!” She shouted, as she left. “See you at the top of the aisle, Potter!” 
Remus looked down at the list Lily had left James - it was at least fifteen inches of 
parchment, and Lily had small handwriting. James ignored it, 
“Alright, mum?” He said, going over to Mrs Potter. She had two dark smudges under 
her eyes, and her hair was pale and stringy. Remus was finding it hard to meet her eye, 
these days - she reminded him so much of his last visit with Hope. 
“Fine, fine,” She beamed up at him, “There’s so much to do!” 
“Leave it for now,” he said, an arm around her, “Let’s all go to bed…” 
“That Lily,” Mrs Potter said as they all made slow progress up the stairs, “She’s a force 
to be reckoned with.” 
“Too right.” The boys all agreed. 
Remus collapsed into bed without even taking his clothes off, and could have fallen 
asleep right there. 
“Moony,” Sirius yawned again, pulling his boots off, “Don’t conk out until you’ve had 
your potion, McKinnon’s orders.” 
“Mmmph.” Remus groaned, rolling over and reaching for the bottle on the bedside 
table. Sirius clambered in beside him as he finished it. 
“Whose idea was it to have a wedding right after a full moon?!” He complained, 
another yawn encroaching. 
“I told you all to just leave me to it,” Remus replied, closing his eyes and flinging an 
arm over his face. 

131 
 “And miss the chance to make ‘stag do’ puns for the rest of the week? No chance.” 
Remus chuckled and quickly fell asleep. 
* * * 
Having never attended a wedding in his life, Remus was very grateful to Lily for 
having left a list. It meant he always knew what to do. However, he quickly learnt that very 
little about weddings made any sense at all. For example, once they’d all woken up around 
midday, their first task was to decorate the quidditch hoops in the back garden. 
“Why are we doing this?” Remus asked, frowning up at the goals, as Peter arrived 
levitating a crate of white flowers. 
“So they look nice,” James replied, broom in hand. “It’s the only way Lily would get 
married under them.” 
Remus stared at him, 
“You’re getting married under your old quidditch hoops?!” 
“I know!” He grinned, “Brilliant, isn’t?!” 
“Err…” 
“Moony,” Sirius said quickly, “You and Pete work on the growing charm down here, 
Prongs and I will fly up and do the hoops.” 
Once they were finished, the three goal posts looked like a bizarre spindly rose bush 
had tried to take over. Next they had to decorate the nearby trees with the same flowers, 
and summon all of the chairs from the Potters’ extensive attic, then get them to line up 
neatly in rows of eight. After that, Mrs Potter asked Peter and Sirius to help her with all of 
the crockery for the reception, and gave James and Sirius instructions to ‘sort out the 
ballroom’. 
“Ballroom?!” Remus looked at james, confused. He’d been visiting the Potters’ for 
years now, and felt he knew the house pretty well - but he’d never seen a ballroom. 
“Yeah, we don’t use it much,” James replied casually, “Keep it in storage.” 
“In… storage?” How on earth you ‘stored’ an entire room, Remus did not know. 
“Yup, I just need to remember where the instructions are…” 
They went into James’s dad’s study, and James located a map inside one of the desk 
drawers. Remus got quite interested then - he would always be very fond of maps. This one 
was a blueprint for the Potters’ mansion, which made it extra fascinating. There were all 
kinds of special little spells and enchantments labelled on it, but they had work to do, so he 
couldn’t get a good look. 
The ballroom was hidden behind the living room couch. James and Remus both had to 
concentrate very hard and murmur some ancient incantations to get the doors to appear. 
Then, of course, the couch had to be moved and the door unlocked, which was annoyingly 
fiddly. 
When James finally pushed the oak panelled double-doors open, Remus’s jaw dropped. 
It was one of the most beautiful rooms he had ever seen; art deco marble pillars as far as the 
eye could see, and a glorious stained glass ceiling which cast jewel coloured patches of 
sunlight onto the dark hardwood floor. 

132 
 “Bloody hell.” He swallowed, feeling very small. He remembered watching Sirius and 
Lily rehearsing dance steps in their tiny living room, and for the first time in a long time 
Remus felt very poor and grubby next to his wealthy pureblood friends. 
“I know,” James laughed, “Stupid, isn’t it? But y’know, at least we’ll fit everyone in. I 
think we’ve got thirty-three Weasleys coming already.” 
Feeling a bit better, Remus set about helping James check the room, and then they 
conjured some mops to begin cleaning the floor. James closed the doors while they did this, 
so that they would not be disturbed, 
“I know we’re not r​ eally​ doing anything,” he said guiltily, leaning against a marble 
column, “But I just want five minutes without someone giving me an order. I wouldn’t 
mind, but Moody’s only giving us two days off for the wedding - we’re expected to report 
for duty on Sunday.” 
“Christ,” Remus shook his head, tutting. They stood quietly for a bit, watching the 
mops glide back and forth like funny skinny ballroom dancers. Remus was grateful for a 
breather, too. The weekend had begun with a full moon, and was only going to get more 
hectic as it went on. 
“How’s Sirius?” James asked, out of the blue. 
“Eh? Fine. Why?” Remus frowned. 
“Just checking.” 
“You see him almost as much as I do.” Remus teased him. It was true - James was 
much keener on the flying motorbike than Remus was, and they went for rides together 
almost every evening. 
“I know,” James nodded, “But he hasn’t said anything about Regulus since… well, since 
he died.” 
“No.” Remus sighed, “No, he hasn’t.” 
It wasn’t as if Remus had been pushing Sirius to talk about it, either - but he didn’t 
think James would understand their policy of never discussing family stuff. 
“I don’t like him bottling it up,” James said, “I know he had a complicated relationship 
with Reg, but it can’t be normal to just pretend like he never existed.” 
“Who’s to say what’s normal?” Remus countered, “Everyone grieves differently.” 
“So he i​ s​ grieving?” James was giving Remus a very intense look, and it made him 
uncomfortable. He didn’t like other people asking him about Sirius’s personal stuff - that 
was between them. 
“Yeah, of course.” He lied. That seemed to work. 
“Good. I’ve been worried about him, it’s been a shit year all round, eh?” 
“Could say that,” Remus snorted. “It’s about to get a lot better though. Any pre-game 
nerves?” 
“Nah,” James grinned, the worry leaving his face, “Feel like I’ve already won the cup.” 
“Oh my ​god​ Prongs, you soppy git. That’s what you get for going out with girls.” 
James roared with laughter, and by the time he had regained his composure the mops 
had finished their task, and the floor was gleaming as if brand new. 

133 
 * * * 
Saturday 8th September 1979 
The first wedding Remus ever attended was the most beautiful and the happiest - and 
there was no way you could convince him otherwise. Everything went off without a hitch 
(well, he did have to talk an overexcited Sirius out of transforming into Padfoot to deliver 
the rings, but luckily it was only a fleeting mania), and it was smiles all round. 
James’s parents looked as though they would burst with pride, both appearing 
healthier than Remus had seen them in ages, decked out in red and gold dress robes - 
Gryffindor colours. Marlene and Mary made beautiful bridesmaids in simple pale mauve 
dresses with circlets of gypsophila in their hair, and of course Lily herself was a vision in 
white lace. 
It seemed to Remus that the day flew by in a pastel hued blur. He was always supposed 
to be somewhere, or doing something; there was barely a moment to relax and take stock. 
He was very glad that he’d never be getting married, because just being a groomsman was 
exhausting enough. 
Once the ceremony was over and they had to start mingling, Remus found himself 
feeling very shy. He hadn’t been around so many wizards and witches since Hogwarts - the 
magic in the air was palpable; muggy. It bothered him less, now. His time with Greyback’s 
pack had taught him to cope with it, and as long as he didn’t need to do magic he was fine. 
There were plenty of people he knew, of course. He spotted the Weasley’s without too 
much bother; Arthur and Molly were running around all over the place after their five 
rambunctious redheaded sons; the eldest two had decided they wanted to play quidditch 
with the decorated hoops now that the boring bit of the day was over. 
Then of course Moody and Hagrid and Dumbledore, and lots of other people from the 
Order. It was nice to see them all at a happy event, for once; it made everyone look younger. 
Frank and Alice were just back from their honeymoon - which Alice confided to Remus had 
actually involved quite a lot of work; they’d gone to Slovenia on a knowledge transfer 
mission with the local Aurors. 
And of course Ferox was there. He came over to shake Remus’s hand manfully, 
“Looking very smart, Lupin,” he nodded, and Remus felt himself blush head to toe - 
though he knew Sirius looked a million times better in exactly the same robes. “And Ms. 
McDonald,” Ferox kissed her hand, which made her blush too, “Very beautiful indeed. Will 
it be wedding bells for you two, next?” 
Remus blinked - he hadn’t come out to very many people, fair enough, but he sort of 
though most people had cottoned on by now. 
Mary laughed, 
“As if Remus would marry me! I’d drive him up the wall!” 
“Ah well,” Ferox clapped him on the shoulder, “You’re still young. Lots of wild oats to 
sow.” 
“I live with Sirius,” Remus said, raising his eyebrows a little bit to see if his old teacher 
took the hint. But apparently not. Why were grownups always so dense? 

134 
 “Free wheeling bachelors, eh?” Ferox laughed, gruffly. 
Mary looked as though she was about to say something, but Remus caught her eye and 
gave the tiniest shake of his head. Not worth it. 
“That’s right,” he nodded enthusiastically at Ferox. 
After dinner (the best part of the day, in Remus’s opinion) Lily and James cut the cake 
- a huge towering affair with thirteen tiers covered in buttercream icing and pink piped 
roses - and then the dancing began. 
Lily did Sirius proud - Remus could hear him counting under his breath as he watched 
them; “One two three, one two three… straighten that back, Evans! Good girl…” 
The waltz over and done with, someone cast an amplifying charm on the Potters’ old 
turntable, and a Bad Company song began playing, which got all of the young people up 
and dancing - including Sirius, who Remus was grateful to hand over to Andromeda. Remus 
Lupin did not dance. 
He was happy enough to sit by with a glass of champagne just watching, as usual. He 
look for Peter, who liked to dance but often lost steam after a few songs, but couldn’t see 
him anywhere. He’d probably found some friends from work and gone to chat with them. 
Yaz and Marlene were on the dancefloor - they were both pretty dreadful, Marene wasn’t 
used to heels - but it was very sweet all the same. Yaz had cut her hair since leaving 
Hogwarts in June, and the cropped pixie look really suited her. 
Mary came to Remus’s rescue, in the end, as always. She hobbled over with a pained 
expression on her face and plonked down beside him. 
“Blimey, these french knickers she’s got us in go right up your bum.” 
“Charming as ever, MacDonald,” Remus smirked. 
James and Lily whirled past them, smiling at each other like maniacs. 
“Look at them,” Mary sighed. “Why can’t I find a bloke who loves me that much, eh? 
Not like I haven’t been looking.” 
“You’ll find him,” Remus replied, just as happy. 
“I’ll know it when I see it, that's what my mum says.” 
“If you’re lucky,” Remus snorted. He was a bit drunker than he’d initially thought, and 
his tongue was loose. But it was only Mary. “They say ‘love is blind’ for a reason.” 
“I never had trouble recognising it, to be honest.” Mary confided. “It’s letting it in, 
that's the hard part.” 
Remus nodded in agreement, though he wasn’t sure he followed. She continued, 
sipping her champagne. “Like you did, with Sirius.” 
“Oh yeah, my freewheeling bachelor friend.” Remus poked his tongue out, making 
Mary crease up, giggling. Remus grinned, happy to make her happy. He squeezed her knee, 
“You’re going to fall in love one day, how could you not? Anyone would be lucky to have 
you.” 
“Maybe once the war is over.” She said, lowering her voice, still watching the dancing. 
“I’m not sure I could survive falling in love right now, not with everything else on top.” 
“Mm.” Remus looked away. 

135 
 “Hiya,” Marlene appeared, drink in hand, “Remus, your boyfriend stole my partner.” 
She nodded across the dancefloor at Sirius and Yaz, who were swinging each other around 
wildly, apparently unable to decide who should lead. 
Remus laughed, and Mary frowned, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. Marlene gave 
her a sympathetic look, 
“French knickers?” 
Mary nodded, wearily. Marlene leaned in and whispered, “I took mine off in the loos 
after the ceremony.” 
“Oh my god McKinnon, you genius.” Mary sat up abruptly and strode across the room 
towards the doors. Marlene laughed, taking her seat. 
One of the Weasley kids came skidding past, sliding on his knees across the highly 
polished ballroom floor. Molly came chasing after him, panting, 
“WILLIAM ARTHUR WEASLEY YOU WILL ​RUIN​ THOSE TROUSERS!” 
Marlene giggled, covering her mouth with her hand politely. She leaned in and 
whispered to Remus, 
“I heard her tell Hattie Bones that she’s pregnant again - and she only just had twins 
last year!” 
“Crikey.” Remus said, developing a whole new respect for quiet and reserved Arthur 
Weasley. 
“I reckon those two are having kids as soon as possible.” Marlene nodded at James and 
Lily, “Be very surprised if we don’t get an announcement before Christmas.” 
“Eurgh, really?” Remus wrinkled his nose. Weddings were one thing - they only lasted 
a day. But b​ abies​?! They had to do babies, now?! 
“Don’t be such a grumpy sod.” Marlene gave him a sharp elbow, “Change is part of 
life. Come on, treat me to a dance. Be nice to have a partner that’s taller than me.” She 
stood up and tugged on his wrist. 
“Oh…” Remus sighed. “Ok, but only because they haven’t served the cake yet.” 
 
(Song: Can’t Get Enough - Bad Company) 
 
 
 
 
 
 

   

136 
 ONE HUNDRED & SIXTY-SEVEN 
The War: Winter 1979 
 
I wanna be straight! I wanna be straight! 
I’m sick and tired of taking drugs and staying up late. 
I wanna confirm. I wanna conform. 
I wanna be snug and I wanna be safe and I wanna be warm. 
I wanna be straight! I wanna be straight, 
I wanna create a place of my own in the welfare state. 
I’m gonna be good; I’m gonna be kind. 
It might be a wrench but think of the stench I'm leaving behind... 
I wanna be straight! I wanna be straight, 
Come out of the cold and do what I'm told and don't deviate. 
I wanna give, I wanna give, I wanna give my consent - 
I'm learning to hate all the things that were great when I used to be... bent! 
  
Friday 23rd November 1979 
After all of the excitement of autumn, the beginning of winter felt remarkably 
unremarkable. Remus tried to be grateful for it; for once in his life things were quiet. He 
didn’t get kidnapped by werewolves; there were no parents’ funerals or brothers dying. 
He tried to make himself useful to the order. Sometimes they wanted things 
researched - help identifying curses that the death eaters were using, or coming up with 
new spells that could be used against them. He occasionally worked with Alice on this, and 
got to know her fairly well. She was incredibly intelligent, one of the most skilled duellists 
Remus had ever met. He got very good at defensive charms, and spent a lot of time visiting 
various safehouses, setting up barriers and early warning systems. 
Remus worked hard. He threw himself into it. He had a very strong desire to be 
involved, to strive for something good. Maybe he was growing up. Maybe he was just sick 
of having no control over his own life. 
Marlene came over a few evenings a week after work. She and Remus would sit up at 
the kitchen table, and he would tell her as much as he could about being a werewolf - his 
sense of smell, his increased metabolism, and how he cared for himself during and after a 
full moon. He tried to be as honest as he could without getting anyone else in trouble, and 
she diligently took notes, asked questions and suggested improvements. 
It was difficult for Remus, but also necessary. Marlene’s earnest nature and fierce 
determination to improve living standards for werewolves made him feel a bit better - like 
he might be doing some good after all. 
“We need to get the ministry away from this idea that cells and bars are the only 
remedy,” she would say, “From what you’ve told me, woodland is far better for the health of 

137 
the subject - and we’re hardly short of woodland, are we? A few protective barrier spells 
would do it… all we need is some creative thinking, some ​compassion​…” 
Remus smiled at her. Marlene made him feel like there really would be change one 
day. And it was nice to spend time with a friend - Sirius was so often out in the evenings on 
missions or at meetings. 
“How are you finding it, living with Sirius?” Marlene asked one evening as she was 
packing up. She looked around at the dark empty flat, “Quieter than my house.” 
Marlene was still living with her mother and step-dad, and Danny ever since he’d been 
bitten. More recently, Yaz had moved in too. Remus didn't know all the details, but it 
sounded as though Yaz’s parents hadn’t been thrilled when they found out about Marlene. 
“It's fine,” Remus nodded, helping her collect together her notes. “Different from 
school, obviously.” 
“Bet it's nice having your own space.” 
“It can be.” 
“Do you… do you two fight much? You know, with all the stress and the missions…” 
Marlene was chewing her lip now, fiddling with a strand of loose hair. 
“No.” Remus said, reflexively; shutting down, as he always did when it came to his 
private life with Sirius. 
“Oh,” Marlene sighed, lowering her eyes. “Maybe it's just us then. Maybe because my 
family's around all the time.” 
Remus felt a rush of sympathy for her. He touched her arm, “I bet it's normal, with all 
the stuff everyone's been through lately. Emotions running high and all that.” 
“Maybe.” Marlene still sounded forlorn. 
“Look,” Remus said, lowering his voice even though they were alone, “The only reason 
Sirius and I ​don't​ argue is that we’re barely ever in the same room lately. And when we a
​ re 
in the same room we do everything we can to avoid talking about the war, even though it's 
all either of us can think about.” 
He felt a rush of adrenaline having said this - he rarely spoke so openly about his 
feelings with anyone but Sirius. 
Marlene blinked at him tearfully, 
“Really? You don’t talk about it?” 
“Not since Regulus died.” 
“Oh, of course,” she nodded, softly, then wiped her eyes with her wrists, “Sometimes I 
feel like it’s ​all​ me and Yaz talk about; it’s exhausting. God, I can’t take all this death - all 
this ​misery​. Do you know what Mary said to me the other day? She’s thinking of bowing out, 
giving up.” 
“On the war?!” Remus stared, alarmed. 
“No,” Marlene shook her head, “​Everything​ - the wizarding world. She said she’d rather 
just take her chances as a muggle with no education. Of course I know she didn’t mean it, 
but I understand where she’s coming from. We’ve been fighting and fighting, doing 
everything we can and it’s just not enough, is it? They’re winning.” 

138 
 “You can’t think like that.” Remus said. He really didn’t want to hear this - it was 
awful to listen to someone he admired being so pessimistic. She was saying exactly the 
things that kept him up at night. 
“I know, I know, we’ve got to keep trying, no matter what.” Marlene said, still crying 
quietly, “But it’s taking everything I have, Remus. All I do - all a
​ ny​ of us do is work and 
fight. What if… what if the war ends, and there’s nothing left of me? What if I can’t 
remember how to be happy?” 
“That’s bollocks,” Remus shook his head vehemently, “Of course you know how to be 
happy!” 
He went over to give her a hug. Marlene was almost as tall as he was, and her fair hair 
tickled his cheek. 
“I’m being silly,” she sniffed, over his shoulder, “Just over-tired. The nights are 
drawing in, it makes me gloomy.” 
“I don’t think you’re being silly,” Remus said as they pulled apart, “And you know you 
have so many friends to talk to when you feel gloomy.” 
“I know,” she smiled, cheeks blotchy. “Thanks, Remus.” 
“Cup of tea?” 
“No, I ought to get home - Yaz is stuck listening to stories of Danny’s glory days with 
the Cannons, otherwise.” 
“Ha, go and rescue her then,” Remus grinned. He wanted to ask how Danny was - but 
he didn’t dare. They hadn’t spoken properly in a year - another thing that would have to 
wait until the end of the war. 
Marlene said goodbye and left through the fireplace in a blaze of green flames. Remus 
tidied up a bit, then went to wash the ink off his hands. It had got under his fingernails and 
turned them black, which made him think about Livia again. He’d become extremely 
enthusiastic about hygiene ever since he came back from the werewolves. 
He looked out of the living room window, which was fogged up with the early winter 
chill. Street lamps were flickering on, glowing yellow in the blue twilight - except the one 
outside their window, which was faulty and stayed pinkish-red all night. With Marlene 
gone, Remus was gripped with a terrible aching loneliness. He fetched his scarf and jacket 
and headed out the door. 
The garage door was open as he approached from the dark alleyway, light pouring out 
onto the uneven cracked pavement. As he got closer, he could hear the radio playing softly - 
a Stranglers song; “​And it sounds like an empty house, standing still...​” 
Sirius was singing along, under his breath, like he was concentrating hard. When 
Remus was finally at the threshold he found Sirius cross-legged on the floor in front of his 
bike, wand behind one ear, spanner in hand. The garage was conspicuously warm, for 
winter, but Remus couldn’t see where he’d cast the heat charm. Perhaps on the floor itself. 
“Hello,” he said. Sirius looked up, surprised. 
“Hello, what are you doing here?” 

139 
 “Marlene left,” Remus shrugged, “Thought I’d just pop down and see what you’re up 
to.” 
“Same old. Just tinkering.” Sirius said. 
“Oh, ok.” 
“...sit down for a bit, if you like. I’m nearly finished.” Sirius gestured to a stool in the 
corner of the garage. 
“Only if I’m not in your way.” 
“Don’t be silly,” Sirius flashed him a smile, and Remus sat. 
He watched Sirius working for a while, fascinated. Remus knew nothing about 
mechanics - muggle or magic - and it made him feel weirdly proud that Sirius was clearly so 
skilled. He liked that feeling. 
“How are you?” He asked, thinking of the conversation with Marlene. 
“Eh? Fine.” Sirius didn’t look up, wand between his teeth now as he fiddled with the 
engine. 
“No, I mean really.” Remus pushed, “Are you ok? Just in general? Don’t feel like I’ve 
asked much lately.” 
Sirius looked at him, and set down his wand. 
“I’m fine, Remus,” he said, “Don’t worry.” 
“But I love worrying,” Remus poked his tongue out. 
Sirius grunted with laughter and returned to his work, “How are you?” He asked. 
“Good.” Remus nodded, before re-thinking, “Well, you know. As good as it’s possible 
to be, right now.” 
“Mm. Do you fancy a takeaway for dinner? I don’t want to cook.” 
“Yeah, ok.” Remus agreed. He waited quietly. There was a stack of boxes to his left. 
All of Sirius’s things were packed into big mahogany trunks with scorch marks where he’d 
burnt the Black family crest off. But the boxes next to Remus were cardboard and held 
together with brown muggle tape. 
“What are these?” He asked, picking at the tape. Sirius looked up, wiping his hands on 
an old dishcloth, 
“Oh… those are the boxes from Gethin.” 
“What?” Remus stood up to get a better look. Sirius bit his lip, looking nervous. 
“I know you said to get rid of the stuff your mum left you, but… well you weren’t in any 
state to talk about it after the funeral, and I couldn’t bear the thought of you regretting it. 
So James and I went to collect them, and I’ve just had it all here.” 
“I can’t believe you,” Remus said, stunned. Sirius climbed to his feet hurriedly, 
“Moony, I’m sorry, it wasn’t meant to be a secret or anything, I swear! It’s just that 
after your mum passed away it was one disaster after the other, so it sort of slipped my 
mind… and you can still get rid of them, if you want to, I haven’t looked!” 
“Sirius,” Remus shook his head, smiling, “I mean I can’t b​ elieve​ you. You’re amazing. 
Thank you.” 

140 
 “Oh.” Sirius smiled too, scratching behind his ear bashfully, “That’s good. Because you 
had so little time with her, I thought you’d want something to remember her by. Do you 
want to look now?” 
Remus thought about it. Shook his head. 
“Not just yet. Maybe on a rainy day.” 
He helped Sirius collect everything up, and they walked back to the flat, stopping at 
the pie shop on the way. Sirius liked chicken and mushroom, Remus preferred steak and 
onion. He carried the paper bag, to be gallant. 
“Seriously,” He said, as they climbed the stairs to the flat, “Thank you so much for the 
boxes. I’d have forgotten all about them.” 
“S’ok,” Sirius shrugged, “I know if I had anything of Reg’s…” he stopped abruptly. 
Remus didn’t know what to say, so he kept quiet as Sirius unlocked the door and 
entered the flat, switching the lights on and complaining, “Bloody hell, Moony, it’s freezing 
in here!” 
“Sorry!” He tended to run hot, even in winter, and didn’t turn the heating on if he was 
the only one in the flat. He felt very stupid now, remembering that Marlene had kept her 
gloves on the whole time she'd been there and it hadn’t even occurred to him to ask why. 
Sirius lit a fire, and Remus went to get plates for their dinner. They sat on the couch, 
leaning shoulder to shoulder and listening to the new album by The Police, which 
Andromeda had sent for Sirius’s birthday. 
When they’d finished eating, Sirius rested his head on Remus’s shoulder and closed 
his eyes, settling in. Remus sent the plates to the kitchen and raised his arm for Sirius to fit 
under. Warm, well fed and relaxed, he could have fallen asleep just like that. 
“How’s Marls?” Sirius murmured after a little while. 
“Yeah, fine. A bit down.” 
“Down?” 
“She’s just having a hard time with the war.” Remus felt butterflies in his stomach, but 
continued bravely, “I think we all are, aren’t we?” 
Sirius was quiet for a bit, and Remus couldn’t see his face, only the top of his head, but 
he knew he was thinking. Finally, he whispered, 
“Yeah. We are.” 
* * * 
Friday 21st December 1979 
It wasn’t exactly a breakthrough - they still didn’t talk about the war any more than 
they really needed to - but it felt good enough at the time. And while it felt cathartic to 
admit that they were both struggling, there was nothing that could be done to improve 
things. People were still dying, the death eaters were still gaining power, Sirius and James 
were still super heroes. 
As Christmas approached, no one felt very merry. They would not be spending the day 
at the Potters’ this year - in early December both of James’s parents were admitted to St 

141 
Mungo’s. They’d contracted dragon pox, which was so contagious it meant that just visiting 
them was a mission in itself. 
When Sirius heard the diagnosis he locked himself in the bathroom for two hours. 
Remus did a bit of research and found out why - elderly people rarely survived the disease. 
So that became another thing they didn’t talk about. 
James practically lived at the hospital, when he wasn’t meeting with Moody or on an 
assignment somewhere. Lily told Remus that he’d had to pick up a lot of Fleamont’s work, 
and that he was up until the small hours every night working in his father’s study. 
“I wish I could help him,” she said mournfully, “He’s not ready to lose them yet, it’s 
too cruel.” 
Remus agreed. In what sort of a world could people like Voldemort and Greyback live 
while Mr and Mrs Potter died? 
Remus didn’t realise how dark things had become until late December, when he got an 
unexpected phone call. 
Sirius was out - he and James had been sent to West Cork to follow up on some reports 
of a black magic ritual taking place. Remus had been alone all day, trying to distract himself 
as each minute crawled by with no news. Sirius had left him his compact mirror, in case 
anything happened, and Remus had spent the past hour staring at it. 
When the phone rang he practically jumped out of his skin, then leapt to answer it. 
“Hello?!” Logically he knew it couldn’t be bad news - wizards never used phones if 
they could help it - but his voice shook all the same. 
“‘Ello!” A voice boomed - it was so cheerful it couldn’t possibly be anyone Remus 
knew. Must be a wrong number. 
“Hello?” Remus frowned, “I’m sorry, I think you have--” 
“--Reeeeemus!” Grant sang down the phone. He sounded drunk, and there was a lot of 
noise behind him, “Come down to the Sawyer’s Arms!” 
“Where's that?” 
“Bloomsbury! Come onnnn! We’re all celebrating!” 
“Celebrating? What? With who?” 
“My mates!” 
Remus felt a sinking feeling. 
“...ok, give me an hour.” 
“Weeeeeey!” Grant hung up abruptly. 
Remus got up to change his clothes. 
He didn’t want to go. Not where there were muggles. Not where there were ​people​, but 
Grant was definitely drunk, and the last time Remus had seen him drunk he had needed 
help. He sounded perky enough on the phone, but Remus wanted to be sure. Besides. He 
needed a distraction; he couldn’t sit about in the flat all evening. 
He shoved the mirror in his jeans pocket, pulled on a jumper, then his coat and scarf, 
and headed out into the wintry London streets. He got the tube to Holborn; the streets were 

142 
too busy with Christmas revellers to apparate safely, and he wanted to take a convincing 
amount of time to arrive. 
The Sawyer’s Arms was a proper old man’s pub; thick red and yellow carpet, etched 
glass windows, grimy brass fixtures. It was foggy inside with cigarette smoke, but Remus 
managed to track Grant down without much bother - he was sitting in a large corner booth, 
surrounded by a group of young people who looked about their age. Ah, Remus realised - 
they were ​students​. 
“Reeee-musssss!” Grant cheered, raising both arms in greeting as Remus entered the 
pub. “You caaaaame!” 
“Sorry I’m late,” Remus said, shyly. The people sitting at Grant’s table all looked 
friendly enough, but they were still strangers. 
“Lads,” Grant slurred loudly, addressing the group of men and women, “This is 
Remusss, my very ​oldest​ friend. ‘E went to a posh private school an’ evvvry-fin’. Dead 
clever.” 
Remus waved awkwardly at everyone, then turned to Grant, “I see you’ve been 
celebrating.” 
“Too bloody right! ‘Ere, got you a pint.” He pushed a glass across the table, and it slid 
a bit fast, the table slick with spilled beer. Remus darted forward to grab the drink before it 
flew off the edge. 
“Thanks,” he raised it slightly, then drank. Ah. It had been a while since he’d been in a 
pub. The lagar went down very smoothly. 
“We’re celebratin’!” Grant said, beaming at him, “End of exams, innit!” 
“Oh, congratulations,” Remus smiled, pulling up a stool and perching on the end of 
the table. “What do you all study?” 
They went around introducing themselves - Remus was never going to remember 
everyone’s name - Suzie was doing Accountancy - she was a small, mousy girl with huge 
round glasses and a pimple on the end of her nose. Rajesh wanted to study Engineering at 
Kings, but he needed to get a better Maths result first, Tim - a tall, blokey man in a rugby 
shirt - was doing social studies. Martine was Tim’s girlfriend, studying for her nursing 
qualification. They were all pretty tipsy, but Grant was drunkest of all. 
Remus introduced himself as best he could - he told them he was studying ancient 
languages, because he was actually very good at Runes, and rarely got the opportunity to 
show off about it. He needn’t have worried about Grant - these new friends were a world 
away from the sort he’d been mixing with a few years ago. 
The drinks kept coming, too. Remus tried to be polite, and turn down each round, but 
it was no good - everyone was in a Christmas mood. Three beers in, so was Remus. The pub 
music alternated between Slade, Wizard, Cliff Richards and Shakin’ Stevens, there was 
tinsel hanging from the sconces on the walls, and even the barmen were wearing party hats. 
Remus had half forgotten about the season - there was no time for this sort of fun any more. 
At about half-eight he heard a voice in his pocket, and hurried into the gent’s to check 
the mirror. It was Sirius. 

143 
 “All’s well,” he said, looking very ruffled, black smudges streaking his face, “Both 
ended up covered in ash, though - don’t ask - going to wash off at Prongs’ then have 
something to eat - be a while yet.” 
“As long as you’re ok!” Remus said, earnestly. 
“Yeah, we’re fine,” Sirius nodded gravely. Then he frowned, peering up at Remus 
through the mirror. “Where are you? At home?” 
“Pub.” Remus said, guiltily. 
“With Mary?” 
“No, with… um. With Grant. He’s celebrating the end of exams.” 
“Oh, celebrating.” Sirius’s face turned stony. 
“I got invited out, that’s all.” Remus said, “I was going mad in the flat by myself.” 
“Ok, Moony,” Sirius gave him an odd look, “Have fun.” 
“I can come to Prongs’ if you wan--” Remus started, but Sirius’s face had gone. 
Remus left the loo’s and ordered a round for everyone. He didn’t have any money, so 
he cast a glamour on a scrap of paper he found in his pocket, and the barman thought it was 
a twenty pound note - he even gave Remus change. 
If Sirius was allowed to stay at James’s and have a nice dinner and take his sweet time 
getting home, then Remus didn’t see why he shouldn’t be allowed to get steaming drunk in 
the pub with a bunch of muggles. 
They stayed for a few more hours, talking about TV and music and clothes and films, 
and other gloriously mundane muggle things. Eventually, one by one, the others said their 
goodbyes and left. 
Suzie was the last to get up. She whispered to Remus, “Will you make sure he gets 
home ok?” Nodding at Grant, who had fallen under the table looking for his bus pass, and 
was now sitting on the floor giggling to himself. 
“Yeah, no worries,” Remus nodded, feeling a bit giggly himself. 
“Merry Christmas, Remus, it was lovely to meet you,” she smiled, pulling on her coat. 
“Yeah, you too.” 
Once she’d left, Remus knocked back the dregs of his pint and decided that would be 
it. “Oi,” he gave a gentle kick under the table, “C’mon, you, time to go.” 
“Nah, let's stay out!” 
“How many have you had?” Remus asked, hands on his hips. He was feeling pretty 
tipsy, and Remus's tolerance was higher than most. 
“A few,” Grant said, pulling himself up, shaking the whole table. Remus got a hand 
under his elbow to steady him, and began to guide him towards the doors. 
“Where are you living these days?” 
“You know where,” Grant hiccupped, “Brighton.” 
“Brighton?!” 
“Yeah, s'fine, just stick me on the last train.” 

144 
 “No,” Remus said, “You’ll get arrested or something. Come on, you can kip on my 
couch.” 
“Awww,” Grant grinned. 
They staggered onto the tube together, and at Leicester Square the escalator was 
switched off, so they had to climb it, and were breathless by the time they reached ground 
level. 
“I need a fag,” Remus gasped, patting his pockets for his cigarette case. 
His fingers brushed against the compact mirror instead, and he felt a quiet twinge of 
dread as he wondered whether Sirius was home. Not that anything untoward was going on - 
he just didn't want to start the fight that was brewing ​just​ yet. 
Giving up on the cigarette, he steered Grant towards Chinatown. The streets were still 
quite busy, light and laughter spilling out from the soho bars and sleazy picturehouses. 
“Whaddidya think of Tim?” Grant slurred, leaning heavily against Remus, “Reckon 
I’m in wiv a chance?” 
“I thought he was seeing Martine?” 
“Pffft.” 
“He’s er… very tall?” 
“‘E’s strong,” Grant said, decisively, “Like me a strong bloke. S’how I know you an’ 
me’d never work out.” 
“Oi!” Remus took umbrage, “I’m stronger than I look!” 
Grant scoffed at him, laughing, and Remus was drunk enough to take this as a 
challenge to his manhood. He didn’t often go in for displays of masculine bravado, but 
maybe the beer was having some influence. Acting quickly, and barely thinking, he bent 
and grabbed Grant around the legs, lifting him up and hauling him over his shoulder. 
Grant was yelping and spluttering with laughter as Remus jogged with him a good few 
yards, 
“Put me down!” He shrieked, “You’ve proved your point, you’re very strong!” 
“That’s all I needed to hear,” Remus smirked, stopping to set Grant down, carefully. 
Still unsteady on his feet, Grant grasped Remus’s shoulder for support, choking laughter 
and grinning madly. 
“Ooo-ooooh, what’s this then?” A nasty, sneering voice came from behind them. 
Grant stiffened, and his back straightened; he stared forward and lowered his head, 
making to ignore the danger brewing, but Remus was a bit pissed, and couldn’t help 
looking back. 
Three men were approaching, their faces were cast into shadow by the unreliable 
streetlights and tall buildings, but their body language could not be misread; the rounded 
shoulders, balled up fists and wide gait. Masculine bravado. 
“Ignore them,” Grant breathed, his lips barely moving, “Come on, quick.” 
But Remus had never been very good at running away from a threat. 
“Can I help you?” 

145 
 The men sniggered meanly, still advancing. One spoke to another, as if Grant and 
Remus were deaf - or just not worth addressing at all. 
“Looks like a couple’a nancy boys to me, couple’a dirty queers out looking for trouble.” 
“If they’re looking for trouble,” another said, “I know where they can get it.” He 
slammed his fist into his open hand, as if to demonstrate. 
“Remus…” Grant hissed, tugging on his coat, “Come o
​ n​!” 
Remus ignored him. He faced the three men, and raised his chin. Using his very 
politest private-school voice, he said, 
“Move along, gentlemen, before I do something you’ll regret.” 
The men crowed with laughter, and did not move alone. Remus was glad. His lips 
curled, he shifted position, legs apart, and stared them down. With a slight turn of his wrist, 
they froze to the spot. It took them a second to realise what had happened, their gormless 
faces now visible in the red light of a neon ‘SEXXX’ sign flashing in the shop window next 
to them. 
They stared at each other, tried to move their legs, but were fixed in place, as if they’d 
stepped into quick-setting concrete. 
“What the fuck?!” One of them grunted angrily. 
“Don’t be scared, boys,” Remus grinned, rather enjoying himself, “I don’t bite. Often.” 
“I’m gonna fucking batter ya, yer poof!” One of the men yelled, “I’m gonna beat the 
piss out of ya!” 
That gave Remus an excellent idea. He snapped his fingers quickly, and watched the 
men’s faces. One by one, a look of horror crossed each of them, and Remus caught the scent 
moments before their jeans began to visibly darken. 
“Poor loves,” Remus chuckled. Even Grant stopped tugging his sleeve, then, and 
stared in disbelief. 
“Have you ​pissed​ yourselves?!” 
The three humiliated men started shouting insults then - each one worse than the last, 
but it didn’t matter. Remus and Grant were both practically hysterical. 
“Come on,” Remus said, slinging an arm around Grant’s shoulder, “Let’s go.” 
He did not release them until they were two streets away, locked inside the flat. 
It was hugely risky, doing magic on a busy street in central London in front of 
muggles. But remus couldn’t work himself up to feel guilty about it; he was jubilant. It 
didn't seem like Grant understood what had happened - he was pretty drunk, and mostly 
just relieved to be safe, so Remus thought he’d got away with it. Back in the flat he cracked 
out the whisky to toast his own success - this was met with roaring approval from Grant. 
Sirius wasn’t back yet, and Remus decided not to care about that, either. Most likely 
he’d decided to stay at the Potters’ for the night. Remus dug out some blankets and pillows 
to make up a bed on the couch for Grant, and then they settled in for another few hours of 
drinking and smoking and laughing. Time began to warp; stretching and contracting the 
more intoxicated Remus grew. 

146 
 It must have been almost two in the morning when they hit the bottom of the bottle. 
Remus ran his finger around the bottom of his glass tumbler, then sucked it. 
“Ungh.” Grant whined from the sofa, “Gotta give up the booze. New year’s 
resolution.” 
“Ha.” Remus barked, slouching down in his armchair, rolling a cigarette. 
“Remusss?” Grant asked, dopily, his head lolling over the arm of the couch, blonde 
curls tumbling back from his upside-down face. 
“Yeah?” Remus slurred in response. 
“Can I ask you summink?” 
“Yeah.” 
“‘ave you got a plan?” 
“A plan?” Remus frowned, confused and bleary. 
“For what you’re gonna do wiv your life, y’know.” 
“Oh.” Remus scratched his head, arms slow and heavy. “I dunno. You?” 
“Dunno.” Grant sighed. “Been thinking. Maybe I wanna just find a girl or summink. 
Get married.” 
“Get ​married​?!” Remus choked. “Christ, you’re pissed.” 
“It might not be awful!” Grant defended himself, “Don’t mind spending time wiv girls. 
They can be fun.” 
“Yeah, but… y’know, if you got married you’d be expected to...” Remus gestured 
delicately. Grant snorted. 
“She might not wanna do it much. Anyway, might not hate it. Never given it a try, ‘ave 
I?” 
Remus put his fag between his teeth, thoughtfully. “I did, once.” 
“Oh yeah?” Grant sat up interested, “And?” 
“It was ok.” He shrugged, lighting up. “Not much to say about it really. Mostly just 
embarrassing. But we’re still friends and stuff.” 
“Can’t be that bad then.” Grant sighed, leaning back once more. He looked sad, and 
Remus wished he knew how to cheer him up. Grant reached his hand out towards Remus, 
who sighed and handed him the newly lit cigarette. He began to roll another. 
Grant sighed, rolling his head back and blowing plumes of smoke up at the ceiling. 
“They just always let me down, that’s all. Men.” 
“Not always,” Remus said, not liking the melancholy turn things were taking. 
“No,” Grant replied wistfully, glancing up, meeting Remus’s eye, “No, I s’pose you 
never did.” 
Remus felt a flutter of warm pleasure at that - though maybe it was because he was 
just so drunk. Grant was still staring at him intensely, and smiling a bit now. Something 
passed between them. A very small thing; but something. 
The door opened and Sirius entered, bringing the winter chill in with him. He stopped 
in his tracks when he saw Grant, who scrambled to sit up right. 

147 
 “...hello.” Sirius said, eyes darting back and forth cautiously. Remus never had guests 
over - let alone muggles. 
“Hiya mate!” Grant stood up quickly, extending a hand across the coffee table, the 
empty whisky bottle on top. Sirius shook it, politely. 
“Grant’s celebrating the end of his exams,” Remus explained, feeling guilty but not 
sure why. 
“Oh, congratulations,” Sirius nodded, his expression guarded. 
“Cheers!” Grant grinned, “‘ave a drink? Oh bugger, we’ve ‘ad it all...” 
“It’s fine.” Sirius folded his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow, putting on 
his bored aristocrat routine. “I’m going to bed.” 
He didn’t give Remus so much as a second glance, just walked though the living room, 
down the hall to the bedroom. 
“‘Ave I got you in trouble?” Grant whispered. Remus shook his head, 
“He’s just tired. I’d better…” 
“Oh yeah, ‘course. I’m knackered, anyway - thanks again for letting me stay.” 
“Any time.” Remus smiled, meaning it, “Thanks for inviting me out. I really needed 
it.” He patted Grant’s shoulder as he left. 
Sirius was undressing. He ignored Remus, who closed the door quietly behind himself 
and sat on the end of the bed. 
“How did the mission go?” He asked, gently, “Is James--” 
“A muggle in the flat, Remus?!” Sirius snapped, “Did you even t​ hink​ about the 
danger?!” 
“What danger?” Remus frowned, confused. 
“There’s a war on! This place is supposed to be a safe house, it’s supposed to be locked 
down tighter than Gringotts!” 
“Funny.” Remus said, flatly, “I thought it was supposed to be our home.” 
Sirius didn’t respond, just glowered, tying the string on his pyjama bottoms. Remus 
rubbed the back of his neck, sighing, “Look, he lives in Brighton; I couldn’t have just 
abandoned him at a train station, he was plastered.” Remus tried to explain. 
“So the solution was to get even more plastered?” Sirius shot back. 
“​Sonoro Quiescis​.” Remus said, casting a silencing charm on the bedroom - the first 
time they’d needed it since Hogwarts. “If you want a fight,” he said, stretching his arms out 
invitingly, “Let’s go, I’m more than happy to oblige.” 
“I don’t want to fight, I want to sleep.” Sirius said. 
“Ok, fine.” Remus shrugged. He pulled off his jumper, t-shirt coming with it, and 
began changing for bed too. Sirius got in under the duvet and watched him, still scowling. 
He definitely did want a fight. 
“Can’t b​ elieve​ you just went out to get pissed.” 
“It’s Christmas.” Remus muttered, “Sorry if I wanted to squeeze a tiny bit of joy out of 
the season.” 

148 
 “You couldn’t wait, could you? The second I left the house you had to--” 
“You’re a
​ lways​ leaving! Am I supposed to sit around worrying myself sick all night?! I 
still exist when you’re not here, you know, I still need to talk to people sometimes.” 
“Ha!” Sirius scoffed, “​You​ want someone to pour your heart out to, all of a sudden? 
That’s rich.” 
“Go fuck yourself!” Remus yelled at the top of his voice. 
“Go and fuck your muggle! That’s obviously what he’s here for!” Sirius shot back. 
Remus reeled as if he’d been struck. He stared at Sirius, and saw the hurt in his eyes. Was 
this all just boring old run-of-the-mill jealousy? 
Remus forced himself to relax, to lower his shoulders and unclench his jaw. He closed 
his eyes, breathing in. 
“Grant’s on the couch because he’s my friend and I didn’t want any harm to come to 
him.” He said, very steadily. “And I’m in here with you, because there’s nobody else I’d 
rather be in a room with. Even when you’re being a massive tosser.” 
Sirius’s lips pursed, then relaxed. He looked very much like he wanted to keep arguing, 
but had nothing left to say. In the end he just slumped back in the bed, arms folded, and 
said to the ceiling, 
“​You’re​ a massive tosser.” 
Remus laughed, finished changing, and climbed onto the bed, crawling towards Sirius. 
“I’m y​ our​ massive tosser.” He reached up for the edge of the duvet and pulled it down, 
peeling it back from Sirius’s body. Sirius allowed it, watching Remus, who started to 
untangle the knot of string on Sirius’s pyjama bottoms. He pulled those down next, and 
licked his lips. “Let me make it up to you?” 
Sirius bit his lip, nodded, then arched his back, and they didn’t speak again for hours. 
In the morning, Grant had gone. 
 
(Songs: I Wanna Be Straight - Ian Drury & The Blockheads, Duchess - The Stranglers) 
 
 
 
 
 

   

149 
 ONE HUNDRED & SIXTY-EIGHT 
The War: Spring & Summer 1980 
 
You know I'm born to lose, 
and gambling's for fools. 
But that's the way I like it baby 
I don't wanna live forever 
  
That January, just over a year after his mother’s funeral, Remus attended another 
memorial service - this time for Fleamont and Euphemia Potter. 
They passed away within hours of each other in the final bleak days of December. 
Their loss was felt immensely, and not only by the members of the Order. The Potter 
mansion was full for weeks with visitors, mourners and old friends, and every one of them 
had a story of some kindness James’s parents had performed. 
“Euphemia always said I could ask her ​anything​ when I saw her at St Mungo’s.” 
Marlene sobbed, “She was such a brilliant healer, I wish I’d known her longer.” 
“They were so kind to us after we eloped,” Andromeda said, holding Ted’s hand and 
bouncing her daughter on her hip, “Checked in on us all the time, made sure we never 
struggled for anything… I just can’t believe they’re gone…” 
“If our home is even half as welcoming as theirs, I’ll be proud.” Arthur Weasley added, 
cleaning his glasses, which had grown misty. 
“The very best of wizard kind,” Dumbledore intoned in the speech he gave at the 
service. “A beacon of understanding, tolerance, good humour and community - all those 
values we hold most dear.” 
“Sort of fitting to have them go at Christmas,” one wizened old crone said at the wake, 
“Always loved coming to the Potters’ boxing day party.” 
“I’ll miss Effie’s mince pies!” An old man added. 
“I’ll miss Monty’s home brew!” Another cackled. A smatter of fond laughter, followed 
by tender silence as everyone recalled the Potters’ limitless hospitality. 
Remus kept his own memories of the Potters to himself, because he felt he had the 
least claim on them. Still, he would never forget that it was they who had taken him in 
when he’d found himself homeless at seventeen, and they who had helped him locate his 
mother. 
In a way it was different from the earlier deaths in the Order, because the Potters had 
died at an advanced age, and they hadn’t been murdered - so there was more room for 
happy memories. 
It still didn’t feel very fair. Time is meaningless, when it comes to the people you love, 
Remus reflected. Eleven months had not been enough time with Hope - and twenty years 
had probably not been enough for James. 

150 
 Sirius, Peter and Remus silently made the decision to pull together for James. He had 
been the source of the marauders’ strength ever since they were children; had selflessly 
defended or supported each of them at one time or another, and there was no question that 
they return the favour now, in his darkest hour. 
They took up the task of greeting as many of the droppers-by as possible, and keeping 
them away from James, who had quite enough to deal with. For a solid two weeks, the three 
of them spent their days accepting bunches of flowers and pots of home cooking (which 
was useful, because Gully the house elf had been inconsolable, and spent his time curled up 
under the aga sobbing and drinking butterbeer). Lily handled everything financial or legal - 
Remus couldn’t help but admire how quickly she took to wizard property law - while Alice 
and Molly helped her manage the house and pack up the things which needed to be packed 
up. 
It was grimly fitting that 1980 began with death. Years later, it would mark a turning 
point in the war for Remus; as if losing the Potters had shaken the very foundations of 
reality. After their funeral less and less things began to make sense. Things he had once felt 
sure of became uncertain, and the - already small - circle of people he trusted and loved 
began to shrink further. 
For the rest of January, Sirius and Remus passed each other like ships in the night - 
one would be up late, the other awake with the dawn for some mission or other. They were 
both determined to make up the slack for James, and it kept them busier than ever. One or 
both of them might sleep at the Potters one night, or else stay with someone else in the 
order, for safety's sake. 
Mourning Fleamont and Euphemia on top of all that meant that the short hours they 
did spend together were filled with silence. 
Sirius had cried, the day the found out. They both had, but the pain was more raw for 
Sirius, 
“It’s not fair! It’s not fair!” He repeated over and over, eyes wild and desperate. 
Remus carefully put his own grief aside in order to be the stronger one, and found that 
things were easier when he focussed his attention on helping Sirius. 
It was very hard work, and for a while it seemed there would be nothing at all to feel 
happy about again. Their only piece of good news came completely out of the blue (as good 
news generally does) one Sunday in early February. 
Sirius was out with James - not on a mission, for once. As boys, James and Sirius had 
crawled into each others beds whenever one of them was unhappy. As men, they spent long 
afternoons rocketing around the countryside on Sirius’s motorbike. Remus was not jealous 
- if anything it was a relief that he didn’t have to go. 
He was spending the afternoon studying counter curses, which at least made him feel 
like he was doing something useful. He’d just decided to have a quick break and make 
himself a pot of tea when an owl pecked on the kitchen window. It bore a note from Lily; 
‘​Can you pop over before five? I’ll cook dinner.​’ And of course he got ready to leave at once. It 
was a good thing too - his own supper plans were beans on toast, which he’d already had 
three times that week. 

151 
 It was very cold still, the frost hung around for weeks that February, and spring took a 
lifetime to arrive. Remus was grateful to be able to simply step through the fireplace in 
their flat and instantly appear in the Potters’ living room without having to go outside. He 
hoped Sirius was wrapped up properly; wind chill was no joke at the speeds he drove. 
“I’m here!” Remus called, brushing soot and floo power off his shabby robes. 
Hieronymus the cat mewed angrily at him - he had disturbed the warm spot on the 
rug. 
“Kitchen!” Lily called back. 
Remus wandered through. The house felt empty, and had for weeks now, but the 
kitchen was as warm and comforting as it had ever been. Lily was sitting at the broad oak 
table, pouring over a recipe book, her wand holding her hair up in a messy bun. There was a 
self stirring pot on the stovetop, and something delicious smelling in the oven. 
“Hello gorgeous,” she grinned, looking up at him. 
“Hiya,” he waved, “Can I help with anything?” 
“Knives and forks would be great,” she nodded at the dresser against the wall. “We’ll 
eat in here, I think, it’s cosier.” 
“Just the two of us?” He asked, going to pull out the cutlery. 
“Five,” she shook her head, “Peter’s due in a minute, and the boys shouldn’t be too 
much longer… well, depending on Sirius.” 
“Eh?” Remus frowned, the note hadn’t mentioned Sirius. Lily was blushing. 
“Er… so I asked you here because I have something to tell you…” 
Remus’s hands began to shake, and he dropped the butterknife he’d been holding. No 
news was ever good, these days, and he’d developed a bit of a paranoia around 
announcements. 
“It’s good!” Lily said, quickly, seeing the look on his face, “I promise! It’s just that, er… 
we thought it might be best, J​ ames​ thought it might be best, if he told Sirius on his own, you 
know, one on one… after what happened last time…” 
“Last time?” Remus frowned. They couldn’t be getting married again, surely. “You’re 
not splitting up?!” 
“Remus, I said a ​good​ thing!” Lily laughed, lightly. “Honestly, you always think the 
worst…” 
She stood up, clearing her books from the table. Remus took a good look at her. She 
was a bit thicker around the hips - not that he’d ever say such a thing to one of his oldest 
and best friends. And anyway, it suited her, she was still uncommonly pretty, in his opinion. 
But she smelled slightly different, too. 
He blinked, and shook his head, slamming the cutlery drawer shut so hard it rattled, 
and Lily jumped. 
“You’re pregnant!” 
She blushed harder, and nodded, face stretched into the broadest smile Remus had 
seen on anyone in months. Lost for words, he hurried around the table to hug her, 
“Amazing!” He choked, suddenly very emotional, “Brilliant! Oh my god, Lily!” 

152 
 “I know!” She squealed, “Due in July! You’ve no idea how hard it’s been to stay quiet!” 
Remus stepped back to give her room, and wiped his eyes. 
“Not because of Sirius?” 
“Not just that…” she conceded, “We wanted a proper mourning period… Euphemia and 
Fleamont knew, of course. It was heartbreaking telling them. But I have to admit, I am 
slightly​ concerned about how Sirius will take it…” 
“If he says anything other than congratulations I’ll box his ears!” Remus said, fiercely. 
Lily laughed, 
“You’ll have to get in the queue behind me and James.” 
Remus laughed, still wiping his eyes, and went to lay the table. No sooner had he set 
down the last plate, than a rumbling roar could be heard in the distance, getting closer. Lily 
looked up at him and bit her lip. He just smiled at her, 
“It’ll be fine.” 
Sirius had been parking his bike on the back patio. Remus often wondered what 
Euphemia might make of that - but of course she could never refuse her blue eyed boy 
anything, and would have forgiven the muddy tire marks in her lawn with motherly 
indulgence. 
The patio doors rattled open, and Sirius strode in, hair still windswept from flying, 
nose and cheeks pink from the cold. He was smiling, smiling so wide that Remus’s heart 
skipped a beat, and he felt that old schoolboy crush resurface in him. 
“Mrs Prongs!” Sirius went straight for Lily, arms wide, and enveloped her, kissing the 
top of her head, “Bloody brilliant!” 
Remus sighed with relief, and went to shake hands with James, who’d come in behind 
Sirius, hair and scarf flying, wind-burned face glowing like a beacon of joy.   
“A kid!” Was all Remus could think to say, “You’re having a fucking kid!” 
James laughed, gripping his hand, 
“Too bloody right, Moony.” 
“Sit down!” Sirius pulled out a chair for Lily, ushering her into it, “Merlin, Moony, 
what sort of gentleman are you, letting Lily do all the work in her condition?!” 
“Oi,” Remus scowled, “I laid the table...”   
“Honestly, I’m fine,” Lily giggled, “But if you boys want to serve dinner, be my guest. 
Lamb’s in the oven, James, it should be done by now.” 
So the three of them bustled around the kitchen, making quite a bit more noise and 
mess than was probably necessary. Sirius began whistling ‘Kooks’, James cracked out a 
bottle of champagne to toast (with butterbeer for Lily) and Remus just grinned until his 
cheeks hurt, watching his friends be happy together. 
Then Peter arrived, and it began all over again, their happiness multiplying as they sat 
down to a perfect family dinner. It was just what everyone needed. 
“How did it even happen?!” Peter exclaimed, mopping up gravy with his last yorkshire 
pudding. 

153 
 “Well, Wormtail,” Sirius smirked, “When a witch and a wizard love eachother very 
much…” 
“Shuddup,” Peter laughed, kicking him under the table, “You know what I meant…” 
“It just happened,” James shrugged, “We might have got a little bit careless around 
Halloween…” 
“James!” Lily slapped his arm lightly with the back of her hand, “No need for detail, 
I‘m sure Moony doesn’t want to hear all that.” 
“Why me?” Remus furrowed his brow, 
“Oh well… you know, I just know you prefer to be discreet about… um…” Lily fumbled 
for words. Remus folded his arms, staring at them all with mock-indignation. 
“You all think I’m a prude!” 
They all burst out laughing, and Sirius patted him on the shoulder affectionately, 
“Don’t worry, Moony - they just don’t know you like I know you.” 
“What’s that supposed to mean--” Peter started, but Remus - seeing where the 
conversation was heading - quickly intervened, 
“Have you got any ideas for a name, yet?” 
“No, not really,” Lily said, still chuckling, “A family name would be nice, but--” 
“Whatever you do,” Sirius said, “Call the poor kid something ​normal​. No 
constellations, for godric’s sake.” 
“I’ll drink to that,” Remus raised his glass sand drained it. It was his third, but he 
didn’t think anyone had noticed, and besides, they were celebrating. 
“When will you know what it is?” Peter asked 
“We’re ​not​ calling it Peter,” James teased him. 
“Bagsy godfather!” Sirius shouted. 
“You can’t ​bagsy​ godfather!” Peter said, outraged, 
“Just did,” Sirius poked his tongue out. 
* * * 
And so, as per usual, it was James and Lily who managed to bring everyone out of that 
gloomy winter slog, just in time for spring. The marauders and their friends faced the rest 
of their year with fresh eyes and renewed purpose. Because fighting a war was one thing - 
but fighting for the Potters’ future child made every challenge seem more worthwhile. 
What was more, they weren’t the only ones celebrating good news. Arthur and Molly 
welcomed yet another red haired son that March, and Alice announced that she and Frank 
were also expecting in the summer. 
“Imagine that!” Mary said, clearing away tea cups and mugs of coffee left behind from 
an Order meeting, “Their kids are all going to grow up together, and go to Hogwarts 
together… it’s sort of nice, isn’t it?” 
Remus nodded in agreement. He would have given anything to be raised by any one of 
these people; to have a childhood surrounded by magic and love and laughter. 

154 
 He had never given much thought to children before - his own childhood had been 
such a disaster he didn’t think he was fit to be a parent. But watching James and Lily do it; 
that actually sounded pretty nice. 
Of course, Remus’s enthusiasm for ‘Baby Prongs’ paled in comparison to Sirius’s 
overwhelming excitement. 
“It’s going to be so much fun, Moony!” he babbled, coming in one May afternoon from 
another spur of the moment shopping trip, “Imagine them all on brooms! The Order of the 
Phoenix Quidditch team!” 
“Er… how old do you need to be to ride a broom?” Remus asked, eyeing his packages 
nervously. None of them looked broom-shaped, but you never knew with Sirius. 
“These are mostly books and clothes,” Sirius reassured him, laughing lightly, “And 
some toys, just little things…” 
“This kid is going to be so spoilt…” Remus tutted.   
“Good,” Sirius poked his tongue out. “Doesn’t do anyone any good to be brought up 
joyless, does it, Moony?” He raised an eyebrow and Remus ducked his head, ashamed, and 
he never chastised Sirius about it again. 
* * * 
In June, after the full moon, Remus was invited for another meeting with Moody and 
Ferox. A year older and wiser, he requested not to meet them at the Auror’s office this time. 
They agreed - they didn’t have much choice. Remus had grown very flippant about his role 
as unofficial werewolf liaison officer, and it probably showed. At least Moody didn’t boss 
him around much any more. 
They met in a small working man’s pub just outside of Derby. Remus arrived first and 
got himself a pint, then sat down with a newspaper he’d picked up at the train station. He 
took out the page with the crossword on it and folded it up neatly into his breast pocket. 
Sirius liked doing crosswords. 
He chose a seat in the back on the pub, because it was quiet, but also because the seat 
was a high backed wooden pew, which was good for his back. He was hurting after the last 
moon, still, and tried to sit straight. 
Ferox got there a few minutes later. 
“Alright there, our Kev?” He nodded, sitting down on the three legged stool opposite 
Remus. 
They had all received instructions to start using fake names when out on Order 
business, in case anyone listened in. Remus wasn’t overly fond of ‘Kevin’, but he had to 
admit it was probably better than his own ridiculous name. When the marauders first heard 
about the codenames they’d wanted to use Paul, John, George and Ringo, but Moody told 
them it was too obvious. 
“Hello, Norman.” Remus nodded at Ferox. 
“Mr Thompson won’t be long.” 
“Good. Get you a drink?” 
“Nah, on duty.” 

155 
 Remus shrugged and took a glug of his own beer. Ferox watched him with a level 
expression. “So,” his old teacher asked, “How’s tricks?” 
“Oh, you know,” Remus shrugged again, “We’re all just doing what we can.” 
“Hear you’ve been busy - got a knack for security, eh?” 
“Yeah, I’ve been helping out Alice--er… Steffi. Sorry.” 
Ferox laughed gruffly at Remus’s blunder, 
“Don’t worry about it. It’s all bollocks anyway. Still, security’s a good talent to have , 
eh? Something you might fancy doing for the ministry, maybe? After all this is over?” 
“Security alarms?” Remus frowned. He hadn’t really thought about it before. “I dunno, 
it’s not really… I mean, I want to help people, obviously, but I’m not sure if… people don’t 
want someone like me in their homes.” 
“Chin up, lad,” Ferox said, kindly, “It’s not all doom and gloom.” 
Remus drank again. He was nearly finished, and wondered if he would have time for a 
second pint. Probably not. Not very professional. Though, it was technically ​medicinal​ - his 
back really hurt. 
Moody - ‘Mr Thompson’ - arrived a few moments later. He was looking more haggard 
than ever. The war seemed to affect him physically - he had accumulated more scars than 
anyone Remus knew (except himself, maybe). In return, he had lost more body parts - if 
Moody wasn’t more careful, Remus thought, he’d end up like old professor Kettleburn. 
“Kevin, Norman,” Moody nodded at them both. 
He was wearing muggle clothes - or at least his approximation of them. A gaudy 
hawaiian shirt paired with ancient looking mustard yellow bell-bottoms. Remus had to 
concentrate to keep a straight face. 
“I’ll get straight to business,” he said, taking the third stool around the table. “He’s 
been seen again. Our mutual acquaintance.” 
That meant Greyback. Remus swallowed, nodding, 
“Where?” 
“Outside of Dublin. We reckon he’s been keeping a low profile; licking his wounds, 
but he’s still in you-know-who’s pay.” 
Remus nodded again. He’d known Greyback wouldn’t be vanquished so easily; he’d 
always known they would meet again, eventually. 
“The good news is,” Ferox said, learning in, “He hasn’t been recruiting - all sources 
seem to say that most of his pack have left him.” 
“Sources?” Remus looked at him, sharply. 
“Well,” Ferox grinned, “I took a little trip to the emerald isle last week.” 
“You what?!” Remus was shaken by this news. “You could have been killed!” 
“Calm down, lad,” Moody said, laying his palm on the table. “Norman here’s been on 
this case since you were a nipper. He knows what he’s doing.” 
“Ah, he’s just worried, eh Kev?” Ferox nudged him. 

156 
 Remus didn’t respond. How could he tell these two men - who were older, more 
experienced, wiser, and probably more powerful than him - that they were being idiots? It 
was completely ridiculous that even fifteen years after Lyall Lupin’s death the ministry 
continued to underestimate Greyback. Refused to learn anything from their mistakes.   
“You should have told me.” He said, finally. “I could have helped. Advised you, at 
least.” 
“I didn’t go alone, don’t worry,” Ferox smiled, “I took young Daniel with me - I mean, 
er… no, bugger, I’ve forgotten it…” 
“Danny?!” Remus balked, even more alarmed, “But…” 
“It was nothing personal,” Moody said, “You know more about them than anyone, but 
after last year, you’re just too close, too recogniseable to the pack. We couldn’t risk it.” 
“I wish you’d told me.” Remus repeated, though he knew it was getting him nowhere. 
“We’re telling you now.” 
Remus pursed his lips. Danny McKinnon! Greyback must be laughing at them; they 
just had no idea. 
“So, what, then?” He asked, knowing he was visibly irritated now. “What do you need 
from me?” 
“Well, we know he’s on the move. He left Dublin after the last full moon, without a 
trace. Him and a young female.” 
“Livia,” Remus said. 
“You know who she is?” 
“It’s most likely her,” Remus nodded, “She’s his most loyal supporter, she’ll never 
leave him.” 
“Could you give us a description? Daniel caught a scent, but we didn’t get eyes on 
her.” Ferox said, eagerly. 
Remus nodded. 
“Ok. But you need to tell me, next time--” 
“Fine, fine,” Moody shook his head impatiently, “We’ll keep you in the loop,​ where 
possible and within reason​. Now, what can you tell us about this Livia bitch?” 
Remus told them as much as he knew. He felt he was re-treading old territory, but no 
one ever listened to him anyway. He explained what Livia looked like - that was easy 
enough, she was hardly an ordinary looking witch. 
“We’ll get them lad, don’t you worry,” Ferox said as he shook Remus’s hand before 
leaving. He had completely missed the point. 
They hadn’t tracked down Castor’s pack - if they were still a pack. Moody thought 
they’d left the country, and Remus hoped so. He hoped no one ever found them again. By 
the time they were all ready to go, Remus needed a shot, never mind another pint - his back 
was twinging with every step, threatening a full on spasm. And he was in a seriously bad 
mood. 
He apparated back to London, and pushed his front door open so hard the knob 
banged against the plasterboard. 

157 
 “Fucking hell!” Sirius jumped out of his seat on the couch. 
Remus blinked at him, embarrassed. 
“Sorry. Didn’t know you were in.” 
“What happened?” 
“Bloody Moody! Bloody F
​ erox​!” Remus winced as he pulled off his jacket. 
“Does your back still hurt?” Sirius cocked his head, sympathetically. “Come here.” He 
shuffled back on the couch, pulling his knees up so that Remus could sit in front of him. 
Remus did, and closed his eyes, sighing gratefully as Sirius began to rub his shoulders 
firmly, wringing the pain out with his clever fingers. 
“What happened?” He asked, “They’re not… you don’t have to go again, do you?” 
“No,” Remus said, “No, just… I dunno, do you ever feel like everyone thinks you’re just 
some idiotic kid who doesn’t know anything?” 
“No one thinks that.” Sirius soothed. 
“I know y​ ou lot​ don’t, but… ugh. They just don’t listen to me. I know more about the 
werewolves than anyone in the Order. I’m Greyback’s prodigal son, for god’s sake!” 
“Don’t say that.” Sirius suddenly wrapped his arms around Remus’s waist, pulling him 
close and tight, as if he was about to bolt. “If Moody and Ferox keep you away from that 
monster then good.” 
Remus leaned into Sirius, and didn’t say any more. 
* * * 
Will you stay in our lovers’ story? 
If you stay, you won’t be sorry, 
‘cuz we believe in you. 
Soon you’ll grow, so take a chance 
On a couple of kooks, hung up on romancing. 
  
31st July 1980 
“Remus, wake up!” Sirius shook him hard. 
“Piss off.” Remus grunted, covering his head with the duvet, “S’the middle of the 
night.” 
“Who cares?! Come on, it’s time! Baby Prongs is on his way - or her way… their way!” 
“What?!” Remus sat bolt upright in bed, “Fuck!” 
“That’s the spirit!” Sirius cheered, “Get dressed!” 
Remus scrambled out of bed, and got dressed so fast he tripped over his trouser legs 
twice, banging his head on the dresser. 
“Ow.” He grumbled, rubbing his forehead as he joined Sirius in the living room. 
“Silly sod,” Sirius said fondly, “Lucky Marlene’ll be there, eh?” 
“I have a feeling she’ll be busy…” 

158 
 Sirius walked into the fireplace, grabbing some floo powder. Just as he was about to 
throw it down, he gave Remus a funny look, cocking his head, “Moony, your shirt’s on 
inside out. P
​ otter Manor.​” 
And with a blaze of green flame, he was gone. Remus looked down at his shirt. The 
buttons were on the inside. Damn. Ah well, he was too sleepy, and too jittery to sort it out 
now. He took a handful of floo powder and walked into the fireplace next. 
He stepped out into the Potters’ living room, which currently resembled a train station 
waiting room. Gully came scuttling through, arms piled high with blankets, and Mary, 
Peter, Sirius and Arthur Weasley were standing about, talking. 
“Remus!” Mary gave him a quick hug. “Your shirt’s inside out,” she said, smoothing a 
hand over his chest. 
“Any news?” He asked. 
“James sent a patronus for Marlene about two hours ago - she was staying at mine to 
be closer to St Mungo’s, so I came too. They’ve been upstairs ever since, I asked if there was 
anything I could do, but you know what Marls is like when she’s got a job to do…” 
“James is up there too?” Remus glanced at the ceiling nervously. He’d never say so, but 
he had an absolute horror of childbirth. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure what it 
involved, other than a lot of screaming and probably blood too. 
“D’you think they need anything?” Sirius said, wandering towards the stairs. 
“Ms McKinnon will have it all under control,” Arthur said, cheerfully, “James won’t be 
doing anything more useful than holding Lily’s hand, I promise you. Sit down lads, I’m 
afraid we’re all in for a very long wait.” 
They all did, quietly. There was a funny atmosphere - no one except Arthur had ever 
experienced this sort of worry before, and Remus was very glad he was there. Mary got up 
and drew the curtains back. It was the peak of summer, and the sun was already full in the 
sky, birds singing and the muggle milkman whistling as he made his rounds.   
“Tea, anyone?” Remus said, feeling the need to do something useful. He eyed Peter, 
who was leaning on his elbow, head nodding, “Or coffee maybe?” 
“Good man, Moony,” Sirius nodded, “I’ll help.” 
In the kitchen, they found that Gully had already laid out the things for tea, and set 
some water to boil in the big copper kettle on the hob, so Remus and Sirius only needed to 
bother with the coffee. They did this quietly, though Remus caught Sirius’s eye once or 
twice and couldn't help but smile at the boyish excitement he saw there. 
Just as they were about to bring the trays through to the living room, a door upstairs 
slammed open, and footsteps could be heard on the landing. 
“Padfoot?!” James’s voice. 
“Prongs?!” Siris ran through to the hallway, leaning over the stair bannister and 
staring upwards. Remus hurried to join him, and Peter was not far behind. 
James peered down at them, red faced, misty eyes and beaming. 
“It’s a boy!” 

159 
 Harry. That was the name they’d decided on, according to Marlene, who came down to 
gratefully accept a cup of tea and sank slowly into the couch. She had dark rings under her 
eyes, but smiled at everybody anyway. 
“Lightning fast delivery,” she murmured, sipping the milky brew slowly, “Twenty 
minutes active labour!” 
“Maybe he’ll be a chaser, like James!” Peter said, eagerly. 
“Is Lily ok?” Mary asked. 
Marlene nodded, “Of course she is. Nothing stops Evans.” 
“I’ll be off, then,” Arthur said, standing up and fastening his threadbare cloak, “I’ve 
been away from Molly and the boys too long already - I’ll let Dumbledore know the good 
news, of course.” 
They all said goodbye. Once he’d gone, Sirius went to the stairs again to look up. 
“Sirius, love,” Marlene called sharply, “Give them a bit of time alone, eh? Family 
time.” 
“Oh, ok.” He nodded, turning back to the room and leaning in the door frame. He 
stared into space for a while, and for once Remus couldn’t guess what he was thinking. 
Sirius shook his head slowly, and said, “Harry Potter,” very low. 
“It’s a nice name, I think.” Mary said, brightly. She glanced at Marlene and stifled a 
giggle, “Better than Neville, eh?” 
Marlene giggled too, guiltily, “Oh, don’t, I could barely keep a straight face when 
Frank told me.” 
Remus got up and went to stand with Sirius. He threaded their fingers together. 
“You’re a godfather,” he whispered. Sirius turned his head towards Remus, smiling, 
“Yeah,” he nodded, “... blimey, I really hope I don’t balls it up.” 
 
(Songs: Ace of Spades - Motorhead, Kooks - David Bowie) 
 
 
 
 
 

   

160 
 ONE HUNDRED & SIXTY-NINE 
The War: Autumn & Winter 1980 
 
You done too much, much too young 
You're married with a kid when you could be having fun with me 
You done too much, much too young 
Now you're married with a son when you should be having fun with me 
Don't wanna be rich, don't wanna be famous 
Ain't he cute? No he ain't. 
He's just another burden on the welfare state. 
  
Wednesday 3rd September 1980 
Whooosh - splash. 
Remus landed on his feet - just about - right in a muddy puddle in the middle of the 
high street. 
“Bugger.” He muttered, yanking his cloak up out of the way - his boots were beyond 
saving, socks already soaked through. He hadn’t realised the holes were that bad, it was 
definitely time for a new pair, he’d need to check his savings. 
It looked like it might rain later, too. Bloody p
​ erfect​. 
Remus was in a very bad mood, and wet feet were the least of it. Still, he was in 
Hogsmeade for a reason, and he knew he just had to pull his (metaphorical) socks up and 
get on with it. He wished he wasn’t alone, but even if someone had been available to come 
with him (James had the baby, Lily and Sirius were in Broadstairs on reconnaissance, 
Marlene, Peter and Mary were all working), he’d been told to come alone. As usual. 
He trudged towards the Three Broomsticks, thinking at least there would be a nice 
warm fire and maybe a nip of whisky waiting for him. He’d need it. Whenever he was 
summoned to meet someone alone, it was usually werewolf business, and that always 
required a stiff drink. He hoped it was news of Greyback rather than Castor. 
It began to spit rain as he came within sight of the pub, and he jogged a bit to save the 
rest of his clothes from damp. It was a quiet afternoon in the little scottish village - the 
students of Hogwarts would be in their lessons, the wizards who lived in town would be at 
their occupations. And very few people left the house these days, if they didn’t have to. 
The pub was nice and empty. Remus felt a stab of nostalgia as he entered, 
remembering how only two short years ago he and his friends had all sat in one of the 
booths, bright-eyed and naive, looking forward to their futures. Who could have known that 
saving the world would be such a grey, monotonous slog? 
“Remus Lupin, as I live and breathe!” Rosmerta chirped from the bar, one hand on her 
round hip, bosom overflowing as usual. She glanced hopefully over his shoulder, “Black not 
joining you?” 

161 
 Remus shook his head, and went to take a seat near the hearth, so he could at least try 
to dry out his shoes. 
“Not today, Rosmerta,” he said, trying to affect good cheer, “Could I get a glass of--” 
“Two glasses -- of butterbeer, please,” a familiar voice intoned. Remus whipped 
around, finding himself face to face with Dumbledore. 
“Oh, h-hello, professor.” Remus said, embarrassed. 
“Remus,” Dumbledore nodded politely. He never called him ‘Mr Lupin’, not since 
Remus had asked him not to, years ago. “Please, be seated,” he gestured grandly, like a vicar 
about to give a sermon. 
Remus sat. Dumbledore always made him feel eleven years old. 
“How have you been?” His old headmaster asked, kindly, gracefully taking the 
armchair opposite. He set down a heavy looking leather briefcase on the rug between them. 
Remus eyed it warily, but answered, 
“Well, thanks. You know.” 
“These are difficult times.” Dumbledore said, and Remus didn’t respond to that, 
because he wasn’t sure he was supposed to. 
Rosmerta bustled over with the butterbeers, setting them down on the little round side 
table. When she’d left, Remus lifted his tankard and drank, just for a distraction. He could 
pretend it was alcohol, maybe that would help steady him. He desperately wanted a 
cigarette, but for some reason that felt wrong in front of Dumbledore. So he just sipped the 
butterbeer, feeling the cloying syrupy mixture rest on his tongue, slide down his throat. 
“You must be wondering why I asked you here,” Dumbledore said, watching him. 
“Is it… is it… Greyback?” Remus whispered. Dumbledore smiled, 
“You needn’t worry about eavesdroppers, Remus, we are quite safe to speak freely 
here. No, alas, there have been no further reports of Greyback or the young lady he is 
travelling with.” 
“Oh.” Remus blinked. Well then what? 
“This is rather a more pressing matter - or at least, it will be, if I am correct.” 
“Right…” Remus shifted uncomfortably. He was not usually the go-to agent when it 
came to ‘pressing matters’. Dumbledore seemed to read his mind. 
“I am in need of someone with a keen eye for detail, and a good deal of patience.” He 
leaned forward and opened the briefcase a crack. Remus peered inside. 
“Books!” He said, surprised. There must be a hundred of them inside - some sort of 
extension charm perhaps. 
“Indeed,” Dumbledore smiled, closing the briefcase again. 
“So… you need some research done?” 
“I do indeed. Tell me, Remus, how much do you know about prophecy?” 
“Er… well I never took Divination,” he scratched his head. He was intrigued now, “But 
obviously it comes up a bit in Runes… I’ve read a bit.” 

162 
 “You will need to read a lot more,” Dumbledore said, gravely, “And I must impress 
upon you both the importance of this task, and the sensitivity. Anything you learn must be 
kept entirely confidential, do you understand?” 
“I… of course,” Remus nodded, slightly alarmed. “But what do you want me to look 
for?” 
“For now, we are simply seeking a fuller understanding of the nature of prophecy. 
Many of these books contain secret transcripts - some of which may need translating - of 
known prophetic and oracular statements. I should like to know if there are any which 
appear to relate to Voldemort, or to this particular moment in history.” 
“So… you think someone might have already made a prophecy? About how the war 
ends?” 
“They may have.” The professor replied, shortly. “But we cannot afford to make any 
rash decisions. While there is still time, I would like to know as much as we can.” 
Dumbledore switched between ‘I’ and ‘we’ regularly, when he spoke about the war, 
Remus noticed. Still, he thought he pretty much understood, 
“Ok.” He said, “How shall I let you know, if I find anything?” 
“I shall come to you.” Dumbledore replied, cryptically. “Once again, Remus, I cannot 
overstate the importance of this task. You must tell nobody, understood?” 
“Understood.” 
That meant not telling Sirius, or James, or any one of his friends. Sometimes Remus 
wondered if secrets were simply his lot in life. He thought for a moment, “Professor?” 
“Yes?” 
“Should I keep an eye out for prophecies that have been prevented - or--” he 
re-phrased, because he knew that was impossible, “Circumvented? I mean, I don’t know 
loads about it, but there are always loopholes, aren’t there?” 
Dumbledore’s eyes glittered, and a small smile played on his lips. 
“Very good, Remus.” 
* * * 
Friday 24th October 1980 
And that was how Remus spent much of his autumn. He studied well into October. It 
wasn’t bad at all - actually, he enjoyed it. He’d always liked research, and though he missed 
the peaceful airy chambers of Hogwarts’ library, he was pretty content squirrelled away in 
the little London flat, with endless pots of tea and a quietly smoking ashtray on hand. 
If Sirius came in, he would cast ​obfuscate​ over his books and notes, and Sirius seemed 
happy with this arrangement. He understood what needed to be done in the service of the 
war. 
Anyway, they were barely at the flat - Remus only used it to work in. They spent much 
more of their time at the Potters’ mansion, where James’s old bedroom had been turned 
into a nursery, but Sirius’s old bedroom was the same as ever, only with half of Remus’s 
things in it too. Together, the marauders and Lily had grown into a funny little family, with 
baby Harry at the centre. 

163 
 It took Remus a month or so to really get over his fear of infants - and it still made him 
a bit anxious to actually hold Harry - but Sirius had been a huge help. 
Sirius was utterly besotted with his godson. The child was barely ever out of his arms 
when they were visiting (a relief for Lily and James, who were only just bearing up under 
the pressure of parenthood combined with their duties for the Order). 
“Say Padfoot, Harry, go on! Pah-d-foo-t…” Sirius cooed one evening, as he bounced the 
tiny little green-eyed creature on his lap. 
“They don’t talk until they’re at least one,” Remus smirked, sitting gingerly on the arm 
of the couch, “I looked it up.” 
“​Normal​ kids don’t,” Sirius tossed his hair back, gently holding Harry’s chubby little 
wrists, “But Harry Potter is no ordinary baby, he’s clearly very advanced for his age. Come 
on, Harry, say P
​ ad-foot​…” 
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Lily laughed, “James’s mum told me ​he​ didn’t speak until 
eighteen months.” 
“Oi,” James yelled from his father’s study, “I was an extremely thoughtful child, that’s 
all.” 
“Oh yeah, what changed?” Sirius yelled back, grinning. 
“You’re hogging him, Padfoot!” Peter whined, reaching his arms out, “Come on, I 
haven’t had a cuddle yet,” 
“Not my fault he likes me best,” Sirius replied, poking his tongue out at Peter, and 
then at Harry, puffing out his cheeks and bulging his eyes so that the baby giggled and 
burbled contentedly. 
“I’ll give you a cuddle, Pete,” Remus teased. 
“Lily, tell him!” Peter tutted, folding his arms crossly. 
“Honestly! I’ve got one son and that’s plenty,” Lily laughed, getting up, “No fighting 
while mummy and daddy are out, ok boys?” She gave them all a very stern look. 
“You’ve been spending too much time with Molly.” Sirius said. 
“Right, I’m ready,” James came back through to the living room in his travelling cloak. 
Lily already had hers on. She gave him a stoic smile, 
“Let’s go then.” 
A cold silence entered the room, and Remus looked at the floor, because he couldn’t 
bring himself to look at any of his friends, and especially not the baby. 
Lily broke it, 
“Oh, stop being so melodramatic, you lot. It’s a standard mission, we’ve done a 
hundred of these.” She went over to Sirius and bent to kiss Harry’s head - already sprouting 
a thatch of fine black hair. “Bye bye Harry, mummy and daddy love you so much. We’ll see 
you soon.” 
James didn’t say goodbye - he had a wooden, muted expression that Remus had been 
seeing more and more of since his parents’ funeral. 
“Are you sure you can’t tell us where--” Pete started. 

164 
 “Sorry Wormy,” James held his hands up, “Moody’s orders. You know how it is.” 
Peter nodded, shoulders slumping. Remus knew how he felt - it was difficult enough 
knowing that your friends were walking into danger. It was even harder not knowing 
exactly what they would be facing - as though they were disappearing out of reach. 
“Come on,” Lily hurried her husband, pulling him from the room, “Back before 
morning, we hope!” She called from the hallway. And then the door slammed, and Harry 
burst into tears. 
“Oh bugger,” Sirius said, over the screams, “Er… have him now if you like, Pete?” 
* * * 
It took hours to finally calm Harry down. He bawled as if his heart was broken, and 
wouldn’t settle until it was nearly midnight. 
“Definitely couldn’t do this full time,” Sirius said, head in his hands as he slumped on 
the floor of the nursery. 
“Jesus, I swear the kid’s possessed.” Remus whispered, rubbing his temples. He had a 
splitting headache. 
“Shit, you should go to bed,” Sirius said, looking up at him. His usually immaculate 
silky black hair was in knots, and there was definitely still some milky baby sick stuck in 
there. Without a trace of irony, he frowned at Remus, “You must be exhausted,” 
“Oh, I’m fine,” Remus shrugged - he tried not to wince as he felt every tendon in his 
back tug. Yesterday had been a full moon. “Actually I wasn’t going to stay… you know, I’ve 
got that work to do.” 
“Oh, that.” Sirius nodded. His mouth was a straight line. He climbed to his feet, 
glancing at the red and gold cot one last time. Harry was sleeping, thank god. They both 
padded quietly out of the room, leaving it open just a crack. 
On the landing, where the lights were still on, Sirius looked even worse - he had rings 
under his eyes, which were bloodshot. Remus touch his arm gently, 
“​You​ ought to go to bed.” 
Sirius grabbed his arm, suddenly, eyes widening, 
“Moony, don’t go.” 
“Eh? I’m only going to the flat…” 
“Please?” Sirius clutched at him, half mad with tiredness, “Just take the night off, just 
stay here with me?” 
“Pete’s here…” Remus turned his head slightly. He could hear Peter snoring in the 
couch downstairs. Not much comfort, he supposed, 
“But I want you,” Sirius said, desperately. 
That struck Remus in an unusual way. To anyone else, it might have sounded 
whinging; childish. After all, Sirius was a grown man, and Remus had important work to 
do. But somehow it dislodged a feeling Remus hadn’t had for Sirius in a long time - a desire 
to protect him. To hold him close and tell him everything was going to be ok, and to be 
strong and reliable for the man he loved. 

165 
 Amazed by this revelation, Remus did exactly that, hugging Sirius tightly and kissing 
his filthy hair, 
“Ok then,” he whispered, “I’ll stay.” 
After all, he thought, as Sirius trailed off to have a shower, relief evident in his 
posture; wouldn’t Sirius do the same for him? 
* * * 
Friday 21st November 1980 
That time, Lily and James came back, as always; tired, a little harder, a little less 
bright, but otherwise perfectly ok. Remus always felt enormous relief when any of his 
friends returned safely, and each time swore to himself he would not take it for granted. But 
what does that mean, when you are young? 
There had been deaths - deaths in the Order, deaths of people he knew - but no one 
really close. No one he truly loved. The Prewetts he had been fond of. Benjy Fenwick he had 
chatted to once or twice. But they weren’t close, and their losses didn’t affect him severely. 
Compared to others, Remus had been extremely lucky. 
Of course, you never feel lucky, at the time. Good fortune is too often something that 
can only be recognised with hindsight. 
Sirius turned twenty one in November. They didn’t have a party, but Hagrid baked a 
rather wonky - though very large and very delicious - cake, which they all ate at the Order 
safe house after the regular meeting. Someone took a few photos, but Remus forgot to try 
and track them down. 
“It’s a big deal for muggles, twenty-one.” He commented as they climbed into bed that 
evening. “That’s when they come of age.” 
“Why? Muggles can’t do magic.” Sirius frowned, yawning. 
“No, I know, it’s just an old fashioned thing,” Remus tried to explain. “You get the key 
to your front door or something like that.” 
“Daft muggles.” Sirius grumbled, his eyes already closing. “I feel old.” 
“Well, you’re not,” Remus settled down beside him, “I’m the one going grey. 
Twenty-one is young. Really really young.” 
Sirius sighed wearily. 
“Doesn’t feel it.” 
Remus knew exactly what he meant, but he didn’t like it. They were all of them caught 
in a confusing place between adolescence and adulthood - baby Harry had only exacerbated 
that. There was a sense of time running out; of needing to accomplish as much as possible 
as fast as possible. Peter’s crawling at his ministry job, always angling for a better position; 
James and Lily playing house and soldiers at the same time - Remus and his stupid 
drinking. 
At least he had the research to do. That seemed to be going well - every now and then 
Dumbledore dropped by to see how he was getting on. And Remus would offload as much 
information as he could - with detail, because he knew Dumbledore liked detail. The old 

166 
man would nod sagely, stroke his beard and sit quietly, ruminating. If he came to any 
conclusions, he didn’t tell Remus. 
It felt good, though. Remus even felt himself warming to Dumbledore for the first 
time. He liked being useful. And then, just before the November full moon, Remus got his 
chance to be ​really​ useful. 
As usual, there was a message from Moody. He was to apparate to some very specific 
coordinates on Friday 21st November, and meet Ferox there. 
“Tell him no,” Sirius said, annoyed, “Bloody Moody, he knows that’s the night before 
the full moon! You shouldn’t be out running his errands when you’re not well.” 
“Jesus, you make me sound like an invalid,” Remus rolled his eyes. “I’m sure there’s a 
good reason for it. I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” 
“Send a patronus, if anything happens?” Sirius asked, solemnly. “I don’t care about 
protocol, just say you’ll let me know?” 
“It will be f​ ine​.” Remus repeated. 
He really did feel fine about it all. When the moon was waxing he often felt stronger 
than usual, and usually didn’t get bouts of nausea until a few hours before sunset. 
It was good to get out of London; away from traffic and noise and crowds. It was good 
to get away from the Potters’ - from nappies and baby talk and crying and creamed spinach. 
At the agreed time, Remus apparated following the instructions he’d been given, and found 
himself on a windy clifftop, somewhere very cold and bleak. 
The sea crashed and raged miles below, and the long grass whipped around his ankles. 
Remus breathed in, deeply, inhaling the salt, the soil, the sharp cold scent of the clouds. 
The wolf inside licked its lips, ears pricking to attention. Yes. Greyback had been here. 
“Hello!” Ferox was a way off in the distance, a stick figure man waving at him. Remus 
raised a palm in greeting, bent forward into the wind and trudged to meet him. 
“Hi,” he said, breathless as he approached, cold hands deep in his pockets, nose 
frozen. “Where are we?” 
“Galloway,” Ferox said, cheerfully. He had a thick leather cloak on, with a hood, but 
his face was still ruddy from the harsh weather, and white fog blew from his lips as he 
spoke. “Pretty, eh?” 
Remus wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or not, so he just gave a neutral smile. 
Privately he thought that yes, the landscape was beautiful, if forbidding. 
“Greyback’s been here.” He said, wanting to get down to it. 
“You know for sure?” 
“One hundred percent.” Remus nodded. Ferox nodded too, 
“Excellent, we were right, then. There was a report to the muggle police about a 
couple of tramps, man and a woman, looking shifty. Reckon they’ve been here, then?” 
Remus considered, breathing in again, 
“Yeah, but the scent’s old… maybe a day or so.” 
“Right. Shall we take a walk, then? See if it gets a bit stronger?” 

167 
 “Ok…” Remus wasn’t sure how he felt, being the Order’s bloodhound. But he wanted 
to find Greyback as much as anyone, so he did as he was told. 
They strolled up and down the clifftop for a while, until Remus could be sure which 
way the trail led. As they headed downhill, away from the sea and down towards a small 
country road, he grew confident that Livia and Greyback had been there very recently, and 
began to walk faster. Ferox had no trouble keeping up, of course; he was as fit and healthy 
as he’d ever been. 
“What will we do, if we find him?” Remus asked as they walked. He was careful not to 
bring Livia into it, because - ok, while she was definitely a killer, he couldn’t help feeling a 
bit more sympathetic towards her. After all, she was his sister, in a warped kind of way. 
“Moody reckons they’re hunkered down somewhere for the full moon,” Ferox replied, 
“Based on my research, werewolves are weakest right after the moon, so we’ll wait until 
then.” 
“Your research?” Remus gave him a funny look. 
“Few books I’ve picked up - there’s not a lot to go on, beyond the NEWT level stuff.” 
“Have you spoken to Madam Pomfrey? She looked after me for seven years, she knows 
loads,” Remus said, trying not to sound too impatient. “Or Marlene McKinnon? She’s been 
constructing her own case studies, to see if any advances can be made in lycanthropy 
treatment. Or, y’know. You could ask m
​ e​. I might know a bit.” 
Ferox laughed good naturedly, 
“All right lad, all right, I see what you’re saying. It’s just that there isn’t always time to 
follow umpteen leads on a prick like Greyback. Got to move fast.” 
Remus said nothing, because it would only have come out wrong. He really hated 
criticising Ferox, it felt so awkward and embarrassing. He’d looked up to him as an ideal 
vision of manhood, once, and he didn’t like tampering with that illusion too much. But 
honestly​. The way he talked, you’d think Greyback was just some petty criminal, not a 
murderous creature and charismatic cult leader. 
The scent had grown very strong, now, and as they crested the next hill, Remus could 
make out a large grey-black structure in the distance. The ruins of an old castle - Scotland 
was littered with them of course. This one was a tower house, and looked like a big square 
prison squatting ominously over the remains of a boggy moat. 
“There.” Remus said, stopping short. “That’s where he’ll be.” 
Ferox clapped him on the shoulder. 
“Good work, lad.” 
* * * 
Saturday 22nd November 
Ferox didn’t want Remus present for the confrontation with Greyback. Remus did not 
give a toss. He knew where to go, and when, and nothing would change his mind. 
“I’m coming too, then.” Sirius said, firmly, after he’d wheedled enough information 
out of Remus. 
“No you’re bloody not.” Remus said. 

168 
 “Am too. Sorry Moony, but there is absolutely no way I’m losing you to that monster a 
second time.” 
“You didn’t lose me last time, you big drama queen, it was a mission,” Remus 
countered, “Anyway, I can’t put you in that sort of danger.” 
“I’m in danger every day,” Sirius shrugged, “If it’s right after the full moon, you’ll need 
my help apparating.” 
“I’ve done that before,” Remus dismissed, “It’s hard, but I’ll manage. Anyway, this 
isn’t a normal mission, you wouldn’t just be backup, you’d be leverage against me. He 
knows who you are. He knows what you mean to me.” 
“He made you tell him?!” 
“Sort of. I told you they can read minds.” 
“That bastard. I’m definitely coming with you.” 
Remus had forgotten how strongly Sirius felt about legilimency. Walpurga had used it 
as a punishment, and he would forever associate mindreading with black magic. Remus 
hadn’t raised the fact that this appeared to be a werewolf trait, and that, when pushed, he 
could do it too. Probably not a good idea to mention that just yet, he decided.   
So Sirius got his way, of course, and Remus just hoped he would be able to protect 
him. 
They went to the Lake District for the full moon; a place the marauders had enjoyed 
themselves before, a place with happy memories. James and Peter didn’t go. James hadn’t 
joined them for a full moon since Harry was born, and Remus understood that he didn’t 
want to be away from his family too often. Peter said something vague about working late, 
and honestly Remus was too busy worrying about the upcoming battle with Greyback to 
question it. 
The wolf probably had a good time that night, but Remus didn’t remember much 
about it. It all got lost in the blood red haze of transformation, the choking and clawing and 
groaning as he twisted back into his human form. 
“Urrrgh!” 
“I’ve got you, Moony,” Sirius had him by the shoulders, pulling a cloak across his 
body. Remus forced his eyes open, knowing how little time there was. 
“Wand,” he croaked, getting up. Sirius handed it to him. “We’ve got to go, now,” 
Remus said, leaning on Sirius for support while he pulled his clothes on, hands shaking and 
fumbling with the buttons on his shirt and trousers. 
“We’re going, just take a breath,” Sirius said, his voice calm and firm. “Hold on to me, 
I’ll apparate us…” 
Sirius was as good as his word; he didn’t try to dissuade Remus from going, or try to 
tell him what to do. He simply got them where they needed to be. 
Ferox was there already. 
“All right, lads,” he nodded, keeping his voice low. It was still quite dark under the 
grey Galloway sky, and the grasslands were cloaked in swaths of gauzy mist, the castle ruin 

169 
rising from it black and foreboding. It was quiet, no birdsong, no noise at all. Like a place 
out of time. 
“Have you seen anything?” Remus asked, desperately. He could smell them, the scent 
was very strong. 
“Heard a bit of noise; must have been them turning back.” Ferox said. He gave Remus 
a look, “You ok, our kid? Looking a bit green about the gills.” 
“Fine,” Remus swallowed, “Fine. We should go in now.” 
“Right you are. Wands out.” Ferox straightened up and started forward, “Pity we 
couldn’t get ‘em when they were wolves, eh?” He said, with a smirk, “Those pelts fetch a 
few bob on the black market.” 
Remus felt sick, the sweat on his back turned cold. Sirius reached for his hand in the 
dark and gave it a squeeze, then tossed his head and said sharply, 
“Don’t say shit like that, it’s disgusting.” 
Ferox glanced back at him, shocked, then at Remus. He frowned, 
“Sorry lad, didn’t mean anything by it.” 
They didn’t say another word as they approached the castle. Sirius and Ferox were 
trying to be quiet, but Remus knew they may as well have been a herd of elephants sneaking 
up on Livia and Greyback, whose senses were as sharp as his, even after the full moon. Still, 
they might be slower; weaker. 
When they were up against the castle wall, Remus felt it. Greyback was waiting. The 
scent changed, and his head was filled with that dreadful growling voice, 
Hello, cub… brought me breakfast, have you? 
“He knows we’re here.” Remus whispered, frantically, “Be careful!” 
Ferox touched his brow in a sort of salute, to show he understood. Then he rounded 
the corner and entered, Remus hurrying behind, and Sirius too. Ferox had his wand raised, 
and as he stepped under the broken archway it the shadows of the ruin, he opened his 
mouth - he had planned to use the silver chain spell, to bind the werewolves and contain 
them long enough for the Auror’s to take over - but it was too late. 
Remus was only a split second behind Ferox, and saw the rock come down. He 
stiffened, then crumpled to the ground, blood oozing from the a cut at the crown of his 
head. 
“No!” Remus cried, over Greyback’s laughter as the beast of a man stepped into the 
early morning light, his face full of glee. Livia sprung out next, and lunged at Sirius, 
grabbing his wand and knocking him to the ground. 
“Oooooh, who’s this then, brother? Pretty, pretty boy…” she crowed, sitting astride 
him, holding both of Sirius’s wrists over his head as he struggled. She looked thinner, but 
was obviously as strong as ever. 
“Let him go!” Remus snarled, raising his wand, furious. Then he screamed in agony. 
Greyback grabbed his wand arm and twisted it so hard he felt the bone snap. 
“Remus!” Sirius called out. 
Remus was almost blind with pain, and Greyback laughed again, letting him go. 

170 
 “Welcome back, cub,” he purred. “How I’ve missed you…” 
“Fuck you.” Remus groaned, staring about for his wand, which he’d dropped 
somewhere. 
“Now now,” Greyback chuckled, as Remus straightened up to face him, clutching his 
broken arm to his chest. “You should be on your hands and knees after what you did to 
me.” 
“Kill him, father!” Livia cackled, “Kill the traitor Remus Lupin, just as he killed my 
brother Gaius! Then I can have the pretty one!” 
Greyback grinned at her, fondly, 
“She’s full of bright ideas, my beautiful girl.” 
Remus took the opportunity to look over Greyback’s shoulder - Ferox was moving. 
Very slowly; he was obviously hurt, but Remus saw his fist tighten around his wand. 
“Go on then!” Remus said to Greyback, gritting his teeth through the pain, “Kill me. 
Then what?” 
“Then what?!” Greyback sneered, “Then I rip apart your little human pet, that’s what. 
Then I tear him limb from fucking limb - but not before I’ve had my fun with him…” 
“You’re disgusting!” Remus shot back, stalling for time as Ferox’s eyes opened. May as 
well tell Greyback what he thought of him, while he had the chance, “You’re filth! You’re 
nothing! You talk about freedom, but you don’t have the first clue what it is! You’re nothing 
but a bully! Voldemort’s lapdog!” 
“Kill him!” Livia shrieked. 
Greyback’s face had turned demonic with rage, yellow eyes glowing, and Remus really 
thought that would be the end. He scrunched his eyes shut and braced himself. 
“What?! Argh!” Livia cried out again, and Remus heard a dog bark. 
He opened his eyes to see Livia knocked backwards by Padfoot, who was growling - 
Remus had never seen him growl before - teeth bared, frothing at the mouth. 
“Father!” Livia yelped, “Help m---” 
And with a flash of purple light, Livia was silent. Her eyes went wide, a great black 
slash had cut her throat. She clutched at her neck to stem the gushing blood, but it was no 
good, it was too late. 
Greyback gave a great roar of anguish, but Ferox was already on his feet, wand up, 
ready to cast the same curse again. Greyback was cornered. 
“You’re a dead man.” He hissed at Ferox, and then, with one final snarl, he 
disapparated. 
“Bugger!” Ferox grunted, stumbling forward, still poised to curse. 
Sirius was Sirius again, and stood beside Livia, staring down at her. Remus went over 
too, feeling an uncomfortable mix of relief and genuine sorrow. Her grey fur cloak was 
matted with blood, which looked deep purple in the dim light. It was dreadful, but his first 
concern was for Sirius, 
“Ok?” He asked, quietly. 

171 
 Sirius nodded, still looking down. “You?” 
“Think so.” His arm was throbbing, sending shooting pains up into his shoulder; but 
he knew that could be fixed. Livia could not. Ferox joined them, a hand pressed to his head 
where the rock had struck him. 
“Merlin, what a mess.” He muttered. “At least we got the bitch.” 
“Her name’s Livia.” Remus said, angrily. 
He suddenly saw the scene as a passerby might. Three men standing over her tiny 
body. 
She could have ripped each of their throats out the night before without stopping for 
breath. She was a force of nature; queen of the night; she was one of the strongest people he 
had ever met. She was one of the only people in the world who truly understood what it 
meant to be a wolf. 
Her eyes were still open, staring blindly at the broad grey sky. Remus knelt beside her, 
and gently closed them. 
 
(Song: Too Much Too Young - The Specials) 
 
 
 
 

   

172 
 ONE HUNDRED & SEVENTY 
The War: Winter 1980 & Spring 1981 
 
Well I love you baby, 
I'm telling you right here. 
But please don't make me decide baby 
Between you and a bottle of beer! 
  
Baby come on over; 
Come on over to my side. 
Well I may not live past twenty-one 
But WOO! 
What a way to die! 
  
Sirius made Remus go straight to bed after the skirmish in Galloway. Ferox summoned 
Moody to the scene, and he excused them. Remus wanted to ask about Livia’s body - were 
they planning to bury her, at least? He didn’t know if Livia had had any wishes regarding 
her final resting place, but he assumed she’d prefer to be somewhere in nature; somewhere 
moonlight could reach her. 
Marlene came over the flat on her way to work to sort out his broken arm. 
“Thanks, Marls,” he smiled weakly, “I can do dislocations no problem, but broken 
bones…” 
“You really shouldn’t be doing spells on yourself, Remus,” she chided, “You know you 
can always contact me, if you need to.” 
“I know.” 
She left a sleeping draught and some more of her own ointment for pain relief, and 
ordered him to stay in bed and do nothing useful or important for at least forty-eight hours. 
It wasn’t until the next day, when Remus woke up after two in the afternoon, that he 
was suddenly gripped with terror at the memory of Greyback’s last words. 
“He’s going to kill Ferox!” He shouted, sitting up in bed. 
Sirius came through from the living room, eyes wide with concern, 
“What?” 
“We need to find Greyback!” Remus said, climbing out of bed, limbs creaking, “He 
said he’d kill Ferox!” 
“Moony, it’s all taken care of,” Sirius said, placing cool hands on Remus’s shoulders, 
smoothing down his arms in a comforting gesture, “Ferox is going to move to a safe house, 
he’ll up his security and be extra vigilant, don’t w
​ orry​.” 

173 
 “It won’t be enough,” Remus shook his head, batting away Sirius’s attempts to calm 
him, “Moody and Ferox, they don’t treat Greyback like a proper threat - look at what 
happened! He’s more dangerous than they think, and now he’s angry…” 
“I’m sure Moody knows that, even if Ferox is a bit cavalier about it.” Sirius said. He 
was being so diplomatic; so reasonable, it was infuriating. “How are you feeling? I’ll put the 
kettle on, why don’t you have a bath? You’ll feel better…” 
Remus did take a bath, because his muscles still hurt. He slathered on a bit of poultice 
afterwards, which at least meant he could straighten up fully. He refused to rest. All he 
wanted to do was check on Ferox - make sure he had the right security in place. After all, 
wasn’t it Remus who’d been doing all the grunt work on protection charms? It was within 
his remit, surely. 
In the end, Sirius gave in and summoned Moody through the fireplace. The Auror’s 
grizzled head hovered in the flames like a hideous easter egg. 
“All in hand, Lupin,” he barked, “You can stand down.” 
“But Mad-Eye,” Remus pleaded, on his knees in front of the hearth, “Greyback will 
find him, I know he will, he’ll be able to follow the scent - if you just tell me where he is, 
then I can--” 
“Classified information.” Moody snapped. “Every precaution has been taken. You can 
trust that the Auror’s office can cope with a lone werewolf.” 
Remus’s temper rose, and he was about to retort, but Moody signed off. “No time for 
this, Lupin, it’s been a busy week. Get some rest.” 
Remus groaned furiously, slamming his fist on the rug. 
“See?” Sirius said, standing behind him, “Moody’s got it all sorted.” 
“But I need to be sure,” Remus said, climbing to his feet, “They don’t understand, not 
really, not like…” 
“Not like y​ ou​ do?” 
“Exactly!” 
“Remus,” Sirius’s voice hardened, out of nowhere, “You need to be careful with that 
kind of talk. I think… I think you ought to put a lid on the werewolf stuff, for a bit.” 
“What?” Remus turned to look at him, blindsided. “‘The werewolf stuff’!? What’s that 
supposed to mean? I ​am​ a werewolf.” 
“I know,” Sirius bit his lip, “But you’re a wizard too, and you’re on ​our​ side. It just 
might be a good idea to focus on something else, you don’t want anyone in the order to get 
the wrong end of the stick…” 
Remus gaped at Sirius as if he was a complete stranger. 
“The wrong end of the stick…?” 
“I’m not trying to upset you,” Sirius said, choosing his words carefully, “I’m only 
warning you - things are bad enough already, no one trusts anyone. Frank told me 
Dumbledore thinks there’s a spy in the Order, and if you keep bringing up how chummy 
you are with dark creatures then--” 

174 
 “I am not ‘chummy’ with dark creatures!” Remus shouted. “How can you… unless 
you’re saying ​I’m​ a dark creature too?!” 
“Of course I’m not!” Sirius returned, clearly offended, “It’s just... you k​ now​ how much 
prejudice there is, and it’s not going to do you any favours to broadcast this weird 
connection you have with them. I ​saw​ Livia, I s​ aw​ Greyback, you’re nothing like them. Don’t 
let people think you are.” 
“Has somebody said something?” Remus asked, wondering where this was coming 
from, “Was it Danny, or--” 
“No, it’s not… it’s… well, after you spent all that time with them, people have raised 
concerns, that’s all. You can understand that, can’t you?” 
“No I can’t! I was only with the pack because Dumbledore ordered it! Just like I’ve 
always done everything Dumbledore’s told me to!” 
“I know that…” Sirius looked away, as if embarrassed. 
He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. Remus knew that gesture. Sirius was 
nervous. He clenched his jaw. 
“Do ​you​ trust me?” He asked, knowing his body language was aggressive, but not 
willing to temper it. 
Sirius looked up at him, blue eyes filled with alarm. 
“Of course I do! It’s just…” His eyes fell again, another swish of hair, “You’ve always 
been good at keeping secrets, Moony…” 
Remus’s mouth dropped open. He clenched his fists, then unclenched them. 
“Fine.” He said, coldly. “If that’s how you feel.” 
He turned and walked out of the flat. Sirius didn’t try to stop him. 
Remus went to the nearest corner shop first, and bought an extremely cheap and nasty 
bottle of gin. Then the problem was where to drink it. He didn’t want to look like an alkie, 
chugging hard spirits on the street in broad daylight. But then he didn’t really have 
anywhere else to go, either. 
He considered looking for Grant, but he didn’t know if he’d be working that day. 
Grant had moved back to London early in the spring, after too many times stuck on the late 
train back to Brighton. He was living in a bedsit somewhere north - but based on the 
telephone conversations they’d had, he rarely slept there. Grant had a string of paramours, 
and if he wasn’t attending a lecture he could usually be found bed hopping - or at work, in 
the Sawyer’s Arms pub. 
“Variety is the spice of life,” he teased Remus, “And I’m crap on my own. Can’t hack 
the quiet.” 
Remus knew how that felt. A lot of the time it was the reason he drank. In the end, he 
decided he was too angry to be around anyone else, and went to hide in the park like a 
proper old waster. He ought to have gone to Grant’s, he thought, once he was properly 
drunk; that would serve Sirius right. 
He grieved for Livia, too; and made a silent toast. She’d been cruel, yes, and a 
murderer. But none of it had been her fault, really - not if you went back far enough. She’d 

175 
been taken by Greyback before she was old enough to speak; when she was Harry’s age, 
maybe. Livia had no choice but to become a killer, any more than Remus had a choice about 
his drinking. 
He went home eventually, when it got too cold. He hadn’t thought to bring a coat 
when he stormed out. Sirius was sitting on the couch, waiting for him, hands twisting 
anxiously in his lap. When Remus walked in, Sirius took one look at him, and - no doubt 
smelling the gin - shook his head, disappointed, and got up to make a pot of strong tea. 
They didn’t say much, and they never spoke about ‘werewolf stuff’ again. 
* * * 
Remus did not celebrate Christmas 1980. 
In fact, he did not see any of his friends, or Sirius, from the full moon, which fell on 
21st December, until January. He spent it hiding in Moody’s cellar, with Danny McKinnon. 
Ferox was dead. 
Not just dead; destroyed; eviscerated. Ripped to pieces. According to the Daily 
Prophet, every wall of Ferox’s house was splattered with blood. Moody said that the carpet 
was so saturated it squelched under their feet - the Aurors who’d arrived on the scene. 
Greyback had made good on his promise, just as Remus had tried to warn them. But 
he couldn’t bring himself to say ‘I told you so’. He was too angry. Angrier still, when Moody 
told him he’d need to hide from the Ministry. 
Ferox’s murder spurred the wizarding public to demand a clampdown on werewolves. 
There were too many unregistered names; laws needed to be harsher; the register ought to 
be published. It was no longer safe - two days after Ferox’s death hit the headlines, a known 
werewolf, Theodora Lupa, was attacked in her home. She was fully registered, and had 
spent the full moon locked up in the cells at the Ministry, but her innocence it meant 
nothing to the vengeful mob. 
What was more, the death eaters appeared to be using the excuse to stir up more bias 
against magical creatures - it was understood that Voldemort himself was offering a reward 
for information on the locations of any ‘half-breeds’. 
So Remus was forced to hide. 
“I’ll miss Harry’s first Christmas.” He said stupidly, as he packed his suitcase. 
“James and Lily will understand.” Sirius said. He was watching Remus from the bed, 
pale with terror. “We all just want you safe.” 
“I know.” Remus nodded. There was nothing more to say. 
They shared a chaste kiss goodbye. Things hadn’t been the same since Livia died, and 
news of Ferox’s hellish demise had turned Remus completely numb. 
Moody was not much of a host. He blindfolded Remus and made him side-along, so he 
had no idea where he was. He saw none of the house - if it was a house - but the whole place 
reeked of black magic, so heavy and thick Remus thought he’d choke on it. 
In the cellar, his blindfold was removed, and it was a sorry sight. Danny sat on one 
rickety put-up bed, and there was another pushed back against the opposite wall. There 
were no windows, and the walls were bare brick. Moody had put aside some provisions - he 

176 
explained that there were so many protection charms and cloaking spells on the cellar door 
that it took hours to enter or to leave, so it was best they just sat tight until he told them the 
coast was clear. 
Remus agreed, only because he knew that he could break the charms if he wanted. 
There was a little toilet at the back with a sink - no shower, so they’d have to do their 
best with a flannel and a bar of soap. The food was all dried stuff that didn’t need too much 
preparation, and besides that there was nothing at all. Remus was just glad he’d had the 
foresight to bring a few books. Not to mention the bottle of firewhisky he’d stashed just in 
case. 
“Hi.” Danny said, dully. 
“Hello.” Remus nodded, as Moody locked the door at the top of the stairs. 
“This is shit, isn’t it?” 
“Yeah.” Remus went over and set his suitcase beside his bed, then sat on it. It sagged 
heavily, and squeaked. A faint smell of mildew rose from it, which put him in mind of the 
Shrieking Shack. 
“Never spent a Christmas away from my family.” Danny said. “Even when I was 
touring.” 
Remus nodded, glumly. He hadn’t had Christmas without Sirius in almost ten years. 
“Couldn’t believe it when I heard about Leo Ferox. He was so… I dunno, I just really 
thought he’d make it through the war. Did you er… know him well?” 
“He was my Care of Magical Creatures professor,” Remus offered. He wasn’t quite 
sure it had sunk it yet. He didn’t really feel very much, when he thought about Ferox; only a 
blurry sort of wistfulness. 
“Oh wow,” Danny said, “Bet he was good at that.” 
“Yeah, he was,” Remus gave a small smile, “Had loads of good stories.” He suddenly 
remembered Achilles, Ferox’s kneazle - what had happened to it? He thought about 
Greyback, in full wolf form, coming across the sleek silver animal, and for the first time, his 
eyes filled with tears. 
Bugger. W
​ hy did this have to happen now ?​ He thought, as his shoulders began to shake 
and he tried to get himself under control. W
​ hy couldn’t I get emotional at the flat, when it was 
just Sirius?​ Sirius wouldn’t care if he cried. It was no good. He covered his face with his 
hands and just waited for it to stop. 
“Sorry, Remus,” Danny said, awkwardly. “I didn’t realise… he must have meant a lot to 
you.” 
That made Remus cry harder, because of course Ferox had meant a lot. He was 
Remus’s first crush (not counting David Bowie, maybe), even if Remus hadn’t fully 
understood it at the time. He was one of the first adults Remus trusted, who made him feel 
like a person with value. Maybe they’d clashed a bit, as Remus had grown up, but no one 
was perfect. 
“I’m sorry,” he coughed, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, “It’s been a bad year.” 

177 
 “You can say that again.” Danny said. “Oh, Marls says hello. You should’ve seen her 
when Moody came for me, she was all set to come along too.” 
“Really?” Remus smiled, sniffing, “That sounds like her.” 
“Yeah, she said to give you a hug and a kiss, so tell her I did, ok?” 
“Ok,” Remus laughed, feeling a bit more normal. 
They pottered about a bit in their little living space. Remus tried not to think about 
the cell at St Edmund’s, or the Shrieking Shack, or the crypt in the forest - every cage he’d 
ever been forced into. He unpacked his clothes, then, finding nowhere to put them, 
re-packed them and slid his suitcase under the bed, leaving only his pyjamas out. 
They had a little bit to eat - just some bread and cheese. Remus hadn’t eaten any meat 
since hearing about Ferox. 
“What were you going to do for Christmas, if you weren’t stuck here?” Danny asked, 
over supper. 
“Spend it at the Potters.” Remus replied, “With the new baby.” 
“Oh yeah, of course, you’re all mates, aren’t you,” Danny nodded. “Marlene talks about 
you all like you’re celebrities.” 
“Ha.” Remus grunted. “Maybe James and Lily. And Sirius.” 
Danny cleared his throat awkwardly. 
“Marls said you and he were…” 
Remus just looked back at him, holding his gaze, allowing him to feel uncomfortable. 
Danny finally looked away, “Obviously that’s fine. I’m fine with Marlene and Yaz, aren’t I?” 
Remus just shrugged, 
“It’s a bit like being a werewolf,” he said, pulling the crust off his bread, “Everyone’s 
perfectly ‘fine’ with it, as long as you never bring it up.” 
He had a few leftover cigarettes, and would have liked one after dinner, but for one 
thing, he didn’t want to share, and for another, there weren’t any windows and it seemed a 
bit rude to smoke the place out. ​God​, he thought, t​ his is going to be agony​. 
Things got even more awkward when it came time for bed. They were both yawning, 
and agreed it was quite late, and that they were tired. Remus began to take his socks off, 
and stood up to unbutton his trousers, when he realised Danny had not moved. He couldn’t 
see why he was so shy; didn’t quidditch players get undressed in front of each other all the 
time? James had been a borderline exhibitionist in the dorm room at Hogwarts. And surely 
Danny couldn’t be shy about scars; Remus had heaps more than him.   
“Close quarters.” Remus commented, hoping to put Danny more at ease. 
Danny twisted his mouth, eyes flicking up and down Remus’s height. 
“Er… Just so you know, it’s not like I’ve got a problem with it… with you. But I​ ​ don’t 
swing that way.” Danny eyed him warily. 
Remus rolled his eyes. 
“Oh, poor me, whatever will I do?” He drawled, then turned his back and got into his 
pyjamas. 

178 
 He climbed into bed and rolled onto his side, facing the wall, to prove that he couldn’t 
care less which way Danny ‘swung’. H
​ ave you s​ een ​my boyfriend?! He wanted to say. As if I’d be 
interested in you, you big lump. 
Eventually, Danny undressed and got into bed too, then flicked out the light. Remus 
could hear his heart beating, and realised that Danny could probably hear his, too. They had 
even less privacy than they thought. 
“Sorry, Remus.” Danny whispered, eventually, “I didn’t mean anything by it.” 
That echoed something Ferox had said, and Remus felt the sadness return. He rolled 
onto his back, and spoke to the ceiling, 
“It’s ok. Forgotten.” 
Quiet for a while. Remus waited, hearing Danny poised on the cusp of a question. 
“Did he always know?” Danny whispered. “Sirius?” 
“Hmm?” Remus squinted over at him. 
“You know. Did he always know you were a werewolf?” 
“Oh. Yeah - mostly. He worked it out, when we were twelve or something.” 
“And he still… I mean you still got together.” 
“Yeah.” 
“That’s good.” Danny said, sounding very earnest, “It’s nice to think… to think 
someone might be able to look past it, one day, you know?” 
“It shouldn’t be something people have to look past in order to love you.” Remus said, 
fiercely, “It’s part of who you are.” 
Danny didn’t reply. 
Things got a bit easier between them, after the first night, but they kept each other at 
a distance anyway. Remus did a lot of reading. Danny sometimes exercised, doing press ups 
or jogging on the spot. It was annoying, but Remus couldn’t blame him. 
On Christmas day, Remus couldn’t take it any more, and whipped out the bottle of fire 
whisky. They both got extremely drunk, and spent all of Boxing Day hungover. The room 
stank. 
By the 27th, they were climbing the walls. Remus had finished his books - Danny had 
even read one of them, and they’d tried to have a conversation about it, but Danny knew so 
little about muggles that he hadn’t really understood the plot. 
“How much longer can it be?!” Danny said, exasperated. It was the 31st, the last day of 
the year. “What if we’re still here for the full moon?!” 
“That’s weeks away.” Remus replied. He was lying on his back on his bed, an arm 
slung over his face. Danny snored, and kept him up all night. “Anyway, we’d be fine, best 
place for us.” 
“What if we attack each other?” 
“Well, I won’t attack you if you don’t attack me.” 
“You mean you can control it?!” 
Remus sighed. 

179 
 “Yeah. You can too. Not around humans, but other animals. Other wolves, it’s fine. 
Why’d you think they live in packs?” 
“I never really thought.” Danny said. “What was it like? The pack?” 
Remus bit his lip. Should he lie? Or did Danny deserve to know? 
“It… wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.” He said. That was the first time he’d 
admitted it. “Obviously Greyback was… but the rest of them. The ones who split off - they 
were ok. They were like family.” 
“Well.” Danny said. “I’ve got a family already.” 
That was how it went, with Danny. He wanted to know things - he wanted to learn 
from Remus, but if he heard anything that made him uncomfortable it was right back to 
self-loathing. 
Remus missed Sirius so much he swore he could feel it in his gut like hunger. He 
wanted so desperately to have someone he could really talk to; what a relief it would be to 
spend time with his best friend, to relax. I​ ’ll apologise​, he promised himself, ​I’ll never get 
angry at him again. I’ll kiss his feet and crawl over hot coals and broken glass if it’ll get things back 
the way they were. 
He didn’t want to end up like Danny. 
They were a week into the new year by the time Mad Eye finally came for them. They 
both caught his scent at once, and sat up, keenly staring at the door. They’d almost run out 
of food by then, and Remus prayed this wasn’t just a grocery delivery. He felt the charms 
being slowly undone, each layer peeling back. Finally, the door swung open, and the clunk 
of Moody’s wooden leg on the first stair. 
“All right, boys?” He called. “Ready to get back to work?” 
* * * 
Coming out of that cellar was like coming up for air. Remus felt as though all of his 
senses had been muted for weeks, and now everything was a riot of colour and noise and 
scent. 
Moody wasn’t joking about getting back to work. He took them straight to a new 
safehouse, where the rest of the order were gathering for a meeting. Remus could smell 
Sirius as soon as he got in the door, and it made him so giddy with excitement that if he’d 
had a tail it would have been wagging. He ran his fingers quickly through his greasy hair, 
and thought about how awful he must look. 
Moody led them down a corridor and - rather than going straight through to the 
kitchen, where they could hear everyone talking - veered into a small utility room, which 
had a muggle washing machine inside and a big pile of dirty towels in a basket. 
“I’m bringing you through in a minute,” he explained, “Ms McKinnon’s been 
harassing me every day for the past two weeks to have you back, and Black’s threatened me 
with every curse I’ve ever heard of,” he smirked indulgently. “So you’re out now, but I need 
you both to listen, right?” 
“Right.” They both nodded, blinking. 

180 
 “The danger hasn’t passed. You’re still under threat. I can’t have either of you leaving 
your homes without a disguise. I’d rather you didn’t leave at all.” 
“But how can we help the Order if--” 
“There’s plenty you can do,” Mad-Eye raised a hand of warning, fixing Remus with a 
hard look, “Research, communications, tracking spells, what have you. Unless you were 
enjoying your cosy little break in my cellar?” 
They both shook their heads fiercely. No. Never. 
“Right then.” Moody nodded, business-like again. “Come on, then,” he pushed the 
door open and their filed out, following him to the kitchen. It was crowded with people, 
most of whom Remus knew, and they all turned as soon as the door opened, fifty pairs of 
eyes, all wide with mistrust and worry. 
“DANNY!” A blonde blur rushed past Moody and Remus and body-slammed Danny, 
winding him. He chuckled and hugged Marlene back, 
“All right, sis?” 
“Remus?” Sirius had stood up, and was crossing the room anxiously, climbing over 
chairs and squeezing past people who had to bend and twist out of the way, snatching back 
mugs of hot tea. He had to look down as he approached, so he didn’t trip, and his hair fell in 
front of his face, swaths of black silk. 
As he reached Remus, who was still standing half in the hallway, Sirius had to raise his 
arm and sweep his hair back, and Remus swore the room went completely silent for a 
moment, and the only sound was the frantic thudding of his own heart. He forgot to 
breathe, and gasped, 
“Hi.” 
Sirius smiled a little, and stepped forward, a hand on Remus’s shoulder to push him 
out of the room, into the dark hallway. Away from everyone else, Sirius slid his hand up 
Remus’s neck, into his hair, and kissed him on the lips - so beautifully. 
* * * 
Spring 1981 
The honeymoon period after Remus’s hiding lasted well into February. Both of them 
were so apologetic, and so grateful to be together again, that for a while everything was 
wonderful - they were like teenagers again. Especially because Remus wasn’t supposed to 
leave the flat, which meant that there really wasn’t a lot else to do. 
Sirius popped over to check on James and Lily and the baby every now and then, and 
he still had missions to go on - but he always rushed back to Remus as soon as he could. 
They spent days and evenings lounging in bed together, eating beans on toast and smoking 
and playing records. It was like living on a private island - they’d even had to cut off the 
floo connection for safety’s sake. 
Luckily, Remus was allowed to keep the telephone, his lifeline, and the others came 
over when they could. Mary visited on her way back from work at least twice a week, to 
avoid her noisy family. 

181 
 “It's bliss, over here,” she smiled, sinking into the couch and closing her eyes. “If you 
had a telly I’d never leave.” 
“Ha, I’m working on it, trust me.” Remus replied. “Is it really bad at yours? Do you 
want to stay over a few nights?” 
“Nah,” she opened her eyes, “I want to be with my family. They keep me normal. It's 
just… you know, they don’t know anything about the war - I don't w
​ ant​ them to know, but… 
it’s so hard.” 
“Sorry, love.” Remus said, wistfully. “Want a drink?” 
Mary gave him one of her long, gentle looks, tilting her head. 
“No, Remus,” she touched his knee, “It's never a good idea to drink when you feel like 
this. It doesn’t make things better, does it?” 
Remus just shrugged. He didn’t see what the big deal was. Mary just smiled again, and 
took a sip of her tea, and continued as if nothing had happened. 
“Anyway, I can always pop to Darren’s if I need a break from the kids.” 
“Darren? That kid you were going out with in fourth year?” 
“Well remembered,” she laughed, “Yeah, he still lives across the hall. I go over 
sometimes, we’re friends.” 
“Just friends?” Remus raised an eyebrow. Mary looked down, suddenly sad. 
“Yeah. That's all it can be, right now. He's a muggle, I’m in the Order… I’m already 
putting my family at so much risk, I couldn't bear if…” 
She shook her head, her face resolute. “Sorry! I’m supposed to be here keeping you 
company, not bringing you down!” 
She still didn’t want to drink after that, but they had a nice long chat anyway. In 
hindsight, Remus would be glad that Mary was there that night, and that she stopped him 
getting drunk. Because that was the night James got hurt. 
 
(Song: What a Way to Die - The Pleasure Seekers) 
 
 
 

182 
 ONE HUNDRED & SEVENTY-ONE 
The War: Triage 
 
Police and thieves in the streets (oh yeah) 
Scaring the nation with their guns and ammunition, 
Police and thieves in the street (oh yeah) 
Fighting the nation with their guns and ammunition. 
  
From genesis to revelation, 
The next generation will be, hear me 
From genesis to revelation, 
The next generation will be, hear me, 
  
And all the crowd come in, day by day 
And no one stops it in anyway 
All the peacemaker, turn war officer 
Hear what I say. 
  
While Mary and Remus sat on the cosy couch in the little Soho flat, curtains drawn 
over the dark windows, fireplace crackling, Sirius, Lily and James were in mortal peril. 
This passed for a normal Friday night, in those days. By now everyone had developed a 
fatalistic attitude to life, and a kind of gallows humour. “See you, later,” Sirius would say, 
leaving the house, “If I make it.” 
“Meet you at home,” James would tell Lily, “If it’s still there!” 
It helped everyone get through it, at the time - after all, if you said the worst thing out 
loud, it couldn't hurt as much, could it? The thought tortured Remus for a long time after 
the war was over. 
They were only supposed to be on a routine patrol - in Diagon Alley, which made 
Remus feel better because it was so close by. There were three of them, and they would be 
checking in with a senior Order member at the start and finish, so it should have been 
business as usual. In fact, Mary was about to leave Remus and go home for the night - when 
there was a hammering on the door. 
They both jumped, and Mary let out a strange squeak of terror. Then the door began to 
open, and they both stood, wands raised, Remus covering as much of Mary as he could. 
“Help!” A muffled voice came, and Sirius and Lily pushed their way into the flat, 
James’s limp form sagging between them, an arm over each of their shoulders. 
“Christ!” Remus started forward to help, and between them all they got him onto the 
couch. “What happened?!” 
“Remus,” Mary choked, her wand still raised, hand trembling, “The questions…” 

183 
 “Right, fuck, ok, um…” His mind was racing, he couldn’t stop staring at James’s face, 
pallid and waxy, gleaming with sweat. He looked at Lily, “What did… um.. Who…?” 
“Lily, who was your first kiss?” Mary stepped in, quickly. 
“Dirk Cresswell.” Lily said, promptly. Sirius and Remus both gave her a funny look, 
but there was no time to make a fuss. 
“Sirius,” Mary said, redirecting her wand, “Same question.” 
“I don't know!” Sirius said, exasperated, pulling away James’s robes - there wasn’t any 
blood, but James’s eyes were closed, the lids deep purple, “One of you go and get 
McKinnon!” 
“What do you mean you don’t know?!” Mary rounded on him, “Answer the bloody 
question, Black!” 
“I can’t, I really don’t know! It was some muggle girl in a cinema! Moony, tell her!” 
“He’s telling the truth,” Remus said, his throat dry, “He is, we got into a fight over it. I 
punched him.” 
“Punched you back,” Sirius muttered, scanning James with his wand. “Get Marlene?! 
Please!” 
“I’ll do it,” Mary said, backing out of the room, quickly. The door slammed and they 
heard a *CRACK* as she disapparated from the landing. 
Lily came hurrying in from the bathroom, clutching a damp flannel. She knelt beside 
James and pressed it to his forehead, 
“Don’t you dare, Potter,” she whispered feverishly into his ear, “Don’t you bloody 
dare…” 
“What happened?” Remus grabbed Sirius’s shoulder, “An attack?” 
“Yeah,” Sirius nodded, sweating and shaking. Remus wished he would sit down, but 
he knew there was no point saying so, “Ambush. Six death eaters. Someone must have 
known we’d be there, someone must have told… ” 
“Sirius!” Lily shrieked, “Look!” 
She had loosened James’s shirt, and revealed long green coloured streaks, like tree 
branches stretching out beneath his skin. His breathing was shallow. 
“Oh fuck,” Sirius crumbled, falling to his knees beside Lily, “Did you hear what the 
curse was?” 
Lily shook her head, tears streaking down her face. James’s breathing grew laboured, 
rasping in his throat, and he was limp as a rag doll. 
Remus’s heart began to rattle in his chest, his vision swam and his knees went weak. 
Not James! He was the very best of them. He was the one who had to make it, no matter 
what. How could there be a world without James Potter? You might as well picture a world 
without kindness, or laughter, or mischief. 
“Firewhisky.” Remus said, suddenly, “I’ve got a bottle somewhere.” 
“Not ​now​, Moony!” Sirius snapped, his face jagged as a demon’s. Remus recoiled, hurt, 
“I meant for Prongs! It might help the shock.” 

184 
 “Try it!” Lily wailed, lifting the cold flannel on James’s forehead to feel his skin. 
Remus could tell from a metre away that he had a temperature. “Try anything!” 
Remus ran, and while he was in the kitchen looking for a wooden spoon (he’d heard 
that metal was bad for someone having a fit - they could hurt their teeth. James wasn’t 
seizing, but better to be safe), Mary returned with Marlene. The whole atmosphere 
changed. 
“Out of my way, please!” Marlene’s crystal clear voice rang out, its inherent common 
sense authority restoring order at once. 
Relieved, Remus came through clutching the firewhisky. Lily was crying harder now, 
standing back to let Marlene work. Sirius had his arms around her, eyes never leaving 
James’s face, which was starting to turn a deathly shade of grey. 
“Marls,” Sirius said urgently, “Please… please…” 
“I’m doing my best, Black!” Marlene barked, turning to open her bag. Remus caught 
the flushed look of terror in her face, the shimmer of tears in her eyes. This was bad. 
It was as if they were all holding their breath. Mary was still in her coat, pressed 
against the door. 
“Is there someone else I can get?” She asked, her voice hoarse. “Tell me, I’ll go 
anywhere.” 
“I don't know,” Marlene said trembling. “There's no one safe at St Mungo’s, and I 
don’t know if anyone else in the Order is… Emmeline, maybe, but she's in Hungary or 
somewhere…” 
“You can do it though, Marls?” Lily said, desperately, “You can heal him?” 
“I don’t know, I… What was the curse?” 
“We don’t know,” Sirius said, “It was wordless.” 
“What about a bezoar?” Mary asked. 
“That’s for poison,” Sirius shot back. “He was cursed.” 
“Yeah, but still, isn’t it worth a try?” 
“I don’t have one anyway!” Marlene let out a sob. She was really crying, now, her hands 
hovering over James’s body, shaking. 
His breathing was coming slower and slower, Remus could still hear his heart beating, 
but that was getting weaker; a long syrupy ‘thwump’. They had to do something. 
“Can you describe the curse?” He asked, brain ticking. 
“It was wordless!” Sirius repeated, impatiently. 
“No, but could you ​describe​ it?” Remus persisted, firmly. “A light? Colour? A smell?” 
“I’m not like you, Remus, I’m not…” Sirius ran his fingers through his hair, frowning, 
“Blue.” Lily said, sniffing, “There was a blue light, wasn’t there Sirius?” 
“Yeah!” He nodded, lighting up, “It was blue, and kind of… Jagged? Short, like a dart.” 
“Yes,” Lily wiped her eyes, looking at Remus as if he was her saviour, “It was like 
arrows being fired at us; blue arrows.” 

185 
 “Ok,” Remus nodded, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. He had never heard of 
a curse that did that. “Ok, so… blue… er…” 
“Remus!” Mary cried, “Blue, isn’t that explosive charms?” 
“Yeah,” he jumped on it, eagerly, then frowned, “But he hasn’t…” He looked down at 
James. He was completely intact - just incredibly weak. 
“Maybe they combined it with something?” Lily said, straightening up, folding her 
arms across her body and putting on her war face. “Magical alchemy, you boys do that all 
the time.” 
“Or it could have been a mistake,” Sirius said, leaning in, his eyes finally focussing 
properly, “That happens all the time too.” 
“Yeah!” Remus agreed, “The death eater might have just really wanted to use a lot of 
force, that can come out explosive sometimes… oh! Did you have shield charms up?” 
“We did,” Lily nodded, the lines in her forehead deepening, “But James - his had just 
dropped, just for a split second, he was trying to…” she looked down. 
“He was trying to protect me.” Sirius said, very low. “Last thing he did was disarm that 
fucking Crouch kid, he was about to get me with an unforgivable.” 
Remus blinked with shock, and then shoved that feeling down, down as far as it would 
go, because he needed to deal with ​James​ now. 
“Ok,” he swallowed. “Ok, so what if whoever hit James was just a bit slow? Tried to 
get through the shield charm just the second it went down.” 
“That makes sense,” Lily said, her face bright with tears and sweat and hope, “That 
accounts for the short bursts!” 
“Ok, great!” Remus looked down at Marlene, who was staring at him eyes as big as 
saucers. 
“What do I do, Remus?” She said, her voice very small - as if they were back in the 
library at Hogwarts and she didn’t understand a transfiguration principle. 
“I… how would that hit him?” Remus asked, agitated - he didn’t know what to do! ​She 
was the one with two years training as a Healer! “What would it do?! Think!” 
“I’m trying!” Marlene said, still shaking. 
Remus wanted to take her by the shoulders and ​really​ shake her - she had to get herself 
together! This was James! He had a family, and a baby, and Sirius needed him, and ​Remus 
needed him, they all did! Marlene just kept staring at them all, frozen. 
“Marls,” Mary came over, quickly, squatting down next to her friend. She did take 
Marlene by the shoulders - but she didn’t shake her. She hugged her, and stroked her hair. 
“Sweetheart,” she whispered into the silent room, “You can do this. You're the cleverest 
person I know. If anyone knows what to do, it’s you. Ok?” 
Marlene shut her eyes for a moment, and breathed in, deeply. She opened them and 
nodded, 
“Right.” She said, turning back to James. “It would have been hard, right in the chest… 
it would have... yes! Yes, it d
​ oes​ make sense!” 

186 
 She began to mutter to herself, and then moved her wand, a warm, soft lilac glow 
emanating from the point, pooling over James’ prone body, sinking in slowly, like foam. 
They all held their breath once more, while Marlene worked. Sirius was holding Lily’s 
hand, and Remus could see her knuckles turn white as she gripped him back. Mary stayed 
by Marlene’s side, kneeling on the rug beside the couch, her head bent as if praying. 
Remus just clutched his bottle of whisky and felt as though the world was falling out 
from under him. There was nothing to do but watch and wait, listen to Marlene’s steady 
muttering, and try to keep perspective. 
The magic she was using had a sweet, fresh scent, like cut grass, or budding leaves. 
The smell of springtime, of regeneration. That was a good sign, Remus thought. He wished 
he had learnt more from the werewolves - their healing techniques had been flawless. But 
maybe that only worked on other werewolves? 
James’s breathing was getting steadier, his heart rate a bit stronger. W
​ oosh - woosh - 
woosh​ - Remus could hear his blood pumping faster already. 
“It’s working!” He said, going a bit closer to hear better. “You’re doing it, Marlene!” 
“Oh thank you,” Lily said, covering her eyes with her hands, “Thank you, thank you…” 
Marlene stopped muttering and felt James’s pulse. She sighed with relief and nodded, 
“Stable.” She said. Then, looking up, “Might as well give him a bit of that whisky, 
Remus.” 
After they’d got a bit of that down him, Marlene gave James a strengthening potion. 
He was getting a bit of colour back, by then, and his chest was rising and falling evenly. 
They were out of the woods. Still, Marlene didn’t want him moved, not until he’d regained 
consciousness. 
“He can stay here,” Remus said, “Of course he can. It’s safe, isn’t it, Padfoot?” 
Sirius was watching Remus, across the room. He was thinking, Remus could tell - he 
had his problem-face on. For some reason, it made Remus go cold. “Padfoot?” 
“Yeah…” Sirius said, slowly, “But we thought Diagon Alley was safe enough.” 
“Well, he’s here now,” Lily said, getting up from James’s side. “He’s staying. I have to 
go home - Peter’s looking after Harry, he must be so worried! I’ll be right back…” 
“Someone should go and get Dumbledore.” Sirius said, abruptly. 
“What for?” Mary asked. 
“Just… he ought to know we were attacked. He ought to know somebody told the death 
eaters where we’d be.” 
“Sirius!” Mary stared at him, her mouth open, “Are you saying… someone in the 
Order?!” 
Sirius nodded. He didn’t look at Remus again. 
“I’ll go!” Remus offered. 
“No!” Sirius said. “You can’t, you… you need to stay here. It’s not safe for werewolves.” 

187 
 “It doesn’t seem to be safe for anyone!” Marlene retorted, standing up, wiping her 
forehead. “You go, Sirius, since it’s so important. Remus, Mary and I can stay and look after 
James.” 
Sirius looked at James, and then at Remus - not his face, though, just his general 
direction. 
“Ok,” he said. “I’ll be really quick.” And headed out the door. 
The three women looked at Remus awkwardly. Lily came over to squeeze his shoulder, 
and said gently, 
“He’s just upset, love. He blames himself for what happened - James was trying to save 
him when he got hit. Don’t take it personally, eh?” 
“I know,” Remus raised his chin, manfully, squashing down all of the bitter, rotten 
emotions, “It’s fine. We’re all in shock. It’s fine.” 
“I’ve got to go,” Lily said again, “Harry.” 
“I’ll come with you,” Mary said, “We should go everywhere in pairs. That’s what 
Moody would say.” 
They both left, and Remus tried not to think about the fact that Sirius had vanished 
into the night completely alone. 
Marlene had collected herself by now, and was bustling about making James 
comfortable, 
“I should have told Lily to bring him some pyjamas… maybe she will anyway,” she said, 
“Have you got a pillow and some blankets for him, Remus?” 
“Yeah, ‘course.” Remus nodded, hurrying to the bedroom, coming back with five 
blankets and two pillows (they were the only pillows they had, actually; he’d taken them 
right off the bed). 
Marlene was checking James’s pulse again when he came back. 
“Is he ok?!” 
“Yes,” Marlene nodded, “Still steady. I was just checking…” 
They made up a bed on the couch around him. Remus took his shoes off, but they 
decided to wait until Lily was back to undress him. He looked as though he was just 
sleeping. Remus smiled, 
“I’ve never heard James be so quiet for so long,” he commented, hoping to lighten the 
mood a bit. 
“Ha.” Marlene said, then burst into tears again. 
“Hey hey hey!” Remus pulled her to him, “It’s over now! Please don’t cry…” 
“I’m - sorry - I’m - just - so - scared -” Marlene sobbed, choking on every breath, “I let 
- everyone - down!” 
“No you didn’t!” Remus felt horribly guilt for shouting at her, “You did an amazing 
job!” 
“Only - because - you lot - helped…” 
“Well, obviously,” he kissed the top of her head, “That’s what friends are for.” 

188 
 * * * 
Lily and Mary returned first. Lily cradling Harry in her arms - who was sleeping, 
mercifully. She went straight to James’s side once more. 
“I brought some of Effie’s potions,” She said, harried, “Have a look, Marlene, there 
might be something useful…” 
“I don’t want to dose him up too much,” Marlene said, carefully. “Rest and observation 
is the best thing now, I promise.” She had washed her face and had a nip of whisky, and was 
considerably calmer now. 
“Did you see Wormtail?” Remus asked. 
“Yeah,” Mary said, taking Harry from Lily, so that she could focus on James. “He was 
really upset - he wanted to go home and check on his mum. Can’t blame him.” 
“No, of course.” Remus agreed. He’d want his mother, too, if he had one. 
He made a strong pot of tea, and everyone took a cup, but nobody drank any. Marlene 
and Lily poured over James , undressing him and tucking him into bed, plumping up his 
pillow, while Mary gently rocked Harry in her arms. Remus watched the three of them - like 
saintly maidens in a church altarpiece - and felt completely useless. 
“Could we move him to the bed?” He said, annoyed he’d only just thought of it, “Then 
you can sleep next to him, Lily.” 
“Better not for now,” Marlene advised. 
“Right, then I’ll make you up a bed here…” he tried to remember some transfiguration 
charms - though conjuring furniture was usually something Sirius was better at. 
“Don’t worry, Remus, I’m not going to sleep.” Lily smiled, tiredly. 
“I don't think any of us will.” Mary said. “I phoned mum. All right if I stay here too, 
love?” 
“Of course.” He nodded. And of course Marlene wouldn’t be going anywhere until she 
was certain James was going to make a full recovery. 
In the end, they agreed they’d sleep in shifts, and take the bed two at a time. None of 
them wanted to go first, of course, and they all settled in for a very long night. Remus 
leaned against the mantlepiece, listening to James’s heart beating across the room. He kept 
picturing his friend suddenly sitting up, grinning at them all; ​Alright you lot? Bloody hell, who 
died?! 
Finally, Sirius returned with Dumbledore, and any peace they had managed to reclaim 
was shattered. 
“I need to know everything.” The old headmaster said, his face severe, eyes burning 
like the blue centre of a flame. 
Sirius and Lily began talking. They explained how everything had been routine - 
standard; boring, if anything. They’d done a sweep of Diagon Alley, even Knockturn Alley, 
and found everything perfectly safe and secure. 
Then they’d left, via the Leaky Cauldron exit, and had decided to walk to the check-in 
point, as it was a nice evening, and not too far. They were supposed to meet Dorcas 

189 
Meadowes in a muggle café on Tottenham Court Road - but they’d been ambushed before 
reaching it. 
“You couldn’t have been followed?” Dumbledore asked, looking at them both. They 
shook their heads. 
“We made sure,” Lily said. “They weren’t behind us, they were ahead - they were 
waiting​ for us.” 
“Shit, someone ought to tell Dorcas…” Sirius said, suddenly, “After James got… we had 
to get out fast, there wasn’t time.” 
“It would not have mattered,” Dumbledore waved a hand, “Dorcas Meadowes is dead.” 
The room fell silent. Harry woke up and started to cry. Lily took him from Mary at 
once, clutching her son close to her chest. 
Sirius spoke first. 
“I'm right, aren't I?” He looked Dumbledore directly in the face, “There’s a spy in the 
Order.” 
 
(Song: Police & Thieves - The Clash) 
 
 
 
 

   

190 
 ONE HUNDRED & SEVENTY-TWO 
The War: Summer 1981 
 
Once I had a love and it was a gas, 
Soon turned out; had a heart of glass. 
Seemed like the real thing, only to find, 
Much of mistrust, love's gone behind. 
  
Once I had a love and it was divine, 
Soon found out I was losin' my mind 
It seemed like the real thing but I was so blind, 
Much of mistrust, love's gone behind. 
  
James recovered - slowly. He was moved back to the Potter house the next day (waking 
up groggy, unable to say very much, quickly falling back to sleep), but Dumbledore declared 
this a temporary solution. He told Lily to prepare to leave at a moment’s notice. 
After months of being regarded as junior members of the Order, the marauders and 
their friends suddenly had all eyes on them. 
At the next Order meeting, which James insisted on attending despite his weakened 
state, there were definitely whispers. 
Seven kids - three of them wealthy heirs to pureblood houses, two muggle born, a 
werewolf, a novice Healer - what made them so special? Could they be trusted? They had 
survived the war so far, against all the odds. Were they just lucky, or was there something 
more to it? Who ​were​ these kids, who had escaped six death eaters and somehow reversed 
an almost incomprensible curse? 
The had gathered in a small cottage, somewhere in the Peak District. It was a small 
living room, but the Order was small by then. 
At the end of the regular meeting - which had really become more of a remembrance 
service for people they’d lost since the last time they’d met - Dumbledore asked Lily and 
James to stay behind while everyone else headed home. In turn, James asked Remus, Sirius 
and Peter to stay. 
“Are you sure?” Sirius whispered, urgently, “After everything that’s happened…?” 
“--After everything that’s happened I want my best friends nearby.” James replied. 
Remus felt a swell of pride at that - to James, good sportsmanship extended to every 
element of his life. To mistrust the people he loved would be highly dishonourable. 
Sirius folded his arms, but didn’t argue. 
James sat in a chintz armchair, his back straight, his face set. He looked perfectly 
healthy, unless you really knew him. His cheeks were more hollow, his skin paler, and - 
though everyone was pretending they hadn’t noticed - his jet black hair now had a few 

191 
threads of grey. Lily had brought a blanket to lay over his lap, but he kept pushing it off, 
irritably. 
“I’m fine,” he muttered under his breath. “Leave me be!” 
“There’s no need to be like that!” Lily hissed back. She was looking a lot paler, too, her 
tired face lined with worry. Remus had never seen Lily and James snap at each other before. 
It felt horrible. 
Harry was fussing, flailing his arms and making a face. Lily was taking no chances 
now - they went everywhere as a family, or nowhere at all. 
“Shh,” she jiggled him on her hip, “Quiet now, Mummy and Daddy are busy...” 
“Give him here,” Sirius held out his arms, “We’ll have a little play, won’t we Harry?” 
He lifted the little boy up, and Harry squirmed and giggled delightedly. 
He wasn’t saying many words yet - ‘Da-da’, ‘Ma-ma’, ‘No!’ and, for some reason, ‘bike!’ 
were about the extent of it. But he knew his godfather. Remus wondered if it was the smell 
of old leather. His own experiences with Harry were hit and miss. They got on ok until the 
kid started crying - and Remus was no good at pretend play, like Sirius was. 
The pair settled down on the living room floor, Sirius with his legs splayed out, Harry 
between them. Sirius pulled a little toy train out of one of his jacket pockets, and Harry 
began pushing it across the bumpy rug, burbling happily to himself. Sirius beamed at him. 
He was so good with children. Remus felt a weird sense of dissonance - did Sirius want kids 
of his own, one day? They’d never discussed it, and Remus had never had the slightest 
interest. He didn’t feel qualified to be a parent, and he wasn’t sure he ever would. 
Maybe it was that, then. Maybe that was why Sirius was acting so strangely? 
Remus’s private worries were interrupted then, by Dumbledore, who cleared his 
throat, commanding everyone’s attention. 
“We have reason to believe,” he said, quite calmly, “That Voldemort’s focus has 
changed.” 
Everyone looked up, even Sirius. 
“We’ve received some information that the Dark Lord has become aware of a prophecy 
that was made early last year, which seemed to refer directly to him.” 
“A prophecy?” Peter leaned forward, “What prophecy? What did it say?” 
“It is better that we share only the most pertinent details,” Dumbledore said sharply, 
“Particularly in mixed company.” 
Everyone looked around the room. Remus felt a bit queasy - he did not consider the 
people congregated to be ‘mixed company’. They were his friends; his comrades, and the 
people he trusted with his life. He tried to catch Sirius’s eye, hoping for some reassurance, 
but Sirius quickly looked away. 
“So he’s changed his focus,” James said, breaking the discomforting quiet, “What does 
he want now?” 
“In short, Mr Potter,” Dumbledore said, directly, “He wants you. Or rather, your son.” 

192 
 Lily let out a horrible gasp, her hand flying to her mouth. James gripped the arms of 
his chair. Peter had an odd sort of nervous spasm. Sirius gathered Harry up and stood at 
once, “​What​?!” 
“I am sorry,” Dumbledore said, steadily, “But I have it on very good authority--” 
“​Who’s​ authority?” Lily asked, sounding strangled. 
“That I cannot say. I will not place anyone else in danger.” 
“There’s a spy, then,” Peter said, wringing his hands anxiously, “On their side, I 
mean?” 
“I cannot say.” Dumbledore repeated. 
“Well you’d better say ​something​ useful!” James returned, almost shouting, “What do 
you mean my son?! How can Voldemort even ​know​ about Harry?!” 
“We can’t trust anybody.” Sirius said, quietly. 
James turned to look at him, a look of pure disbelief. Inwardly Remus was relieved. 
James trusted his friends - of course he did. Sirius was being paranoid. 
“But why Harry?!” Lily asked, shrilly. 
“Voldemort believes that Harry will one day grow up to defeat him.” 
“Is that what the prophecy said?” 
Dumbledore inclined his head slightly, as if considering this. 
“It is what Voldemort believes.” He said, eventually. “And that is the same thing.” 
“You’ll have to hide,” Sirius said, talking directly to James now,“All three of you. 
There have to be more charms - stronger magic we haven’t tried yet - we’ll send you to 
bloody Timbuktu if we have to!” 
“Padfoot,” James said, raising a hand, “Calm down.” 
“I will not!” Sirius shouted, red in the face. For a weird split-second, Remus didn’t 
recognise him at all. 
Harry started crying, reaching for his mother. Lily took him and cuddled him close, 
kissing his fine black hair and whispering soothing nonsense. 
“Sirius is right,” Dumbledore said, still infuriatingly calm, “You will have to hide. 
Plans are already in motion.” 
“How soon can we go?” James asked. “Today?” 
“Soon.” Dumbledore said. “I will come for you.” 
“Ok.” James nodded. “Ok. Right. Good.” 
“You will all remain vigilant, I trust,” Dumbledore continued, beginning his closing 
address. He looked at each of them, as if to impress the gravity of the situation. When he 
met Remus’s eyes, Remus made sure to stare back, and tried to transmit an aura of 
reliability and strength. Dumbledore gave the briefest of nods, before moving on to Peter. 
“And none of you will share this information with anyone outside of this room.” 
They all nodded. Remus’s head was spinning - if Lily and James went into hiding, what 
did that mean? Would they be stuck in Moody’s cellar, like he’d been? He dearly hoped not, 
he wouldn’t wish that on anybody, least of all his best friends and their baby. 

193 
 Once Dumbledore had left, they walked out of the cottage, into the thick amber 
evening sunlight, and looked at each other again. Harry had fallen asleep by now, nestled in 
Lily’s robes, one chubby hand fisting her long red plait. 
“You’d better all come over for dinner,” James said, with a strained smile. “Just in case 
we don’t get another chance.” 
A lump developed in Remus’s throat, and lodged there for the rest of the night. 
Still, they had a nice time. Gully the house elf prepared a full Sunday roast at short 
notice - glorious roast beef, golden roast potatoes and fluffy yorkshire pudding, two kinds 
of stuffing, mouth-watering rich dark gravy, carrots, parsnips, peas, broccoli… Remus 
hadn’t eaten on that scale since Hogwarts. 
Before they began, James raised his glass to toast, 
“To our friends,” he said, shooting a slightly pointed glance at Sirius, “Who’ve always 
been there for us, through thick and thin - Lily, Harry and I love you all so much.” 
Remus had to excuse himself after draining his glass. He spent a few minutes 
composing himself in the downstairs loo. When he came out, and returned to the table, 
Sirius was watching him again, his eyes narrow, his mouth an inscrutable straight line. 
* * * 
Wednesday 10th June 1981 
Two days later, Sirius disappeared in the night. He must have crept away deliberately, 
because Remus didn’t even realise until he woke up the next morning, and rolled into the 
cold empty pillow. He sat up, confused. 
“Sirius?” He called to the rest of the flat. It was empty. 
He got up and went to the living room, and checked the kitchen - sometimes they left 
each other notes. There was nothing. But Sirius’s shoes were gone, and the keys to the bike, 
so he must have left of his own free will, at least. 
Remus sat at the kitchen table and waited, chain smoking. He wanted to contact 
someone, but there wasn’t anyone who he was sure he could trust - Sirius’s conspiracy 
theorising was starting to get to him. 
Finally, the front door clicked open, and Sirius’s familiar footfall could be heard 
entering the flat. Remus almost got up and ran to meet him - but he had been treating 
Sirius with kid gloves ever since James’s attack. 
“Moony?” 
“In here.” 
“Oh, hello,” Sirius stood in the kitchen doorway. He looked flushed - he must have 
been on the bike. “All right?” 
“Where have you been? I was worried!” 
“Sorry.” He pulled a face and came to sit down at the table too. Remus watched him. 
He seemed happy. His hair smelled of the countryside, and he was sweating a bit through 
his black t-shirt - it was gearing up to be a very warm summer. He picked up the cigarette 
packet, took one out with his teeth and snapped his fingers to light it. 
Remus waited patiently. 

194 
 “It happened,” Sirius said, finally, his face shining strangely, pearlescent in the weak 
light of morning. “They’re hidden.” 
“Lily and James?” Remus squinted, scratching his head, “How?” 
“Dumbledore sorted it all.” 
Why didn’t you take me with you?​ Remus wanted to ask, before scolding himself for 
having such a selfish thought. That wasn't the important bit. “Is it safe? I gave James a 
whole scroll of security charms to use, did he--” 
“They won’t need any of that,” Sirius waved a hand. He seemed weirdly triumphant, as 
if he had just bested Remus at a game of chess. “Dumbledore came up with something 
better.” 
“What?” 
“The fidelius charm.” 
“The…” Remus frowned. He vaguely remembered having read about that… something 
to do with implanting a secret into another person. It was powerful stuff, he knew that 
much. No one would be able to break it, except the secret keeper themselves. “Well, that’ll 
do it, I suppose.” He said. “But wouldn’t they need someone to put the secret i​ n​?… is it 
Dumbledore?” 
“He volunteered,” Sirius said. “But in the end, we thought it was better if it was one of 
us.” 
“One of us..?” It dawned on Remus all of a sudden, as if Sirius had dumped a bucket of 
ice over his head. “No.” Remus said, shaking his head. 
Sirius was staring at him intensely, his eyes dark blue and more serious than they had 
ever been. Remus wanted to hit him. Shake him. Wring his neck. Anything to get some 
sense in his stupid thick skull. “ N
​ o​.” He said again. “It’s too dangerous!” 
“Moony…” Sirius started, 
“Don’t you ‘Moony’ me!” Remus said sharply, standing up. He had to pace; had to 
move, just to keep up with his thoughts. “It’s stupid! It’s the stupidest idea you’ve ever 
had!” 
“It’s not m
​ y​ idea--” 
“Don’t tell me you didn’t volunteer!” Remus rounded on him, furious, “Don’t tell me 
you didn’t jump at the chance!” 
“To help my best friends?! To help ​Harry​?! Of course I did!” Sirius was shouting too, 
and it was awful. 
“Find someone else!” Remus begged, “Anyone! I​ ’ll​ do it!” 
“You can’t.” Sirius shook his head, “It has to be me, you know it does.” 
“No!” 
“You can’t just keep saying ‘no’. It’s done. It’s dealt with.” 
Remus really thought he was going to hit Sirius for a moment. Hit him, or burst into 
tears like a child. He did neither. He sat down, hard, and covered his face with his hands. 
“You bastard.” He muttered. 

195 
 “It’s going to be ok. I’ve made sure.” Sirius said, reaching out to him. Remus batted his 
hand away. 
“You just did it?! Without even telling me?” 
“I’m telling you now!” 
Remus glared at him. He was going to say something he regretted, in a minute. If he 
didn’t leave, he was going to say something he could never take back. He swallowed his 
rage, stood up, and walked out of the flat. 
* * * 
Friday 24th July 1981 
So it was done. After that argument, everything happened very quickly. There were no 
goodbyes, Lily, James and Harry simply vanished without a trace. Remus knew better than 
to ask where they were - he wanted them to be safe, after all. And he wanted Sirius to be 
safe. 
The Order was told that the Potters had gone into hiding; that Voldemort was after 
them because of Lily’s blood status, and her marriage to James. 
“It’s awful, not trusting anyone, isn’t it?” Peter said as they left that meeting. 
“Yeah.” Remus agreed glumly. 
“It’s necessary.” Sirius said. “And if I knew who the spy was, I’d kill them myself. I 
wouldn’t even need magic.” 
Peter and Remus stared at him, shocked. 
“Sirius,” Remus said, putting a hand on is shoulder, “We can’t start acting like death 
eaters - James wouldn’t want--” 
“James doesn’t want his child to be murdered by a lunatic on a power trip!” Sirius 
ranted, jerking away from Remus’s touch, “You’ve gone soft, Moony.” 
If I have​, Remus thought to himself, i​ t’s because of you​. No one fell in love with a hard 
heart; he’d learnt that lesson more than once. 
Still, as dreadfully as Sirius was acting, Remus was inclined to make some allowances. 
It was a very difficult time - the darkest point in the war - and everyone was handling the 
pressure differently. Peter and Marlene threw themselves into work - they were rarely seen 
not rushing to one place or another. Mary seemed to withdraw into the muggle world more 
- she was always around when you needed her, but her mind often seemed to be in two 
places. Remus had his drinking and his self-pity. So if Sirius wanted to be the angry one for 
a bit, fine. 
But it was still a war - war does not make allowances, or give anyone time to catch 
their breath. It is relentless and unforgiving, and unimaginably cruel. 
It was only a week or so before Harry’s first birthday. Sirius had just got in from 
Diagon Alley - he’d gone in search of something appropriate for a one year old, and instead 
returned with an actual broomstick. 
“Sirius!” 
“Oh come on, Moony, it’s only little!” 
“He’s a baby!” 

196 
 “Got to train him young if he’s ever going to play for England!” 
Remus laughed indulgently, and sipped his tea while he watched Sirius wrap the toy. 
He hadn’t seen him so happy in a while, and it was so nice. Then it happened. 
There was a strange scent, first, which only Remus picked up. Familiar and friendly, 
magical. Then, in a flash of bright light, an enormous silver patronus burst through the 
wall. It was a lioness, and it prowled the room, snarling, 
“Fucking hell!” Sirius leapt up, backing away. 
The huge cat looked at them both with plaintive eyes, and opened its mouth. The 
scream with emanated from it was bone-chilling, and all too familiar. It was Mary. 
“Help!” It wailed, “Hollyhock House!” 
And then it vanished. 
“That’s the McKinnon’s address.” Remus said, getting up to put his shoes on. 
“Where are you going?” Sirius asked. 
“To help Mary!” Remus said, impatiently, fumbling with his laces, “Come on!” 
“Moony, no,” Sirius said, “We can’t, we have to follow protocol, contact Moody, or 
Arthur, or FRank, or--” 
“Fuck protocol!” Remus shouted, “It’s Mary! She asked for help and I’m going. Stay 
here if you want.” 
Of course Sirius didn’t stay. 
They arrived outside Hollyhock House maybe ten minutes after getting Mary’s 
patronus. Neither of them had ever been to Marlene’s home before, though she’d described 
it a few times. It was a lovely old tudor style cottage, located a few miles outside of a village 
in Sussex. There was a long garden path, with a border of bright pansies and geraniums - 
red, purple, yellow, pink. The front door was painted a soft dusky green, and if you craned 
your neck you could just make out the tops of three quidditch hoops in the back garden. 
It might have been pretty, anyway. But not today. 
Mary was standing at the top of the path by the roadside, frozen, staring blankly up at 
the blue sky. The dark mark hung over the yellow thatched roof; an enormous black cloud, 
the unmistakable shapes of skull and snake. 
“No!” Remus gasped. Mary turned to him with tears in her eyes, 
“They’re all dead.” She said. 
“Are you sure?” Sirius said, taking a few steps up the path, wand raised. 
“Yes.” She said, “Yes, they’re all lined up very neatly.” 
“What?” He looked back at her, frowning. 
“Lined up… in a row…” she repeated. She swayed for a moment, and Remus put his 
arms around her, in case she was going to faint. She leaned into him, weeping silently. 
“Stay with her.” Sirius said, continuing up the path. Remus began to tremble. It was 
like a nightmare; like a horror film. He watched Sirius approach the door, push it open, call 
inside. 

197 
 “We were supposed to meet for lunch today, but she never came,” Mary whispered 
against Remus’s shoulder, still clinging to him, “I thought she was just busy at the 
hospital… I tried to find her after work, but they said she’d never gone in… so I came here 
and I…” 
“It’s ok,” Remus said, because what else do you say? 
“The mark was there, and the door was open, and… oh god, Remus! All of them! Her 
mum, and her stepdad, and Yaz, and Danny… just lying there! Oh my god, their eyes!” She 
began to sob in earnest, and Remus held her tighter, feeling his insides turn to water. 
Sirius came out of the house. Even at a distance, Remus could see the look of horror on 
his face. He made his way quickly towards them. 
“I’m going to get Moody,” he said. “I’ll be back as soon as possible, ok? ...don’t go in 
there.” 
And with that, he disappeared with a loud *CRACK*. 
“That’s it.” Mary cried, hysterical, “It’s over, I can’t do this anymore!” 
 
(Song: Heart of Glass - Blondie) 
 

   

198 
 ONE HUNDRED & SEVENTY-THREE 
The War: Autumn 1981 
 
I loved the words you wrote to me 
But that was bloody yesterday. 
I can't survive on what you send 
Every time you need a friend. 
  
I saw two shooting stars last night 
I wished on them - but they were only satellites 
Is it wrong to wish on space hardware? 
I wish, I wish, I wish you'd care. 
  
I don't want to change the world 
I'm not looking for a new England 
I'm just looking for another girl. 
  
Nobody knew who had killed the McKinnons, and nobody knew why. There were 
theories, of course; the most logical being that with Danny and Marlene in the Order, they 
were simply an obvious target. Some people wondered if it was because of Marlene’s 
connection to James and Lily - because she’d healed James. Others thought she’d made too 
much fuss about werewolf rights at work. 
In the end, none of it mattered, not to Remus. Why try to make sense out of something 
so senseless? 
Due to Danny’s previous celebrity status, the murders were front page news. There 
was a huge picture of him in the Daily Prophet, from his Cannons days - broad, sunny face, 
robes billowing. No scars. A smaller picture of Marlene which must have been taken for 
work, because she was in her uniform.​ Promising young Healer, Mylene McKinnon​ according 
to the misspelt caption. 
Yasmin was not mentioned at all, though Sirius told Remus they were found lying 
beside each other, and their fingers were still touching. 
“Remember in third year,” Sirius said, in the days that followed, “We all thought you 
two fancied each other.” 
“Yeah.” Remus replied, monotone. 
“She was a better beater than me. Wish I’d told her.” 
“She knew.” Remus said, with a sad smirk. 
Mary was not heard from for a long while. Marlene’s death hit her harder than anyone 
- they had been practically inseparable since they were eleven. Remus remembered how 
annoying he used to find them, before he figured out that girls were just people too. 

199 
 He remembered her quiet patience, her bouts of fiery passion. The petition to remove 
the Whomping Willow when she was just thirteen, because someone had been hurt, and 
Marlene could never stand to see anyone hurt, not if there was something she could do 
about it. If any one of them had it in them to change the world, it had been her. But no 
more. 
* * * 
Another September rolled around, and as always, Remus was reminded of his 
childhood, and Hogwarts. The scent of parchment, new ink, leather book bags and sealing 
wax. A sense of fresh beginnings; of change. How can it have been a full decade since he 
first arrived at King’s Cross, scrawny and angry and neglected? 
So much had changed since then. He had become a man. He had learnt more than he 
ever thought possible, achieved things he had never dreamed of - his horizons had been 
expanded again and again, by education, and magic, and friendship, and love. He wasn’t 
completely different, of course. Remus didn’t kid himself; his temper hadn’t really gone 
anywhere, nor had his proclivity to repress bad feelings, only to lash out when things got 
too much. 
But he thought he’d been doing ​better​ , at least with the people he loved. At least with 
Sirius. He had opened up and revealed more of himself to Sirius than to anyone else. He had 
shared feelings which every instinct told him to keep hidden. It hadn’t always been easy - 
they had fought, they had shouted, they had cried. But it had been ​worth​ it. 
At least, Remus thought it had. 
He wasn’t so sure about Sirius. Maybe it was the toll of the war - too many deaths, too 
many near misses. Maybe it was the separation from James. Maybe Remus had just tested 
his patience one too many times. He couldn’t put his finger on it. All Remus knew was that 
something was very, very wrong. 
It was mid-September by the time he really realised it had happened. Sirius had 
slipped away from him. They were often apart - Remus had come to see this as a fact of life; 
their skills were so different, they had different jobs to do. It was nothing, in service of the 
war. They were glad to do it, and proud to do it. 
But after some weeks, Remus came to see that this distance was something else, ​more 
than just the usual stress. Sirius had pulled back. 
“Miss you.” Remus said, one night. It had taken all day to raise the courage for those 
two stupid words. 
“I’m right here.” Sirius smiled tiredly, sitting across the table, picking at dinner with 
his fork. 
Then, after a while, he spoke again; “It’ll all be over soon. We have to trust 
Dumbledore, that's all.” 
Remus could have wept. 
“But ​you’re​ the only one I trust.” 
Sirius just looked at him, sadly. Remus couldn’t bear that look, it made him feel stupid 
for being in love. Stupid for caring about anything other than winning the war. 

200 
 Finally Sirius got up. He picked up his plate and dumped the contents in the bin. 
“Got to go.” He said. “Moody wants me to check in. Be back late, don’t stay up 
waiting.” 
He didn’t kiss him goodbye. 
Remus was at a loss. Once again, he found himself with a problem that was almost 
unspeakable. He couldn’t ask James or Lily - even if he knew how to reach them, they had 
plenty to worry about on their own. Peter had never been very keen to hear about anything 
to do with Remus and Sirius’s relationship, and though he was a good mate - one of 
Remus’s b​ est​ mates - they didn’t really confide in each other like that. Marlene might have 
helped, but Remus didn’t want to think about it. And of course, Mary’s grief didn’t leave 
much room for romantic advice. 
Deep down, Remus knew that he ought to ask Sirius outright. Except. 
Except he was terrified of the answer. He was terrified that it wasn’t about the war, or 
James or growing up. He was terrified that the problem was him. What if Sirius had just 
fallen out of love? 
This anxiety worried away at Remus as the nights drew in and the days turned colder. 
It all seemed to make a horrible kind of sense; the distance, the unwillingness to talk, the 
lack of affection, their non-existent sex life. And that look. The look Sirius kept levelling at 
him - as if Remus was a stranger. 
It was intolerable. Remus didn’t know if he could cope with another loss. 
So, in early October, when Moody had an assignment for him, Remus was hopeful. 
Mad-eye took him aside at the end of an Order meeting, 
“We’ve had eyes on the pack.” he grunted. 
“Greyback?” 
“Don’t think so. The insurgents, we reckon. They’re hiding out in a forest in 
Germany.” 
“Oh,” Remus said, surprised. Was it Castor? “Have they attacked someone?” 
“No, been keeping their heads down, by the looks of things.” 
“That’s good, isn’t it?” Remus said, “We ought to just leave them alone.” 
“Trust me, lad, I’d prefer to,” Moody replied, with a wry smile, “But desperate times 
call for desperate measures. We’re sending you out.” 
“To do what? They left Greyback - they left Voldemort. Wasn’t that the plan?” 
“It was. Two years ago. We’ve lost a lot of good people since then. Notice how cosy 
these meetings are getting?” 
It was true. The first Order meeting Remus had attended had been overwhelming - the 
room was packed with witches and wizards ready to fight; to take on the death eaters. Now 
there were too many missing faces - the McKinnons and the Potters, the Prewetts, old 
Darius Barebones, Dorcas, Caradoc Dearborn, Benjy Fenwick, Ferox… 
“So…” Remus thought hard, “Now you want to recruit the werewolves?” 
“Bingo.” 

201 
 “After years of legislating against them? After forcing them out of jobs? Out of their 
homes​?!” Remus knew he was being rude - no one spoke to Alastor Moody like that - but he 
was too tired, too battle-weary to care. 
Moody didn’t seem fazed. Remus supposed he got a lot worse abuse from much scarier 
wizards. 
“We know it’s a bit of a big ask. But as I said, desperate times.” 
“And is there anything I can offer them in return for, y’know, their lives?!” 
“Voldemort’s worse.” Moody returned, “Whatever their lives are now, Voldemort will 
only make them worse.” 
Remus sighed heavily. “Fine.” 
He was ready to go, anyway. He was ready for a change; ready to get out of London, 
out of his miserable life and back to being useful. He even entertained the idea that a long 
absence might help the Sirius situation. Didn’t absence make the heart grow fonder? 
It might be a relief; some breathing space, some time to think. He tested this theory, 
in his last conversation with Sirius. 
“You’ll be glad to have a few weeks off, eh?” He smiled - which took every bit of his 
strength. 
“Hm?” Sirius frowned, looking up from some blueprints he’d been scanning. He 
looked annoyed at the interruption, and Remus felt a horrible tearing inside his chest. 
“What did you say?” 
“I said you’ll be glad to be rid of me, for a bit.” Remus continued, bravely. “Have me 
out of the way.” 
“Why would you say it like that?” Sirius stared at him, blankly. 
“Like what? I just meant… you know, you can have some time to think.” 
“There’s no time to think, not until the war’s over.” Sirius snapped, returning to his 
blueprints, “It’ll be the same whether you’re here or not.” 
That was all Remus could take. He picked up his wand and a packet of cigarettes and 
left for Germany with only the briefest of goodbyes - as if he was only popping to the shops. 
He fumed, as he walked to the portkey location. That prick! Give him two weeks on his 
own, then he’d see; then he’d realise what a dickhead he was being. 
Remus would come back, fresh and wild from the forests, and Sirius would be so sorry, 
so affectionate, and there would be time to talk and mend, and fall in love again. 
That was all they needed; a bit more time. 
* * * 
Tuesday, 13 October 1981 
Remus was right, too. At least for himself, he did feel much better once he’d left the 
country. It was so much easier not to think about Sirius - or anything at all in the wizarding 
world - while he was hidden away in the velvety depths of the Black Forest. 
He chose to arrive the afternoon before the full moon - best to approach the pack as a 
wolf. 

202 
 The transformation was quick - the woods around him were teaming with life and 
ancient magic, amplifying the razor sharp power of the full moon. The night itself was as 
familiar and terrifying as his wolf pelt. The pack found him, close to dawn. They welcomed 
him home with glee, and gathered around, throwing back their necks to howl gorgeously up 
at the night sky, until the stars rang with their singing. 
As they all returned to human form, Remus writhed back into life amongst a scrum of 
other bodies, and Castor’s hands on him, already healing his wounds. 
“It is good to see you, Remus Lupin.” 
They all walked slowly through the trees as the butter yellow October light filtered 
down onto the leaf litter. 
In the time the pack had been living there, they had constructed a small village of 
wattle huts to live in. They all curled up to sleep on soft dry moss with birdsong trilling 
overhead. 
Remus woke up without knots in his shoulders, and without his jaw clenched. He was 
relaxed for the first time in months. Castor lay beside him, so warm, and so peaceful, his 
soft brown skin pressing against Remus’s in places. Remembering his humanity, Remus 
pulled away, slightly. Castor’s eyes opened, and peered into his. 
“Are you well, Remus Lupin?” 
“Yes, fine thanks.” He rubbed his eyes. Castor kept watching him. 
“You are suffering.” He said. A statement, not a question. 
“I’ve lost some people.” Remus said, “We’re losing the war.” 
“Yes,” Castor agreed. “And you have come to ask for our help, is that not so, Remus 
Lupin?” 
“I know it's not a small thing…” 
“We will stay here. This is our home.” 
“You understand I wouldn’t ask unless the situation was desperate. You understand… 
Voldemort won’t spare werewolves, either?” 
“We do.” Castor said, simply. “And we are agreed. We will stay here. We will hide - we 
are good at it.” 
“I found you.” 
“Yes, Remus Lupin. You will always be welcome.” 
Remus sat up, and reached for the wolfskin cloak at his feet, covering himself with it. 
“Well that's that, then.” He said. “I’d better get back.” 
Castor reached up and placed a hand on his arm. 
“Stay a while, Remus Lupin. We have so much to show you. Perhaps then you will see.” 
So Remus stayed. He thought that if he spent a bit of time with them, as before, he 
might be able to talk to them, change somebody’s mind. Most of them had wizarding family 
back in the UK, he had to be able to appeal to them, surely. 

203 
 He couldn’t go back to the Order without trying - everyone else was giving their whole 
selves to the fight, and this was, after all, his purpose. If he couldn’t be a decent emissary to 
the werewolves, then what good was he at all? 
Still, it wasn’t a difficult decision to make. It was no great sacrifice. He had nothing to 
go back to except a very difficult conversation with Sirius. 
And he ​did​ talk to them. Over the three weeks Remus spent with the werewolves in 
October 1981, he spoke to each and every one of them. He reasoned, he sermonised, he 
ranted. But it was no use at all; they were all happy. Not in a mad, deluded ‘everything is 
perfect’ way, as some of the Greyback followers had been. But in a practical, empowered 
way - they saw a future for themselves, they saw a way to live a life free from cruelty or 
intervention. It wasn’t for everyone - it definitely wasn’t for Remus - but he couldn’t deny 
they were making it work. 
In fact, as time went on, Remus lost track of who was doing the persuading. Everyone 
was so keen to take him hunting, to show him how to weave wood, or cast protective spells 
which made them almost invisible to humans. He was never hungry, or cold, or in fear for 
his life. 
“Do you see now?” Castor asked one evening, as Halloween approached. 
“Yes, I see.” Remus replied, staring up at the thatched ceiling. “You’d all rather hide, 
like cowards.” 
“You do not believe that, Remus Lupin.” Castor smirked, settling down to sleep. He 
occasionally demonstrated actual emotion, now that he and Remus were so close. 
Remus had elected to keep sharing a hut with him. He didn’t like sleeping alone, and it 
wasn’t as if anything was ​going on​, it just made sense. He had to stay close to the leader, it 
was what anyone would do. And yes, it was an intense relationship, but that simply ​didn’t 
mean​ it was anything to do with sex. That was simply how things were, with the 
werewolves, everything was motivated by scent and instinct and the phases of the moon. 
Still, Remus knew how it would look. He didn’t kid himself that Sirius was going to 
suddenly have a change of heart and come racing desperately to Germany to find him, but 
Remus knew that it was pretty wrong, even without a chance of getting caught. It was 
pathetic, too. He scolded himself about it, through the long dark nights; ​you’re a ridiculous 
excuse for a man. A few weeks feeling ignored and you’re cosying up to the next good looking bloke 
who shows you any interest. And you haven’t even got the balls to do anything about it. 
In the end it was his desire for Castor that told him he needed to leave. And his love 
for Sirius. Remus had done some very drastic and very stupid things in his life, but he was 
not going to run away to live in a forest just to escape talking to the love of his life. He 
would go home, and he would force himself to confront it. He would do everything he could 
to keep Sirius, because deep down, he knew that it was the only thing that really mattered. 
* * * 
2nd November 1981 
The portkey had closed, and Remus couldn’t get in touch with anyone. He had to get 
himself back to Britain alone, apparating part of the way, hitching lifts the rest. 

204 
 By the time Remus had staggered his way into London, he hadn’t even the energy to 
apparate. He got a bus instead, and fell asleep half the way to Leicester Square. He got off 
and stopped at his usual corner shop for a pouch of tobacco. He bought two Mars bars as 
well - if Sirius was in, he could have one. If not then tough luck, Remus would scoff them 
both. 
As he unlocked his front door, he could hear the phone ringing. It took him a few 
moments to get in - the wooden frame had swollen with all the rainfall, and the door got 
gummed up sometimes - but when he got in, it was still ringing. M
​ ust be urgent​, he thought, 
absent-mindedly. 
He shouted, “Padfoot? You in?” as he crossed the the room, then lifted the receiver, 
“Hello?” 
“Hello? Hello, Remus, is that you?” 
“Mary? Hi! I just got back - where the hell is everybody?!” 
There was a strange silence on the end of the phone, and a horrible static prickle ran 
down his spine. “Mary?!” 
“You haven’t heard…” 
“Jesus Christ, Mary, what?!” 
“Remus… something awful has happened.” 
She started explaining, and Remus fell to his knees as the whole world began to fall 
apart. 
 
(Song: A New England - Billy Bragg) 
 
 
 
 
 

   

205 
 ONE HUNDRED & SEVENTY-FOUR 
Armistice  
 
He who endured my hardships with me 
He now has gone to the fate that awaits mankind 
Day and night, I have wept for him 
I would not give him over for burial 
For what if he had risen at my cries? 
Six days and seven nights I waited 
Until a worm crawled out of his nose 
Since he has gone 
There is no life left for me. 
 
James died first. Remus ought to have expected that. He would have been waiting 
right at the front door; it would never even cross his mind to hide, or run. 
Then Lily, standing in front of her son. Remus pictured her defiant face, her hands 
gripping the sides of the cot, her green eyes blazing. She would have met death with her 
eyes wide open, that was certain. 
And then Peter, next. Oh Peter, the idiot - the brave, ridiculous idiot. He must have 
heard about James and Lily, he must have known a
​ t once​ who was to blame. After all those 
years in James and Sirius’s shadow, Peter’s first instinct had been to face Black himself. 
He’d inadvertently led Aurors right to Sirius, so his brutal death hadn’t been 
completely in vain. 
Right to Sirius. 
And there was the block. Like a curtain falling across the scene, Remus’s mind 
wouldn’t touch Sirius. He couldn’t get there; couldn’t picture any of it. He supposed that 
was his brain’s way of protecting him. It hurt enough just knowing the bare facts. 
Mary came over as soon as she’d hung up the phone. She was the only person he could 
have tolerated, anyway, and god; she was so strong. He lay his head in her lap, and she 
stroked his hair like a mother. 
“Sirius,” he wept, over and over, clinging to her skirt, “Sirius!” 
“I know,” she whispered back, tears streaming down her cheeks, dripping into his 
hair. “I know, I know...” 
She’d brought a sleeping draught with her, and Remus drank it all down greedily, 
eager for escape. While he slept, Mary packed up all of Sirius’s things. All of his clothes, his 
records, his books. When Remus got up, the flat seemed almost empty. 
“I had Darren move them down to the garage,” she explained. “You don’t need to 
touch any of it until you’re ready. The bike’s gone, I don’t know where.” 

206 
 “He must have taken it.” Remus said, feeling numb. He was already wondering how 
much alcohol he had in the flat, and whether or not he ought to wait for Mary to leave 
before he started working his way through it. 
“Remus… I have to go, now.” She said, gently, standing up, hugging herself. She looked 
small. Mary had always been a larger than life sort of girl, but Remus realised that she could 
barely be 5’5. 
“Yes, of course.” He murmured. There was definitely some gin under the sink in the 
kitchen. 
“I’ll be gone for a while,” she said. “I’m going… Darren’s taking me to Jamaica, to stay 
with family. I need some time away, I don’t know when I’ll be back.” 
“Oh.” He looked her in the eye, properly. She wasn’t wearing any makeup - he hadn’t 
seen Mary without eyeliner and lipstick since she was twelve. 
“Is there… can someone stop by, to see you? I don’t mind making a phone call for 
you?” 
“It’s fine.” He said, “Don’t worry about me.” 
“But I will.” She said, smiling half-heartedly. “Are you sure I can’t contact anyone?” 
“There’s no one.” He said. I​ ’ve got no one. 
“Perhaps speak to Moody? Or Arthur?” 
“Yeah, good idea.” Remus nodded. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, but he didn’t 
want her to worry. “Do you know… What are we supposed to do, now?” 
“I don’t know.” 
“Have you spoken to Dumbledore?” 
“Ha.” Mary snorted, “Good luck getting hold of him. Too busy being congratulated by 
the ministry. He’ll probably be at the… the memorial service.” 
Remus felt as if an ice cold blade was twisting in his gut. This couldn’t be real. 
“Why us.” He said, looking up at her, desperate for answers, “Out of everyone. Why is 
it you and me left, and not Lily and James? Who decided that?! It’s bollocks!” 
“I know, sweetheart.” She said, softly. “I know.” 
He couldn’t wait any longer, he went to the kitchen and grabbed the nearest open 
bottle from the cupboard. Gin, leftover from some party or other. He didn’t pour a glass, 
just drank. 
“Remus,” Mary said, chewing her lip, watching him from the living room, “I really do 
have to go… do you promise you’ll get in touch with Arthur?” 
“Yeah.” He nodded. He just wanted her to leave, now. “See ya.” 
“Goodbye, love. I’ll be back, I promise.” 
And she left. And Remus was alone. 
 
(Poem: The Epic of Gilgamesh) 

   

207 
 ONE HUNDRED & SEVENTY-FIVE 
1982 
 
Times at a distance, times without touch, 
Greed forms the habit of asking to much, 
Followed at bedtime by builders and bells, 
Wait 'til the doldrums which nothing dispels. 
  
Idly, mentally, doubtful and dread - 
Who runs with the beans shall go stale with the bread. 
Let me lie fallow in dormant dismay 
Tell me tomorrow, don't bother today. 
  
Fucking ada! Fucking ada! 
Fucking ada! Fucking ada! 
  
Tried like a good 'un, did it all wrong 
Thought that the hard way was taking to long 
To late for regret or chemical change; 
Yesterday's targets have gone out of range. 
  
Failure enfolds me with clammy green arms, 
Damn the excursions and blast the alarms, 
For the rest of what's natural I'll lay on the ground; 
Tell me tomorrow if I'm still around. 
  
FUCKING ADA, FUCKING ADA! 
 
New Years Day 1982 
THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD 
Someone was banging on the door. 
They’d been doing it for a while now, and showed no sign of stopping. If anything, it 
was getting worse. 
Remus opened his eyes. His throat was dry and his head hurt. Actually, everything 
hurt; he’d been sleeping on the couch for weeks. Or months? Who cared. It was 
uncomfortable, but he couldn’t bring himself to enter the bedroom. Most nights he was too 
drunk to move anyway. Most days he was too drunk. He didn’t have hangovers anymore, 

208 
just breaks between bottles. The kid next door didn’t mind running down to the off licence 
every other day for him, he was probably making a killing in spare change. 
The banging continued. 
“Remus?!” The muffled sound came through the door, and whoever was on the other 
side kept hammering away, 
“Fuck off,” he shouted, his throat raw as sandpaper. 
He reached for the nearest bottle on the floor beneath him and swigged from it. He 
nearly choked on the burning whisky, but managed to get most of it down, thank god. He 
couldn’t afford to waste one drop of oblivion. 
“Remus? Let me in!” 
It was Grant. He recognised the voice now - maybe the scent too, but his senses had 
been a mess, ever since… ​no, no no no…​. 
He curled up, burying his head in the sofa cushions. He couldn’t talk to anyone. He 
couldn’t see anyone. He just needed to be left, to drink and to forget. ​Please​. 
“Fuck off!” He sobbed, yelling at the door, “Leave me alone!” 
“No!” Grant shouted back, and the banging got louder still, a relentless, resounding 
thud-thud-thud. He was actually trying to break the door down, the stupid prat. 
Remus half considered just casting a silencing spell. But he wasn’t sure where his 
wand was. He rolled over again, and got up. 
There were bottles and cans all over the floor, and they clinked and rustled as he 
waded through. His arms and legs felt like lead. What day was it? It was cold. He rubbed his 
arms as he approached the door, shuddering against the chill. He’d left a window open 
somewhere in the flat and forgotten to shut it. Oh well. 
The door was still being thumped as he reached it, the wood would splinter if he 
wasn’t careful. 
“What?!” He yanked the door open. 
Grant stared at him, fist still raised, wide eyed. His cheeks were pink from shouting, 
he was breathing heavily. He looked Remus up and down. 
“Jesus christ.” He said, rudely pushing his way in, “What happened? I’ve been trying 
to ring ya for days, what’s wrong with the phone?” 
“Off the hook.” Remus said, slowly returning to his nest on the couch, where at least it 
was warm. He curled his cold feet under himself and picked up the bottle again. 
“The fuck’s been going on here?” Grant looked around at the mess. He looked at 
Remus again, “...gawd, ‘e ain’t left you, has ‘e?” 
Remus stared up at him, and he couldn’t help it. He began to cry. He leaned forward 
on his knees, dropping his head into his hands, and he bawled like a child. 
“Shit,” Grant hurried over to sit next to him, not minding the empty cans, the smelly 
cushions and blankets, “Me and my big mouth! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean…” he pulled Remus 
to him without a thought, and it must have been awful, because Remus knew he hadn't 
washed in ages, all he’d done was drink and cry for days and days and days, but Grant held 
him fast. 

209 
 “They’re all gone.” Remus said, when he could speak. “I’m alone.” 
“Bollocks.” Said Grant. “You’re not alone.” 
Remus cried even harder. 
* * * 
Not a single day went by – and not one day would ever go by, for many years – that he 
did not think of Sirius and suffer. It was an abstract and cruel torture, and Remus resigned 
himself to a life of utter misery. 
Everywhere he looked he was haunted by thoughts and memories of his friends, of the 
things they could never do, and the things he had not done in time. He attended the funeral 
- a joint one for Lily and James, followed by a memorial for Peter. Remus sat at the back, 
and left before the wake, in case anyone tried to speak to him. 
He was terrified that someone might ask him about Sirius - might ask him what he 
knew. Or tell him something he didn’t want to know. So Remus did not stay to reminisce, 
or ‘celebrate’ his friends’ lives, (honestly, what a despicable idea). He went home alone, and 
got drunk. He got drunk every day for weeks. 
He stayed at the flat in Soho – he had no choice in the matter; no money, no family. No 
friends. 
The Order disbanded and those who still had lives worth living didn’t want to know 
him. He couldn’t find any work in the wizarding world and – never having felt at home in it 
anyway – chose to withdraw. 
After learning about the fate of the Longbottoms in the Daily Prophet, he stopped 
reading the papers. He did not re-connect to the floo network, he did not use magic at all 
unless he really had to. He never went to Diagon Alley, and for all intents and purposes 
lived as a muggle. 
Mary sent postcards from Jamaica, from Trinidad, from Saint Lucia - she seemed to 
have family all over the Caribbean. She kept saying sorry. Remus didn’t know what for; 
they’d both lost the same things. At least she cared enough to get in touch. 
Dumbledore actually did try to contact him a couple of times, but Remus deliberately 
made himself difficult to reach. He was furious at the old man, who as far as Remus was 
concerned had never lifted a finger to help. Who had thrust them all into the war, young as 
they were, and stupid as they were, and who watched them die one by one without so much 
as blinking. Even the baby, Harry, was quickly tidied away into some anonymous corner of 
Surrey. The marauders might never have existed at all. Better that they hadn’t. 
For a while, Remus wondered when it would end. 
After long enough, he realised it never would, and so just tried to dull the pain. It 
might have been selfish, but what else was left but to be selfish? He had sacrificed plenty. 
When the first full moon came, the November after that grisly Halloween, Remus was 
forced to leave the flat. He apparated back to the forest he’d stayed in with Greyback’s pack, 
back in ‘79. It was better than a cell. He wouldn’t be locked up, he wouldn’t allow it. So he 
left, he transformed, and he wandered the woods alone, howling and hunting and snarling. 
The first time was a relief, but the wolf was lonely. The second time, he went to the Black 
Forest. 

210 
 He didn’t intend to live amongst the werewolves, he just used them as an escape route. 
They knew little of the war, except that it was over. The first time, Castor sensed 
Remus’s pain at once. They didn’t speak of it - because there was no need. They simply 
transformed and dealt with it as wolves. Remus decided that whatever happened when they 
were not human didn’t count, as long as they didn’t hurt anyone. It was freeing, and the 
only relief Remus knew in those darkest months after his loss. 
In the mornings after the moon, Remus would stay a little longer each time, just to be 
near them. With nothing left to lose, he gave up any pretence of superiority when it came to 
the pack, and in time, Castor finally got what he wanted. 
Remus couldn’t deny his attraction to Castor much longer, and after all; who did he 
need to be loyal to? Was he supposed to live celibate for the rest of his life simply because 
his first love had broken his heart? And there was no love between him and Castor. Only 
animal need; bestial rutting. It was good, but it was only another way to forget. And Remus 
always returned to London, sore and still unsatisfied. 
In the human world, Grant still came back for regular visits, after that first time. He 
took the spare key, and popped in to check on Remus between his lectures and pub shifts. 
He was both a help and a hindrance, bringing bottles of muggle spirits and other 
substances - whatever Remus asked for. 
He’d been kicked out of his bedsit for soliciting (not true, he insisted - the landlady 
just had it in for him) and now Grant bounced between boyfriends’ beds and friends 
couches. Sometimes he even stayed with Remus for a night or two, and that was ok, Remus 
didn’t mind. He didn’t care about very much, as long as he had plenty to drink. He needed 
to be drunk. Before the war ended, it had just been a way to take the edge off; to change his 
mood. Now it ​was​ his mood; the only one he could bear. 
It was Grant who talked at him, nagged him, dragged him out of bed and pushed him 
into the shower when he needed to. He even did the laundry, and bought groceries with 
Remus’s remaining dwindling funds. 
Remus, for his part, behaved abysmally. He made spiteful comments, hurled insults. 
But Grant paid it no mind, and kept returning all the same. 
“You only come back because you’re basically homeless.” Remus spat one evening, 
from the couch, as Grant collected the rubbish littered around him. Remus couldn’t bear 
the clinking sound empty bottles made. 
“Yep,” Grant replied, blithely, carrying on about his business, “That’s exactly right, 
Remus me old pal. Nuffink to do with the fact that I love your dozy arse.” 
Remus snorted disdainfully. Grant didn’t know what he was talking about. ​Love​! 
Remus knew the truth now. He knew that love was just something people said to make you 
weak - to keep you pliant. Never again. ​Never never never​. 
Miraculously, Grant never once asked what had happened. Even when Remus began to 
show signs of improvement, started getting himself up and dressed without hours of 
nudging, even when he started leaving the house. Grant never asked ​why​. 
Remus knew he had ranted, in his drunken stupors, pouring out misery and rage about 
Sirius and James and Lily and poor, poor Peter, and Sirius and Sirius and S​ irius​... 

211 
 Whether Grant understood half of it, or whether Remus said too much, he never knew. 
But Grant kept coming back, anyway. 
“I’ll keep coming, long as you need me.” He’d say, cheerfully as he flitted about. “Us 
care home yobs gotta stick together, innit.” 
Remus didn’t believe him. Grant was being nice, but that could only last so long. 
Nobody stayed around forever. 
 
(Song: Fucking Ada - Ian Dury and The Blockheads) 
 
 
 
 
 

   

212 
 ONE HUNDRED & SEVENTY-SIX 
1983 
 
These people 'round here 
Wear beat down eyes sunk in smoke dried faces 
They're resigned to what their fate is. 
But not us, (no never) no not us (no never) 
We are far too young and clever. 
  
6th June 1983 
“Sometimes I wonder if you’re using me.” Grant said, one afternoon in the summer of 
1983. 
“We all use each other.” Remus replied, dryly, “And that’s what we think love is.” 
“Christ. Can’t talk to you when you’re like this.” Grant sighed heavily, reaching for a 
packet of cigarettes on the bedside table. 
“Like what?” 
“A gloomy git.” 
Grant pulled a long white cylinder from the box with his teeth, and Remus lit it with 
his wand point. Grant sucked on it appreciatively, settling back against Remus’s body, in 
the crook of his arm. Remus lazily stroked Grant’s collar bone until it was his turn to 
smoke. They’d almost given up; sharing a quick post-sex fag was their treat. 
“Sorry.” Remus said, “I don’t mean to be gloomy.” 
“Pfft.” Grant replied, cheerfully, “Be gloomy if you want, I’m only teasin' ya. ” 
Grant made everything so easy. Remus could barely remember when their relationship 
had grown into what it was now. 
* * * 
It had started with the regular visits, after that first intervention. They’d grown more 
frequent, and eventually Grant was just there all the time - first he slept on the couch, and 
then he didn’t anymore, and it was never discussed again. 
By midsummer 1982, he’d moved all of his belongings in - such that they were. 
“I travel light,” he winked, shaking out a rucksack that contained a few clean pairs of 
underwear and some t-shirts. O
​ ne sock. For god’s sake. 
“I’ll give you some money.” Remus said, monotonously. “You can go shopping.” He 
still had a few hundred pounds Sirius had converted to muggle money in case of 
emergencies. Remus didn’t feel guilty about spending it; it was just sitting there. 
“I’m not here to scrounge off you.” Grant insisted. 
“I know. But you need clothes.” 
“Yes mum. I’ll borrow some of yours for a bit, ‘til I get myself sorted.” 
“Fine.” 

213 
 So Remus went to Debenhams by himself one afternoon and bought as much as he 
could in Grant’s size. Jeans and t-shirts and underwear and socks and jumpers, pyjamas and 
even a cheap pair of trainers that were on offer. Bright colours, because Grant was a bright 
person, and Remus had seen enough black to last a lifetime. He folded it all away in the 
chest of drawers. It felt good to fill them; they’d been standing half-empty for over a year. 
Grant wore the clothes, but they never discussed it. 
There were some things they could not avoid talking about, though. 
Remus hadn’t been doing magic at all for the first few months - actually, he found that 
he couldn’t, a lot of the time; even when he tried. Perhaps the grief. All those funerals. It 
may have had more to do with his drinking, though he couldn’t be sure. There was a block 
there; like a wall had gone up. He could apparate for full moons, but that was the extent of 
it. Then one day, it just came back, as if it had never left him. 
They’d forgotten to pay the electric, and the lights went dead. Without thinking, 
Remus lit his wand, 
“​Lumos​.” 
“What the bloody fuck is that?!” Grant leapt away as if Remus had set himself on fire. 
“Er…” Remus swallowed, then resigned himself to it. “It’s a magic wand.” 
“Are you high?” 
Remus laughed, a gruff, alien sound. 
“I think I’d better explain some stuff to you. The school I went to was a bit… 
different…” 
He began to explain. He knew how weird it must all sound, and he had to leave quite a 
lot of stuff out. Almost twenty minutes later, Grant sat staring at him, face pale in the 
weakening wandlight. 
“You’re having me on.” He laughed, nervously, “What are you playing at, making up a 
load of tosh like that?!” 
“Grant… look...” Remus made sparks with his wand. He levitated the coffee table, and 
then - showing off, because it had been so long - transformed his mug into a frog. 
“All right!” Grant recoiled, as the frog hopped onto the carpet, “Ok, I believe you! 
Jesus Christ!” 
“Oh, just ‘Remus Lupin’ will do.” Remus stuck his tongue out. 
Then he stopped, realised what he was doing. 
He’d stopped hurting for a moment, and chastised himself viciously for it. ​Your friends 
are dead, and you’re doing magic tricks for some muggle? Pathetic. 
He went to look in the cupboards for a drink. 
“Oh no, don’t…” Grant said, sounding disappointed. 
Remus returned to the couch with a bottle of vodka and two tumblers. He liked vodka 
the most, it went down easy. 
“I don’t want any.” Grant said, ignoring the second glass. “I’m going to stop getting it 
for you.” 

214 
 Remus shrugged and knocked back his first measure. 
Grant sighed. “So you’re a wizard, eh? Does that mean… Sirius was a wizard, too?” 
Remus nearly choked on his second shot, but got it down. His eyes watered and he 
nodded. 
“Yeah. We all are. Were.” 
And he drank more, and told Grant about the war. He left out some of the more 
painful details, but Grant was astute, and guessed the rest. 
“Is that where you vanish off to, every month?” Grant asked, “Some magic thing?” 
“Oh… no. There’s something else.” 
“Bloody hell, Remus, do I know ​anything​ about you?!” 
“Sorry.” Remus said. “Honestly, I’m really not worth the effort… once you know 
everything, you’ll understand.” 
“Try me.” Grant said. 
So then they had the werewolf conversation. Remus explained what happened to him 
on full moons, and how dangerous he was, and where he went. 
“Since you were five?!” Grant said, aghast. 
“Yeah.” Remus nodded, nervously. 
“You poor thing,” Grant shook his head, and stroked his hand. “You’ve had a rough go 
of it, ‘aven’t ya?” 
Remus accepted the sympathy, and didn’t say too much about Castor, because he was 
ashamed of himself. 
Not that Grant would have been jealous. N
​ ot like Sirius, not like… oh, oh no, no no no... 
* * * 
“Oi!” 
Back in the present, Grant snapped his fingers. He held up the cigarette, half smoked. 
“Your turn, gorgeous.” 
“Sorry.” Remus took it, and inhaled deeply. Ah. They were still in bed. Everything was 
ok. ​Everything is ok. 
“You drifted away from me, there.” Grant commented, without accusation. 
“Sorry,” Remus said again. 
“Penny for ‘em?” 
“Oh, nothing. Just thinking.” He stubbed out the cigarette. Fucking hell he missed 
smoking. 
“Well.” Grant rolled over, lying half on top of Remus, face centimetres away, “​That’s​ no 
good, is it? I was trying to s​ top​ you from thinking.” 
“You do.” Remus smiled. They kissed, friendly at first, then deeper. Remus slid his 
hands up Grant’s long body. “Want to try again?” 
Grant smiled against his lips, murmuring, 
“You just want another fag, doncha?” 

215 
 “I want y​ ou​, too…” 
“Well, tough luck,” Grant pulled away, pushing himself off Remus, off the bed. “Last 
shift at the pub starts in forty minutes, already gonna have to leg it.” 
“Do you have to?” Remus flopped back on the bed, petulant. 
“Oh, don’t whinge, princess, it's only one more evening. Oi, be good and stay off the 
booze and I’ll do something r​ eally nice​ when I get in.” 
“I’ll be asleep.” 
“I’ll wake you up.” 
Remus smirked. “Ok then.” 
Grant made everything so easy. 
He tried to stay off the drink that night, he really did. But he needed ​something​, or else 
how would he ever sleep? And he definitely didn’t smoke, so that was pretty good. He 
wanted to be good, for Grant’s last night at the pub. 
After getting three A-levels in Social Policy, Politics and Education, then studying for 
months for further exams, Grant had qualified as a social worker. He was beginning a 
placement at a boys remand centre the following week. Remus didn’t know where he got 
the balls for it. 
“It’ll be like doing St Edmunds all over again!” 
“No it won’t,” Grant smiled, “It’ll be different, because I’ll make it different.” 
* * * 
They were pretty happy together. They had their moments, anyway, but they were 
always friends before lovers and neither of them were faithful. 
Grant had plenty of other boyfriends in his never ending quest for variety. They might 
be arty types, with long hair and camp affectations. Or earnest, political sorts, in baggy 
khaki fatigues and thick knitted jumpers, campaigning for nuclear disarmament or gay and 
lesbian rights, or the miners or something. Remus watched them come and go with a 
distant interest. He didn’t begrudge Grant – he knew he was hardly a barrel of laughs to be 
with. 
Remus himself had become excellent at dividing his life up into neat segments with 
razor sharp edges. Castor was a bad habit; Grant was everything else. Then there was 
Sirius’s spectre, looming over the whole thing, making sure he was never really happy with 
either of them. 
“You could stay, brother,” Castor said, every time. 
“Can you not call me ‘brother’ ​right​ after you’ve been fucking me?” Remus snapped. He 
was often rude to Castor, and Castor was rough with him right back. Remus wasn’t sure if it 
was a wolf thing or a self-punishment thing, but he tried not to analyse the arrangement 
too much. 
“Remus Lupin, then.” Castor replied. 
“It’s just ​Remus​.” He grunted, getting up to dress himself. “And you know I can’t stay. 
I’ve got a life back in England.” 

216 
 “You say that,” Castor raised an eyebrow, “But I see no evidence. We would care for 
you here.” 
“I don’t trust any of you as far as I could throw you.” Remus said flatly, buttoning up 
his jeans. 
“And yet you return each month…” 
“Yeah, well, that’s just for this,” Remus gestured at Castor’s naked body, reclining 
back on grey furs - he was absolutely perfect in every way, a greek statue, lithe and 
muscular and delicious. “Let’s not start pretending we like each other.” 
“But we are your pack!” Castor protested. 
“Look, I’ll stop coming at all, if you don’t leave off.” Remus gritted his teeth. He did 
stop going, for two months after that, just to make Castor suffer. 
Remus didn’t need a pack, and he ​certainly​ didn’t need friends. 
Sometimes Mary tried to get in touch, sometimes he let her. But it was hard, so very 
hard. He preferred Grant, and their modest muggleish life together. 
And really, though their life was not one Remus had ever imagined living, it was 
hardly empty. Remus took up various odd jobs - cleaning, mostly; or courier work, because 
it was cash-in-hand no one cared if he stopped showing up. 
Grant studied for his licence and always had students around, debating in the living 
room, preparing for another protest against Poll Tax or for nuclear disarmament. They 
made a huge mess of the living room painting banners and nailing together placards, but 
Remus didn’t mind a bit of chaos. 
He liked the girls Grant invited over better than he liked the boys - they were all so 
vibrant, so passionate, with punky green hair and boyish, mischievous attitudes. He didn't 
care much for the causes, but the conversation was always lively. At times he felt he was 
speaking to Mary, or Marlene, or Lily. Then he would slow down, and he’d need a drink. He 
would stand quietly in the kitchen until they all left. 
“Oh, Remus. You can’t just wander off and get pissed every time you’re sad.” Grant 
sighed one night, when he found Remus slumped over the kitchen table, hours after 
everyone had left. 
“I ​am​ sad.” Remus sobbed. 
“I know you are mate,” Grant bent down and pulled Remus’s arm over his shoulder, 
hoisting him up towards bed. “And you’re allowed to be sad. It's the drink we’ve got the 
problem with, eh?” 
“No one owes you a happy life." Remus mournfully parroted Matron’s old adage as 
they swayed down the hall together. 
"No," Grant huffed, setting him into bed. He looked down at Remus pityingly, "But 
you owe yourself one, love.” 
 
(Song: Come On Eileen - Dexy Midnight Runners) 

   

217 
 ONE HUNDRED & SEVENTY-SEVEN 
1985 
 
I've been loving you a long time; 
Down all the years, down all the days. 
And I've cried for all your troubles, 
Smiled at your funny little ways. 
We watched our friends grow up together 
And we saw them as they fell. 
Some of them fell into heaven, 
Some of them fell into hell. 
  
Remus liked a lot of things about Grant. His smile, his corkscrew blond curls, his 
brash, unapologetic sense of humour. Grant was a likeable person. But there was one thing 
Remus absolutely refused to tolerate. 
Grant loved football. He wasn’t a fanatic, but he definitely had more of an interest 
than Remus really felt was necessary. He supported Queens Park Rangers - and even 
bought himself a knock-off kit t-shirt one year, plus the blue and white striped scarf. Never 
one to simply observe, Grant was an occasional gambler too, and on Saturdays he played on 
a gay men’s team away down in South London. 
That was how he met Neil Newman - a tall, good looking football player with spiky 
hair and thighs you could crack walnuts on - and how Remus met Anthea Luong; Neil’s 
part-time girlfriend. 
“Part-time?!” Remus raised an eyebrow when Grant explained. He was tying up his 
boot laces, ready to go for practice one Saturday and Neil was coming to pick him up. 
“It’s not that unusual,” Grant winked at him, Remus took the point. 
“But if Neil’s ​queer​--” Remus tried. Grant lifted a finger, 
“Get with the times, sunshine - queer’s out. We are Gay Men, and we are proud.” 
Remus rolled his eyes, “Whatever. If Neil’s a ​Gay Man​, then how does Anthea fit in?” 
“I reckon he must be bicentennial.” 
“You mean bisexual.” Remus corrected. 
“No, he’s two hundred years old,” Grant poked his tongue out. “Yes, Mr Literal, 
bisexual​.” 
Remus couldn’t really blame Neil for that, once he’d met her too. Anthea was a very 
attractive girl. She was tiny and springy, with long satin black hair and glittering eyes. Her 
mouth was like a rosebud, and she had the most beautiful skin Remus had ever seen. She 
dressed like Cindy Lauper, all frills and dayglo. 

218 
 “​So​ nice to meet you,” she grinned, stretching up on her tiptoes to kiss Remus’s cheek 
in greeting. Neil just gave him a slightly wary nod - Remus was used to that, from Grant’s 
paramours. 
“Tea, everybody?” Grant offered. 
“Nah, we’d better get going.” Neil said, rather pointedly, Remus thought. “Want to get 
there early, don’t we? Warm up.” 
“Is that what you call it?” Anthea stuck her tongue out at him. “Remus, can I stay here 
with you? I’ve got ​so much​ I want to talk to you about.” 
“You have?!” He stared at her, alarmed. He hadn’t even known Neil had a girlfriend 
until ten minutes ago. 
“Oh yeah, I told Anth here how good you are at astrology.” Grant said cheerfully, 
pulling his denim jacket on. It looked silly, in shorts and long socks, but everything football 
related was ridiculous to Remus.   
“Astro​nomy​.” Remus said, “Very different things…” 
“S’all stars and that, innit?” 
“Well…” he didn’t really have an argument. 
“See you lads! Have fun!” Anthea waved at them both, pushing them out of the door. 
Suddenly Remus was alone with a strange young woman, with no idea why. He really 
wanted a drink. 
“You don’t have a TV.” She said, flatly. 
“No.” Remus agreed. 
“Great flat, though!” She was saying, walking around the room, looking out of the 
window, pulling books off the shelf and scanning the covers, “So nice you live in Chinatown 
- do you speak chinese?” 
“Er… no…?” 
“I do, I speak three languages, actually, Chinese, Vietnamese and English. English is 
my mother tongue, Vietnamese is my mother’s tongue, if you get me.” she winked at him, 
“And N
​ eil​ always says I ought to say I speak four languages, because I chat so much shit.” 
She laughed - it was a bit of an ugly, jangly laugh, like coins falling on sheet metal, but she 
laughed with such conviction that it was endearing anyway. 
“Right.” Remus nodded. “Er… sorry, did you want to know something about 
astronomy?” 
“Maybe. I’m a Virgo, what are you?” 
“Uhh… Pisces, I think?” 
“Do they go together?” She asked. He blinked, 
“No. I mean, I don’t know. I mean… like I said, that’s really astrology, not--” 
“Neil’s a capricorn, and they d
​ on’t​ go with virgos, I checked. I always check. But, 
y’know, the heart wants what it wants. You know they’re shagging?” she said, out of 
nowhere, “Him and Grant?” 
“I guessed…” 

219 
 “Do you mind it? You’re Grant’s live in, aren’t you?” 
Remus nodded, though he privately corrected her - Grant was ​his​ live in, not the other 
way around. “We’re pretty casual, though.” 
“Oh that’s good,” she nodded, earnestly. 
“Look, um… how long are you staying?” Remus scratched his head awkwardly. 
“Just til the boys get back from footie,” she smiled, “That's ok, isn’t it? Grant said 
you’d like the company. Ooh, I tell you what, I’d love a cup of tea.” 
“Um. Ok…” He went to put the kettle on, still confused. What was Grant playing at, 
leaving him to babysit his lover’s girlfriend?! As if Remus had nothing better to do on a 
Saturday. He’d planned to read the paper. Maybe catch up with the Archers on the radio. 
“No sugar, no milk!” Anthea called. “Oooh, can I put a record on?” 
“If you like…” 
She put on a Queen album. Remus sighed to himself. He wasn’t a fan, really, but Grant 
couldn’t get enough. 
When he brought the tea through, Anthea was sitting on the couch, leaning over the 
coffee table rolling a joint. She grinned at him, “Fancy it?” 
“Go on then,” Remus agreed. Well, that was better than nothing. 
They smoked and drank tea and listened to Queen, and Anthea rabbited on, asking all 
sorts. 
“Grant says you're really clever, private school and everything.” 
“Yeah.” Remus shrugged. 
“And you know all about constellations, and things like that. Hey, I can read your tarot 
cards, if you like?” 
“No thanks.” 
“How come you’ve got all those scars?”   
He blinked, caught off guard. She was still smiling prettily, and seemed genuinely 
curious about him. 
“Just got a lot of scars.” He said, swallowing. “Do you fancy a gin and tonic?” He 
didn’t actually have tonic, but he could pretend he’d just forgotten and take it neat. 
“Yeah, why not,” she nodded brightly. He got up, and she followed him into the 
kitchen, still talking, “You're not ill or anything, then?” 
“No.” Remus said. “I got them fighting. Some of them I did myself.” 
“Oh you poor thing.” She said, her sympathy genuine. She leaned forward and 
squeezed his arm kindly. “Sorry to ask, love, you just can’t be too careful, nowadays, do you 
know what I mean?” 
“Mm.” He poured the gin into two tumblers. He did know exactly what she meant, and 
he didn’t want to talk about it. Or think about it. 
She didn’t complain when he handed her a tumbler of straight gin, just clicked their 
glasses together and beamed, “Cheers!” then took a good gulp. 
They went back to the couch. Remus took the bottle. 

220 
 “You’re ever so tall, Remus. What are you, six three?” 
“Six two.” 
“I love tall men.” She purred. 
“Me too.” 
Anthea laughed again at that, her plastic earrings clicking together. She chatted even 
more, telling him silly, nonsense things about herself; where she’d been to school, her 
favourite songs on the radio, every film she’d ever seen at the pictures. “And I love a bit of 
dancing, too, that's how I met Neil, dancing down in Vauxhall. Shall I show you? Ok, you 
have to picture me in this sparkly purple dress, right? And my hair was shorter then.” 
She got up and began to dance to the record. 
Ooh love, 
Ooh loverboy 
What're you doin' tonight, hey boy 
Set my alarm, turn on my charm 
That's because I'm a good old-fashioned lover boy 
Remus didn’t need to picture the sparkly dress; she was a very good dancer. She 
twisted and wriggled with sensual energy, throwing flirtatious looks at him and flicking her 
hips. Stoned and relaxed, Remus slouched on the sofa watching her. She was dream like, 
pretty and graceful, but also overwhelmingly and unignorably r​ eal​. Remus wondered why he 
always ended up stuck with chatterboxes, and why on earth he liked it so much. 
The song ended, and she held her arms aloft like a gymnast who had just completed a 
perfect routine. Remus smiled, despite himself, and applauded. 
“Fancy a dance?” She fluttered her eyelashes flirtatiously. Remus couldn’t help it; 
whatever she had rolled him was stronger than he was used to, and he was charmed by her. 
“Go on, then.” 
He didn’t really dance, but he held her hands as she did, twirling her in the right 
places, and letting her fall into his arms, giggling. She had the most delicate wrists, the 
bones fine like a bird's. 
When they finally collapsed on the couch to smoke another joint, she kicked off her 
shoes and laid her legs over his lap. Grant did that sometimes; they only had the one sofa, 
so it was the only way to stretch out. 
“You’re very handsome, Remus.” She said through the smoke. 
“Ha.” He replied, knocking back the last of his gin. He couldn’t pour any more without 
pushing her legs off, and he didn’t want to do that, so he settled for the joint. 
“You ​are​. You’re very sexy.” 
“Shh.” He chuckled. “Who do you think you are? Showing up in my flat unannounced 
and interrogating me.” 
“Am I interrogating you?” She widened her eyes, “Are you succumbing to my 
techniques?” 

221 
 Remus laughed, creasing over, his hands on her legs - they were so smooth and soft. 
She was giggling too, watching him. Her eyes were so dark and so full of life. He wanted 
her. Remus realised it all of a sudden, like a light being turned on - the room was brighter, 
her face clearer. ​Bloody hell. 
He finished the joint. She wriggled down on the couch and closed her eyes 
contentedly. He left his hands on her legs - just resting there, he didn’t want to grab her or 
anything awful like that. He just wanted… what? What did you do with a girl? Mary was 
almost a decade ago, and it wasn’t as if Remus had really played much of a role there. He’d 
mostly just felt surprised she had picked him. 
He felt like that now, too, as Anthea opened her eyes and smiled at him again. 
“Sorry, did you want to lie down too?” 
“What?” Remus’s back prickled, alarmed. We're they r​ eally​ going to?! “No! I mean… 
er…” 
“You’re so lovely,” she grinned, shifting aside and pulling him down beside her, “Let’s 
just lie together for a bit, it's nice, isn’t it?” 
“Mm…” 
She put her arm across him. Her soft black hair tickled under his nose, and he couldn’t 
help but inhale her scent. It was warm and sort of spicy, like clove or cinnamon. He liked it. 
They lay for a bit, like that. The record had finished, and was just turning on its needle, 
crackling. 
“What do you think Neil and Grant are doing now?” Anthea whispered, her hand 
suddenly on his belt, palm flat against his crotch. “Probably in the showers, do you 
reckon?” 
“Um.” Remus said, speechless. 
“You ought to see Neil with his kit off, he’s an Adonis. I mean, he’s a dickhead, but 
you can forget all about it when he gets going - I bet they’re all sweaty, and muddy from the 
pitch.” 
Remus tried to regulate his breathing, but she kept moving her hand, and he was 
finding it hard to concentrate on anything else. Finally she looked up at him, and kissed his 
lips very tenderly. “Do you fancy it?” 
“Yeah,” Remus breathed, “Go on, then.” 
Anthea was in the shower, two hours later, when Grant and Neil walked in the door. 
Remus was still sprawled on the couch in his underpants, flushed and completely stunned. 
Grant did a double take, and then burst out laughing. Neil looked appalled. He 
marched into the bathroom and demanded Anthea get out at once. 
“You slag!” Grant wheezed at Remus, doubled over laughing. 
“Bye Grant, bye Remus!” Anthea called as she and Neil hurried out. He had a face like 
thunder, and the door slammed hard behind them. 
“Well then.” Grant said, composing himself. “I hope your girlfriend hasn’t used up all 
the hot water.” 

222 
 “I really don’t know why that happened.” Remus said, pulling his t-shirt on. “We were 
just listening to records, and she was talking, and then…” 
“What, it was the only way to shut her up?” 
Remus looked up at him sheepishly, “Believe it or not, it didn’t shut her up.” 
It took Grant almost ten full minutes to pull himself together. 
* * * 
They got a TV, a few weeks after that - Grant joked that if Remus was so bored he’d 
resorted to shagging girls, then they’d better bring in some entertainment for him. He 
didn’t see Anthea again, which was a pity, because to be honest, Remus wouldn’t have 
minded making that a regular thing. Once you got used to all the talking, she was very sexy. 
He didn’t think about what it meant too much, and Grant didn’t push it. 
The TV came second hand - neither of them had enough disposable income for a 
brand new one. They got it free off a friend of Grant’s, on the condition that they picked it 
up themselves. It was only two streets over, but that still presented something of a problem. 
“Can’t you… hover it home, or something?” Grant asked, hands on his hips as they 
stared down at the big, bulky TV set on the pavement. “Do a spell.” 
“It’s against the law.” Remus explained. “In public, anyway. Or in front of mugg--you.” 
“Pfft.” Grant raised a hand to push his hair out of his sweaty face. “Bugger. Knew I 
ought to learn how to drive.” 
The door of the building opened, and a man walked out, looking flushed and shifty. 
That was the third man Remus had seen with exactly the same furtive look. 
“What is this place, anyway?!” He asked, peering up at the building. It looked like all 
the others - maybe a bit shabby. There was no outward signage. 
“Sauna,” Grant said, squatting down to see if he could get his arms around the set. He 
could, but there was no way he could lift the thing. 
“Sauna?” Remus scratched his head. 
“You know, a bath house. Where men can be alone together and get all sweaty.” 
“Oh!” Remus gaped, embarrassed. 
“Christ Remus, we do live in Soho.” 
“I know! I just… anyway, don’t lift it like that, you’ll do your back in. Come on, take 
that end, I’ll take this… one, two, three, up…” 
They got it back in about thirty minutes, only taking one break. Remus was really 
doing most of the carrying, but he didn’t mind; they’d picked a day between the moons and 
he was feeling pretty healthy. 
Luckily, Grant was a dab hand at the electrical side, and managed to hook everything 
up once the TV was actually in the living room. It looked weird; a big black plastic cube, 
taking up all the space. They ended up putting it on a box in front of the fireplace, which 
they never used anyway. The aerial wasn’t brilliant, and needed a bit of electrical tape to 
keep it upright, but once they switched the thing on, and the fuzzy picture came into view, 
they were both hooked. 

223 
 Remus, who hadn’t watched any telly in years, was a complete addict that summer. He 
got hooked on soaps - EastEnders, Brookside and Coronation Street, but he’d watch 
anything; debates in the house of commons, snooker championships, comedy, 
documentaries, top of the tops, and even a horrifically upsetting series called T
​ hreads​, about 
the threat of nuclear war. 
The TV went on first thing in the morning as he pottered around the flat getting 
dressed or brushing his teeth, and more often than not he fell asleep in front of it in the 
evenings. Grant started calling the set ‘the other man’. 
“I just like the noise,” Remus said, “For company.” 
“You could try making some real friends…” Grant suggested. Remus dismissed this. 
He didn’t need friends; he had everything he needed. 
One Sunday afternoon they were both in the living room. Remus had to leave for a 
cleaning job which started at 3am, so he had been sleeping most of the day. Grant was 
reading the paper, and Remus’s legs were across his lap. With his free hand, Grant was 
absent-mindedly rubbing the arch of Remus’s left foot, which was making Remus sleepy 
and dozy again. 
The News had just finished, and they were waiting for the weather when suddenly, 
sinister music began playing. 
"​There is now a danger that has become a threat to us all​," the television said ominously. 
"​It is a deadly disease and there is no known cure...​" 
Grant and Remus both looked up to watch the creepy announcement. A word etched 
onto a blackened gravestone - AIDS. 
"​Don't die of ignorance​!” The voiceover intoned. 
A familiar sense of shame and anxiety rushed through Remus, a sickly mix of emotion 
he hadn’t felt since school. He pulled his feet off Grant, drawing his knees up to his chest. 
He felt dirty; untouchable. 
“Christ.” Grant said, his voice hollow, signalling to Remus that he was feeling exactly 
the same way. “S'enough to make ya give up on shagging altogether, innit.” He shook his 
head. 
Remus bit his lip. "​You’re​ being safe, aren't you?" He asked tentatively. 
"Yeah, obviously." Grant nodded, brusquely. 
Remus looked up at him, twisting his mouth. He hated bringing up Grant’s other 
liaisons, and Grant was always very discreet about it. Not guilty, or secretive, but discreet. 
Still, Remus wanted to be as sure as he could. 
"Good. I mean, you're using..." 
Grant stood up, hands on his hips, clearly annoyed. 
"Yes, Remus, when I fuck other men I make sure there are condoms handy." 
"Sorry." Remus blushed, looking down at his hands. "It's none of my business." 
"Right. It’s not." Grant snapped, agitated, and went into the kitchen. 
Remus heard him fill the kettle and then flick it on, then he smelled cigarette smoke. 
He ran his fingers through his hair, flustered, and called through the wall; 

224 
 "I just… you know I couldn't bear it, if I didn't have you." 
Quiet. Footsteps. 
“What about you?” Grant asked, reappearing. 
“Me?!” Remus blinked. 
Grant folded his arms, leaning in the doorframe. 
“Don’t treat me like an idiot, I know I’m not your one and only. And it wasn’t just 
Anth, neither. Whoever you see, when you go off every month. When you’re… when you’re 
not yourself.” 
Remus stared at him, his mouth dry. He blinked again, and nodded. 
“I’ll be safe.” 
“Couldn’t do without you either.” Grant said, ruffling Remus’s hair. “Insensitive 
wanker. Cup of tea?” 
Remus nodded, glad they weren’t fighting, but troubled all the same. Grant was quite 
right, of course. Remus had never given protection a second thought with Castor. Could 
wizards get it? If they could, then was there a magical cure? Remus had seen pictures of 
AIDs sufferers from America; skeletal men in hospital beds. He shuddered. 
Grant came back through with two cups of tea. He handed one to Remus, then sat 
down beside him, crossed his legs and raised the mug to his lips, blowing on it. He sipped, 
and then looked up, thoughtfully. “I could stop.” 
“Eh?” Remus blinked, lost in his own thoughts. 
“I could stop seeing other people.” Grant repeated patiently. “If you wanted me to, I 
mean. All you have to do is ask.” 
“I don’t want to tell you what you can and can’t--” 
“Remus.” Grant raised an eyebrow, “I’ve been living here for four years. You’re a right 
dickhead sometimes, but you make me happy.” 
Remus was staring at the carpet, now, trying not to panic. 
Grant set down his tea, and reached over to touch Remus’s hand, “I don’t need anyone 
but you.” He said, sincerely. 
“Grant, I…” 
“I know, I know,” Grant put a hand up, “I’m not expecting you to say it back, it’s ok. I 
know how you feel, and that’s enough.” 
Remus inhaled sharply and closed his eyes. He exhaled slowly, and willed his heart to 
slow down. It was a lovely thing to hear. He had never for a moment expected to feel this 
way again - or for it to be so very different from the last time. 
“Ok.” He breathed. 
“Ok?” Grant cocked his head. 
“Ok,” Remus nodded, “I’d rather you didn’t see anyone else.” 
“Deal.” 
(Songs: A Rainy Night in Soho - The Pogues, Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy - Queen)   

225 
 ONE HUNDRED & SEVENTY-EIGHT 
1986 
 
Time up and time out for all the liberties you've taken 
Time up and time out for all the friends that you've forsaken 
And if you choose to waste away like death is back in fashion 
You're an accident waiting to happen 
  
My sins are so unoriginal. 
I have all the self loathing of a wolf in sheep's clothing 
In this carnival of carnivores, heaven help me. 
  
Goodbye and good luck to all the promises you've broken 
Goodbye and good luck to all the rubbish that you've spoken 
Your life has lost its dignity, its beauty and its passion 
You're an accident waiting to happen 
  
Things were different, of course, after Remus and Grant agreed to remain 
monogamous. They were still best friends, they still made each other laugh and irritated 
each other beyond belief, but a fresh new closeness had developed too. Remus drank less for 
a while - he didn’t stop altogether, and some days were very hard, some days he didn’t wash, 
or get out of bed, or eat. But not every day; and that was progress. 
Castor didn’t take it well. In fact, he was furious. Remus even tried to explain HIV to 
him, but it was no good. Castor had grown so far away from humanity, he was even starting 
to look wolfish. His hair was thicker, blacker somehow, and extended down past the nape 
of his neck, creeping along his spine. His teeth were lengthening, his eyes sharper, the 
irises turning yellow. 
“You are turning your back on your family, Remus Lupin.” He snarled. “Even your 
magic grows weaker.” 
“I’m not turning my back on anything.” Remus insisted, “I’m trying to have a real life.” 
Of course Castor didn’t understand; Remus kept Castor and Grant so separate that 
they didn’t even know each others’ names. Maybe he’d always known he’d have to pick one 
of them in the end. And Castor had never felt right. 
In the end, Remus was banished from the pack. He was warned that if he ever 
returned, he would be treated as a threat. This was extreme, but he supposed that’s just 
what you got for breaking a werewolf’s heart. 
Now Remus had to spend the full moons in Britain. He returned to some of his old 
haunts; the Lake District, the Brecon Beacons. He tried not to go anywhere there were too 
many memories of Prongs and Wormtail. Or the other one. To make matters worse, without 

226 
the pack to help him heal every month, Remus had to apparate back to London and tend to 
his wounds as best he could. 
“Christ!” Grant exclaimed, the first time it was really bad. He walked in on Remus in 
the bathroom, disinfecting his cuts, his wand shaking as he tried to grip it with broken 
fingers. 
“Sorry,” Remus murmured, bracing himself against the sink as a dizzy spell threatened 
to overwhelm him. He hadn’t felt so dreadful after a transformation since… since… his 
vision clouded, and he sat down on the closed toilet lid, head between his knees so he didn’t 
faint. 
“Christ!” Grant said again, coming in and kneeling in front of him. He took the bloody 
cotton ball Remus had been using, and tossed it in the bin. He grabbed the tub from the 
side of the sink, plus the bottle of TCP. “Come here, you,” he said softly, taking Remus’s 
hand very gently in his, and dabbing it lightly with the disinfectant. 
Remus sat there dumbly, letting himself be looked after, too tired to do much else. 
“For god’s sake,” Grant shook his head, visibly upset, “We can’t have you in this state 
every month, can we my darling?” 
“It’s ok.” Remus mumbled, “This isn’t too bad.” 
“My arse!” Grant retorted, getting up to look for plasters in the medicine cabinet. He 
found them and knelt down again, resuming his work on Remus’s scrapes. “Tell you what, 
if it’s a choice between you coming back like this every month or giving that wolfy fucker a 
few blowjobs then I’ll do it myself.” 
Remus laughed, which hurt his ribs. “I’m not sure it works like that.” 
“Well, we’ve got to do something.” Grant grumbled, binding Remus’s broken fingers 
tightly together with the plasters. 
“You’re good at this,” Remus said, surprised, looking down at the neat work Grant had 
made. 
“Yeah, well, if you get battered as much as I’ve been, you pick up some tricks,” Grant 
looked up and winked. “And don’t forget I went on that first aid course for work. Come on 
then, let’s get you to bed. Are you hungry?” 
“Sort of.” He was starving, but he knew there was no food in. They were waiting for 
payday to do a big shop. 
“I’ll see what I can do.” Grant said, helping him through to the bedroom. 
“You don’t have to, I’ll probably just sleep.” 
“God, you look so pale,” Grant felt Remus’s forehead with the back of his hand. “I fink 
you ought to eat something.” 
“Honestly, I look worse than I feel.” Remus climbed into bed, his bones wept with 
relief. 
“Don’t believe you.” Grant got in with him, and sat up, stroking Remus’s hair. It was 
very soothing. “Did… did Sirius used to look after you? After full moons?” 
Remus screwed his eyes up, shook his head, “Please don’t. I can’t.” 

227 
 “Oh love.” Grant sighed, resuming his tender stroking. “You know, my friend who 
does the counselling, she says she’ll still give you an appointment. Just say the word. 
Helped me a lot, you don’t know how much.” 
“I can’t.” Remus said. He always said the same. “There are too many lies I’d have to 
tell.” 
“Nah, I’ve been thinking - it doesn’t have to be about the war, or even the wolf thing. 
Just talk to her about James and Lily and Peter. Say it was a car crash, or--” 
“No.” 
“Remus, I just want you to talk--” 
“You know, I really don’t feel well. Can you leave me alone, please?” 
“Fine.” Grant got up. Remus kept his eyes shut, but he could hear every movement. 
Just before he left the room, Grant turned back. “I found that bottle of gin in your sock 
drawer, by the way. Poured it down the sink.” 
He slammed the door. 
* * * 
*Ring ring* *Ring ring* 
“Hello?” 
“Mary?” 
“Remus?” There was a brief silence on the end of the line, as Mary collected herself. 
Remus knew that feeling. Sometimes he’d be reminded something from the old days, and it 
would knock all the air out of him. “Hi!” She said, her voice carrying an overwide smile. 
“How are you, sweetheart?” 
“Oh, you know. I’m not disturbing you?” He always tried to give her an easy out, if she 
wanted it. 
“Of course not... Just had our tea.” 
“Oh nice, what did you have?” 
“Chicken and rice. Darren’s favourite.” 
“Sounds good.” 
“You ought to come for dinner, one evening. Still in London, are you?” 
“Yeah… same flat.” 
“Oh, of course. Is that…? Um. How is that?” 
“It's ok.” He said, glancing around at his shabby living room. “Been here so long now I 
s’pose it feels like it's always been just mine.” 
“Seeing anyone?” 
“Sort of.” 
“Working?” 
“Cleaning. Off and on, when I can get it. I was stacking shelves for a bit, over in 
Epping, but I fell asleep on the job and they sacked me.” 
“Be gentle with yourself, love.” 

228 
 “Yeah.” He took a drink from his beer bottle. “How’s your job?” 
“Good! Turns out I might have been awful at transfiguration, but accounting is no big 
deal.” 
Darren had opened a garage in late ‘85, and Mary worked there too, taking care of all 
the bookings and the invoicing. They were saving up to move out of their tower block, and 
get a little house with a garden. She only used magic very occasionally, she told Remus, 
though her relationship with her wand had never been quite the same since finding the 
McKinnons. 
“Remus? Are you still there?” 
“Sorry, yeah. Drifted off.” 
“I do that too…” a pause, and Remus got that sick, tight feeling in his stomach. He 
could guess what was coming next. Mary raised her voice, slightly, “Have you got someone 
to talk to? Whoever it is you’re ‘sort of’ seeing, do they know what happened?” 
“Mm.” Remus made a noncommittal noise. “Bits and pieces.” 
“Because you ought to talk about it, Remus. You shouldn’t have to carry all of that… I 
can’t imagine how it must feel, the betrayal--” 
“No.” Remus snapped, “You can’t!” and he slammed down the phone, as hard as he 
could, so that he knocked it off the table. He finished his beer before moving to pick it up. 
Fuck her, then. 
Everyone wanted him to talk, but none of them r​ eally​ knew. None of them ​could​ know - 
how stupid he felt, how used. Lily and James and Peter and Marlene - losing them was one 
thing. Remus had taught himself to focus on the best memories, the happiest times. 
But Sirius. There was not one moment of their time together that wasn’t tainted; 
poisoned by the lies Black had been telling. Remus had been open, and vulnerable and 
loving, and every moment of it had been false. 
He had been made a fool of by the only person he had ever loved. He was p
​ athetic​; too 
blinded by emotion to see the truth, and now there was nothing left of him. He would never 
be capable of that kind of softness ever again. Remus’s hatred for Sirius was so 
overwhelming sometimes it frightened him. 
So how was he supposed to talk about that? How was he supposed to tell Grant, or 
some therapist, that he was not merely angry, not merely grieving, but ​paralysed​ by rage? 
That he sometimes dreamed about getting to Azkaban somehow, and killing Sirius himself. 
That once or twice in the first few months after the war, he had gone so far as to actually 
get up in the night, drunk and furious, grabbed his wand, and planned to do exactly that. 
The only thing that stopped him was the thought of getting splinched, or having to face all 
those dementors. 
He kicked the coffee table, furiously, stubbing his toe. 
“Bugger!” 
Grant poked his head around the corner of the living room door. “Didn’t go well, 
then?” 

229 
 “There's no point trying.” Remus huffed, rubbing his foot and hopping across the 
room to flick on the t.v. “She’s happy. She's got her life together. I should just leave her to 
it.” He collapsed back into the sofa. 
“Is that what she said?” Grant came in, reproachfully. 
“No. But it’s what’s fair.” Remus kept his eyes fixed on the screen, slouching down 
further. Maybe Grant would get the message: ​I don’t want to talk! 
“Why don’t you invite her over one saturday?” Grant sat on the arm of the couch. “I’d 
like to meet her.” 
“No point. She wouldn’t come. Too many memories here.” 
“We could go out then, go for lunch somewhere nice.” 
“We can’t afford that.” 
Grant rubbed his temples, wincing as if he was getting a headache, “You’re being 
childish.” He said. 
“Piss off.” 
“Brilliant rebuttal, that,” Grant snorted, “Come on, what happened to the clever clogs 
I used to fancy the pants off? Use your big words.” 
“Look, you wanted me to call Mary and I did. It ended badly, like I knew it would, and 
that’s that. Just leave me alone, will you?!” 
“Yeah, I can imagine exactly w
​ hy​ it ended badly, too, and I don’t need to be a bloody 
magician to work it out.” 
“Wizard.” 
“Dickhead. From what you’ve told me she’s a nice girl. And she knows you. I just 
thought she’d be someone to talk to about--” 
“Yeah, well, s​ he​ doesn’t want to talk about it any more than I do.” Remus spat. “She 
told me to talk to ​you​.” 
“She did?” Grant blinked. Remus felt especially cruel. 
“Well. Obviously she doesn’t know you by name. Just whoever I’m shagging, right 
now.” 
“Right.” Grant made an obvious effort to ignore this slight. “Well, come on then.” 
“What?” 
“It’s a Sunday, I’ve got nothing to do. Let’s talk.” 
“No.” 
“Remus. I can’t go on like this.” Grant said. “I love you, I do, but this is too---” 
Fuck​. Alarm bells started going off inside Remus’s head. 
It was as if someone had started flashing the lights on and off, and the walls were 
closing in, and all the air had left the room, and he was dizzy, drowning, blinded. There was 
a weird taste in his mouth, and he thought he might be sick, except he couldn’t breathe 
enough to retch, just kept gasping, tumbling forward. 
“Hey, hey hey!” Grant’s voice penetrated the fog, echoing and distant. “Remus? 
Remus, can you take a deep breath? In on one, out on two, ok? One…” 

230 
 Remus felt sweat trickle down his back, his heart thudding into overdrive, but he 
breathed in, as much as he could. “Two…” Grant said. He was rubbing his back very slowly. 
Remus let out a long shaky breath. “That’s so good,” Grant said, voice louder now, “So 
good, Remus, well done. And again, one… two…” 
They must have sat there for almost two full minutes, just breathing together. 
Eventually, Remus felt halfway normal again. Except he really, really wanted a drink. 
“See,” Grant said, using the voice that Remus was sure he reserved for the troubled 
kids he worked with, “This is why I need you to talk to me. We can’t have this, can we?” 
Remus shook his head, but didn’t trust himself to speak. 
“I’m sorry I said what I said,” Grant continued, “I didn't mean it. There’s no ‘buts’, ok? 
I love you, and you’re stuck with me.” 
Remus nodded again, head still in his hands, eyes shut tight. He had to be getting the 
flu, or something; people didn’t get dizzy just from n
​ ot talking​, surely. Only… only Grant 
saying that; ‘I can’t go on…’ it had ignited such dread inside him, such terror, maybe there 
was something to it. 
“What if you tell me just one thing?” Grant tried, “Just one thing to help me 
understand?” 
“Like what?” Remus choked. 
“Well…” he could practically hear Grant’s mind whirring. Did he have a list of things 
he wanted to pry out of Remus, all saved up for just this occasion? Was this some stupid 
psychoanalysis bullshit Grant had picked up on a training course? 
“You’ve never told me what happened to Sirius. I know he’s not dead. Did he… leave?” 
“Yeah, in a manner of speaking.” Remus grunted. God, hearing someone else say his 
name hurt so much. He felt dizzy all over again. 
“What do you mean?” 
“He’s in prison.” Remus said. Then he breathed in again, and forced out the rest. “He’s 
in prison because he murdered them, and I wasn’t here to stop any of it.” 
“Fucking hell.” 
“Mm.” Remus braced himself for more questions. But none came. Grant just slipped 
his arm over his shoulder and gave him a squeeze, 
“It wasn’t your fault.” 
“You don’t know that.” Remus returned, still looking down. “You don’t know how 
stupid I was. I missed all the signs. I k​ new​ something was wrong, but I thought… I thought 
it was just me; I thought he wanted to break up. I was so selfish, I never thought for a 
second that he would… that he ​could​…” He was crying now. ​Stupid Grant. 
“It’s his fault for letting you down, not ​your​ fault for trusting him.” Grant kept 
hugging him. Remus allowed it, to make him feel better; to make this seem like a 
breakthrough. 
But Grant could say that all he wanted - Mary had said something similar, once or 
twice over the years. It just didn’t ring true. The dead were still dead, and Remus had not 
been there to prevent any of it. Even if he had been there, that Halloween night; the way 

231 
he’d been back then, he probably would have let Sirius kill him, too, rather than try to fight 
him. 
Back then, dying for love had seemed the only worthy cause. But he was older, now, 
and he knew the truth. Never again. Never, never.  
 
(Song: Accident Waiting to Happen - Billy Bragg) 
 
 
 
 
 

   

232 
 ONE HUNDRED & SEVENTY-NINE 
1987 
 
When I look back upon my life 
It's always with a sense of shame 
I've always been the one to blame 
For everything I long to do 
No matter when or where or who 
Has one thing in common, too; 
  
It's a, it's a, it's a, it's a sin 
It's a sin 
  
In the spring on 1987, Remus had a spot of luck. One of Grant’s old student friends 
now worked in the Law Department at UCL and managed to swing a job for Remus doing 
some freelance editing. This was a revelation; he could do the bulk of it at home, and then 
just take it up to Holborn once it was done. He did need to get a national insurance card, 
and a muggle bank account, but that was easy enough with a few tactical glamour spells at 
the bank. 
Remus only cheated a little bit, using magic to help him read and correct spelling, but 
he found the work surprisingly enjoyable, and even started a little business marking exam 
papers for some of the local muggle schools. 
“Dunno how you can concentrate so long.” Grant shook his head at the pile of papers 
Remus had amassed one evening. “I’d go out of my mind.” 
“It’s interesting,” Remus shrugged, “I never got the chance to learn any of this stuff. 
Have you heard of quadratic equations?” 
Grant laughed at him fondly and ruffled his hair, “You boffin.” 
Grant himself had been going from strength to strength at work. He loved his job, and 
put in extra time on the weekends and evenings whenever he could. The boys Grant worked 
with were every bit as much trouble as the St Edmund’s boys, but that only seemed to spur 
Grant on. He was always telling Remus about one kid or another who’d had a little victory - 
a passing mark at school, a week without a fight, time off their sentence. Somehow Grant 
knew everything about everyone; his memory limitless, his capacity for pride and 
encouragement unbelievable. 
“Got to cut out that article in the Observer,” he might say one evening, “Sounds right 
up Alfie’s street.” Or, “Staying late tomorrow, with any luck - promised the older lads we’d 
have a kick-about if none of them get written up.” 
When he was feeling insecure sometimes Remus would wonder if Grant was only with 
him because he too was a troubled boy. That Grant was just trying to save him; like he tried 
to save everybody. He lived for a good cause. 

233 
 “Shut up,” Grant would grin at him, if he raised these concerns. “I’ve wanted to get in 
your pants since we were teenagers, it’s got nothing to do with your tortured past.” 
And then Remus would remember that after all, Grant was a care home kid himself. 
Something which was easy to forget, because unlike Remus, he bore it lightly, with a casual 
shrug of acceptance. Poverty, lack of education, mistreatment - none of this weighed Grant 
down in the same way. At least not on the surface. But Remus had been wrong about people 
before. 
As a result of Grant’s dedication to his work, and Remus’s own relatively low impact 
employment, Remus found himself in a position he had never been in before - having both 
free time and a bit of disposable income. 
He didn’t need much - the flat was paid for, their furniture was serviceable, and they 
could generally afford to keep the electric and hot water on. He bought clothes every once 
in a while, but he hardly shopped at Harrods. There was the drink, but he reasoned that as 
he didn’t smoke any more, he could put his tobacco money towards booze. 
What Remus did enjoy doing was going for walks. Not countryside rambles - he got 
enough of that on full moons - but wandering through London by himself, enjoying the 
streets, the people. He visited every free museum in London - the National Gallery, the 
Portrait Gallery, the V&A, the British Museum. He became quite cultured, in fact. And if 
his hip hurt (which it often did, now, as he entered his late twenties), he could easily hop on 
a bus. 
So, one summer's day, he had completed all of his marking, and there was nothing on 
TV, Grant would not be home for hours, so he mooched around the Science Museum for an 
hour or so. Funnily enough, it put him in mind of Arthur Weasley, for the first time in 
years. The daft old bugger would love all of the machines, the pistons, the lightbulbs. He 
could just picture Arthur’s face as he watched the perpetual motion machine, and Remus 
smiled to himself, quite out of the blue. How was Arthur? And his wife, the Prewetts’ sister, 
and their redhaired brood? It had been too long now to get in touch, Remus knew, and he 
wouldn’t know what to say, even if he did. 
Still, thinking about the Weasleys hadn’t hurt, which was the main thing. And perhaps 
thinking about them put him in a different mindframe for the afternoon - more alert, 
maybe, or nostalgic. It couldn’t be a coincidence that he bumped into an old friend only two 
hours later. 
He was nearly home, only a street or so away, shuffling anonymously through the 
bustling Chinatown alleyways. In fact, he was just about to pass the place they’d got their tv 
- the sauna off Old Compton Street. Remus always blushed a bit, walking past it, and then 
chastised himself for being such a prude. He ducked his head slightly, as he approached, 
and - horror of horrors - just as he was level with the door somebody stepped out of it. 
Remus had to stop short, so as not to bump into them. They turned and stared up at 
him, nervously. 
Remus gasped. “Christopher!” 

234 
 The man blinked, horrified. He was red faced with dark brown eyes that were rather 
small and watery. He was a bit chubbier than he had been at school, and his hairline was 
receding slightly at the temples. But it was definitely him. 
“Remus?” 
“Hi! It's been…” 
“Not since…” 
“Yeah. How are you?” Remus winced even as he asked the question. Christopher was 
so clearly uncomfortable - and why shouldn’t he be? He hadn’t seen Remus in almost ten 
years, and now here he was, looming over him outside a gay sauna. 
“Oh… you know.” Christopher looked at his feet. 
He was wearing muggle clothes - a stonewashed denim shirt with the buttons done up 
unevenly, dress trousers and a burnt orange waistcoat with green embroidery. In short, he 
looked as dreadful as every pureblood wizard who tried to pass as a muggle. As always, 
Christopher’s general air of hopelessness endeared Remus to him. 
“Er…” Remus rubbed the back of his head. “Do you want to… um. Got time for a 
coffee? Or a drink? Catch up a bit?” 
“Ok then…” Christopher looked up at him, cautiously. 
Remus took charge from that point, because it was clear there was no other way. He 
led Christopher further up the street, back towards Tottenham Court Road. There was a 
cafe on Denmark Street that was cheap and anonymous, and for some reason Remus wanted 
to get further away from home. 
“Here we are,” he smiled kindly, holding the door open and pointing out an available 
table. Christopher said nothing, and sat down, fidgeting a bit. Remus wondered if this was 
all a terrible idea - maybe Chris didn’t want to speak to him. But he went along with it, and 
offered to pay when Remus went to order their coffees. 
“Do you live nearby?” Christopher asked, finally, still not fully making eye contact. 
“Yeah,” Remus nodded, “Not far. You?” 
“Oh, no. Out in Hampshire. I just come into the city for work, and… well.” 
“Where do you work now?” Remus asked, desperate to spare him any further 
embarrassment. 
“Gringotts.” Chris said, glancing up at the waitress as their coffees arrived. He put 
three sugars in his, and as much milk as he could - Remus realised he hadn’t even asked if 
Chris ​liked​ coffee. 
“Very swish,” Remus smiled, “Always knew you’d do well.” 
“I suppose.” 
“Still read lots?” 
“When there’s time… work keeps me busy. And other responsibilities, you know how it 
is. I thought we were overworked during NEWTs, but Hogwarts was a holiday compared to 
real life.” 
Remus chewed the inside of his cheek, because that was very true, and he didn’t want 
to get upset about it. 

235 
 “How about you?” Christopher asked, clearly trying not to grimace as he sipped his 
coffee. “What do you do, now?” 
“This and that,” Remus shrugged. “Haven’t exactly got a career.” 
“Oh, what a shame.” 
Remus shrugged, “It’s fine, I manage.” 
There was an awkward silence. Remus wanted to ask about the sauna, but he knew 
better. Grant would probably ask, but then Grant had a way of putting people at ease which 
Remus didn’t. He just drank his coffee quietly, and wished he’d suggested a pub, instead. 
“I thought you’d died.” Christopher said, suddenly. Remus nearly choked. He set down 
his coffee. 
“You…” 
“There were so many rumours, back then - you remember what it was like. And there 
were all these names, and when I saw what had happened to Lily, and your friend James, I 
just thought… especially after it came out that Sirius Black was the one who did it, I just 
assumed...” 
Remus breathed in, sharply, and waited for the pain to retreat. When it did, he exhaled 
slowly, and said, very evenly, 
“No. I wasn’t there, that night. I had no idea what Black was up to. No one did.” 
“He was always up to something,” Christopher said, darkly. “And with his family… I 
suppose it didn’t come as much of a surprise, really.” 
“No.” Remus said, not really knowing what he was saying anymore, just trying to 
ignore the roaring in his head, “I suppose not.” 
“I was so upset about Lily, though. She was kind. Do you know where Harry is, now? 
The boy who lived?” 
Remus just shook his head. He drank more coffee - probably not a brilliant idea to add 
caffeine to his already speeding heart rate, but he was trying to be as normal as possible. 
“If you weren’t dead,” Christopher continued, “I thought you might just not want to 
talk to me.” 
“Why?” 
“I know you and your friends were all involved in the war - helping Dumbledore and 
everything. I didn’t… my parents sent me to Sweden, after I finished my NEWTs. They were 
worried about me, they wanted me out of the way. You remember what things were like.” 
Yes​, Remus wanted to say, ​yes, I bloody remember. Sometimes I wake up and it’s like it’s still 
happening. 
“And with us being purebloods… I think they were worried I’d have to pick a side. So 
they sent me away - we have family in Gothenburg, and I got my qualification in Magical 
Finance.” 
“Right.” Remus nodded. He really needed to talk about something else. “Good for you, 
Chris. So, um… are you in Soho often?” 

236 
 Christopher turned crimson again, and looked down at his mug of coffee. “Only… only 
sometimes. Honestly, I just heard about that place and thought I’d take a look, I didn’t… I 
don’t want you to think…” 
“You know you ought to be careful,” Remus said, lowering his voice in case any of the 
cafe patrons were listening in, “There’s this illness the muggles are getting - I’m not sure 
how much your lot know about it, but it’s really serious.” 
“Like I said,” Christopher said, “I barely go there, really. Just stupid curiosity.” 
Remus felt a twinge of guilt, for making Christopher feel bad. If Grant had taught him 
anything, it was that you should never add to anyone’s personal shame. It was a wasted 
emotion anyway, no need to make it worse. 
“There’s nothing wrong with being curious,” Remus said, gently, “Lots of people go to 
those places.” 
“Do you?” Christopher looked up at him. 
“No.” Remus said, a bit too quickly. “Er… I mean, you know I was never very sociable.” 
“Oh, of course. I can imagine, after everything that happened…” 
Remus didn’t want to get onto that, so he changed the subject, “Seeing anyone?” he 
asked, “Got a boyfriend?” 
Christopher shook his head. “No. It’s difficult, you know. The job I have, my family. 
Things have been… well, there’s been a fair bit of trial and error, in that respect.” 
Remus wanted to squeeze his hand over the table, but it wasn’t really the place. He 
tilted his head, sympathetically, 
“It will get better, Chris.” 
Christopher looked at him with a resigned smile. “Mm, yes, I remember you saying 
something like that before, at school. Someone for everyone.” 
“Well, there is.” Remus nodded, encouragingly. “More than one person, even.” 
“I don’t know.” Chris sighed, “I don’t know if it’s healthy to think like that. There are 
so many factors to consider, and I don’t… I don’t think it works like in books. I don’t think 
everyone has that experience.” 
That was a difficult thing to hear. Remus didn’t know what to say, really, and felt 
weirdly self-conscious and naive. Certainly, Remus did not glamourise romance any more - 
if he ever had at all. Love had beaten the shit out of him on more than one occasion. But it 
had also been the only thing worth living for. It had lifted him, protected him, and kept him 
human. He had a sudden longing to see Grant, and wondered if he’d be home yet. 
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” Christopher said, briskly, checking his pocket watch, “I have 
a nice enough time. I like my work, I make plenty of money, and when I get a free evening I 
still… you know, I’m able to enjoy myself once in a while. I just see it as a treat, rather than 
a lifestyle. Actually,” he leaned in a little, “I have a flat in Kensington - for when I work late, 
and don’t want to apparate all the way home. It’s nice there, if you’d like to see it.” He 
raised an eyebrow suggestively. 
Remus’s mouth went dry, and he swallowed, flustered, 

237 
 “Um. Nice of you to offer, really, but. I’d better be getting home. I’ve got someone 
waiting.” 
“Oh.” Christopher sat up straighter, withdrawing. His face seemed to close up. 
“You’ve got someone.” 
“Yes, for a few years, now.” Almost six, he realised. Longer than he’d had Sirius - if 
he’d ever really had Sirius. 
“Well. Good for you, then. Look, I’d better go, Remus, it was very nice to see you 
again.” Christopher stood up, and extended a formal hand for Remus to shake. “We ought 
to have a proper catch up, one of these days, let me know if you’re ever in Diagon Alley, 
perhaps, I’ll arrange lunch.” 
“Ok,” Remus nodded, shaking his hand. 
He knew he would never be in Diagon Alley, and as Christopher didn’t give him any 
contact details Remus assumed that the invitation was merely politeness. He did not miss 
pureblood hypocrisy. 
Remus walked home quickly, ignoring the ache in his hip, and was relieved beyond 
belief to find Grant already there, in the kitchen. 
“Wotcher, boffin,” he grinned, “How was the museum?” 
“Good, thanks. Interesting.” 
“Reckon I should take some of the lads there on a trip, if I can get it past the 
governor.” He held up two tins, “Beans on toast, or spaghetti hoops on toast?” 
“Whichever you prefer,” Remus said, watching him. Grant looked at them both 
cheerfully, 
“Hoops then. With lots of Worcestershire, eh?” 
“Sounds perfect.” Remus breathed. 
“​Perfect​,” Grant chuckled, “You must be hungry.” 
“No, I just… just missed you, that’s all.” 
“I’ve only been at work.” 
“I know…” 
“Daft sod.” Grant shook his head, still smiling, turning his back to open the cutlery 
drawer and find the tin opener. 
Remus crossed the room quickly, and hugged him, wrapping his arms around Grant’s 
waist, pulling him in and inhaling the scent of him. Grant set down the tin opener carefully, 
and hugged Remus back, rubbing his arms. “You alright, sweetheart?” 
“Mmmhm.” Remus said, into his neck. “Just glad you’re here.” 
 
(Song: It’s a Sin - The Petshop Boys) 

   

238 
 ONE HUNDRED & EIGHTY 
1989 
 
Got on a lucky one 
Came in eighteen to one 
I've got a feeling 
This year's for me and you 
So happy Christmas 
I love you baby! 
I can see a better time 
When all our dreams come true. 
 
In 1989, Remus actually went to Oxford Street to do his Christmas shopping, on 
Grant’s insistence. 
“You’ve n
​ ever​ been?!” He had gasped, eyes wide, “You haven’t seen the lights?!” 
“I didn’t think proper Londoners got involved in all that nonsense.” Remus replied, 
defensively. 
“​Proper Londoners​ leave the house.” Grant said. “And buy presents for their friends.” 
“I don’t have any friends.” Remus said - then felt awful. Because of course, he had 
Grant. 
“What about that Mary bird? Sends you letters all the time.” 
“Oh yeah. I could get her something, maybe.” 
“That’s the spirit, Ebenezer.” 
Remus shrugged off the teasing, because he knew Grant loved Christmas - or any 
opportunity to celebrate, really - and Grant had had a very difficult year. 
Having worked so hard to gain his school leaving certificate, pushing every step of the 
way to get A-Levels and various other qualifications, all so that he could have his dream 
job, which was helping other people, Grant had finally come up against an insurmountable 
opponent. The government - more specifically, The Local Government Act. 
In 1988, Section 28 passed, and Grant was no longer secure in his position at work. 
Remus hadn’t really understood it at first, or at least, couldn’t see why Grant should have to 
worry. 
“You don’t work for the council, though,” he frowned, flicking through the leaflets 
Grant and his friends had been printing for awareness-raising. 
“Yes I do,” Grant replied, “Local authority includes schools and Borstals - and that's 
what it’s really about. They don’t want us perverting kids.” 
“That’s ridiculous.” Remus said. 
“I know.” 
Remus re-read the text. 

239 
 A local authority shall not intentionally promote homosexuality or publish material with the 
intention of promoting homosexuality, or promote the teaching in any maintained school of the 
acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship. 
“Pretended?!” Remus shook his head. 
“I know.” Grant sighed. 
“What does this mean, though? ‘Promote’ homosexuality? How do you promote it?” 
“Well that’s where the cunts have been clever, innit.” Grant huffed, “It don’t mean 
anything, not really. Just means if anyone wants to argue against it the fucking Tories can 
accuse them of wanting to ‘promote’ queerness or some bollocks.” 
“But that’s…” 
“Completely mental? Evil? Immoral. Yeah. My mate Gay Bob, he’s already had to shut 
down the Gay Youths Support group, only started that last year. And my place ain’t exempt, 
the governor's already asking for a list of books we carry, check none of them are too 
queer.” 
“But they can’t… they wouldn’t s​ ack​ you?” 
“I don’t know, love. I’m already trying to keep my head down over the AIDs thing.” 
Remus felt even worse about that. The staff at the centre Grant worked at had all been 
hauled into a meeting one day, and told in no uncertain terms that if any one of them 
contracted HIV, then they would be dismissed without notice - and the police would be 
notified. That was terrifying enough. 
For the past eighteen months, Grant had been working tirelessly with his friends and 
various groups to appeal Section 28, and it wasn’t going well at all. He’d almost been 
arrested at one protest, and caught a black eye off an anti-protester at another. 
“It’s war.” he said fiercely, when he returned, and Remus made him sit still so he could 
heal it, “It’s us and them, that’s how they want it, and that’s what they’ll get.” 
Remus did not know what to say. He didn’t want a war, he just wanted to be left alone. 
He never said that, though, because deep down, he was very proud of Grant’s barefaced 
refusal to give up or give even an inch. He had always admired bravery most of all. 
So, in late December, Remus and Grant bundled themselves up in woolly hats, gloves 
and scarves, and walked through the wintry grey city to Oxford Circus. Grant was right - 
the prat - the lights were great. Strung across the wide street like jungle vines, great 
gleaming golden bulbs illuminated the cheerful red double deckers, the shiny black cabs, 
the glorious silver and green window displays. 
It was true, Remus had been avoiding Christmas and all its trappings, just like he 
avoided his birthdays. He was worried they’d send him hurtling backwards - to Hogwarts, 
to the Potters mansion, to all of his most bittersweet memories. It was very hard to be 
without his friends at that time of year. 
But there was something very cleansing about the chaos of shopping on Oxford Street. 
The noise and the bustle and the smells ensured that he couldn’t sulk for very long, and 
Grant’s enthusiasm for the season did the rest. 

240 
 “Right, let’s have a look for Mary’s pressie first, shall we?” He grinned up at Remus, 
bouncing on the balls of his feet. “House of Fraser? Or is she a Selfridges girl?” 
“Whichever is trendier, I s’pose,” Remus said. “What did you have in mind?” 
“Gawd, I’ve no idea. Bath shit?” 
“Yeah,” Remus nodded, “Bath shit. Or perfume?” 
“Ooh, perfume, eh?” Grant nudged him with his elbow, “That’s intimate. Should I be 
worried?” 
“About Mary?” Remus snorted, “You’d be too late.” 
They wandered through the perfume departments of three or four big department 
stores. Remus somewhat regretted his choice, then - his hypersensitive sense of smell 
meant that he was already nursing a headache after the first stop. 
He eventually settled on something floral, in a pink and gold bottle, because it was 
pretty, and stylish, and Mary was pretty and stylish. He even had it gift wrapped, in gold 
paper with a red satin bow. Gryffindor colours, he smiled to himself. 
“Right, you can buy my present next,” Grant grinned, tugging his sleeve, “I want new 
socks, mine have all got holes.” 
Remus took a big gulp of cold fresh air as they came outside, relieved. “I’ve got to get 
you something better than s​ ocks​,” he said. 
“Could do with some new Y-fronts too.” Grant winked, and Remus blushed, looking 
down. He’d get something really nice, later on, when Grant wasn’t looking. He wasn’t sure 
what, yet, and he didn’t have a lot - but maybe a new coat might not stretch things too far? 
Grant was in dire need of one, his second-hand duffle barely kept the chill off. 
“What do you want?” Grant asked, looking at a window display designed to look like 
the north pole, with big while pillows stacked up to look like igloos and gigantic stuffed toy 
penguins. 
“Chocolate.” Remus shrugged. 
“That’s what I always get you…” 
“That’s all I want, now I don’t smoke.” 
Grant shook his head, tutting at Remus’s temperance. 
Suddenly, Remus caught a whiff of magic. For a moment he wondered if his senses 
were just wrecked by all the perfume, but no, it was very clear. He looked up and down the 
street, curiously. Then he saw him, standing outside the Marks & Spencer’s window display. 
“Christopher? Is that you?” Remus approached slowly. 
“Remus!” Christopher turned, surprised. 
“We have to stop meeting like this,” Remus laughed. He was in a good mood, and at 
least he hadn’t caught Chris in a compromising situation this time. 
“Yes, quite right,” Christopher laughed too, a little nervously, clearing his throat at 
the end. He was carrying several bulging shopping bags, in both hands. “How are you? 
Sorry I haven’t been in touch, it’s been ever so busy at work.” 

241 
 “That’s ok. I’m well,” Remus nodded. Christopher’s eyes flicked towards Grant. Remus 
remembered his manners, “Sorry, er, this is Grant, my…” 
“Better half.” Grant finished with a cheeky grin, holding out a gloved hand. 
Christopher looked as though he didn’t know whether to laugh along too, but he shifted his 
shopping bags to shake Grant’s hand, 
“Christopher Barley,” he said. 
“Chris and I were at school together,” Remus explained. 
“Oh, I see,” Grant nodded, eagerly, his eyes bulging. He never said anything about it, 
but Remus knew Grant was secretly dying to meet another wizard, just to compare. “Live in 
London, do ya?” 
“Er, no. Just in for shopping, you know. Christmas.” 
“Us too,” Remus said. 
“How nice.” Chris said very formally. It was starting to get a bit weird - Remus felt like 
they were at a middle class cocktail party or something, exchanging pleasantries. 
“Chris dear? There you are!” A short blonde woman came trotting up the street in neat 
black high heels and a gorgeous ermine coat. She was tugging a little boy along by the hand 
- he looked about five years old, and he had Christopher’s eyes. “Can we go quite soon? 
There are too many muggles about, it’s suffocating.” 
Christopher avoided Remus’s gaze, and greeted the woman. 
“Sorry, dear, I was just… I bumped into an old Hogwarts friend.” He gestured vaguely. 
“How lovely!” She turned her red-lipped smile on Remus. She held out a tiny hand, and 
he shook it awkwardly, not sure if he was supposed to kiss it. 
“Darling, this is Remus, and his friend Grant. Remus… this is Åsa,” Christopher 
mumbled, “My wife. And Henrik, my son.” 
“Pleased to meet you,” Remus nodded. Grant nodded too, but Remus could tell he was 
uncomfortable. 
“It is a pleasure!” Åsa gushed, “I have to say, I don’t meet so many of Christopher’s 
school mates. You must come for dinner one evening, and tell me all about his mischiefs!” 
“Ha, yeah, definitely,” Remus laughed self-consciously, rubbing the back of his neck. 
He didn't even know what he was saying. Christopher was married?! He had a kid?! 
“Well, we’d better be going.” Christopher said, his face weirdly blank. “Merry 
Christmas, Remus.” 
“Merry Christmas…” Remus gave an awkward wave, as the family turned to walk away, 
towards Diagon Alley. 
“Is it just me,” Grant said, as they left, “Or was that strange?” 
“Very.” Remus said. “He must have met her in Sweden… He said his family sent him 
there…” 
“It wasn’t her that was strange.” Grant said. 
“No, I mean…” Remus bit his lip, “Er… so I know Chris from school, but I’ve seen him 
since. About eighteen months ago, coming out of that sauna in Soho.” 

242 
 “Oh!” Grant said. “Right, I get it. Poor bloke.” 
“He never said anything then… he… how old did the kid look, to you?” 
“Older than eighteen months.” Grant shrugged. 
“Yeah…” 
It soon began to rain; icy cold December rain, so they ran for the next bus and went 
home. Remus often thought about Christopher, after that, and it troubled him. There was 
nothing much he thought he could do about it, and really it was none of his business - but 
he didn’t understand at all. Had Christopher been convinced, or coerced? Did he love her, 
was he happy? 
By the time he and Grant got in from the rain they were freezing and soaked through. 
They took a hot shower to warm up, then Remus lit a fire in the old floo connection to heat 
up the flat for Grant. 
“How does that work when we ain’t got a chimney?” Grant asked, bringing in the tea. 
“Magic.” Remus yawned, as Grant settled down beside him. 
“I’m like that bloke in Bewitched married to the sexy blonde.” 
“I don’t wiggle my nose though.” 
“Aww, now I’ll never leave you alone until you do,” Grant grinned. 
Remus gave him a haughty look, and pointed his wand at the radio. They were so cosy, 
it felt wrong to switch the telly on.  
"Thanks for coming with me, today." Grant said, wrapping his hands around his mug 
of tea to warm them, "I know you hate crowds." 
"I don't mind, really. Thanks for getting me out of the house. And showing me the 
lights." 
"Any time," Grant snorted. "Always cheers me up, Christmas shopping. Y'know, no 
one's thinking about themselves - just making other people happy - it's nice." 
"I thought you were against the commercialisation of Christmas." Remus commented, 
wryly. Grant elbowed him, 
"I ​am​, but some of it's still nice. Anyway, thought you'd like a break from politics this 
weekend." 
Remus didn't respond, just kissed Grant's cheek, and settled in to listen to the radio. 
The tail end of a Suzanne Vega song was playing. “Love this tune,” Grant murmured, 
leaning against his shoulder, “Love her voice, all clear and weird, you know what I mean?” 
“It’s a greek myth,” Remus replied, drowsily, “Odysseus.” 
“Nah, it’s something beginning with a C,” Grant replied, sipping his tea. 
“Yes, Calypso - she’s the siren, but Odysseus is the main character.” 
“Siren? Isn’t that like a mermaid?” 
“Sort of. They lure men in with their singing.” 
“Are they real?” Grant asked. He always wanted to know. 
“Yes, mermaids are. I don’t know if Calypso was.” 
“So what did she do? They fell in love, or what?” 

243 
 “Odysseus’s story is called The Odyssey. It’s all about his journey home from the 
trojan war.” Remus furrowed his brow, trying to remember. It was Homer - he'd read that 
in his second year, either before or after The Epic of Gilgamesh, he couldn't remember. He 
hadn't really liked The Odyssey - he'd preferred The Illiad, because that had all the good 
war stuff in it. Maybe he'd feel different now, as an adult. 
“The trojans... are they the ones with the wooden horse?” Grant asked, still trying to 
follow the thread. 
“Yeah, that’s right. Odysseus gets into all sorts of trouble as he tries to get home to his 
wife, Penelope. But the sea god gets angry with him about something - can't remember 
what, but he destroys Odysseus’s ship, and he washes up on this island, where Calypso 
lives. She falls in love with him and holds him hostage for seven years.” 
“What does she do to him?” 
“Oh, I dunno. Feeds him, heals his wounds and stuff. I think she dances a lot.” 
“She doesn’t sound too bad. She sounds kind.” 
“Maybe. But she wants to make him immortal, and Odysseus wants to get back to 
Penelope. Calypso isn’t his true love.” 
“Sort of sad.” Grant huffed, sounding put out. 
“It’s just a story.” Remus shrugged. 
 
(Songs: Fairytale of New York - The Pogues, Calypso - Suzanne Vega) 
 
 
 

244 
 ONE HUNDRED & EIGHTY-ONE 
1990 
 
And then she turns to me with her hand extended 
Her palm is split with a flower with a flame 
  
And she says "I've come to set a twisted thing straight." 
And she says "l've come to lighten this dark heart." 
And she takes my wrist, I feel her imprint of fear 
And I say "I've never thought of finding you here." 
  
Mary had her first child that year - a little girl she called Rachel, after her mother. 
Rachel Marlene.   
“Not gonna lie,” she told Remus over the phone, “I’m praying she’s a squib. Can’t be 
doing with all that nonsense.” 
She invited him to the Christening, and he went out of obligation. It had been decades 
since he’d set foot in a church, and this was a huge catholic one in Croydon. Grant didn’t 
come, said he was too scared he’d burst into flames when he crossed the threshold. 
“That’s ridiculous,” Remus sighed, tired and humourless, “Mary is literally a ​witch​. If 
she’s safe in a church...” 
“My grandad was a bible-basher,” Grant shuddered, “They can all ​do one​, far as I’m 
concerned.” 
Grant was rarely so stubborn, so Remus went alone, and tried not to think about 
funerals. 
After the ceremony, there was a bit of a party in the hall next door, and Mary showed 
off the baby. She was gorgeous; chubby with huge brown eyes and huge brown curls and a 
gummy smile sure to be as dazzling as her mothers’ one day. Remus waved at the giggling 
cherub nervously, and patted her soft baby hand. 
“I’m completely obsessed with her.” Mary gushed, holding her up, “Want to hold her?” 
Mary grinned, then laughed that girlish cackle which took him back years, “I’m t​ easing​, 
Remus darling. Here, I’ll give her to Darren’s mum for a bit, let’s you and me have a catch 
up…”   
They sat on red plastic chairs in a quiet corner of the church hall, clutching paper cups 
of watered down orange squash. It was a small space, filled with the noise of family 
celebration, and children playing. Mary’s family was huge, and as brash and loveable as she 
was. Remus felt very out of place, but what else was new. 
“You’re not getting married, then?” Remus asked, “You and Darren?” 
“Shh, Mum’ll hear you,” Mary giggled, “She’s furious, of course, she’s pretending we 
had a small ceremony in Jamaica before Rachel was conceived. Nah, I don’t fancy it - and 
we’ve barely got the time what with the garage and the new house…” 

245 
 Remus nodded along, smiling. It felt so good to be sitting next to Mary again; to have 
her chattering away, full of energy and joy. 
“How about you, still up Soho?” Mary asked, giving him an appraising look. He’d 
come dressed in a suit he had bought the day before from a charity shop. It was ok; a bit 
seventies, and too big on him, but that was the style these days anyway. 
“Yeah.” He nodded, “Don’t think I’ll ever move, to be honest, the flat’s paid for.” 
“Got a boyfriend?” 
“Mm, sort of…” 
“I know you have, why are you being so mysterious? Is he a muggle?” 
“Yeah.” 
“Oh, I wish you’d come and see me more often, Remus. I worry about you.” 
He smiled at her, “You’re such a mum.” 
That made her laugh. “Guilty!” 
She was still beautiful, and looked the same at thirty as she had at eighteen, in his 
mind. She wore a loud, hot pink dress suit with razor sharp power shoulders and a gleaming 
gold fascinator perched atop her head. She’d cut her hair short, making her face look more 
angular, like a Nefertiti bust. 
“Mum keeps calling me ‘Grace Jones’,” Mary touched her bare neck self-consciously, 
“I like it, though. Can’t waste time fussing in front of the mirror when I’ve got the little 
monkey keeping me on my toes. Are you working somewhere?” 
“Oh… here and there,” Remus shrugged, noncommittally. “You know what it’s like.” 
“You know Dumbledore gave ​Snape​ a job,” Mary leaned in and whispered. Remus 
didn’t know why - he was the only other person there who knew who Dumbledore or Snape 
were. “He’s a teacher at Hogwarts, now. Can you believe that?!” 
Remus shrugged. Mary continued, furious. This had obviously been on her mind for 
some time, “When I think of all the suffering that snivelling coward caused! When I think 
about all the friends I’ve lost… Lily and James, Peter... Marlene.” 
“Snape wasn’t responsible for their deaths.” 
“How are we to know? So what, he turned spy for t​ wo bloody weeks​ at the end - and that 
guarantees him a cushy job for life, does it? What was he doing while we were hiding in 
cellars like rats? Where was he when we were disappearing by the day?!” 
“Mary…” 
“I just can’t believe Dumbledore. Has he offered ​you​ any help? He hasn’t me. Not 
worth his time, I suppose. They all stuck together in the end; the old families.” 
“I don’t w
​ ant​ anything from him.” Remus said, “Being in Dumbledore’s debt is too 
dangerous. Anyway. Snape has to live with what he did; just like we all do.” 
She lowered her eyes, then, and Remus knew they were both thinking about Sirius. 
“I tell you what, Remus my love,” She said, finally, “I don’t care if she’s magic or not, 
my baby girl won’t be cannon fodder for that old bastard. Next time that lot want a war, you 
and me are going to be smart enough to keep well out of it, eh?” 

246 
 “Too right.” Remus replied. They could agree on that, at least. He’d join the 
werewolves again before he ever re-joined the Order. 
“You know, having Rachel makes me think about Harry.” Mary said, wistfully. “Now 
I’ve got a child of my own, just don’t know how Lily and James did it. Remember? We were 
all just kids, playing mummies and daddies, weren’t we?” 
“I s’pose, yeah.” 
“He’ll be starting Hogwarts next year, Harry.” 
“What?! No, that’s not right, he must only be…” Remus struggled to do the maths in 
his head. “Shit.” He said. “I didn’t even think.” 
“Poor little love, going to school with no parents to see him off.” 
“Mm…” 
“Oh gosh, sorry, Remus! I wasn’t thinking…” 
“It’s fine,” he chuckled, “I’ve got over being an orphan by now.” 
He stayed for about an hour before heading off to catch his bus in the cold dark of an 
early winter evening. He clutched two slices of cake wrapped in pink paper napkins - o
​ ne 
for you, one for your ‘sort of’ boyfriend​, Mary winked as she’d handed them over. 
He kissed her cheek, and she stretched up on her tiptoes to hug him. She smelled the 
same, and it made him want to cry. 
“Love you, sweetheart,” she whispered, “I’m so pleased to see you getting back to 
yourself.” 
He gave her a half-smile, congratulated her again, and left. 
She was right. He was getting back to himself - or if not that, becoming somebody 
else; somebody who was coping. He’d kicked fags and booze, he rarely spent afternoons 
staring at his bedroom ceiling, unable to get dressed. Sometimes weird things made him 
anxious, like the smell of motor oil, or when they played old Bowie songs on the radio. 
Once he’d seen a teenage girl with ginger hair get off a bus in Finsbury Park and almost 
followed her home. But he was doing better. 
Sometimes he could even think about Sirius. Sometimes he could talk about him - only 
to Grant, and only if he asked. Funny things, like pranks they’d done at school, or stupid 
in-jokes. He didn’t think about them being together - he turned Sirius into a different 
person in his mind, just another character from his school days. That made things much 
easier. 
After the Christening, on the way home, Remus thought about Harry. He hoped the 
kid was happy, or at least that he wasn’t angry. Remus tried to picture himself, aged 11, 
crossing through the barrier at King’s Cross for the first time. It had been nerve-wracking 
and exhilarating, and he hadn’t known how to act, how to relate to anyone else. And then 
he’d met James, the first friendly face on the train that day. It was too cruel that Harry 
wouldn’t ever know him. 
Remus was in danger of getting nostalgic now, and weepy, so he got off the bus to 
walk the rest of the way home. He was tired by the time he got in, and his hip hurt, but that 
was ok; he felt good about having left the house. 

247 
 “All right, sunshine?” Grant called from the kitchen as Remus shut the front door. 
“Hiya,” 
“How was it?” 
“Church bit was boring. Seeing Mary was nice.” 
“Oh good,” Grant came through to lean in the door frame. He was drying a dish they’d 
used last night. 
“Leave that, I’ll do it.” Remus said, collapsing into the couch. 
“Nah, it's done.” 
“Mary invited us for dinner. They live out in Hounslow though, bit of a trek… but if 
you fancied it...” 
“Oh she knows who I am now?” Grant smirked. 
“Sort of.” Remus blushed. “she knows I’m seeing someone, just…” 
“For almost nine years, Remus…” 
“Sorry, it's just weird because… Mary knew me back then, you know.” 
“She knew you when you were with Sirius.” Grant said flatly, turning back into the 
kitchen to put the plate away. 
“Don’t be like that!” Remus said, getting up stiffly. 
“I’m not being like anything.” Grant’s face was hidden by the cupboard door. 
“I invited you to the Christening, you didn’t want to come.” 
“You know bloody well why, too.” 
“You hate churches, I know.” 
“Well, then.” 
“Why are we fighting?!” Remus frowned, confused. 
“This isn’t fighting.” Grant closed the door to the cupboard, sighing. 
“What is it, then?” 
“It was ten years ago, that's all. You’re still acting like I don’t matter as much as he 
did.” 
“What?! No, that's mad, that's--" 
“That's all I want to say.” Grant raises a hand to stop him. “Like I said, this isn’t a 
fight.” 
“But Grant, I don’t… you’re wrong, I swear! I want you to meet Mary, I do!” 
“I’m going for a walk, ok? I need some air.” Grant pushed past him to the door. He 
took his coat off the hook - the coat Remus had bought him last Christmas. “I’ll be back in 
an hour or so. Take a paracetamol for your hip, will you? You’re limping again.” 
 
(Song: Solitude Standing - Suzanne Vega) 

   

248 
 ONE HUNDRED & EIGHTY-TWO 
1991 
 
I’m sure that everybody knows 
How much my body hates me. 
It lets me down most every time 
And makes me rash and hasty. 
I feel a total jerk before your naked body of work… 
  
Sexuality! 
Young and warm and wild and free! 
Sexuality 
Your laws do not apply to me! 
Sexuality 
Don’t threaten me with misery! 
Sexuality 
I demand equality! 
  
Saturday 9th March 1991 
“Have you seen my wand?!” 
“Nope.” 
“Bugger!” 
“Where did you last have it?” 
“If I knew that I wouldn’t be looking, would I?!” 
“All right, all right, keep your hair on,” Grant emerged from the bathroom smelling of 
toothpaste and pantene. Remus had almost turned the living room upside down in his 
search. He stood in the middle of the mess, running his fingers anxiously through his hair. 
“I’ve got a million exam sheets to mark today, I really need it…” 
“Just do it without magic, like the rest of us mortals,” Grant shrugged, lifting the 
couch cushions to help him look. 
“I can’t, I ​really​ need my wand…” Remus huffed, looking under the TV table. 
“Shame there ain’t a spell to find it, eh,” Grant chuckled. Then he saw Remus’s face, 
and turned serious, raising his hand, “Ok, don’t worry, we’ll find it… right, last time you 
used it… er… when the lights went, last night, remember?” 
“Oh yeah!” Remus rushed into the bedroom. They’d been having power cuts at least 
twice a week for the past month - Remus thought that was all over now the miners were 
back to work, but apparently not. 

249 
 His wand had rolled under the bed. He snatched it up, relieved, and held it tight in his 
fist. “Thank Merlin.” He whispered to himself. 
“Got it?” Grant asked, as Remus returned to the living room. Grant was straightening 
out the mess Remus had left. Remus flicked his wand triumphantly, and the room 
re-ordered itself. Grant made a noise of surprise and delight. “Clever clogs.” He grinned. 
Remus poked his tongue out, and went to organise his pile of papers. 
“Still don’t see why you need your wand - does it speed things up, or something?” 
“No, I need it to read,” Remus replied, sitting down at the little dining table to work. 
“Eh?” 
“I have this spell that helps me read,” Remus said, “I never learnt how to do it properly 
at St Edmund’s.” 
“You can’t ​read​?!” Grant hand his hands on his hips, staring at Remus in disbelief. 
“Well, I can a b​ it​…” Remus said, feeling defensive, “Just not very well - the words get 
all jumbled up, I dunno why.” 
“Oh!” Grant said, sitting down next to him. “You’re dyslexic.” 
“I’m what?” Remus frowned at him. He’d never heard that world before; it sounded 
like a spell. 
“Dyslexic. They used to call it word-blind. Nothing wrong with your IQ, it’s the 
connection between your eyes and your brain or something… I read some about it when I 
was studying Education. Trying to get them to acknowledge it at work, I reckon a few of 
the boys need extra help, but the governor just reckons they’re thick.” 
“Yeah, that’s what they told me.” Remus frowned. “...wait, so it’s a real thing?!” 
“Of course it is,” Grant shrugged. “Bloody amazing you’ve got a spell for it, show me!” 
Remus did, but of course there wasn’t very much to see, and he couldn’t do it on Grant. 
He made a mental note to look up dyslexia when he had some free time - if he could figure 
out how on earth to spell the stupid word. 
“I’ll leave you to finish then,” Grant said, “Remember our plans tonight!” 
“Oh… yeah…” Remus sighed. “Well, if I finish in time, maybe…” 
“Nope,” Grant shook his head firmly, “We’re going, Remus Lupin. I’m dragging you 
into the nineties kicking and screaming if I have to.” 
Remus laughed half-heartedly, trying to ignore the gnawing dread in the pit of his 
stomach. 
It was his thirty-first birthday tomorrow, and Grant had decided that this was the year 
Remus would finally go to his first gay bar. As March approached Remus just wanted to 
hide until the day was over, like always. Birthdays always reminded him of the marauders. 
“You ought to get out a bit,” Grant kept saying, “Meet some people.” 
“I hate people.” Remus would reply acidly, “People voted for Thatcher and keep 
buying Morrissey’s records. People are idiots.” 
Grant laughed, 

250 
 “People are great. Art, sex, coffee, conversation - can’t have any of those without 
people. People are what makes it all worthwhile and you know it.” 
He was right - Grant was generally right about humanity. 
And the world had certainly changed. Remus had missed out, as usual, immersed in 
the war, or locked up in his own grief. Grant returned to him from the outside world like an 
explorer with fantastical stories to tell. 
Things were different now, for people like them - queers, or, more appropriately these 
days; ‘gay men’. Just over two decades ago it had been a crime to live the way they did - and 
there had been plenty of bumps in the road since then, but you couldn’t stop progress. 
As the eighties drew to a close, it seemed gay people were everywhere; Grant made 
London sound like one massive coming out party. He told Remus about once seeing 
Freddie Mercury in Heaven, the Pet Shop Boys playing on the radio, Frankie Goes to 
Hollywood was number one again, Boy George’s makeup - even E
​ lton John​ was gay now. 
So, Remus thought, it was probably time he at least try to get involved. 
They went to a small bar, just around the corner, “I don’t think you’re ready for 
Heaven, yet,” Grant teased him. 
Remus wished he wouldn’t make fun. He was more nervous than he expected to be. 
“I won’t fit in…” He said, checking his face in the little mirror by their front door. He 
was looking old. ​Thirty-one​. Jesus Christ, only yesterday he’d been seventeen. 
“It’s a gay bar.” Grant tutted, standing behind him with an amused expression. 
“You’re gay. You’ll fit in.” 
“I dunno if I’m that ​kind​ of gay, though…” Remus replied, touselling his greying hair to 
see if that improved anything. Not really, just made him look a bit scruffier. “Won’t they all 
be… I dunno, younger, more fun?” 
“You’re loads of fun.” Grant said. Remus met his eyes in the mirror and raised an 
eyebrow. Grant snickered, “Well, ​I​ think you’re fun. I’m not gonna make you dance, don’t 
worry.” 
“Let’s stay in and get a Chinese!” Remus pleaded, one last time. 
“No,” Grant shook his head, smiling, “You promised me. One hour minimum, come 
on.” 
So he went. Maybe he was getting soft in his old age. 
Remus was right - the crowd in the little bar was younger and more fun. There were a 
few people older than him, though, which made him feel a bit less out of place, and at least 
all the coloured lights hid his grey hair. 
When Remus was a little boy at St Edmund’s, the one TV show everyone had agreed on 
wanting to watch was Top of the Pops on Friday evenings. They’d gathered around the tiny 
fuzzy black and white screen, and through the blizzard of static watched the trendy young 
people dancing along to their favourite pop songs. The St Edmund’s lads were particular 
fans of Babs Lord, the bouncy blonde lead dancer of Pan’s People, Top of the Pops’ 
in-house dance troupe. 

251 
 That studio had looked like the coolest place on earth to eight year old Remus, and he 
was instantly reminded of it as he followed Grant into ‘Boyz’. Except that devotees of busty 
Babs would have been very disappointed, because the clientele in here was decidedly male. 
Oh my god​, Remus thought to himself, as he walked through the busy dance floor to 
the bar, a
​ re they all gay?! Do they all know I’m gay?! Oh my god... 
“Do you wanna calm down there, sunshine?” Grant gave him a look as they took up 
two barstools near the light-up dancefloor. 
“I’m fine!” Remus said, his voice maybe a bit too high. 
“Stop staring, you weirdo! I’ll get you a drink.” 
But Remus couldn’t help staring. Everyone was just so b​ razen​, tight jeans, tight shirts - 
or no shirts at all, in some cases. They were dancing together, and laughing, and kissing, 
and it was all just fine - no one was saying anything about it. Remus’s head was spinning. 
Grant handed Remus a drink - a cherry cola, because he still wasn’t supposed to be 
drinking. Remus sipped it, and tried not to look as out of place as he felt. He didn’t know 
any of the music, either, it was all too modern for him. God, he was old. 
“I don’t know why you said I didn’t have to dance,” he said to Grant, “Seems like that’s 
the only thing to do.” 
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Grant smiled, “Relax! That’s the 
whole point of being here!” 
Remus tried. He was glad it was not a busy night, he didn’t think he'd be able to cope 
with a crowd. He sat on his stool and sipped his coke, and looked around without staring, 
and eventually it felt a bit less scary. He felt a bit twitchy when a drag queen sidled up to 
him - six foot ten in pink PVC platform boots and a Dolly Parton wig, but she fluttered her 
massive eyelashes at him and held out a cigarette, 
“Got a light, handsome?” 
Remus felt his cheeks burning, and shook his head shyly, “Sorry,” he mumbled, “Don’t 
smoke.” 
“Oi, do your trick though,” Grant elbowed him. He addressed the drag queen, “Remus 
‘ere does this ‘mazing magic trick.” 
“Well I love a bit of magic,” the glamorous stranger purred. Remus bit his lip, but 
nodded, 
“Ok, um…” he took the cigarette and put it between his own lips, then snapped his 
fingers. The end lit at once, and Remus took a quick drag, for his troubles, before handing it 
back. 
“Blimey!” The drag queen blinked, staring at the lit fag, “Amazing is right! Better 
watch out for you, eh, magic man?” 
Remus blushed again, looking down at his coke, “Just a sleight of hand.” 
“Come here often, then?” She leaned against the bar, smoking, her blood red lipstick 
staining the fag end. 
“Oh, no!” Remus said, maybe a bit too quickly. 

252 
 Grant laughed and put a hand on his shoulder, “It’s his first time. Brought him for his 
birthday.” 
“Oh, happy birthday!” She smiled broadly, “We’ll have to play you a song, later - just 
go and tell the DJ, ok sweetie?” 
“Er, ok.” Remus nodded, planning to do no such thing. 
“See you later, boys,” the drag queen winked and sailed away across the dancefloor. 
“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” Grant said. “You’ll be ready to march with me in the pride 
parade by July.” 
“I don’t know about that…” Remus laughed. 
He gazed at the dancefloor a bit longer. The drag queen had treated him as if he’d 
belonged. Rather than feeling more self conscious, he actually felt a bit happier - everyone 
was nice enough, no one was being nasty, or rude. He watched a couple kissing in the 
middle of the floor - they were really going for it, groping each other’s backsides - and 
people were actually c​ heering​. 
He remembered his friends cheering when Mary and Sirius kissed in the Gryffindor 
common room, all those years ago - that had been Remus’s birthday, too, and the date of 
Remus and Sirius’s first kiss, which had happened in shadows. Almost all of their kisses 
had been hidden away, because deep down they both knew that no one wanted to see t​ hat​. 
Not in the seventies, not at Hogwarts. 
Remus had a sudden urge to do something similar, here, in plain view, where everyone 
could see and nobody would frown or jeer. 
Only he wasn’t ​quite​ brave enough for public snogging just yet, even at the grand old 
age of (almost) thirty-one. So he just reached over and held Grant’s hand, on top of the bar. 
Grant blinked in surprise, but then his face lit up so gorgeously that any last trace of nerves 
left Remus completely. He sometimes forgot that Grant had feelings too, which sounded 
heartless, but it was only because Grant so rarely complained. Happiness looked so good on 
him that Remus made a resolution to work harder on it. 
They hung around a bit longer, until Remus had finished his drink. He had no desire 
to dance (though more than one person had approached, inviting him to join them) but the 
experience hadn’t been dreadful. He said as much to Grant, who laughed, 
“Told you so! Thanks for coming, darling, I know it’s not easy.” 
“You make it easier,” Remus said, softly - surprising himself. Grant looked taken 
aback, and squeezed Remus’s hand again, 
“Bloody charmer,” he said, bashfully. “Come on, I’ve got a chocolate cake waiting in 
the fridge at home, you can blow out the candles and we’ll kiss in the dark.” 
Remus grinned back, “Sounds perfect.” 
He nipped to the loo before leaving. He could have waited until he got home, they 
were only around the corner, but he felt that this was his last test of bravery. 
The toilets were unisex, which Remus supposed was fair enough, if a bit embarrassing 
- there weren’t any girls about at least. He went and used a urinal, as quickly as possible, 
trying to ignore the sound and scent of sex emanating from the cubicles. He was just 

253 
washing his hands when the door swung open, and somebody closed in behind him. He 
spun around, surprised, and faced the stranger. 
“What--” 
The man grinned wide, showing his teeth. He licked his lips and sniffed the air, and 
then it hit Remus - the familiar scent, the instant connection - the lack of respect for 
personal space. A werewolf. 
“I smelled your magic,” the man said, his voice low, “​Delicious​. Haven't seen ​you 
before…” 
He wasn't as tall as Remus, and he was quite thin, in a skin tight white shirt. He had 
long flame red hair, straight as a poker, and glacier blue eyes. The scent of earthy natural 
magic radiated off him in waves that made Remus giddy, blood rushing through his veins 
and arteries like an elixir. 
“Hi…” 
The stranger sniffed again, “Which pack are you? You smell like Greyback…” 
Remus balked a bit at the idea he had anything of Greyback in him, but he shook his 
head, “No pack.” 
“Brave of you… Not worried you’ll get rounded up by the Ministry?” 
“What about you? Who are you with?” For a moment Remus hoped he was one of 
Castor’s - he desperately wanted to know how they were all doing, but the stranger just 
shrugged. 
“Oh, we drift here and there. You won’t have heard of us.” 
“But you know Greyback.” 
“Oh yes.” He pulled his shirt down at the collar, revealing an enormous bite mark 
which was all too familiar to Remus, “We go back a long way, he and I…” 
“The war, were you--” 
“Ha, I was barely a pup, back then,” the werewolf raised an eyebrow. His skin was so 
fair that his scars were like streaks of silver, pearlescent as moonbeams. “But the next war… 
the next war, we shall be ready for.” 
“There won’t be another war.” Remus said. He was backed against the porcelain sink, 
the werewolf had placed a hand either side of him. He was trapped, but he’d made no move 
to escape, not yet. “Voldemort’s dead.” 
“Mmm, some say…” the werewolf smirked. He leaned in and licked behind Remus’s 
earlobe. It made him shudder all over, he had to hold in a whimper. The other man pressed 
in on him, and whispered, “But I have heard that part of him lives still. The forests speak of 
ancient magic, of cursed blood… the dark lord gathers his strength…” 
“No…” Remus shook his head. He tried to push back, but only succeeded in grinding 
their bodies together. He knew it was all lies, and he knew this man was trouble, but ​oh god​, 
the scent was so heady, his body wouldn’t listen to him; it only wanted one thing. 
“Come,” the werewolf kept whispering, his breath hot on Remus's neck, “No more talk 
of war, it’s not our concern just yet… I want to enjoy you. Do you live nearby? We can go 
anywhere you like - this is going to be so good, the moon’s waxing…” 

254 
 Remus shook his head again, as if he could rid himself of the fog of pheromones 
flooding his system, “I'm here with someone.” He rasped. 
“Bring them, if you like…” the wolf chuckled, “I’m all for sharing.” 
“N-no, I have to go…” Remus used his last shred of willpower to extricate himself from 
the stranger and hurry back into the bar, feeling the wolf's eyes blazing at his back. 
He found Grant and grabbed his shirt sleeve, hissing, “We have to go home.” 
“Eh? You all right, something happen?” 
“No… um… I just want to go home. I want to take y​ ou​ home.” He met Grant's eyes, still 
holding his arm, and he wondered if Grant could feel it too, feel the burning, the need. 
Sirius always could, but perhaps you had to be sensitive to magic? Remus focussed the 
intensity, projecting it outwards. Grant's eyes flickered and his pupils dilated, a warm blush 
creeping up his neck. 
“All right, then.” He knocked back the last of his drink, and they left, running out onto 
the busy street together, hand in hand. 
 
(Song: Sexuality - Billy Bragg) 
 
 
 
 
 
 

   

255 
 ONE HUNDRED & EIGHTY-THREE 
Summer 1993 
 
I stumbled out of bed 
I got ready for the struggle. 
I smoked a cigarette 
And I tightened up my gut 
I said this can't be me; must be my double 
And I can't forget (I can't forget) 
I can't forget but I don't remember what. 
  
7th August 1993 
An owl arrived that morning, and it was as if Remus had been waiting for it all along. 
He was brushing his teeth when the bird landed on his bathroom windowsill, brown and 
tawny. He recognised it at once – he would know a Hogwarts owl anywhere. It gave an 
official ‘hoot’ and stuck out its scaly leg. Remus untied the letter, toothbrush clenched 
between his teeth, mouth full of froth. He spat and opened the envelope as the bird took off 
again, navigating the narrow brick buildings with the perfect ease of a predator.  
Mr R. J. Lupin, 
Professor Dumbledore wishes to pay you a visit today at about tea time. He apologises for the 
short notice given, and hopes that he will be made welcome. No need to provide refreshments. 
Hoping you are well. 
It was not signed, and had presumably come directly from the headmaster’s office. 
Remus expected his insides to turn cold, his hands to shake, tears to prick in his eyes. But 
nothing came; he felt no reaction other than extreme tiredness. Heaving a sigh, Remus 
finished brushing his teeth and dressed. 
Grant had left at some point for football practice - he’d invited Remus; he always 
asked, but Remus never took him up on it. He’d spent enough of his life watching people 
who were sportier than him doing sporty things. 
It was a Saturday, and there was nothing much to do, so Remus read the paper – The 
Guardian; he hadn’t picked up a copy of the Prophet in years – and settled in to wait. 
He expected that ‘tea time’ was about 5pm, though you could never tell with 
Dumbledore. He tried to picture his old head teacher, wondering whether twelve years had 
made much difference – and to see if he was still angry. But no, Remus didn’t think he had 
the energy for anger any more. Maybe he’d used it all up. 
Restless, Remus switched on the telly, then turned it off again when there was nothing 
to watch but ​Grandstand​. He found himself growing agitated. What sort of person simply 
announced their visit the morning of? What sort of person just invited themselves over? No 
one but Dumbledore. It was downright rude – what if Remus had had plans? He briefly 

256 
wondered about teaching the old goat a lesson – walking out and going to see a film, let 
Dumbledore arrive to an empty flat. Serve him right. ​But. But. 
Remus wanted to know. It had to be important; no one from Hogwarts or the Order 
had tried to get in touch since the early eighties. It could be anything. 
Finally that old familiar *CRACK* sounded just outside, and there was a soft but 
purposeful rap at the door. He opened it quickly, and found Dumbledore almost exactly as 
he’d remembered. Hair a bit whiter, if that was even possible, but very much the same man. 
A queasy feeling rose up in Remus’s throat, and he felt eleven years old again. 
“Professor.” He said, dryly, standing aside to allow Dumbledore entry. 
“Remus,” the old man smiled, “How are you?” 
“Fine,” Remus rubbed the back of his head, “Fine, yeah.” 
“Lovely.” Dumbledore’s bright blue eyes darted about the room, taking in every inch 
of the home Remus had once shared with Sirius. 
“Sit, if you want.” Remus offered. 
“Thank you.” 
“Tea?” 
“Certainly, very kind.” 
Remus took the opportunity to escape to the kitchen. He made the tea the muggle way, 
with the electric kettle, just to stay away a bit longer. 
“Sugar?” He called, 
“Three, if you please.” 
The old man still had his sweet tooth then. Remus remembered the sherbet lemons 
with reluctant fondness. Tea made, he returned to the living room and set the mugs down 
on his battered old coffee table, using an old copy of P
​ rivate Eye​ as a coaster. 
“It’s been ages.” Remus said, sitting in the armchair. 
“Twelve years.” 
“I know.” Remus flinched, irritated. Did Dumbledore really think he didn’t count away 
each passing year? Each month? 
“You’re keeping well?” 
“Well enough. I get by.” 
“Do you know why I’m here?” The wizard asked. Remus shrugged, 
“Haven’t the foggiest.” 
Dumbledore sighed very softly and set down his mug of tea. “I was somewhat afraid of 
that. You haven’t been reading the news, then?” 
“Not your news, no. Why?” 
“Oh dear, I had hoped you’d already… you see, Remus—” 
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Remus said suddenly, sharply. “Black. He’s dead?” 
Dumbledore fixed him with a very intense stare. 
“No,” he said, gently, “He is not dead. Sirius has escaped.” 

257 
 For a moment, Remus thought he had misheard. Escaped. Would dead have been 
better? At least if Sirius was dead then it was all over, finally. He couldn’t wrap his head 
around what ‘escape’ meant. 
“Christ.” He dropped his head into his hands. 
“Indeed.” Dumbledore sipped at his tea. Remus didn’t trust himself to lift his mug, so 
he simply sat there, staring at the carpet. It needed hoovering badly. “I take it, then,” 
Dumbledore said, evenly, “That Mr Black has not been in touch?” 
Mr Black. He spoke as if they were still his students. Remus just shook his head 
mutely, looking up. Dumbledore nodded, and Remus knew he believed him. 
“Is he… I didn’t know anyone could escape Azkaban.” 
“Sirius would be the first.” Dumbledore said. “He was always a very gifted wizard.” 
“Mm.” Remus couldn’t think properly, he felt as if a vault of long forgotten memories 
was easing open in his mind, its hinges rusty and sore. Could a dog escape the dementors? 
Could a dog swim to the shore? The north sea was so cold, he shuddered to think about it. 
Twelve years. 
“​Honey ahhhm home​!” Grant clattered through the door in fluorescent yellow football 
shorts with a terrible American accent and a cheesy grin, which froze when he saw 
Dumbledore, “Oh, sorry… tea party, is it?” 
Remus stood up, anxiously, rubbing his arm, “Grant, I… um… this is my old head 
teacher. Could you give us a minute?” 
“If you want,” Grant furrowed his brow, eyes darting back and forth, “Should I leave?” 
“No, don’t go, just…” 
“I’ll wait in the other room.” Grant said, understanding quickly. 
Remus blushed slightly, Dumbledore was sure to know that ‘the other room’ was the 
bedroom. 
Grant edged around the room awkwardly. Just as he reached the bedroom door, he 
patted his pockets, “Err… Remus, got any fags?” 
“​Accio Marlboro’s​,” Remus said, with a twitch of his wand. The packet flew into his 
hand and he withdrew one of his own, lighting it with his wand, then threw the box to 
Grant, who caught it deftly. 
“Cheers,” Grant nodded, retreating into the next room. 
Remus took a long drag, staring into space. His head swam; he very rarely smoked 
anymore. He hid a box for emergencies. And this was an enormous emergency. 
“You perform magic in front of this young man?” Dumbledore asked. 
Remus gave him an irritated look. What a stupid thing to care about, “Yeah yeah, 
statute of secrecy,” he replied, tutting, flicking his ash onto the coffee table, “Give me 
detention for it if you like.” He took another pull. 
“Fortunately, the statute of secrecy does not apply to partners, spouses or family 
members.” Dumbledore replied, calmly, “And I assume he is your…” 
Remus exhaled smoke, rubbing his head again, “Well he’s not my fucking brother, 
professor.” 

258 
 Dumbledore did not flinch. 
“I’m sorry, Remus.” He said, “You’ve had a shock. I hadn’t realised that you’d shut 
yourself off so much, I had thought…” 
“No one to shut myself off from,” Remus snorted, “Everyone’s gone anyway.” 
“I wish I could give you some time to adjust to this news, but I’m afraid there’s 
another reason I’ve come today.” 
“Of course there is,” Remus sighed, deeply. He just wanted Dumbledore to leave. He 
needed a drink, for the first time in years. He needed to drink himself into a stupor, to 
drown every thought in his head. 
“Are you working, at the moment?” 
“Here and there,” Remus shrugged, “What I can get.” 
“There is a vacancy at Hogwarts.” 
“Oh yeah?” Remus snorted, “Filch left, has he? Not interested.” 
“It is a teaching position.” Dumbledore replied, once again demonstrating his 
uncanny ability to remain calm when confronted with barefaced cheek. Remus laughed 
rudely, 
“Have you ​finally​ cracked, Dumbledore?! You want to hire a werewolf to look after 
your kids, now?” 
“There are measures we can take…” 
“Oh no,” Remus shook his head, vehemently, “You’re not getting me back in that 
bloody shack.” 
“Advances have been made, Remus,” Dumbledore said, sharply, “If you had kept in 
touch with the wizarding world you would know this. The discovery of wolfsbane potion 
has been of enormous help to many with your condition. It would render you almost 
entirely harmless during your transformations. I would make it a condition of your 
employment.” 
“Why do you want me?” Remus eyed him with renewed suspicion. What was he after? 
Teaching positions at Hogwarts were highly coveted, he knew that much. 
“I think you would make an excellent teacher, first and foremost.” Dumbledore said, “I 
also thought you might appreciate the opportunity. And with the news of Black’s escape, 
I—” 
“Ah,” Remus nodded, “You want me nearby. Just in case.” 
“For your own protection, of course.” 
“He won’t come after me.” Remus said, stonily. “He might be mad, but he’s not stupid. 
He’s never been stupid.” 
“Not stupid, perhaps, but reckless.” Dumbledore raised a snowy eyebrow. 
Remus conceded. True enough. 
“What would I be teaching? History? Care of Magical Creatures?” 

259 
 “Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Dumbledore smiled pleasantly, now that Remus 
seemed to be coming around to the idea, “As an ex-member of the Order of the Phoenix, I 
thought you would be ideal.” 
“Mm hm.” 
“There is one other thing,” Dumbledore said, sounding unsure for the first time, as 
though he wasn’t certain what Remus’s reaction might be. Remus said nothing, just looked 
him in the eye and waited. Dumbledore set down his mug. “Harry.” 
Pain flared somewhere deep inside Remus, like the reopening of an old wound. His 
mouth went dry again, and he sipped his lukewarm tea. 
“I hadn’t thought.” He said, quietly. “I hadn’t forgotten, but I … he’d be… twelve?” 
“Thirteen, now.” 
“Thirteen.” He shook his head, slowly. “Is he… what’s he like?” 
“He looks like James.” Dumbledore said, sadly, “But there is a good deal of Lily in him 
too.” 
Remus was quiet for almost a full minute, getting his breathing under control. Finally, 
he raised his head, 
“Ok.” He said. 
* * * 
1st September 1993 
“You’re going, then.” Grant said. 
This was a redundant statement. Remus was literally packing his bags. He was getting 
the strangest sense of dejas vu. How long had it been since he last packed a trunk for 
Hogwarts? He’d had to dig out all of his old robes, his weird wizard clothes. They were 
shabby and threadbare, but he wasn’t willing to fork out for new stuff, so he did his best 
with some mending spells. Grant had painted ‘Professor R J Lupin’ on his old briefcase as a 
joke, but it didn’t feel very funny at that moment. 
“I’m going.” He confirmed, rolling up a pair of socks. 
Grant sat on the bed, watching him, stony faced. Remus didn’t blame him. He was 
being unspeakably cruel, he knew that. And Grant was putting up with it, yet again. Remus 
looked at him. “It’s a job. It’s only for a year.” 
“At your old school.” 
“Yes, I’ve told you.” 
“I’m worried about you.” 
“I know you are.” 
“If Sirius has escaped, and he knows you’re there, will he--” 
“Can we not? I’m going, and that’s it.” Remus snapped, clicking his suitcase shut 
fiercely. He didn’t want to think about that. He just needed to get through today. 
They were silent for a bit, then. Grant went and made tea, brought it back in. Remus 
stopped to sit and drink it with him. He’d given up smoking - for good this time, or so he 
told himself. Tea would have to do. 

260 
 “You can still stay here, I’m not kicking you out.” Remus said. “This place is just as 
much yours as it is mine, and there are protection spells, I made sure.” 
“Nah,” Grant shrugged, giving a defeated smile. “I’m rubbish on my own. Probably do 
the rounds, or board at the Borstal. Been a while since I’ve seen the Brighton lot, maybe I’ll 
pop down.” 
“Stay in touch, ok?” 
“I’m not about to cart an owl around with me.” 
“Oh… s’pose not. I’ll try to get to a phone, if I can.” 
“God, you make it sound like you’re off to war.” 
Remus swallowed, dryly, and found he couldn’t speak. Fortunately, Grant didn’t have 
speaking in mind, just then. He took Remus’s tea from him, set it down on the bedside 
table, then turned around to push Remus down into the mattress. 
“I’m going to miss you,” he smiled against Remus’s lips, working the button on his 
trousers. Remus kissed him back, as hard he had when they were teenagers. 
Afterwards, Remus decided it was best to leave quickly. He wanted to think about 
Grant lying happy and flushed under the duvet; an enduring memory of youth and beauty. 
He dressed, and picked up his bags. 
Just as he was about to say goodbye again, Grant grabbed his wrist. “Oi. I love you, you 
tosser.” 
“Grant…” 
“Go on,” Grant looked at him, directly. His face just as honest and sunny as it had 
been at sixteen. “Say it back.” 
“You ​know​ how I feel about you…” 
“Yeah,” Grant smiled, without a trace of bitterness, “I do. But it’d be nice to hear it. 
Go on, I know you can.” 
Terror gripped Remus’s heart - but he swallowed it. He had to be brave; Grant 
deserved it. And he meant it; he did, ​he did​. “...I love you.” 
“Cheers.” Grant let go of his wrist, and that was all. 
“We will see each other again,” Remus said, forcefully - promising it to himself as 
much as anything. Grant stretched out sleepily and nodded, 
“Yeah, I know.” He sighed, “Like magnets, you and me. Always snap back together 
again.” 
Remus hurried out of the door, not wanting to get too upset. He had a train to catch.  
 
(Song: I Can’t Forget - Leonard Cohen) 

   

261 
 ONE HUNDRED & EIGHTY-FOUR 
Summer 1994 
 
If you, if you could return 
Don't let it burn 
Don't let it fade 
I'm sure I'm not being rude, 
But it's just your attitude 
It's tearing me apart 
It's ruining every day 
  
I swore I would be true 
And fellow, so did you... 
  
Were you lying all the time? 
Was it just a game to you? 
  
August 1994 
For the first week or so after Remus returned from Hogwarts, he didn’t know how to 
feel. For the first time in a very long time, Remus was lost; untethered, drifting. He 
wandered around the flat like a ghost, going through the movements of everyday life, but 
feeling nothing. 
It wasn’t depression. He knew what depression felt like. 
“It’s shock,” said Grant. 
“Oh.” said Remus, staring blankly at the TV. 
Obviously he’d expected Hogwarts to stir up old memories. He’d known from the start 
that re-visiting the place could easily ruin him, but he'd done it anyway. Maybe he was a 
masochist. Maybe just stupid. 
The castle was filled with ghosts from Remus’s past, which was a deeply unsettling 
experience after spending the better part of a decade trying to forget all of it. The moment 
he arrived at King’s Cross it all came flooding back - the pokey little train carriages with 
the worn-out upholstery; the trolley witch, chocolate frogs, the bustle and noise of students 
embarking on a new term. With the full moon ahead of him, he’d squirrelled away in a 
compartment and promptly fallen asleep. 
Until the carriage turned cold, and the dementors... 
No. Anyway; ghosts. McGonagall was perhaps the strangest. She must have known he 
would be coming, but their first meeting had hit Remus harder than expected, and she’d 
seemed just as surprised as him. They weren’t quite sure how to relate to each other, now. 
“Mr Lupin! Oh - I’m sorry, ​Professor​ Lupin.” 

262 
 “Hello Prof-- I mean… er…” 
“Minerva, please,” she smiled gracefully. 
She reached out and squeezed his arm. She was every bit as formidable as she had been 
twenty years ago, only a little greyer at the temples. But then, so was he. “It’s wonderful to 
see you, Remus.” She said, earnestly. 
“It’s good to be back,” he lied. 
Her eyes were soft and kind, as if she could see right through him. 
“My office is always open, if you need anything. As ever.” 
He appreciated the gesture, but didn’t prevail upon her very often, largely because he 
wanted to keep to himself. He also wanted to stay away from Gryffindor tower, if he could. 
The rest of the school was familiar; the lush expansive grounds, the secretive forest, 
the food, the portraits, the staircases he had mapped so carefully. But Gryffindor Tower - 
the most intimate and happy space of his adolescence; that would be almost too much to 
recover from. He was put in mind of Homer, once again - the word ‘nostalgia’, which meant 
a painful homecoming. That was exactly how it felt. 
He didn’t socialise much with his peers. The staff knew, by and large, about his 
lycanthropy, but he still prefered to avoid any unpleasant conversations, if he could. Were 
they tutting, behind his back? Were they wondering about him? N
​ o one’s seen him for years, 
he was Black and Potter’s closest friend - what does he know? What did he do? 
Funnily enough, Professor Binns had forgotten Remus, but at least Flitwick hadn’t. He 
was very kind, inviting Remus him to stop by the Charms classroom for tea and toast a few 
times. Remus did, to be polite, but found it difficult to forget all the times he and Sirius had 
locked themselves inside the kindly professor’s classroom. He generally found it very hard 
to reconcile his adult self, responsible for lesson plans and marking essays and the welfare 
of students - with his reckless teenage self, wild and arrogant and madly in love. 
There were entire wings of the castle he actively avoided, for this very reason. He 
barely left his classroom and chambers except for meals in the Great Hall, and he never 
went to Hogsmeade, except to quickly pass through on the way to the old phone box just 
outside the village. And thank god that was still there. 
“How is it?” Grant asked, the first time Remus called. 
“Awful. Bearable. I s’pose like teaching, the kids are ok. Actually the kids are great.” 
“Well. Just focus on that. First time I went into a remand home after St Edmund’s I 
thought I was gonna have to quit. I swear those places all smell the same. Anyway, you can 
get past it, if you remember it's about the kids, not you. Be the teacher you wish you’d had.” 
This was good advice, and Remus did his very best. He hadn’t had much experience 
with young people, but he very clearly remembered being a young person himself. He tried 
to organise lessons he would have found interesting, bringing in magical creatures 
whenever he could, like Ferox had, and giving extra tips and pointers wherever students 
were struggling. Really it wasn’t too different from the study sessions he’d held back when 
he was at school. 

263 
 Equally, Remus tried to pay attention to all of his students, and learn their characters, 
their individual needs. That was incredibly weird at first - he found he had no less than ​five 
Weasleys to teach, one in almost every year. Then there was poor little Neville Longbottom, 
awkward and nervous and twitchy. Narcissa’s son was in another class, the spitting image 
of Lucius, a​nd then, of course, there was… 
Anyway. Aside from Flitwick and McGonagall, the rest of the staff were virtual 
strangers to Remus - except, of course, for the Potions master. 
Remus had really wanted to stay out of Snape’s way, but from the very first day it was 
clear that would not be easy. It was a full moon, and of course Snape was the only one who 
knew how to brew Wolfsbane Potion, the prick. He probably learnt how to do it just to 
torment Remus. It was bad enough they had to share a castle again, but Snape was hellbent 
on making sure Remus felt his displeasure at the arrangement. 
“Lupin.” He said, haughtily, at their first meeting, just before the welcome feast. “I 
was surprised to hear you survived the war.” His lips curled, “When it seems so many of 
your friends did not.” 
As foul as Snape was, it did bring out something Remus hadn’t properly felt in years. 
Mischief. 
“Severus,” he smiled, warmly, “And I was surprised to hear you survived the trials. 
When so many of y​ our​ friends did not.” 
Snape sneered, and that set the tone for the year. 
Severus had clearly not forgotten the events of their fifth year. He was as despicable as 
Remus remembered him, and had not aged well. His hair still hung lank and greasy, 
perhaps a little further back than before, his black eyes were more sunken, and his nose 
more beak-like. He made Remus’s skin crawl, but there was nothing to be done about it; 
they had to meet privately each month for the potion. 
The potion itself was utterly vile, and Remus resented it bitterly. It tasted awful, but 
worse than that was the effect it had. 
He still transformed, still suffered the agonies as his skull elongated and his back split 
open and his tendons creaked - but he fully retained his human mind afterwards. This was 
utterly horrible. Remus had come to see the monthly retreat into his animal brain as 
something of a catharsis. But having an animal body and human thoughts turned out to be 
very unpleasant indeed; he felt neither here nor there, trapped in the wrong form and 
unable to escape. He curled up to sleep locked inside his office every month full of 
self-loathing. 
In the mornings after he would limp to Madam Pomfrey’s office to ask for murtlap 
essence. Of everyone from Remus’s childhood, Madam Pomfrey seemed the most pleased to 
see him again. She had aged, like everyone else, but had retained her gentle touch, her 
sweet face and her no-nonsense attitude to Remus’s wellbeing. 
“Remus!” She reached up to hug him the very first moment she saw him. “Just look at 
you, you giant of a man!” 
“Hello, Madam-- er… Poppy.” 

264 
 “As polite as ever,” she smiled, “Come on, come and tell me what you’ve been doing 
with yourself.” 
They had a few very pleasant catch ups in her office, by the fireplace. She wanted to 
know everything about his transformations since Hogwarts, and he told her as much as he 
could. She was very interested to hear about the pack, and how they were able to heal each 
other by sharing group magic. 
“I tried to get in touch with you, after the Potters died.” She said, sadly, “But no one 
could tell me where you were living, and I didn’t dare ask too much in case…” 
Remus looked away, embarrassed. “I’m sorry.” He said, “I wanted to be left alone.” 
“Yes, well you were the same as a boy, stubborn!” she smiled fondly. He smiled back, 
realising how much he had missed her. 
For the first month or so, Remus’s nerves were raw, he hesitated as he turned every 
corner, worried that he might see something painful. But, as pain often does, this lessened 
over time. 
He slipped into a new character - not the teenage Remus who took risks without 
thinking, who was desperate to prove himself, and not the half muggle, half broken man he 
had been in London. Somewhere between these warring halves, he became Professor Lupin; 
restrained and serious, offering encouragement wherever he could. 
And this was all just as well, because that was exactly who he needed to be, for Harry. 
God, Harry. 
Harry Potter was James and Lily seamlessly combined; all charm and cheek and 
strength and goodness. Remus had been worried - knowing that the kid’s childhood had 
been far from ideal - that Harry would be difficult. Remus well remembered his own spiky 
temperament at thirteen; cruel adults make bitter children. But no. Harry was as 
kind-hearted and open minded as his parents - full of love and so, so generous with it. 
Getting to know him had been painful and joyful all at once. 
The first time they met, Remus had thought he was still dreaming. He woke up on the 
train, clawed awake by dementors - those fucking abominations. He cleared the threat, and 
staring around at the faces of the frightened kids, found Harry, passed out on the floor. 
Until he opened his eyes he was James; nothing could convince Remus otherwise. A bit 
skinnier, maybe shorter than Prongs had been at thirteen, but otherwise the spitting image. 
Of course, Harry had no idea who Remus was, and for as long as possible, it stayed 
that way. How would he explain? Even after a few conversations with the boy, Remus was 
completely at sea. So he let Harry lead the way, and answered the questions which had 
suitable answers. When Harry came to him asking for patronus lessons so that he could 
keep playing quidditch, Remus couldn’t say no. It was exactly what James would do, too. 
And when Sirius came up, he sidestepped it. Harry already knew that Black and James 
had been friends, and Remus wasn’t sure what more he could say without losing the kid’s 
trust. “​Yes, Harry, your dad was my best friend, but Sirius Black was my everything…​” 
No, it wouldn’t do. What was more, Remus wasn’t sure whether the wizarding world 
had its own version of Section 28 - if he started confessing to stuff like that, could he get in 
trouble for corrupting young minds? It was bad enough he was a werewolf. 

265 
 By that time it was already clear that Sirius was nearby. When the convict broke into 
the castle on Halloween night, Remus almost walked straight off the grounds and apparated 
back to London. Maybe he would have, if the perimeter wasn’t swarming with dementors - 
and of course the fact that Black was definitely after Harry. 
That made Remus furious; hadn’t Sirius done enough damage? He must have really 
lost his mind, he must have strayed so far from the young man who had cradled baby Harry 
in his arms with tenderness and awe. Remus used this as a reminder, to steel himself: it was 
no use mourning Sirius. ​His​ Sirius had died many years ago. 
And then that night happened. In a matter of hours everything changed... 
Fuck. 
Maybe Grant was right, maybe it was shock. After being given his marching orders 
from Hogwarts (thank god; another year might have killed him), Remus took the Knight 
Bus back to London, his mind churning over everything he had learnt. 
Events kept shifting and re-ordering themselves. Some things became clearer, others 
muddied by various versions of the truth. The things Sirius had said, the excuses Wormtail 
had snivelled, and everything Remus had thought he’d known - none of these accounts 
lined up quite right. 
The only thing Remus was certain of, was that for twelve years he had hated the wrong 
person. 
“Please come back,” he wailed down the phone to Grant, once he was home. “Please, 
please…” 
“On my way.” Grant said, and hung up immediately. 
It still took hours. Remus changed into his muggle clothes, throwing Professor 
Lupin’s shabby robes in a corner of the bathroom, and paced the flat while he waited, 
cursing the slowness of muggle transport. He didn’t drink. He wanted a clear head; he 
wanted to ​understand​. 
“Remus?!” Grant burst into the living room, tired and dishevelled. He’d had a hair cut 
in the past year; it was so short it barely curled any more. Remus hated it, but said nothing, 
just ran to hug him. “What happened?” Grant asked, huffing as Remus knocked the air out 
of him, but squeezing him back reassuringly. 
He didn’t look the same, but he smelled the same, and that helped; that was very 
grounding. 
“He was innocent!” Remus babbled, still clinging on, “It was Peter all along! It was 
never him! I was such an idiot!” 
“Remus, I don’t know what you’re talking about, please… let’s sit down, shall we? 
Christ, you’re skinny, don’t they feed you at that school?!” 
Remus allowed Grant to take over. He sat obediently on the couch, accepted a glass of 
water, and a cigarette, because apparently Grant was smoking again, and the temptation 
was too much. The flat felt bare and stuffy, having sat empty for most of the year, and Grant 
opened the living room window, letting in the everyday sounds of foot traffic and pigeons. 

266 
 “Ok,” Grant said, sitting opposite Remus, clasping his hands together in a very 
teacher-ly sort of way, “Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?” 
Remus nodded. He was determined to speak. If anyone could sort all of this out, it was 
Grant. He was sure of that. “Sirius.” He said. “I saw Sirius. And Peter.” 
“Wait,” Grant frowned, “Peter? I thought he…” 
“No.” Remus said, darkly, his insides turning hot with rage, “He’s alive. He’s been 
hiding, all these years.” 
“From Sirius?” 
“From everyone. H
​ e did it​. He betrayed James and Lily; it was never Sirius.” 
“How... “ Grant shook his head, clearly confused, “So he was in prison all this time for 
something Peter did? Jesus. Ok. You’re sure? He’s the one who told you?” 
“Yes, but I… I know for sure. I saw Peter, and I…” Remus faltered. “I just believe Sirius, 
ok?” 
The fact was that he had read Sirius’s mind, and he was still trying to get his head 
around that. He tried to piece the events of the night together, for Grant’s benefit and his 
own. “It was all Harry - James’s son. He left the school one night, and I knew why, so I 
followed him - I was worried Sirius would try to… but then Peter was there, I ​saw​ Peter, and 
I didn’t know what to think.” 
Something deep inside him had known at once; the second he saw Wormtail’s name 
appear on the map. But he’d had to find out, had to know for sure. And then he’d got to the 
shack, and there was Sirius, skin and bones and rags and madness, cackling on the floor, 
Harry standing over him, poised with his wand. 
The wolf part of Remus took over, recognising that Padfoot was in danger, and he 
disarmed everyone at once. “​Where is he, Sirius?!​” 
Then he saw the rat, and it all fell into place. His mind went rushing back to 1981; all 
the secrecy, the mistrust, the lies. He looked at Sirius properly, he widened his eyes, and - 
almost without trying - he entered Sirius’s thoughts. S
​ how me ​he commanded, using the 
same magic the werewolves used - Sirius’s brain was half-canine by that point, and maybe 
that’s why it worked. Black resisted for a moment, no doubt recalling Walpurga’s forced 
intrusions, but he nodded, and he let Remus in. 
“​But Padfoot​,” J​ ames’s voice, echoing from a distant past, ​“​I thought we were agreed?​” 
“​I know, but this is better, can’t you see?! No one will ever suspect Wormy!​” 
“​Like a double bluff!​” L
​ ily chimed in. ​“​It’s brilliant!​” 
Remus didn’t need to hear any more. He lowered the wands, and helped Sirius up, and 
embraced him tightly. ​I’m sorry​, ​he communicated wordlessly, I​ ’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m 
sorry… 
Back in the flat, tears pricked in Remus’s eyes, and Grant pulled out a hanky, handing 
it to him. “So is he free, now? Sirius?” 
“No,” Remus shook his head, collecting himself, “It all got so complicated, and I… it 
was a full moon. I only saw him for twenty minutes, maybe, and then I turned, and… so 

267 
much happened without me. Peter ran away, they didn’t catch him. I should have killed him 
when I had the chance! I wanted to, I was going to, but Harry stopped me.” 
Grant paled, his mouth a grim line. He didn’t say anything, though. 
“By the time it was morning, Sirius had escaped again too.” Remus continued. “He’s in 
hiding, and I don’t know…” ​I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again. 
He wiped his eyes, and ran his fingers through his hair. “Fuck! All this time! All this 
time and I believed it! How could I have been so stupid?!” 
“Hey, stop it.” Grant frowned, reaching out. Remus stood up abruptly, ignoring Grant 
and pacing the room once more, muttering to himself, 
“I should have ​known​ he would never hurt James! I shouldn’t have been so bloody 
gullible! So weak! I should have tried to see him, I could have got him out of there, I could 
have tracked down Peter, I could have…” 
“Remus!” Grant raised his voice, “​Stop it​.” 
Remus looked at him. “I don’t know what to do.” He said. 
Grant sighed. “Me neither, mate.” He rubbed a hand over his face, and Remus saw the 
rings under his eyes. Grant stood up. “But there’s nothing you can do right this second, so. 
I’m going to have a shower, right? Then we’ll get dinner. Then we’ll talk a bit more.” 
Remus nodded, eagerly. Yes, this was what he needed; a plan. Clear, defined next 
steps. Grant left the room, wearily. Remus waited, listening to the water running, trying 
once again to get his thoughts in order. He did something he hadn’t done since he was a 
teenager. He made a list. 
So, ​Moony​, he said to himself, ​what are the facts? 
1. Sirius Black did not murder James and Lily Potter. 
2. Peter Pettigrew was alive. 
3. Peter Pettigrew had been a spy. 
4. Peter Pettigrew murdered James and Lily Potter. 
5. Sirius Black had been in prison for twelve years for a crime he was innocent of. 
A surge of anger washed over him once more. He had believed it! He was as guilty as 
Dumbledore, as anyone else who had simply assumed Sirius was the spy, because Sirius was 
a Black. In fact, Remus was even m
​ ore​ at fault, because h
​ e​ ought to have known! No one was 
closer to Sirius than he was. 
Those last few months of the war were such a blur. Hadn’t there been something 
wrong? Hadn’t Sirius been distant, cold with him? In the years since, Remus had taken that 
as proof of Padfoot’s betrayal, but now… now with a sick feeling, he saw it for what it was. 
“He thought I was the spy!” He said to Grant, the second he was out of the bathroom. 
“Eh?” Grant frowned, trying to get past Remus, wrapped in a towel. “Spy? What? Oi, 
let me get dressed, come on…” 
Remus followed him into the bedroom and sat on the bed, talking fast as Grant dried 
himself and put on clean clothes. 

268 
 “During the war, we knew there was a spy, we knew someone was passing information 
to the other side, but no one knew who. Afterwards, we thought it was Sirius - it all made 
sense, he was caught blowing up a street full of muggles, and--” 
“Do you have to call normal people that?” 
“Sorry. Anyway - Sirius was the secret keeper for James and Lily - err… that means he 
had this spell on him, so only he knew where they were. To keep them safe. But he switched 
with Peter, at the last minute, and now we know that P
​ eter​ was the spy. And they didn’t tell 
me about the switch, Sirius didn’t tell me, because he must have thought…” 
“He didn't trust you.” Grant said, bluntly. Dressed, he sat down on the bed too, at a 
distance from Remus. 
“I suppose I can’t blame him…” 
“Had you broken his trust before?” Grant raised an eyebrow. 
“...No.” 
“Did ​you​ think ​he​ was the spy? Before James and Lily died?” 
“No, never!” 
“Well then.” Grant stood up. “I’m going to nip to the shop - we need milk and bread… 
toothpaste…” 
“Wait, no, what do you mean ‘well then’?!” 
“Nothing. Look, come on, come to the shop with me. Then I promise we can talk 
about it. I’ll listen to you all night long if you want, I swear. I just want to get some food in 
you first.” 
Remus went along with that. He watched Grant cook, and he swallowed every 
mouthful, and then he talked and he talked and he talked. But it was no good. It came to 
nothing in the end. 
“If Sirius is in hiding, and Peter’s on the run…” Grant said, yawning. 
“He’ll go straight to Voldemort, the rat.” Remus growled. 
“Right, ok,” Grant waved a hand, “If Sirius is in hiding, then you can’t do anything. It 
sounds like it’s out of your hands.” 
“Maybe I could send an owl… only that might give away his location…” 
“And then y​ ou’ll​ get arrested and sent to Alcatraz, or whatever it is, for colluding with 
a criminal.” Grant said, with an air of finality. 
“I just want to help him.” Remus said. 
“Of course you do. But I don’t see how.” 
They sat in silence for a while, thinking. It was dark outside, Remus didn’t know what 
time it was, but it had to be pretty late. Grant looked exhausted, and Remus felt a small 
twinge of guilt, on top of everything else. 
“Sorry to put you through this.” He said, quietly, reaching for Grant’s hand. “It’s not 
really fair of me.” 
“It’s fine,” Grant gave him a small smile, stroking Remus’s knuckles with his thumb, 
“I do understand. It’s just… a lot.” 

269 
 “I know.” 
“How… how was it, seeing him? I mean, how did it make you feel?” 
Remus shifted, awkwardly. There it was. The thought he’d been avoiding. Because if 
Sirius was innocent, if he’d never betrayed James, then he’d never betrayed Remus, either. 
And Remus didn’t know what that meant to him, now, after so much time. 
“We’re both so different, now.” He said, aware Grant was holding his breath while he 
waited for the response. “I barely recognised him, really, I just felt sorry for him.” The 
flutter in his stomach told him he was lying. 
Grant leaned over and kissed him. “Everything will be all right, in the end.” He said. 
 
(Song: Linger - The Cranberries) 
 
 
 
 
 

   

270 
 ONE HUNDRED & EIGHTY-FIVE 
Early Summer 1995 
 
We passed upon the stair 
We spoke of was and when 
Although I wasn't there 
He said I was his friend 
Which came as some surprise 
I spoke into his eyes; 
I thought you died alone 
A long long time ago. 
  
Saturday 24th June 1995 
That fucking phoenix arrived, first, and Remus knew at once. 
“What the bloody hell is that?!” Grant leapt up, startled by the silvery bird which burst 
into their living room. They’d been watching telly, with all the windows open to counteract 
the summer heat. Remus had just been about to put the kettle on. 
The bird sat on top of their boxy little TV and opened its beak, speaking in 
Dumbledore’s voice; 
“Padfoot is on his way.” 
Remus nearly dropped the empty mugs he was holding. 
“Fuck.” 
“What?” Grant said, watching the bird vanish into thin air. “Who’s Padfoot?” 
“Fuck.” Remus said again, setting down the mugs. He had begun to shake 
uncontrollably. He felt cold all over. “I don’t think I can. I don’t think I can…” he mumbled 
to himself, covering his mouth. 
“Remus?” Grant stood up and touched his shoulder. “You’re scaring me.” 
“Sirius.” He spluttered. “​Sirius​ is Padfoot.” 
“Bloody hell. The murderer?” 
“Not a murderer, I told you.” 
“Right, right, sorry. Coming h
​ ere​?!” 
“It’s his flat, after all.” 
“Oh, I forgot.” Grant said, flatly. He bit his lip, “Should I... go?” 
“No!” Remus clung to Grant, suddenly, “No, please, ​please​ don’t. I can’t be alone, don’t 
leave me alone with--” 
“Ok, ok!” Grant soothed him, hugging him back, “Calm down, all right? I won’t go 
anywhere if you don’t want. Just… just try to get yourself together.” 
“I’m sorry.” Remus took a deep breath. 

271 
 He knew he was acting childishly. This was no time to fall apart. He’d had years and 
years of that. If Dumbledore was sending Sirius to him, then something had happened. 
Something important. Now was the time for strength and action. He gazed around blindly 
for something to do. 
“This place is a mess! I should start cleaning. He won’t be long.” 
Grant was helpless to do anything but watch as Remus ran around the flat like a 
headless chicken, using every cleaning charm he could remember, combined with some 
actual manual labour when he mucked up the spells. He couldn’t stop moving, he couldn’t 
bear to sit still for a moment, because then he might have to t​ hink​. 
Within the hour, there was a scratching noise at the door, and a low, gruff bark. 
Remus froze. A scent he had not known in many years reared something in his 
subconscious. 
“Was that a dog?” Grant said, nervously, from the kitchen. “You k​ now​ I hate dogs…” 
“It’s him.” Remus breathed. He walked shakily to the door, and pulled it open. There 
was Padfoot - scrawny, mangy, fur slightly greying in places. But it was him. 
“Come in,” Remus said, hoarsely. 
The dog huffed, bobbing its head, and entered. Remus clicked the door shut, and 
leaned against it, watching as Sirius transformed back into himself. 
Scrawny, mangy; greying in places. His eyes, those dark blue eyes that had broken 
Remus’s heart a thousand times as a teenager, had turned dull gunmetal grey. He was a bag 
of bones, unsettled all over. It was to be expected. 
“I’ve come straight from Hogwarts.” He said. His voice was as hard and rasping as it 
had been last summer. 
“Yes,” Remus said, rubbing the back of his head. “Dumbledore sent a message ahead.” 
Sirius twitched, slightly, and nodded. “Something happened at the tournament. Harry 
was kidnapped.” 
“What?! Is he--” 
“He came back, he’s fine - fine as can be expected. Voldemort’s back, too.” 
“What?!” 
“It’s true. Harry faced him.” 
“No.” Remus felt sick. 
“The Order’s reforming. Dumbledore told me to come here, lie low.” 
“Right.” Remus nodded, still taking in the shock. 
“If that's…” Sirius’s face softened, he looked younger - more like the real Sirius, “If you 
don’t mind? I just followed orders without thinking, but I could go somewhere else if…” 
“No!” Remus said, very firmly, snapping out of the confusion that had gripped him 
ever since Dumbledore’s patronus appeared. He put a hand on Sirius’s shoulder. Oh, he 
was so thin. “Of course you should stay here, it's your ​home​.” 

272 
 Sirius looked so relieved that Remus wanted to pull him close and wrap his arms 
around him. But he didn't. He looked at Grant, who was watching warily from the kitchen 
doorway. 
Sirius followed his eye line and gave a start. “You’re here.” 
It wasn’t a question; just a statement of fact. 
Grant, god love him, gave his breeziest smile, “Alright, mate? Tell you what, you look 
like you could do with a Chinese. I’ll pop out, shall I, Remus?” 
“You don’t have to-” 
“I think I do.” Grant smiled. 
He grabbed his wallet from the coffee table on his way out. He didn’t kiss Remus on 
the cheek, as he usually might, but gave him a pat on the shoulder and said, “I’ll be half an 
hour.” He closed the door softly behind himself. 
Sirius and Remus stood in silence for what felt like minutes. 
Sirius frowned, making deep lines appear in his face. 
“That was rude of me. I didn’t mean to be rude.” He began to scratch the back of his 
hand, anxiously, his fingernails long and black with grime. Remus felt a sorrowful tug deep 
in his stomach, and reached out to still him. 
“How about a shower? Then a sit down. Everything's ok.” 
Sirius looked up at him. Remus had forgotten how much smaller he was. 
“Sounds good.” Sirius nodded, weakly. 
Remus showed him to the bathroom, which was silly, because obviously he knew 
where the bathroom was; nothing had changed in thirteen years. While Sirius was washing, 
Remus went to the bedroom to find some clean clothes. 
He pulled a few shirts out of the dresser - he wanted to give Sirius ​his​ things to wear, 
not Grant’s, but after all this time Remus honestly didn’t know which belonged to who. He 
settled on an oversized knitted jumper, which was definitely his. It would swamp Sirius, but 
it would be comfortable. Digging out a pair of tartan pyjama bottoms to go with it, he lay 
them carefully on the bed. 
There was only one bed in the flat - there had only ever been one bed and they had 
only ever needed one bed. The problem of where to put Sirius was unanswerable. Remus 
was still staring down at the clothes when he heard the water go off (the boiler stuttered 
and clunked a few times, he’d been meaning to look at it for ages) and the bathroom door 
click unlocked. 
“Remus?!” Sirius called out, a note of panic in his voice. 
“Bedroom.” Remus replied. 
Sirius entered, his hair dripping on the carpet. He’d wrapped the biggest bath sheet 
around himself like a shawl, covering his whole body from neck to skinny ankles. Remus 
looked away, embarrassed, and gestured at the clothes laid out. 
“Here.” He said, “I’ll let you change.” 
He made to leave, but Sirius’s hand darted out and grabbed his arm. He had that wild 
look in his eye again, 

273 
 “Don’t go.” He said, “Could you stay in the room?” 
“Ok…” Remus nodded, patting Sirius’s claw-like hand. He’d been scratching it again, it 
was red raw. 
Remus turned and looked at the curtains while Sirius dressed himself. His movements 
sounded slow, like an old man, or an invalid - not like elegant, energetic Sirius Black. Fury 
seared through Remus.​ They took everything from him​, he thought, fiercely, e​ verything that 
made him who he was. 
When he turned around, Sirius was staring at the bed. Remus looked too, trying to see 
it through Sirius’s eyes. The neatly made bedspread; the matching bedside tables; one with 
a book on top, the other with a packet of cigarettes. 
“I’ll sleep on the couch.” Sirius said. “I don’t want to muck anything up between you 
and… and… sorry, his name’s gone.” 
“Grant.” 
“Grant.” Sirius looked away again. His eyes never rested long, he was always searching 
the corners of the room for something. “I’ve forgotten a lot, I think.” 
“That’s ok.” 
Remus had never felt a pain like this. And Remus had been feeling pain most of his 
life. “Come and sit down. Cup of tea?” 
“Cup of tea.” Sirius parroted back. 
Remus nodded, slowly, then led him into the kitchen. 
“Thank you.” Sirius said, after a little while, “Sorry, I… I keep forgetting things.” 
Remus touched his arm, gently, 
“It’s ok. Go and sit. I’ll be a minute, you can hear me from the living room.” 
Sirius left, silently. Remus breathed a sigh of relief - the atmosphere was still thick 
with memory, and hurt, and Azkaban, but at least it was bearable when Sirius wasn’t 
standing ​right there​. 
Last year, in the shack, Remus hadn’t had time to feel anything other than terror and 
joy. And, typically, he had spent the rest of his time since trying to pretend none of it had 
happened at all. Not because he’d wanted to, but because it was the only thing he ​could​ do. 
He should have known better; should have known that Sirius always demanded 
confrontation. 
He took a long time over the tea, brewing it in a pot, rather than the electric kettle. 
How did Sirius take his tea? He couldn’t remember. Maybe he had never known - Sirius 
usually made it, back then. In the end, Remus simply put out everything, setting up a tray 
with immaculate attention and care, as if he was serving the queen. Slice of lemon. Little 
jug of milk. Bowl of brown sugar lumps. There weren’t any biscuits left, Grant had had the 
last of the digestives. 
When it was all ready, he still hadn’t the nerve to carry it through. He panicked for a 
moment, before hearing the door click open. Had it been half an hour already? 

274 
 “‘Orright?!” Grant’s brash, overloud cockney accent filled the flat, warming it 
instantly. He acted as if there was nothing at all out of the ordinary as he bustled into the 
living room, laden with food. 
Remus could hear him setting it all out on the coffee table, unwrapping cartons of egg 
fried rice, sweet and sour chicken, chow mein, pork balls, chinese ribs, spring rolls; all the 
while chatting away to Sirius, 
“Blimey, don’t you look better after a wash, eh? Still got that nice thick hair. Jealous, 
I’ll be bald by the time I’m forty, reckon. Seen how grey Remus is? Looks distinguished, I 
tell ‘im, but ‘e don’t listen…” 
Fortified, Remus lifted the tray and carried it into the living room. Sirius was sitting 
primly on the edge of the couch, staring at Grant the way an animal stares at a potential 
predator. 
“I’ll grab plates…” Grant said, passing Remus on his way back to the kitchen. He didn’t 
make eye contact. Remus didn’t blame him. The situation wasn’t fair on anyone; least of all 
Grant. 
Remus tried to smile at Sirius, offering the tea tray. “Here we are.” He murmured. 
Sirius looked at the tea, the lemon, the sugar, then down at his hands. 
“Are you hungry?” Remus asked, “Is this all right?” 
Sirius nodded. “Lovely, thanks. You shouldn’t go to all this trouble.” 
“Nonsense.” 
Grant brought in the plates. They sat around the coffee table, Sirius on the sofa, 
Remus in the armchair, and Grant on the floor. Sirius put food on his plate and picked at it 
like a bird. He didn’t use the forks they’d put out, or the chopsticks that came with the 
meal, he used his hands to eat, tearing everything into small pieces and feeding them into 
his mouth. Remus and Grant politely ignored it, making light conversation. 
“I’ll have to do a proper shop, on my way back from work tomorrow.” Grant said. “Get 
you a toothbrush, some things like that.” 
“I can do that.” Remus said. He was keen to take care of Sirius himself; as if he’d 
brought home a stray he ought to be responsible for. He looked at Sirius, “Your clothes and 
books are boxed up in the garage. I’ll go and have a look tomorrow.” 
“You kept them?” Sirius looked up, almost hopefully, “You kept my things?” 
“Er. Well, after everything, Mary showed up and did it for me. I wasn’t… I wasn’t very 
well, for a while. I’m not sure what state they’re in, I haven’t been there since.” 
“I didn’t expect you to keep anything.” 
Remus didn’t know what to say, so he shrugged. It hadn’t really been a case of wanting 
to hang onto Sirius’s stuff; more that he’d just hidden it away so he didn’t have to think 
about it. He was glad now, obviously, but he didn’t want any more credit than he was due. 
They finished eating, and Sirius wiped his greasy hands on the legs of his pyjama 
bottoms, and Remus tried not to wince. Sirius used to be so fastidious about cleanliness - 
Remus’s disorganisation had always irritated him. Another change. 

275 
 Grant got up to collect the plates and cutlery for washing up. Sirius sat up, “I can do 
that, let me,” he withdrew a wand from his baggy sleeve. 
“Where did you get that?” Remus asked, frowning. 
“Stole it,” Sirius looked down, turning it in his hand, “Took a while to get used to, but 
I can handle it ok now. Here, let me...” 
“It’s fine.” Grant said. He was smiling, but you couldn’t hear it in his voice. “I’d prefer 
to do it normally.” He turned, carrying the pile of plates into the kitchen. 
“​Muffliato​.” Sirius muttered. Remus blinked, surprised. He hadn’t heard that spell in a 
very long time, and he had never, ever used something like that with Grant present. It felt 
disloyal, sneaky. “Is the floo connection working?” Sirius asked, urgently. 
“No.” Remus said. “I never re-connected. I don’t actually do very much magic at home, 
because--” 
“Yeah, because of the muggle,” Sirius finished, and Remus could have sworn he rolled 
his eyes. “He’s made a lot of changes, I see.” He gave the TV a very pointed look. 
“It’s his home too,” Remus said, defensively. 
“Whatever, I don’t care. Right, we’ll need to re-connect it. If I’m staying here, that is. 
We’ll need to be able to communicate with the rest of the Order.” 
“The rest of the--” 
“--have you got an owl?” Sirius glanced around. 
“No,” Remus said. He chewed his lip, “I’ve got a phone.” He offered, trying to lighten 
the mood. 
“For merlin’s sake, Moony!” Sirius barked, his rough voice crackling with urgency, 
“What have you been ​doing​ all these years, moping about?!” 
Remus flinched - both at being called Moony, which nobody ever did, and at the cruel 
accusation. 
“I’ve been surviving.” He said, trying to stay calm, “How easy do you think it is for me 
to hold down a job? And it’s not as if I’ve had anyone I need to keep in touch with.” 
Sirius didn’t say anything, but pursed his lips and scowled, staring at the carpet. 
Remus sighed, closing his eyes. “Look,” he said, gently, “I can imagine how you must feel. I 
know you want to do everything at once, now you’re free, but let’s just take things slowly 
tonight, ok? Get a proper night’s sleep and we’ll work on a plan tomorrow.” 
Sirius nodded, mollified. Remus felt proud of himself. He hadn't cried, or shouted, and 
that was pretty good progress, at least as far as Sirius Black was concerned. Grant 
re-entered the room, and Remus quickly undid the ​muffliato​ charm. 
“Shall I stick the telly on?” He asked the silent room. Remus nodded. Sirius returned 
to scowling. 
The news was on, and then the weather. Then some American hospital drama, which 
made Grant tut and switch over. There was a documentary on about Fleetwood Mac, which 
they all vaguely watched. No one really spoke, except Grant every now and then. 
Remus was in turmoil, his brain whirring into overdrive as too many conflicting 
thoughts and feeling flashed past. It had been so long since he’d been in the same room as 

276 
Sirius, and now they couldn’t even talk to each other without hitting some immeasurable 
barrier, whether it was the war, or lost friends, or their mutual betrayal. And now the order 
was reforming, and it looked like everyone expected Remus to sign himself up, once again, 
without hesitation. But he wasn’t the boy he’d been last time. He was old, and he was tired. 
He had other responsibilities - he had ​Grant​. 
At about ten o’clock, Sirius yawned. 
“Yeah, me too.” Grant commented, yawning back. “Got work in the morning, maybe 
it’s time for bed.” He looked at Remus, obviously hoping for some sort of direction. 
“Yeah,” Remus said, uncertain. He placed his hands on the arms of his chair to push 
himself up, stiff from sitting so rigidly all evening. “Um. Sirius, are you ok here? I’ll get you 
a cushion and a duvet.” 
“No need.” Sirius said. He stretched again, and transformed into Padfoot. Grant 
breathed in, sharply, at the surprise, but said nothing. The big black dog curled up on the 
couch and closed its eyes. 
“Can you do that?” Grant whispered, half an hour later, once he and Remus were both 
in bed. “Turn into a wolf whenever you like?” 
“No.” Remus said. “He’s an animagus. He learnt how to do it. I’m werewolf, I got 
bitten, I don’t get a choice.” 
“Bad luck.” Grant said, “Mind you, don’t think I’d like it much, if you could.” 
“He won’t hurt you, he’s still got his normal mind when he’s a dog.” Though Remus 
wasn’t sure what Sirius’s ‘normal mind’ was like, anymore. Everything else about him was 
rumpled and damaged in some way. 
“Are you ok?” Grant said, turning his head to watch Remus’s face. 
“I think so.” Remus said, honestly, “But it’s weird. It’s going to be difficult, I think.” 
“How long will he be here?” 
“Oh. I don’t know. A while, maybe. He’s talking about… about another war. I might 
need to help.” 
“Remus…” 
“I know, I know,” Remus screwed up his face. “I’m sorry, the whole situation is… it’s a 
fucking nightmare, really. I need some time to think.” 
“I wish I could help.” Grant said. “I wish I understood.” 
“You’re so good with Sirius.” Remus offered, “I don’t know what to say to him, he’s 
so… I dunno, prickly. I’m scared I’ll say something wrong and he’ll bite my head of.” 
“Hmm, well I have a bit of experience with those types.” Grant said, his lips curling, 
“Anyway, he’s obviously been through the mill. Just gotta be patient. Kind. You can’t force 
him to get better, I’m afraid.” 
* * * 
Sirius slept for a very long time. Long after Grant had left for work, and Remus had 
eaten breakfast and marked a few exam papers. He stayed in the kitchen, but he could see 
the living room couch through the door, just in case. 

277 
 It was almost half past eleven when Padfoot jerked awake, and began barking loudly, 
leaping off the couch. 
“Shh!” Remus ran into the living room anxiously, “Sirius, it’s me! You’re here, you’re 
with me!” 
The dog stopped, cocked its head, then transformed back into Sirius. His eyes were 
wide and his jaw shadowy with stubble. He looked like a mad person. Remus tried to be 
patient, and kind, like Grant said. “Sorry,” he said, steadying his voice, “It’s just that we’re 
not allowed pets, here, and if the neighbours hear you…” 
“Sorry.” Sirius looked down, embarrassed. “You’d think I’d be used to it now. Been out 
for a year.” 
“It’s fine.” Remus shook his head, “Sorry I shouted.” 
Things stayed that awkward for most of the day. They went out to the garage after 
Sirius had eaten breakfast. 
The door took a few goes to heave open, and Sirius had to stay in dog form while they 
were out of the flat, so it fell to Remus. Still, they got in eventually, and everything was very 
much as they remembered. No motorbike, of course, though all the tools were still there. 
Sirius’s clothes and books were neatly stacked in labelled boxes, without so much as a layer 
of dust on them. 
“Mary must have done some sort of preserving spell,” Remus commented. 
Sirius nodded vaguely, walking through the piles of relics like an ancient monk. He 
selected a few things to take back to the flat - or rather, for Remus to carry back. Sirius 
chose robes and wizard clothes, none of his muggle stuff, not even his old leather jacket, 
which Remus found stuffed inside a box under some records. He had to resist the urge to 
bury his face in it and inhale the gorgeous scent; as if the jacket had more of Sirius in it 
than the man standing next to him. 
Back at the flat, Sirius changed into the robes at once. Remus could see why - he 
looked much better already, in his own things, having had a few good meals and a proper 
wash. His hair was a bit straggly, and still had knots in it despite the fact that he’d clearly 
used half a bottle of shampoo on it. 
He slept again, after lunch. Remus didn’t see how, he’d only been awake a few hours. 
Still, despite Sirius’s inability to stay still, he exhausted easily. He curled up on the couch 
again, in the nest of blankets he’d created, and Remus sat beside him with the TV on very 
low. At least when Sirius slept he was a dog, and therefore easier to share a room with. 
He was grumpy, when he woke up. He squinted at the TV, then at Remus. 
“Don’t you read any more?” 
“Of course I do.” Remus gestured at the bookcases either side of the fireplace, which 
were sagging under the weight. “TV is just background noise.” 
Sirius grunted, sitting up and straightening his clothes. He ran his fingers through his 
hair, and they got caught. He winced. 
“Do you want to try washing it again?” Remus asked, “If you put loads of conditioner 
on, then comb it through, that might help?” 

278 
 He remembered Grant telling him that about two brothers who’d come to the remand 
centre. They’d been neglected, and had never had their hair cut or brushed, and they were 
frightened of the clippers. Grant remembered Matron’s brutal buzz cuts, and he 
immediately promised them he wouldn’t cut their hair. He’d spent hours gently combing it 
through, instead, and his hands were wet and cold for so long his eczema flared up and his 
palms were rough and chapped for weeks. 
Sirius seemed to appreciate the suggestion, so Remus went to run the bath. Sirius 
followed him. He didn’t seem to want to be left alone at all, even if he didn’t want to talk. 
Remus rooted around in the medicine cabinet for a good strong comb, and some 
scissors, just in case. He set them on the edge of the bathtub, and stepped back. “Er… shall I 
leave you to it?” He asked, as the bathwater steamed gently. Sirius rubbed his arm, looking 
around. 
“No I think I’d rather… if you don’t mind?” 
“Anything you like,” Remus said. ​Let him lead the way​, Grant had suggested. ​Go with the 
flow​. He thought about turning around as Sirius undressed, but that seemed redundant if he 
was staying in the room, and anyway, Sirius had no scruples about stripping off in front of 
him. There was nothing sensual about it; he did it in the same way he now ate with his 
hands, or wiped his mouth with his sleeve, or curled up tightly on the sofa; he did it because 
he had forgotten how to act around other people. 
He was so thin, so frail, his elbows jutted out like knives and his hollow ribs moved 
under his paper white skin. His once warm, slender wrists, which Remus had adored, were 
now so narrow they looked like they'd snap as he lowered himself into the bath. 
Remus pretended to be tidying the bathroom, and started folding up the flannel 
hanging off the side of the sink, straightening the towels slung over the radiator. He was 
embarrassed, he didn't want to stare. Though, to be honest, Sirius probably wouldn't notice, 
either way. 
Eventually, Remus sat on the closed toilet lid, crossing his legs in an effort to look 
nonchalant - and because the bathroom was much too small for his annoying gangly body. 
Sirius leaned back into the hot water, making small slow waves slop gently against the 
plastic sides of the tub. He closed his eyes, and tilted his head back into the water, exposing 
his throat, his adam’s apple protruding. 
Remus had to remember to close his mouth as Sirius resurfaced, opening his eyes and 
sweeping his hair back. Now it was wet, the grey had vanished, and he became suddenly 
younger, more recognisable. 
He started lathering his hair with the shampoo, sitting up, leaning forward. Remus 
watched his bony white fingers clawing through the foam, and remembered how graceful 
Sirius had been as a young man, how every movement was perfectly weighted, how he used 
to treat his own body with such tenderness. The steam from the hot water stung Remus’s 
eyes, and he had to blink away tears. 
Sirius rinsed out the shampoo, then started on the conditioner, using loads of it, 
Remus would have to buy more. 
“We ought to make a list.” Sirius said, abruptly. 

279 
 “What?” Remus frowned. 
“A list.” Sirius said, picking up the comb. “We ought to make one. People to get in 
contact with, for Dumbledore.” 
“For Dumbledore.” Remus repeated. He suddenly felt very tired. 
“Yeah, he said get in touch with the old crowd. Only my memory’s shot, so you'll have 
to help. The names, you know.” He tugged the comb through his knots, hard. 
“You really want to go right back to war, don’t you?” Remus said. 
Sirius turned and gave him a look of disbelief, and with a horrible sinking feeling 
Remus realised that in Sirius’s mind the war had never ended. 
“Look,” Remus tried to explain, “It’s not that I don’t believe in the cause, it’s just… I 
remember how it went last time.” 
“As if I don’t!” Sirius hissed, yanking at the comb in his hair, “I haven’t been on 
holiday for twelve years!” 
“No, I know, but…” Remus wished he’d stop saying it like that. ​Twelve years​. What 
forgiveness could there ever be, for that? 
“It's all we can do.” Sirius said, fiercely, “It's the only thing that matters.” He raised 
the comb again, looking as if he was about to stab himself with it, rather than groom 
himself. Remus couldn't stand it. 
“Stop that,” he said, getting up. “You'll rip all your bloody hair out, come on. Let me 
do it.” 
He rolled up a towel and put it on the floor to kneel on, grabbing the comb out of 
Sirius's hand. Sirius looked at him warily for a moment, and Remus realised that they had 
not been this close yet - they had hugged, in the Shack a year ago, but that had been pure 
adrenaline. It had not been intimate. This was. 
“May I?” Remus asked, softening his voice. 
Sirius nodded, slowly, then turned his head, so that Remus could reach. Leaning in, 
not too much, Remus began to work, sliding his fingers carefully through the slick black 
locks, gently easing the comb through in sections from the bottom up. Slowly, slowly, the 
knots began to loosen, giving way to that familiar old silken texture. 
It was difficult work, and took a lot of patience, and the rest of the bottle of 
conditioner, but Remus finally felt like he was helping; he was in control and he was doing 
something positive. Sirius was so quiet and still the whole time; tense at first, but gradually 
relaxing, bit by bit - Remus could practically see his tendons slackening. 
Once he was finished, Remus leaned back to survey his work, the muscles in his back 
ached like they were on fire, but it was worth it. He stood up, shakily, a hand on the sink. 
Sirius raised his hands, moved them gingerly over his head, fingers skimming the smooth 
surface. 
“Thanks.” 
“Any time.” Remus smiled, sitting back on the loo seat. 

280 
 Sirius rinsed his hair a few more times, then climbed out and dried himself, getting 
dressed again. Remus expected him to look at himself in the mirror, but he didn't, he 
purposefully avoided it, keeping his eyes down. 
Back in the living room, Remus made them tea and some cheese on toast, because he 
wanted Sirius to eat as often as possible. He expected Sirius to fall asleep again, but he 
didn't. He took some paper from Remus’s pile of exams, and flipped it over, picking up a 
biro too. 
“Ok,” he said, “Moody, obviously, top of the list - after he's recovered of course, wait 
til you hear what happened to him at Hogwarts! Then the Weasley's, and Mary…” 
“No, not Mary.” Remus said. “She won't… she's settled down, she's got kids. And the 
Weasley's, they've got ​seven​ kids, Sirius, you can't ask that of people…” 
“I don't need to.” Sirius said, sharply. “They'll do what's right.” 
“I can't see it that way.” Remus said, “All I can see is the cost of another war…” 
“We don't have a choice!” 
“I know, I know, I just want us to ​think​, before we--” 
What’s happened to you, Remus?! This isn’t like you. You’re supposed to be a 
Gryffindor!” 
That struck a nerve. How ​dare​ he!? 
“Quite a bit has happened to me, actually.” Remus said, acidly. “I lost everyone I ever 
cared about in the last war, so forgive me if I’m not thrilled about marching straight into 
battle again. I’m not twenty-one any more.” 
Sirius shook his head, still unable to comprehend. “We ​owe​ it to them! To Lily and 
James!” 
“I don’t owe them anything!” Remus shouted, his face burning with anger, “Maybe ​you 
feel like you do, ‘secret keeper’, but if you recall, I wasn’t fucking consulted on that one!” 
He didn't know why he said it; it just all came tumbling out before he could stop 
himself. He hasn't realised how angry he really was, until that moment. Clearly Sirius 
hadn't, either, 
“Moony--” 
“Don’t you dare call me ‘Moony’! Don’t act like we’re still… like nothing’s changed! 
Like everything’s fine, and I'm just going to do everything you say!” 
He stood up, he needed to get out, he needed a break. He turned on his heel, heading 
for the door. 
“No, Remus, please!” Sirius cried out, his voice so taut and strangled, it frightened 
Remus. He turned back. Sirius stared up at him from the couch, so small and wide eyed. 
“Please don't leave me alone.” He said. 
Remus relented, his temper draining away to nothing. He returned to his armchair, 
and sat down again. He pursed his lips. He rubbed his eyes. “I won't,” he said, wearily. “I'm 
not going anywhere.” 
 
(The Man Who Sold The World - David Bowie)   

281 
 ONE HUNDRED & EIGHTY-SIX 
Summer 1995: Grant 
 
A long time ago 
I watched him struggle with the sea. 
I knew that he was drowning, 
And I brought him into me 
Now today 
Come morning light 
He sails away 
After one last night 
I let him go. 
  
Mr Chapman, 
We are very pleased to extend the following offer of employment to you on behalf of Brighton 
& Hove City Council: 
Social Worker - Child and Youth Welfare 
Please see the attached brochure for details on your salary and working hours. You have thirty 
working days to respond to this offer, by either post or telephone. 
We look forward to hearing from you. 
A.P. Green 
Head of Social Services, Brighton & Hove. 
Grant read the letter three times, just to make sure. 
Well. He really ought to be happy. Thrilled. This was amazing news. News worth 
celebrating. It was one way out of the mess he currently found himself in, anyway. 
He shook his head, feeling terrible for thinking of Remus’s life a ‘mess’. Even if that 
was a little bit true. 
He had gone down for the interview a few weeks ago, telling Remus he was working 
late. Not that he wanted to hide anything from Remus - more like he just didn’t want to jinx 
things. Grant wasn’t a very lucky person, generally; stuff like this never, ever happened to 
him. 
Grant didn’t believe in god, or guardian angels, or Buddha or Brahman - or ​anything 
other than his own willpower, but something about this job offer smacked of divine 
intervention. This was his dream job, after all. Perhaps this was the sign he was waiting for 
- as if old ex-boyfriends returning from prison wasn’t enough of an omen. 
He’d been toying with the idea of moving for years. Grant loved London; it would 
always be in his blood, but they were both in their mid-thirties now, and maybe it was time 
for a change. He wanted to get Remus out to the countryside, to fresh air and sea and space. 

282 
A fresh start, away from the miserable little flat. So when the position came up, and Grant’s 
manager mentioned it to him, he leapt at the chance. 
Of course; that was all before Sirius came back. 
Grant re-read the letter again, from the top. He stared at his name, in official black 
and white printed text.​ A letter with my name on it, and it’s not even a court summons​, he joked 
to himself. He wished he could show his dickhead grandfather. Show him what nancy-boy 
delinquents can amount to when they put their minds to it. 
He was proud of himself, and no matter what the situation was right now, he knew 
Remus would be proud of him too. He wished he could tell him straight away, but Remus 
was out, and Grant was hiding in the bedroom from Sirius. 
Grant was supposed to be keeping an eye on him, he’d promised, but as soon as Remus 
was out the door, Sirius had said something nasty about not needing a ‘nursemaid’ (bloody 
hell, how posh was he?!) and turned into a dog again. 
It was so painfully obvious that Black hated Grant’s guts, so hiding out in the bedroom 
felt like the best solution. 
He’d have to wait for Remus to get home, then, to break the news. He hoped it 
wouldn’t be too long, but he had no idea, really. Remus had gone to some sort of meeting, 
and hadn’t given Grant any details. 
He’d talked to Sirius about it, though - at length. They muttered together in the living 
room, thinking Grant wouldn’t notice. The pitch of their whispering swung wildly to and 
fro - one moment angry staccato hissing, the next soothing, low apologies. Their body 
language was the same - Grant learnt quickly that the important stuff between Sirius and 
Remus was the stuff neither of them said out loud. It was all in looks, gestures, tilted heads 
and raised eyebrows. Impossible for an outsider to keep up with - and Grant felt very much 
the outsider. He had never known two people could be simultaneously so angry with each 
other and so much in love.   
And it ​was​ love. Without a doubt. 
Grant got a sick feeling in his stomach. He’d been ignoring it for days. 
Remus had been different for a while, but until that bloody black dog showed up Grant 
had thought there might be hope for recovery. A bit more time, a bit of space, some 
distance from all that darkness. Grant would pull Remus back from the edge; he had done it 
before, he could do it again. 
But now it looked impossible - Remus did not want things back the way they were. He 
hadn’t said it - maybe he didn’t know it - but it was very obvious to Grant. 
Look, ok, Grant k​ new​ he was not the brightest bulb in the box. Not as clever as Remus, 
anyway. Probably not as clever as Sirius. That had never bothered him much, because after 
all, he couldn’t ​be​ anyone but himself, and he had plenty else going for him. He worked 
hard, and he cared about people, and people cared about him, and those things were 
ingredients for a very happy life, in Grant’s opinion. 
So, he wasn’t a genius, but he did know ​some​ things. He liked to think that at the very 
least, he knew when it was time to make a graceful exit. 

283 
 Grant loved Remus very much. He’d probably loved him ever since that first day, 
twenty years ago, when the lanky, exhausted, skittish teenager had loped into the dorm 
room at St Edmund’s. 
He was so quiet, and so closed up, even though there was clearly a universe inside of 
him. Remus was never the same person twice; he was jaded and world-weary one moment, 
naive and blushing the next. He was bubbling with rage and love at the same time, and ​most 
of the time he let love win. 
Grant liked to think he’d had a bit of a hand in that. Especially over the past few years 
- Grant had worked hard to keep the softest parts of Remus safe. And he had; he’d done a 
good job. He’d taken care of him, until Remus didn’t really need taking care of anymore. It 
was perhaps time to let go. 
He still didn’t want to just hand him back like a borrowed book. 
Grant had said goodbye to plenty of people over the course of his short yet colourful 
life, and not one of them had meant a thing, until Remus. Grant knew how pathetic that 
sounded. Nearing thirty-six, and only one real relationship - only one true friendship. 
Whatever happened, they would stay friends - there was no question of that. But Grant 
knew he had to be practical, and he had to look after himself, for once. Remus had always 
belonged to another world; that was partly what made him so attractive. 
The time had come for Remus to go back where he belonged, and though Grant knew 
that for a while the absence would hurt, it was completely necessary. 
It reminded him of that Suzanne Vega song - Grant was never one for reading too 
much into lyrics, not like Remus - he didn’t have a poetic soul. But when the ​Solitude 
Standing​ album came out, it had been all over the radio, and Grant quite liked it - he always 
meant to buy the album, but never got around to it. She had a haunting voice, and this one 
particular tune was ghostly and strange. 
Then Remus had told him what it was about, and he hated it. 
He didn’t usually like fairy tales - having recognised his sexuality at the age of six, the 
idea of brave knights rescuing damsels in distress had never inspired him much. But 
something about Calypso really struck a nerve. 
He knew ​he​ wasn’t a siren, sitting on the rocks jiggling his tits at passing sailors, but 
he knew Remus. He knew Remus inside out. He’d seen the change in him, since Sirius came 
back. 
At first, Remus had clung to Grant as his protector, which made sense; a bit of 
regression was probably to be expected, and Grant had always done his best to be solid 
ground for Remus. But after the stress of the first few days had passed, Remus and Sirius 
had both relaxed a little bit, and everything was different. So different it was shocking. 
Grant hadn’t really known what their relationship was like when they were young, but 
he caught glimpses of it now. The way Remus s​ tared​ at Sirius, as if he was the most 
gorgeous creature on earth. The heat in his eyes, the way his tongue played in the corner of 
his mouth, like he was daydreaming something utterly filthy. Remus had never looked at 
Grant like that, not really. 
And Sirius lit up, when Remus spoke to him. 

284 
 Yes, they were obviously still in love, and it was not the same kind of love Grant and 
Remus had. He didn’t know if it was better or not, but he could practically feel the conflict 
tearing Remus apart. He didn’t ​want​ to tear Remus apart; he never had. He still wanted to 
keep him safe. 
And there was Sirius himself - prim and poisonous, lurking like a spider all the time, 
glaring daggers whenever Grant entered the room. He made his feelings perfectly clear, and 
it made Grant indignant, made him want to fight harder to keep Remus. 
But that wasn’t up to Grant, any more. Remus was going somewhere Grant couldn’t 
follow him. They’d reached a crossroads, and it was all very clear. Maybe the letter really 
was an omen. 
He conjured up the image he’d been toying with - of him and Remus, in a house by the 
sea, reading books and eating breakfast in bed and going for walks into town. Getting 
older, making new friends. If they had a big enough house, they could begin fostering - 
Grant had been interested in doing that for years; he wanted to take care of kids no one else 
wanted, and if he was going to be a social worker then he’d be a perfect candidate. 
He let the fantasy wash over him one last time, and then he began to dismantle it. 
Because deep down Grant knew that Remus would never have left London, anyway, and 
Remus would never want to foster children - he’d be too afraid he’d hurt them on a full 
moon. That future had always been a bit of wishful thinking; it was more about Grant than 
Remus. 
It was time to stop worrying about Remus, and what Remus needed. That wasn’t his 
responsibility any more. Perhaps there would be someone else for Grant - he hoped so, he 
would never stop looking. Perhaps someone would want to keep him safe, for a change. 
Stranger things happened at sea. 
The decision was made. Grant wrote a formal response, accepting the job offer. He’d 
post it on his way out. 
He began to pack quietly, hoping that Remus wouldn’t come home until he was 
finished. There was so much to do - but at the same time, not a lot. Grant found himself 
surprised by just how easily the plan came together. He had his own bank account, and he 
didn’t have any stake in the flat - he could stay at his aunt’s pub down in Hove until he 
found his own place to live. He even had friends in Brighton, from when he’d lived there as 
a kid. E
​ asy peasy lemon-squeezy​. 
So once he’d packed, he’d just need to say goodbye. He hoped he could say it the right 
way, and not sound bitter or self-pitying. He hoped Remus would understand that Grant 
would always be there if he needed him; he’d come running in a heartbeat. 
At the same time he hoped that Remus would not need him. He hoped that he was 
leaving him in safe hands. 
Finished packing, Grant sat on the bed. He could hear the TV in the other room, up a 
bit too loud. Sirius left it on all night, sometimes, and it woke Grant up. But if he went 
through to turn it off, that hideous black dog would wake up and start growling at him in 
the dark. Probably a trauma thing; Grant didn’t blame Sirius, but he wished it didn’t have to 
manifest like that. 

285 
 Could he really trust a man like that to take care of anyone? Grant’s heart ached as he 
imagined Remus - sweet, serious, sensitive Remus - being treated like a mental punching 
bag. He would just put up with it, Grant could tell; Remus felt so guilty about Sirius’s 
imprisonment that he was willing to take all sorts of abuse for it. But that wasn’t right. 
Grant stood up. He had to do one more thing, then, before he could leave. 
He had to talk to Sirius. 
 
(Song: Calypso - Suzanne Vega) 
 
 
 
 

   

286 
 ONE HUNDRED & EIGHTY-SEVEN 
Summer 1995: Sirius 
 
Well, my friends are gone and my hair is grey 
I ache in the places where I used to play 
And I'm crazy for love. 
But I'm not coming on. 
I'm just paying my rent every day in the Tower of Song. 
  
Sirius sat curled up on the couch, his arms around his legs. He was watching 
television. It was a bizarre muggle invention - a bit like the cinemas he’d been to in his 
youth, only smaller… ​oh no, oh no​… that brought back a memory of James. That summer 
they’d gone to see the same film every day, and met those muggle girls. Had it been 
summer? Or Christmas? It might have been raining, and someone punched him. James or 
Remus? Surely Remus; James was never violent, even when Sirius really deserved it. 
Sirius shut his eyes to drown out the cold, cruel voices in his head which wanted to 
drag him back through time, back to the very worst moments. He thought he could taste 
blood, but when he opened his eyes again, all he saw was the living room, and the silly 
talking muggle box. 
It was his living room. Or it had been, once. It looked different, and Sirius had a hard 
time working out whether it was different, or he was just remembering wrong. The walls 
hadn’t been repainted, the fireplace was there. It didn’t stink of cigarette ash anymore, but 
there was still a burn mark in the carpet under the windowsill - had that been there before? 
Or had it happened in the years between? 
The TV was the worst change; the most noticeable. Sirius had a strong memory of 
arguing against having one, a long time ago. Noisy, ugly muggle light-boxes. He still 
thought it was awful, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to stop watching it. It 
distracted him. It was a break from thinking; from remembering. 
He had spent too much of his life remembering. Turning over events, over mistakes 
and half understood conversations. Sifting through it all again and again, until everything 
in his head was shaken loose in tiny fragments, no structure or narrative. He didn't want to 
sit and think anymore. He wanted to act. He wanted to do. And no one would let him. 
He huffed, shifting position, tightening his grip on the arm of the couch. Remus had 
been invited to a meeting, and Sirius had been told to stay at home with the muggle. It 
would have been fine if he'd gone as Padfoot, he knew it would have, but no one would 
listen. They were treating him like a loose cannon, like someone who needed to be 
contained​. As if he hadn't spent a whole year alone, looking out for himself, without any 
help from anyone. 
He wasn't going to be treated like a kid. He wasn't going to let them. Hadn't he earned 
his place? 

287 
 But Moony - Remus, he had given Sirius that pained, pleading look, and it shut him 
up. He hated making Remus uncomfortable, it made him worried he would never get better. 
He knew he wasn't right in the head, he knew he was going about things all wrong, and 
that he was not himself. But Sirius had hoped a year would be enough. He was out, now, he 
was free, everyone who mattered finally knew the truth. It should make a difference. He 
should be normal again, by now. 
Remus wasn't helping, Sirius thought, darkly. How c​ ould​ he get his head straight, 
when everything was so weird? When Remus, his only friend left, could barely look at him 
without wincing, could barely speak to him without trailing off, glancing away. And the 
boyfriend. Sirius wondered how quickly that had happened, how soon the muggle had 
wormed his way in. Infected Remus with his mundanity; made his Moony quiet and 
cautious. No better than a muggle himself. 
It was like a light in Remus had dimmed. Sirius looked for signs of the old Moony, but 
there was none of that wicked, mischievous energy, the blistering strength of Remus Lupin 
when he had an exciting plan. 
It had taken Sirius ages to convince Remus just to go to the meeting. In the end, he 
had the impression Remus only went as a favour to him; to keep him calm. That was fine, as 
long as he went. And when he got back, he would tell Sirius everything, Sirius would make 
him. It was the least Remus could do. 
Remus would come around. He would see there was no other way. He would want to 
do it for Harry. 
Sirius couldn't help smiling to himself, thinking about Harry. That incredible, 
brilliant, brave kid. James would be so proud… 
James, James I'm so sorry…. 
He shuddered, shut his eyes again, bracing himself against the cold. He wanted Remus 
so badly. He didn't want to be alone, not again, please... 
“Orright?” Grant, sauntered the room as if to remind Sirius that he was not alone at 
all. Grant smiled at him cheerfully as he came in. Sirius watched him warily. ​Always bloody 
smiling. Weirdo. 
“Good afternoon,” Sirius replied, deliberately accentuating his annunciation to 
counter Grant’s horrific butchered English. 
Sirius had spent no time whatsoever with muggles, even before Azkaban, and found 
them confusing at best; like an alien species. And he ​hated​ Grant’s cheerfulness with every 
inch of his being. 
“Feelin’ better?” 
Sirius grunted noncommittally. He didn’t see that he owed any kind of explanation to 
this man. He tolerated him, for Remus’s sake, but that was it. 
“Good to hear,” Grant nodded, dimples in his cheeks. 
Sirius thought he must be incredibly stupid. 
Wipe that inane grin off your face​! barked the spectre of Walpurga Black. 

288 
 Sirius remembered Grant as a teenager, and he hadn’t even been that good looking 
then. Fifteen years hadn’t improved on his hairline or his skin. Sirius had no idea what 
Remus was still doing with Grant at all, and if he was stupid as well as plain looking, then 
Sirius was even more baffled as to why Moony would want him around. 
The Remus ​he​ knew - ​his​ Remus would never suffer a fool. 
“When he gets back,” Grant was saying, now, still cheerful, still smiling, showing 
crooked teeth and a white scar in the corner of his mouth, “I’ll go.” 
“Oh, ok.” Sirius shrugged. He searched for something to say, “...we need milk.” 
“No,” Grant chuckled, shaking his head lightly. He sat on the coffee table, directly 
opposite Sirius - so close their knees almost touched - and looked him in the eye, “I’m not 
popping out to the shops - I mean I’m leaving.” 
“What?” Sirius frowned, “Why? Did Remus tell you to? Because it wasn’t my idea.” 
“It’s my idea,” Grant said, no longer smiling. He had tired eyes, and Sirius realised that 
though Grant was smiling, he wasn’t happy. He was very, very sad. Sirius didn’t know what 
to do about it; he had his own problems. 
Grant kept talking, “I realised it a while ago. When he came back from the school, all 
shook up from seeing you again. I think I must’ve known then. Should ‘ave called time, but 
I couldn’t just leave him alone...” 
“Look, I don’t know what you think--” 
“I was only ever looking after him for you,” Grant said, raising a hand to keep Sirius 
quiet, “I was never it for him. That’s been you, all these years.” 
“And yet here you are.” Sirius muttered. He drew his knees back up, closing inwards. 
He wanted Grant to just go away, if he was leaving; ​get lost​. He’d have liked to transform 
into Padfoot, but he knew it wouldn’t help matters and he’d promised Remus not to. 
“See, now this is what I wanted to talk about.” Grant said, his brows knitting together. 
“If I go, then you’ve got to look after him, ok? Not blame him for whatever’s happened to 
you in the last ten years.” 
“​Twelve​ years.” Sirius corrected. 
“Don’t care,” Grant shrugged, “It’s not been an easy life for any of us, sunshine, you’re 
not special. R
​ emus is​.” 
Grant’s voice was suddenly hard and dangerous - almost aggressive “He’s special to 
me , and if you’re not man enough to be kind to him, then you don’t deserve him. He’s been 
waiting for you. He’s never stopped waiting. He won’t say it, because Remus doesn’t say 
stuff like that. But he feels it. He feels e​ verything​, you must know that.” 
Sirius didn’t reply. 
“He loves you.” Grant said, steadily.“You have to love him back.” 
“I ​do​ love hi--” 
“--No,” Grant was shaking his head again, “No, not like this. You have to be h
​ ere​; a 
real, flesh and blood person. Not a dog. Not a ghost.” 
Sirius couldn’t meet Grant’s eyes anymore, he bowed his head and nodded. 
“I will.” 

289 
 “Good,” Grant smiled again, his face gentle once more. “Now, when he gets moody - 
and he ​will​ get moody - don’t let him mope, and don’t let him drink. He’ll want it, after a full 
moon, but it only takes him longer to get well again if he does.” 
“I know what he needs after a full moon!” Sirius growled, affronted. “I’ve known him 
since I was ​eleven​, who do you think you are, telling me--” 
“I’m the one who’s been here.” Grant returned, shortly. “I don’t think you get how 
hard it's been. I don’t think you… look; you had him at his best, ok? I had his worst.” He 
smiled, a little, “And I was glad to do it. I have one part of him. You have the other. Can we 
agree?” 
Sirius stared at him a bit longer. Grant held out a hand to shake, and Sirius took it, 
“Ok.” he said. 
“Lovely.” Grant released him, and stood up. He went into the bedroom and came back 
with a large hold all, which he placed very purposefully by the door. “Going to have to leave 
a few books and things here for a bit.” He said, “But I'll be back for ‘em when I'm settled. 
S'pose you don't need a key, eh? Can you get in the magic way?” 
Sirius nodded, struck dumb. He couldn't believe this was happening. He wanted his 
heart to soar, he wanted to feel finally satisfied - but he couldn't help worrying. Grant had 
been a nuisance, but he had been a buffer, too. Would Remus blame him for it? Would he 
convince Grant to stay, or even worse, would he leave Sirius here, alone with the flat and 
the war and… 
There was a quiet shuffling noise outside the front door, and Sirius’s ears pricked. 
Remus was back! His heart began to thrum against his ribcage, he licked his lips and sat up 
straighter, focussed in the door as it opened. 
Remus entered, head bowed, frowning a bit. Sirius couldn't believe how little Remus 
had changed, when everything else in the world was so different now. He was greyer, but he 
was still Moony, he was still completely devastatingly handsome and completely unphased 
about it. 
He gave Sirius a smile as he came in, which was so like the teenage Remus, it took 
Sirius right back to Hogwarts - arriving at the breakfast table to find Remus already there, 
on his third helping of bacon and eggs, grinning at something stupid Sirius had just said. 
See​, he told himself, ​there are still some good memories left. 
“Hello,” he said, to the room. 
“Hiya.” Grant replied. “Cup of tea?” 
“Ooh, yes please,” Remus nodded, now giving Grant a friendly smile. The muggle went 
into the kitchen. 
“How did it go?” Sirius asked, already agitated, “Did you see Dumbledore? What did 
he say?” 
“Oh, nothing much. Nothing I haven't heard before. The Order needs a new HQ, we're 
all supposed to come up with ideas. Look, let's talk about it later?” Remus shot a glance at 
the kitchen, where Grant was making the tea. 
“Did he say anything about me? Dumbledore? How’s Harry? 

290 
 “Harry's perfectly fine, back at his aunt and uncle's for the summer. What's this bag 
doing here?” 
Remus was looking down at the brown hold all packed with Grant's things. He looked 
at Sirius. Sirius shrugged, slouching down in the sofa. Remus frowned, and called out, 
“Grant? What's this bag doing?” 
Grant popped his head around the kitchen door, looking sheepish. 
“Ah. Can I have a quick word?” 
Remus paled, visibly, and went into the kitchen. 
 
(Song: Tower of Song - Leonard Cohen) 
 
 
 
 
 

   

291 
 ONE HUNDRED & EIGHTY-EIGHT 
‘Til The End 
 
I just want to see you 
When you're all alone 
I just want to catch you if I can 
I just want to be there 
When the morning light explodes 
On your face it radiates 
I can't escape 
I love you 'till the end 
  
I just want to tell you nothing 
You don't want to hear 
All I want is for you to say 
Why don't you just take me 
Where I've never been before 
I know you want to hear me catch my breath 
I love you 'till the end 
  
I just want to be there 
When we're caught in the rain 
I just want to see you laugh not cry 
I just want to feel you 
When the night puts on it's cloak 
I'm lost for words - don't tell me 
All I can say 
I love you ‘till the end. 
  
“Where are you going!?” Remus hissed, as he marched into the kitchen. He didn’t 
want Sirius to hear them fighting, but things didn’t look good at all, from the way Grant 
was calmly stirring his tea, not making eye contact. 
“Brighton.” Grant said, “I’ve had a job offer - a really good one. Better pay, and I can 
help more people, I can really make a difference.” 
“But we live in London.” 
“Remus…” 
“You’re just up and leaving me for a ​job​?!” Remus was gearing up to start shouting; to 
shame Grant into staying. Grant just smiled sympathetically and shook his head, 

292 
 “Don’t be silly, now. You know it’s about more than that.” 
Remus’s heart was beating hard, he felt sick, woozy, as if the floor was rocking back 
and forth. “You can’t do this!” 
“I’m just making things easier for you,” Grant said - and from anyone else that might 
have sounded bitter. “Haven’t I always tried to do that?” 
“But I love you!” 
“I love you too, my darling, but I’m not sure that’s all there is to it.” 
“So you’re just making the decision for me?!” 
“I’m making a decision for me.” Grant said, very firmly. He looked at Remus now, 
dead in the eye, and Remus could see there would be no more arguing. “Sirius needs you 
now, and you’ll go to war, because that’s who you are, you’re mad and brave and incredible. 
There isn’t a place for me in all that, so I need you to let me go. We’ll always be friends, 
won’t we? Care home yobs together?” 
Remus wanted to wail. He wanted to fall to his knees and clutch Grant around the 
waist and hold him there forever, to beg and plead. He knew that was selfish. Grant was 
right; Remus had already decided to re-join the Order, he had decided the moment Sirius 
returned. It wasn’t fair to keep Grant around for that, it was downright dangerous. But he 
needed him, oh, he really, really needed Grant. Remus wasn’t sure he could do it all alone, 
not with Sirius the way he was. 
“You’ll break my heart if you go now.” Remus said, aware he sounded sulky and 
petulant. 
Grant shook his head lightly, holding his ground. “I’m sorry, love. But it’s breaking my 
heart to stay.” 
And in an instant, Remus understood. He saw Grant properly for the first time, not as 
his protector, his champion, but as a person who was not so very different from him, who 
was just as vulnerable to suffering. 
“It’s not a proper goodbye, eh?” Grant said, softly. “You’re not shot of me yet.” 
“I haven’t always been fair to you.” Remus said. He had wanted to say it for a long time 
now. He wanted some kind of forgiveness. 
“You’ve been fine,” Grant smiled, without a trace of blame. “You’ve been my little bit 
of magic.” 
Remus made a strangled noise, and tried not to cry. Grant hugged him, and they held 
each other for the last time. 
Grant left Remus in the kitchen, with two cups of tea - one for Remus, one for Sirius. 
Remus stood in silence and waited for the door to go. When he heard it shut, he covered his 
mouth with his hand and closed his eyes. He breathed in and out for a few moments, then 
walked into the living room. Sirius was still on the couch. He looked anxious, rubbing his 
hands together. 
“Remus, I--” 
“No.” Remus held up his hand, shaking his head, “No, I need a minute.” 

293 
 He went into the bedroom and closed the door. He sat on the bed and cried and cried. 
Once that was done with, he washed his face and went back to Sirius. 
There was so much work to do. 
* * * 
Monday 10th July 1995 
Things were harder, after Grant left. Remus felt as though he had lost his rock; the 
person who had kept him safe for thirteen years. The man Remus was left with was 
practically a stranger; a gaping hole of misery and fear and vengeful rage. Remus was on 
eggshells, and the war stretched ahead of them - would it always be like this? 
They kept focussed on the war, mostly because Remus refused to discuss Grant, or his 
feelings. It was too much, in those early days. They spent their time working on lists of 
contacts, getting in touch with the old crowd, digging up old information from the last war. 
Sirius hooked them back into the floo network, using a secret connection only accessible to 
the right people, and time and time again the two of them knelt on the hearth rug, speaking 
into the flames; Sirius explaining his story to each member. Few of them took much 
convincing. All of them believed that Voldemort was back, and wanted to do something 
about it. 
When they weren’t working for Dumbledore, Remus put the TV on and more often 
than not, Sirius would transform into Padfoot and doze off. Remus did all of the cooking - 
Sirius offered, but Remus wouldn’t allow it. He said he wanted Sirius to rest, to recuperate, 
but really he just wanted to be in a different room, most of the time. Sirius still slept on the 
couch, because neither of them were able to broach the subject. 
“Full moon on Wednesday,” Remus said, one afternoon. They’d just signed off with 
Kingsley - an Auror Moody had brought in, who seemed pretty capable. Remus wasn’t sure 
what that was worth; he’d seen plenty of capable wizards die. 
“I know.” Sirius replied, brusquely. 
They sat side by side on the couch, blankly watching the TV. It was only the muggle 
news, but it might as well have been static, for all they cared. Just a reason not to look at 
each other. 
“I usually leave an hour or so before sunset,” Remus continued. “Gives me time to 
clear the area, if I need to.” 
“I remember how it works.” Sirius said. 
“Ok, sorry.” Remus muttered, irritated. “Just thought you’d want to know. But if 
you’ve got other plans, then by all means, stay here.” 
Sirius looked at him. “Oh. You want me to come?” 
“Only if you want to,” Remus said, hurriedly, “I don’t mind either way.” 
“Dumbledore said I need to stay here at all times…” 
“Fine. Stay here then.” Remus folded his arms tightly across his chest, feeling hurt. 
“No, I’ll come with you.” Sirius said. 
“Great.” Remus drawled, sarcastically. 

294 
 It was how almost all of their conversations seemed to go. One of them would 
deliberately misunderstand, or become unreasonably defensive about a tiny matter. Then 
the other would bite back, and around and around, until they both just stopped talking and 
ignored each other. But if Remus got up, or made to leave the room, Sirius would give him 
that terrified look; “​Where are you going​??” and Remus would sit back down again, and the 
whole scene would re-set. 
He thought that bringing up the full moon might cheer Sirius up a bit. Sirius had 
always loved full moons, and it meant he could leave the flat for once. ​Can’t you just be 
normal?!​ Remus found himself thinking, angrily, I​ don’t want to live with a stranger, I want my 
best friend back. I need help. 
Then he felt guilty. Because obviously Sirius couldn’t help it, and if he really thought 
about it, they had always been a fractious couple; they were both hotheaded Gryffindors, 
after all. 
Still. Sirius may not be a complete stranger, but he was certainly ​strange​. Had he 
always been so watchful, so quick to anger? Or had Azkaban done that to him? Or - worst 
of all - was it all Remus’s fault? 
Without Grant there, Remus began to wonder whether he seemed different himself. 
Perhaps years of living like a muggle had made him less interesting. He was slower than 
he’d been as a teenager, more cautious. He rarely laughed. 
It was stupid, but Remus was even more worried about how he looked. He had never 
been a vain person; he’d always been very ordinary looking, scarred and a bit gangly, even 
when Sirius had known him. But at least back then Remus had been ​young​. Now, his hair 
was grey all over, only a few strands of the original mousey shade left. He had more scars 
than ever, and sometimes he still smoked, which made him cough like an old coal miner. 
He was so much less than he had been before. 
“This isn’t going to work, is it?” Sirius said, abruptly, breaking Remus’s thoughts. 
No tact. Once he had been so silver tongued he could talk anyone into anything; could 
reel off dirty jokes like they were romantic poetry. But now everything Sirius said was 
sudden and blunt and full of raw urgency. 
“What isn't?” Remus asked, shaken. He kept his eyes fixed on the TV. 
“This. You and me. In the same room. Trying to act like… trying to be ok with each 
other. After everything that’s happened, and fourteen years… it's just going to be too 
much.” 
Remus finally turned to look at him, ready to be annoyed again, but found that Sirius 
was staring down at his hands, twisting them hard in his lap so that the skin pulled and his 
knuckles whitened. He had scars too, now. 
He didn’t look so old and strange, then; he just looked like Sirius. And he was 
frightened. 
“Oh, I don’t know,” Remus said softly. He reached over and stilled Sirius’s hands with 
his own, weaving their scarred bony fingers together. He caught his eye and smiled 
encouragingly. “You were always too much for me. I never minded.” 

295 
 The look of relief which flooded Sirius’s face was worth every lost moment. It was an 
entire lifetime. He raised Remus’s hand to his lips, and gently kissed the inside of his palm. 
They returned to the TV after that, but kept holding hands. 
* * * 
Thursday 14th July 
Thankfully, the full moon was a welcome change of pace. They apparated to the 
Brecon Beacons together, and both transformed on a mountainside. The wolf was thrilled 
to be reunited with its old companion, and they spent their time chasing foxes through the 
grasslands, running together for miles and miles. They were better together, in their canine 
bodies; more natural, more at ease. Perhaps the lack of inhibition, or perhaps the bond 
forged between them as dog and wolf was not as easily broken. 
When Remus turned back, at dawn, Padfoot licked his face gleefully, nuzzling into 
him, and Remus laughed, for the first time since Sirius had returned to London. 
They were still smiling when they got back to the flat, and it felt bigger than before; 
less of a cage. 
“I forgot how strong you were,” Sirius beamed, full of energy, “I forgot you were faster 
than me.” 
“Of course you did,” Remus grinned, “Arrogant prick. I could always beat you.” 
He picked up the post sitting on the doormat and flicked through, as Sirius flung 
himself onto the couch, sprawling out. It was the first time Remus had seen him look really 
relaxed in their flat again, and it made him feel warm inside. 
Flicking through the bills and takeaway leaflets, Remus stopped short as he reached a 
postcard. It had Grant’s new address on it. Nothing else, just the address, neatly printed. 
The needle sharp sting of regret hit Remus, and he sighed, heavily. There was no phone 
number. Either Grant didn’t have one yet (which seemed very unlikely, as he was barely off 
it normally, and needed one for work), or he was telling Remus not to get in touch. 
“What’s up?” Sirius said, from the couch, ever watchful. 
“Nothing. Grant’s new address, that’s all.” Remus put it on the mantelpiece. “I really 
need a lie down, I think I’ll go to bed.” 
He downed some painkillers - only over the counter stuff, nothing exciting - and went 
to sleep. Luckily that was easy enough, after a full moon. When he woke up, the bedroom 
felt cold and empty. It was long after midday, and he could smell bacon cooking, the salty, 
savoury scent wafting its way through the flat. 
He got up and followed the scent to the kitchen, where Sirius was standing over the 
hob, agitating a sizzling pan of bacon and eggs. He turned, seeing Remus and smiled, 
“Thought you’d be hungry. You’re always hungry.” 
“Yeah,” Remus nodded, yawning and scratching his head. “Cheers.” 
Remus made the toast quickly, with his wand - he was getting back into the habit of 
using magic again now that his last ties to the muggle world had been cut. 
They sat at the table in the living room, and Sirius even made an effort to use a knife 
and fork. Remus smiled at that, remembering James and Sirius’s impeccable pureblood 

296 
table manners. ​He will come back to me​, Remus told himself, as Sirius buttered his toast 
daintily, b​ it by bit. 
The postcard from Grant was still sitting up on the mantelpiece. The image on the 
front was of Brighton Pavillion. “I’d better start boxing up the rest of his things,” Remus 
said, thinking out loud. “Find a way to get them to him.” 
“He said he’d come back, when he was settled.” Sirius said, unexpectedly. 
“Oh.” Remus blinked, “Did you talk, then?” 
“A little bit,” Sirius shrugged, faking nonchalance, “Just to say goodbye. He told me to 
look after you.” 
“Oh, I see.” Remus said, quietly. “Well, sorry about that. That wasn’t his place to say.” 
He wanted very much to keep these two halves of his life separate. 
“No, it was ok,” Sirius said. They were quiet for a bit , eating. And then… “When did it 
happen?” Sirius asked, back to his sharp abruptness. 
“When did what happen?” 
“You and him. How soon after… after I went to prison?” 
Remus set down his fork. “Why are you asking me that?” 
“I’m just trying to fill in the gaps - the stuff I missed.” 
Something inside Remus grew hot and fierce. 
“I don’t see what Grant has to do with any of it. Do you want a list of everyone I’ve 
shagged since you’ve been gone?” 
Sirius breathed in, sharply, at that. “No, of course not.” 
“Well, then. Leave him out of it. He’s gone now, that’s that.” 
“I shouldn’t have asked. I just thought... “ 
“I never cheated on you.” Remus said, hardening his voice, “So you can stop 
wondering. I never, ever betrayed you. Even if you think I did.” 
Sirius frowned, and looked down at his food. “You a
​ re​ still angry about that, then.” 
“I don’t want to be.” Remus said. “I don’t want to be, but I am. You thought I was a 
spy​, Sirius! You thought I would try to hurt Lily and James - you thought I would try to hurt 
you​.” 
“I was confused,” Sirius said, his voice small, “Everything was such a mess, everything 
was so difficult, and no one knew anything, no one trusted anybody--” 
“I remember.” Remus snapped. “I was there. I still trusted my friends.” 
Sirius kept staring at his food, but Remus wasn’t finished, this had to come out 
eventually, he knew how it felt to leave things unsaid. 
“D’you know how stupid I was? D’you want to know how completely dense I was, in 
those last months? I thought you wanted to break up with me! I wanted to come back from 
the pack and see if we could make things up - it never crossed my mind that you thought I 
was a… I mean, fucking hell, Sirius. I loved you!” 
“Remus…” 

297 
 “I loved you, and you left me with n
​ othing​, do you understand? I had nothing except a 
lot of scars and a drinking habit. So don’t start interrogating me about the bits of my life 
I’ve been able to put back together.” 
Remus stood up and paced, the last of the full moon still hot in his veins. He stood by 
the window. He wanted to smoke, but he’d learnt by now not to give in to those kinds of 
urges - the kind that felt good, but would probably kill you in the end. The kind of urges he 
got when Sirius was around. 
“I’m sorry.” Sirius’s voice was still very small. He was hunched forward, his hair in his 
face. Pitiful. 
Remus felt terrible, even though he knew he deserved an apology. He hadn’t meant to 
be hurtful. ​For fuck’s sake​, Remus scolded himself, ​why can’t we ever get this right? 
“No, I’m sorry.” He said, steadying his voice, remembering to be understanding. “I 
didn’t mean to be so…” 
“I understand. I swear, Moon--Remus, sorry - I swear, I thought about you every day. 
What you must think of me, what you must have heard… I was the stupid one, not you. I 
should have trusted you, I should have told you about Wormtail being made secret keeper - 
I mean, bloody hell, we should have made ​you​ secret keeper. Merlin, when I went to 
Godric’s Hollow that night… I just ​lost​ i​ t​.” 
“I would have done the same.” Remus sighed, “I’d have killed Wormtail. Sirius, I'm 
sorry too. I wish I hadn’t believed them - I wish I’d tried to investigate, done something to 
help you. I was just such a state, I barely went out, I was never sober. That stuff’s all my 
fault. ...And that’s why I needed Grant.” 
Sirius nodded, forlorn, still sitting at the table. It was too much, the air was too thick. 
“Here, are you finished?” Remus asked, needing a subject change, “I’ll do the washing 
up. Thanks for that, it was perfect.” 
He cleared up the plates and took them through to the kitchen. He folded up the last 
of Sirius’s fried egg in a piece of toast and scoffed it - waste not want not. Sirius came in 
just as he was chewing, 
“Same old Remus,” he snorted, “Finishing everyone’s food.” 
“I know,” Remus laughed, slightly abashed, turning on the taps. “Grant used to call me 
the human refuse unit. Once he ordered a set meal for four from the takeaway downstairs, 
but got stuck on a work call, and by the time he came back I’d eaten the lot.” 
Sirius took this anecdote pretty well. He came to stand beside Remus and took up a tea 
towel, so he could dry as Remus washed. They did this in companionable silence for a 
while, but Remus knew Sirius was building up to something. His body was giving off that 
agitated energy Remus recognised from long ago - were they going to have a fight again? 
He hoped not. 
“How long was he here?” Sirius said, softly, “How long were you…” 
“A long time.” Remus replied, concentrating on the dishes. 
“It’s good that you had someone.” Sirius said, with remarkable humility. “I’m glad you 
weren’t alone.” 

298 
 “He was better than I deserved.” Remus agreed, glancing at Sirius to check it was ok to 
continue. “I never thought I’d… I didn’t think I could ever love someone who wasn’t you. 
But I did. I loved him.” 
Sirius opened his mouth, but seemed to think better of it, and closed it again. He 
nodded, a shadow of disappointment crossing his face. He was trying so h
​ ard​. Remus put 
down the last dish, carefully, and wiped his hands dry on his jeans. 
He turned back to face Sirius, who was watching him like a hawk. 
“I loved him.” Remus said. “But he wasn’t you.” 
Sirius’s eyes widened, hopefully. Remus gave him a small, shy smile, and a tiny shrug. 
Sirius leaned in, and all of a sudden they were inches apart, and then they were kissing, 
clutching each other tightly, as if it was their first and last. 
It turned out you never really lost the knack. Like an unbroken spell, Remus felt every 
moment come flooding back to him as vividly as if it were yesterday; not the fights, or the 
war, or the emptiness, but the joy, the thrill of friendship, and the love - so, so much love; 
Remus felt as if he was being filled up with it; he was spilling over. 
Just as it had been the very first time, Remus’s brain seemed to be yelling y​ es, yes yes​! 
and he held onto Sirius with both hands, y​ ou’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine. 
When they broke apart, they were both grinning, pressing their foreheads together, 
holding each other’s shoulders as if they were fighting - or falling. 
“I love you,” Sirius whispered, “I love you so much.” He squeezed his eyes shut, “Don’t 
worry, you don’t have to say it back.” 
“Of course I love you, you idiot,” Remus gasped, not sure if he was laughing or crying, 
“I never stopped.” 
Sirius laughed too, though his cheeks were wet, and kissed him again. And again, and 
again, and again. 
They weren’t teenagers anymore. They finished the washing up, and returned to the 
couch. Sirius suggested playing a record, instead of the TV, and Remus acquiesced, willing 
to give him anything he wanted. He selected Diamond Dogs, first, but Remus thought the 
lyrics to ‘We are The Dead’ might be too hard to hear. In the end it was Hunky Dory, which 
had happier tunes on it. 
Sirius stretched out, his head in Remus’s lap, and Remus stroked his hair and bent 
over to kiss him whenever he liked, because h
​ e could, at last, he could​. 
“I missed you.” He whispered. 
Sirius squeezed his hand and turned his head, slightly, obviously not wanting Remus 
to see the emotion on his face. He cleared his throat, “Tell you what I’ve missed,” he said, a 
smile playing on his lips - that Sirius Black grin - “Smoking. Haven’t got a fag, have you?” 
“They’re bad for you.” Remus tutted. “They kill you.” 
“We’re all dying,” Sirius replied. 
“Maybe.” Remus agreed, lacing their fingers together, “But shouldn’t life last longer, if 
it can be like this?” 
* * * 

299 
 They fell asleep on the couch, probably because they were both too shy to suggest 
moving to the bedroom. Remus awoke to birdsong in the early hours of the morning, still 
upright, stiff, hips aching, the warm weight of Padfoot in his lap. He scratched sleepily 
behind the dog’s ear, pushing him away to get up and use the loo. 
When he came back, Sirius was back to himself. “Sorry,” he said, “I keep turning in my 
sleep. I think I spent too long as a dog in Azkaban.” 
“It’s fine,” Remus smiled, “I don’t mind at all.” He stretched, “What do we need to do 
today, is there anyone left on the list to talk to?” 
“No, we’ve done everything,” Sirius said. “Except find a new headquarters. Hey, I had 
a thought about that - what about that old church you stayed in with the werewolves?” 
“Oh, that… no, probably a bad idea. Greyback knows where it is.” 
“He’s still around, then.” 
“Mm hmm. Tea?” 
“Please.” 
Remus went into the kitchen and Sirius followed him, still talking, “I just thought that 
would be good, because it’s the middle of nowhere, so I can be there too. I hate the idea of 
you going off to meetings and me staying put.” 
“Don’t you like it here?” Remus raised an eyebrow. He loved his little flat, “Other than 
Hogwarts, it’s the only place I’ve ever really felt at home.” 
“Oh Remus.” Sirius squeezed his arm, “You’ve gone all soft in your old age.” 
“Piss off.” Remus snorted, giving him a light nudge with his elbow. “We didn’t all 
grow up in mansions.” 
“No but-- hey! Hey, Remus, that’s it!” Sirius was shaking his shoulder now, jogging 
Remus as he tried to pour the milk. 
“Oi, watch it! What?” 
“My mansion! Or it’s mine now, anyway - my parents are both dead, I’m the Black 
heir! The house will answer to me!” 
“Oh, I see,” Remus frowned, turning to look at Sirius properly, “Are you sure? I mean… 
you really want to go back there?” 
“Well, no, obviously I don’t. But it’s probably one of the most protected houses in 
Britain - the Blacks took home security really bloody seriously. There are enough rooms for 
all the Weasleys and then some - oh merlin, imagine my bitch mother’s face if she knew I’d 
invited the Weasleys over to stay! It’s something I can do to help, isn’t it?” 
“But Sirius, think about it, you’ll be in the home your parents lived in - all their things 
will be there…” 
“We’ll chuck it all out,” Sirius waved a hand, “And it’s so safe - a safe place for Harry, 
Remus.” 
“It does sound…” Remus thought hard, coming around to the idea. “If you’re s​ ure​?” 
“Of course I am! And anyway, it won’t be half as grim if I have you there with me, will 
it?” 

300 
 “Ha,” Remus poked him, “Now who’s gone soft?” 
They got in touch with Dumbledore via the fireplace, and even he sounded impressed 
with this idea. He wanted to know how to get in, what sort of charms and curses Sirius 
knew about, how soon he could alert the Order. 
“We’ll need to give the place a proper clean,” Sirius said, eagerly, “It’ll be full of junk, 
but I can help, if I’m going to be there all the time, and no one is better with magical pests 
than Remus!” 
“An excellent idea, gentlemen,” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled through the flames, “And 
right under Voldemort’s nose - in the home of his most loyal supporters! How soon can you 
both get there?” 
“Tomorrow.” Remus said, quickly, because he knew Sirius had been about to say ‘right 
now!’ “We’ll go after dark, so it’s less suspicious.” 
“Good man, Lupin,” Dumbledore said, “In that case I shall await word from you.” 
His face vanished in a puff of smoke. 
“Yes, Moony! Sorry, Remus…” Sirius cheered. “Amazing! Let's pack!” 
Of course, Sirius had barely anything to pack, and was much too excited to be sensible 
anyway. That was left up to Remus, who began making a list of all the things they would 
need - books of course, all the notes from the first war. Clothes, food, bedsheets - Remus 
didn’t know how long Grimmauld Place had stood empty, he wasn't sure if any of it would 
be salvageable. 
“I can finally show you my bedroom!” Sirius trilled, “Ooh, teenage me would be so 
jealous, getting Remus Lupin in my bedroom!” 
“Ha,” Remus snorted, folding up robes and stuffing them into his trunk. 
“And just wait until Harry arrives! We can sort out a room for him, and when the war's 
over, it'll be his…” 
Remus smiled and kissed him and agreed it would all be lovely, it would be an 
adventure, because that was what Sirius needed from him just then. And he was determined 
to do everything Sirius needed for as long as he could. 
“I can’t wait to see Andromeda - and her kid! Must be in seventh year now, surely? 
Hey, imagine if she and Harry fall in love, how completely mental would that be? Then he'd 
be… what, my second cousin?” 
“Once removed, or something like that,” Remus acknowledged, “What are you talking 
about, anyway, they're almost a decade apart. We were thirteen when Andromeda had that 
kid.” 
“And Moody, the old codger, and Arthur, and Gideon and…” 
“Sirius, no,” Remus said, gently, “Remember, Gid and Fab died.” 
“Oh… oh yeah…” Sirius's face fell, and Remus felt dreadful. Perhaps he couldn't just go 
along with everything. He touched Sirius's hand, “It's ok, you're already remembering 
things much better than a few weeks ago.” 
“Maybe.” Sirius said, uncertain. He rubbed his arm. “I think I'll go and have a rest, if 
that's ok?” 

301 
 “Of course.” 
Remus finished all of the packing, and when he went back to the living room, Padfoot 
was curled up on the couch again. 
They ate a light meal for dinner, and Remus had the TV on because it was his last 
night around all of his muggle comforts. They still decided to take all of their old records - 
though plenty had warped over time, and gave off an unpleasant hissing sound over the 
music. With everything packed away in trunks and boxes, it felt very final, to Remus. But 
perhaps that was just nerves. 
He tried to stay calm, watching the sky outside turn a deeper shade of blue, the 
streetlights turning from pale pink to thick amber, and the stars beginning to show. Light 
pollution in London meant that stars were rare - you could only make out the very brightest 
ones. 
Sirius's head was nodding against his shoulder already, as the tv announced the nine 
o'clock news. Remus yawned and flicked his wand at the screen, turning it off for the last 
time. “Oi,” he whispered to Sirius, “Come on, let’s go to bed.” 
“Mmph.” 
Remus had to shake him a bit, but finally Sirius staggered up and wandered 
zombie-like down the hall. Remus brushed his teeth and washed his face, then followed 
him in. 
Sirius was standing beside the bed, biting his lip. 
“Come on,” Remus yawned, climbing under the covers, “What's wrong?” 
“Um. Nothing.” Sirius got in, slowly. 
Remus pulled him close, so happy to have him near again. He wrapped his arms 
around Sirius's body and inhaled the scent of him, and buried his face in that beautiful hair. 
He felt so good. He felt complete. He kissed Sirius’s cheek, searching for his mouth, “Love 
you.” 
“Love you too.” Sirius returned, though he was very tense, and turned his head away. 
“What's wrong?” Remus asked, pulling away, “Am I being too…?” 
“No, I just…” Sirius pulled back too. “Sorry, I just don't think I can… you know, any 
more.” 
“Oh.” Remus blinked, “Oh, Jesus, sorry, I didn't mean to… of course not, if you don't 
want to.” 
“No, I want to,” Sirius squirmed, “I'm just not sure I can. Since Azkaban… um. There's 
not really been a lot ‘going on’, if you know what I mean. I might not… er. I just don't want 
you to think it's ​you​.” 
“​Oh​!” Remus blinked again. He didn't really know what to say, or what to do. This was 
not a problem he'd ever encountered before. He wanted to be kind. “I’m just glad you're 
here,” he said, truthfully. “I don't need anything else.” 
“Really?” 
“​Really​.” 

302 
 Sirius turned around, and took Remus's face in his hands, and kissed him, long and 
deep. That would have been enough; truly, honestly. Remus would have been happy with 
Sirius's lips, Sirius's taste and scent. But after a while, Sirius pulled back, and grinned, 
“Doesn't mean I don't want you to try…” 
And Remus just about dissolved. 
It took a very long time. There had to be a lot more kissing, a lot more coaxing and 
gentle caresses and heated whispers; it took hours and hours. But how could Remus 
complain, when he finally had Sirius sighing in his arms again? It was so tender and so, so 
beautiful. 
Afterwards they lay exhausted, and hot, and happy. Remus felt as if every hair on his 
body was singing; every nerve ending humming. Sirius curled into his body, and stroked his 
scars, like he used to. 
“Hmmm.” 
“Hmmm.” 
“Remus?” 
“Yes?” 
“Can I ask you one question?” 
“Oh,” Remus smiled, “If you really must.” 
“What have you been doing all these years, Moon--sorry.” 
“No, it’s ok. Call me Moony.” 
“Moony.” he sighed, happily, “What have you been doing? When we called around 
everybody - they were as surprised to see you as me. They all said they hadn’t seen you for a 
long time.” 
“Since the war.” Remus confirmed. “Since Lily and James.” 
“Why?” Sirius asked, frowning. 
“I couldn’t bear it.” Remus said, simply. “Being around anyone who knew what had 
happened. I’ve seen Mary once or twice, but no one else. I wanted to be alone.” 
Sirius shook his head, looking frustrated. “I don’t understand you, Moony.” 
“No,” Remus smiled softly, “No, you never did, quite.” 
“Fair enough.” Sirius accepted. 
He lay back onto Remus, with his whole weight - though that wasn’t much. It was 
pathetic, really. Two bony, wiry men, clinging together; both old before their time, and both 
so lost. 
They had never understood each other, not really. 
“You always tried, though.” Remus said, into Sirius’s hair. He wrapped an arm around 
him and kissed his head. “You still knew more than anyone else ever has. Ever will.” 
“Even though I thought you were--” 
“We don’t need to talk about that.” 
Sirius gave half a sigh, and Remus knew he disapproved, but they’d done enough 
talking, for now. They were quiet for a long time, and Remus closed his eyes. 

303 
 Finally, Sirius spoke. 
“Even if we don’t talk about it, don’t you think we ought to try to forgive each other?” 
“You sound like Dumbledore.” Remus snorted. 
“Ha.” Sirius said. “Yeah, you’re right. Can you believe we’re back following orders 
from that old fool? I s’pose I don’t really know much about forgiveness.” 
“Me neither.” Remus sighed. 
“I don’t know if it’s worth anything, really, with lives as short as ours.” Sirius said, 
sadly, “I think at this point, there’s only love and hate.” 
“That’s very fatalistic of you.” Remus commented, “I thought I​ ​ was supposed to be the 
pessimist.” 
Sirius shuddered slightly, which Remus took for a laugh. He squeezed him tighter, and 
kissed his shoulder. “Love and hate.” He murmured, thoughtfully. 
“Love ​or​ hate, I s’pose.” Sirius clarified. “You make a choice.” 
“It’s that simple, then?” 
“Yeah. I think it is.” Sirius reached for his hand under the duvet. He looked up at 
Remus, eyes now icy grey, but as piercing as ever. He was asking a question. 
Remus squeezed his hand in answer, 
“Love.” He said. 
And then he kissed him. 
  
The End. 
 
(Song: Till the End - The Pogues) 
 
 
 
 
 

   

304 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

305 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

306 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
TWENTY-ONE  
YEARS LATER 
Out of the Blue 
   

307 
    

308 
 EPILOGUE: OUT OF THE BLUE  
Part 1 
 
April 2016, Brighton. 
“Oh my god, my hero! Do you have any idea how much I love you?” Marcus beamed at 
Grant as if he was an oasis in a desert. Which he sort of was, at that moment. 
“Skimmed milk, no sugar,” Grant grinned, squeezing through the crowd and setting 
down the cup of coffee on the counter. “How’s it going?” 
“Busy!” Marcus nodded, lifting the coffee to his lips and taking a few grateful gulps, “I 
know I’ve got some staff in here somewhere, but I’ve only seen customers for hours.” 
“Jamie should be here in a bit, I made him promise.” 
“Oh good, Atif and Jon are in the back doing stock, if you want to say hello? How was 
your morning?” 
“Yeah, fine. Paperwork. Rather be here.” Grant looked around at the packed shop. 
Record store day still felt pretty new to Grant, but he was all for it, if it meant the shop 
was this busy. At least their finances would stay in the black this month; Grant didn't think 
he would ever live to see the day that record shops stopped making money, but that was the 
twenty-first century, for you. 
Plenty of music shops were closing up for good, but they had no plans to. The place 
was too special to Marcus - he had opened it with his partner, John, in the late eighties. 
After John died, years before Grant was on the scene, Marcus had sworn he would keep it 
open as a memorial. That was one of the things Grant loved about Marcus. He followed 
through on promises, even if they were soppy ones. 
He and Grant had met in 1999, on a hugely embarrassing blind date. They had a 
mutual friend who had been trying to get them together for ages, apparently. Grant was 
apprehensive at first, he had been single for years by that point, and it suited him - but he 
gave it a go, and thank god he did, because Marcus was, in a word, perfect. Italian looks (on 
his mother's side) and Icelandic blue eyes. Big hands. He was a bit younger than Grant, but 
age hadn't been a problem. On the date they'd talked about music and the eighties, and 
losing someone you loved so much. And then they'd gone home and groped on the couch 
like a pair of kids. In short, it was love at first sight. And Grant did not usually believe in 
that sort of nonsense. 
He gave Marcus a peck on the cheek then went to poke his head into the tiny 
stockroom, “All right, boys?” 
Two teenagers were sitting on the floor, one sorting through a pile of receipts, 
scratching his head, the other stamping ‘Buy 1 Get 1 Free!’ labels onto vinyl sleeves. 
“Hiya dad!” Atif looked up, grinning at him. 
Grant’s heart swelled - it did any time one of his boys called him ‘dad’. They didn’t 
have to, he never asked them to. But he and Marcus had been fostering Atif for two years 
now, since he was fourteen, and he’d been so much trouble in the beginning that Grant 

309 
really felt like he’d earned the title. Jon had only been with them for a month, and was a bit 
younger than Atif, so he just looked up and gave a nod. Grant smiled at him. Jon was shy, 
and very sweet, until he lost his temper. 
“Having fun?” 
“Oh yeah, it’s a proper laugh-riot back here.” Atif said, cheekily. Grant laughed; he 
loved teenagers, they never bullshitted you. 
“Keep up the good work - you can stop for lunch at one, come out to the front and I’ll 
spot you some cash.” 
He left them to their work. They liked that; being trusted to be left alone, to supervise 
themselves. Grant usually found they worked a lot harder. 
When he returned to the shop floor, Jamie had showed up and taken over the tills. 
Marcus was standing behind him, on the phone, one hand over his other ear to cover the 
din. Grant gave Jamie a pat on the back, and got a scowl in return. Jamie was seventeen, and 
nearly too old to be fostered. He’d lived with them for a few weeks a year since he was 
twelve, and each time he seemed to have a new set of issues. But he respected them, mostly, 
and generally did as he was told. 
Grant helped Jamie, taking over bagging records as they were charged, offering a 
friendly smile as he handed each bag over. 
Marcus finished his phone call and tapped Grant on the shoulder, “Babe, that was 
Janine, in the office.” 
“Gawd,” Grant sighed, “Another emergency case?” 
“‘Fraid so - six year old. They found him at home by himself - can’t reach his parents. 
Could be a few nights.” 
“Six is a bit young,” Grant frowned, still bagging records. “They know we’ve got three 
in already.” 
“He can sleep on the z-bed in your office. Or put Jamie in with--” 
“I ain’t moving rooms.” Jamie grunted, not even looking up from the till. Marcus and 
Grant shared a look. Grant shrugged, 
“Z-bed it is, then. D’you want me to go?” 
“I will, I’ve got the car keys. You ok holding down the fort?” 
“With Jamie here? Absolutely,” Grant grinned, patting Jamie on the back again. The 
teenager shrugged him off, but Grant saw him smile, too. 
They got on for a bit, the card machine was on the blink, but Jamie was the only one 
who knew how to sort it out anyway. (He'd set up their Wi-Fi, too, last year, and Grant still 
had no idea where the router was.) It was a very pleasant way to spend a Saturday, he 
thought happily. Spending time with the boys, enjoying the madness of two hundred 
hipsters down from London filling up the shop. It was like Carnaby street used to be - noisy 
and colourful and full of young people. Then, out of nowhere-- 
“​Very funny, Lupin!​” A girl's voice giggled near the back of the shop. 
Grant froze, all of the hairs on his arm standing up. Jesus Christ, it was like someone 
had walked over his grave. He shook himself - he didn’t want to think about graves. But 

310 
that name! It was hardly common… he peered across the shop, but it was too busy to make 
anyone out. He’d left his glasses at home - Marcus was always on at him to sort out laser 
surgery, but when would Grant have the time? It was awful, getting old. 
“Oi,” Jamie was nudging him with the toe of his trainer, “Oi! Are you listening to 
me?!” 
“Sorry mate, what?” Grant shook his head, 
“I said can you take over? I need a piss.” 
“Yeah, go for it.” Grant nodded, still a bit distracted. The teenager rolled his eyes and 
plodded off into the back room, muttering something about Grant going senile, 
Grant cleared his thoughts and smiled at the next customer, “Find everything ok?” 
It was far too busy for Grant to start reminiscing, which was good, because Grant tried 
to avoid looking back, if he could. Best to keep moving forward, that’s what he told his 
boys. 
He served the next five or six customers with ease, keeping an ear out for any 
commotion in the stockroom, and ticking over a list for the new boy in the back of his 
mind. They definitely had clean bedding on hand - you had to, in foster care, anyone could 
show up at any minute. It was the clothes he was worried about - depending on how big the 
kid was, it might be a struggle to find some clean jeans that would fit him. 
He made his mind up to send Atif and Jon to the big Tesco on their lunch break, to 
see if they could buy a few bits there. Mind you, if he did that he’d have to be sure to make a 
very clear list, and ask for a receipt. Grant didn’t mind them skimming a bit off the top for 
things like sweets or snacks, but Atif had a bit of a history of pocketing cash for slightly 
less legal things. It had been a while since the kid’s last run in with the law, but Grant was 
ever cautious, because--- 
“Just these, please.” The next person in the queue slid three records across the 
counter, and Grant’s heart skipped a beat. Those long fingers, knobbly at the joints. The 
tall, lanky frame, like he’d shot up ten inches one night and wasn’t used to it; the adam’s 
apple, the green-grey eyes. Grant knew it was completely mad, but he couldn’t help himself, 
“Remus!” 
But this wasn’t Remus - how could it be? For one thing, Remus Lupin had been dead 
for almost two decades. For another, this man was far too young - barely an adult. And he 
had bright blue hair, and Remus Lupin would never in a million years dye his hair - it would 
call too much attention to him. 
“What did you call me?” The young man gave him a weird look. Grant’s mouth opened 
and closed a few times, before he came to his senses. 
“Sorry!” He said, “Thought you were someone else - been a long day! Lets ring these 
up, shall we…” he picked up the records, feeling hot and cold all over. 
Luckily, the blue haired kid didn’t question him again - his pretty blonde girlfriend 
was tugging on his arm, so they left fairly quickly. Grant couldn’t bring himself to look 
closely at the boy again; it was much too eerie. 
Jamie reappeared at his side, along with the other two. 

311 
 “Can we go for lunch now?” Atif was asking. 
Grant only half heard him, it was as if everything in his brain had suddenly slowed 
down, and all he could hear was ​‘What did you call me?’​, and all he could see was that 
skeptical, put off face, which Grant knew so well it almost hurt. 
“Dad? Oi! Dad?” Atif waved a hand in front of Grant’s face. 
“What? Leave off, you little toerag.” He chuckled affectionately. 
“Are you ok?” The three boys were looking at him strangely, “You’ve gone all pale and 
funny.” 
“Have I?” Grant raised a hand to run through his hair - only he was pretty much bald, 
now, and all he felt was his own clammy skin. 
“Probably the heat,” Atif said, “d’you want some water?” 
“Cheers,” Grant nodded, gratefully. 
“I’ll do the till,” Jamie said, suddenly, pushing him out of the way, “Go and sit down, 
G-man.” 
* * * 
“You ok?” Marcus asked, yawning, as they got into bed that evening. 
It was almost eleven, but Marcus had been stuck at the police station ages while they 
sorted out the new kid - Kieron. They’d both missed dinner, which disrupted the whole 
household, and by the time they got back Grant was in the middle of breaking up world war 
three - Atif and Jamie were constantly arguing over over who’s turn it was on the 
playstation. 
“Knackered, but what else is new,” Grant replied. He was sitting up with his glasses 
on, reviewing Kieron’s notes. “They haven’t put his bloody school on here, how are we 
supposed to get him in on Monday?!” 
“I’ll ring Janine in the morning,” Marcus yawned again. He lay down and closed his 
eyes. 
“Did he go down all right?” 
“Yeah, but he’s scared of the dark, I reckon.” Marcus commented, “I left the lamp on 
and said it was in case he wants to read. Anyway, are you ok?” 
“Yeah, I said I was,” Grant murmured, still leafing through the scraps of paper which 
made up Kieron’s case file. He always went through them cover to cover, and more often 
than not they were like this; stapled and paperclipped together, scrawled handwriting, 
missing signatures. It drove Grant mad, no wonder so many kids fell through the gaps. 
“Atif said you had a funny turn, at the shop.” 
“What? No, I was just… ah, it’s nothing.” 
“Do you need a break?” Marcus rolled onto his side, propped up on his elbow. 
“Nope, I’m loving life.” 
“Babe, you do take on a lot, you know - I know it makes you happy, but at your--” 

312 
 “Say ‘at your age’ and I’ll stab you with this biro.” Grant threatened, taking off his 
glasses and putting the papers on the bedside table, “I feel as fit as I did at twenty. Fitter, 
actually, I was an alcoholic at twenty.” 
“Mmm, and now you’re just a workaholic.” Marcus said. Grant gave him a look, and 
Marcus raised his hands, “I know, I know, the boys don’t count as work. But still, if you’re 
coming over all faint in the middle of the day--” 
“Is that what he said?” Grant laughed, “The little drama queen! Gawd, I just thought I 
saw someone, that’s all, gave me a surprise. Anyway it wasn’t them, I didn’t have my glasses 
on.” 
“Who?” 
“Hm?” 
“Grant. Who did you think you saw?” 
Grant sighed. He slid down in the bed, and rubbed his tired eyes. “Remus.” 
Marcus didn’t say anything. Grant opened his eyes and turned to look. He had a face 
on, like he was trying to come up with the most understanding and responsible thing to say. 
“See, I told you it was nothing. Just a stupid mistake. Remember that time you told me 
you saw Stephen Fry in Asda, and it turned out it was just a very tall lesbian?” 
Marcus snorted. “Ok, fair enough. Still, that must have been a bit weird?” 
“Yeah, it was. But it was just a mistake.” 
“What was it about them? The person you mistook for him, I mean?” 
Marcus didn’t know what Remus looked like. This wasn’t Grant’s fault; he had no 
photos of their time together, they were still at the flat, as far as he knew. And nothing 
would convince Grant to go back there. Added to this, Grant was terrible at describing 
people, so all Marcus knew was ‘I dunno, taller than me, curly hair.’ 
“Oh, just something about him.” Grant said, unhelpfully. 
“And it really shocked you that much?” 
“I s'pose so.” 
There was a loud thumping against the wall opposite. Marcus sighed, “Jon and Atif 
are fighting again.” 
“They just play wrestle.” 
“Yeah, but they’re not little kids any more, they'll come through the ceiling one of 
these days.” 
“I'll go and have a word, I need a glass of water anyway.” Grant said, getting out of 
bed. He stepped into his slippers and pulled on one of their dressing gowns. 
“Come to bed before midnight?” Marcus said. 
“Do my best.” 
He left the room, closing the door quietly behind himself. The landing light was still 
on, and the bathroom light too, door wide open. He sighed and turned both off, before 
looking in on the second double bedroom. 

313 
 Atif and Jon were lying sideways across their beds, fully dressed still, kicking each 
other across the gap. 
“Oi!” Grant hissed, “Pack it in, you two! You'll bring the house down.” 
“Sorry,” Atif gave him winning smile, “Just tiring ourselves out.” 
“If you've got that much energy I've got five loads of laundry you can do in the 
morning.” Grant returned. “Now get your pyjamas on and go to sleep!” 
“Night, dad.” Atif said, kicking off his trainers. 
“Goodnight, Mr Chapman,” Jon smiled shyly, following suit. 
“Goodnight, boys. Love you both.” 
He closed the door and went downstairs next, to the kitchen. He ran the tap and 
waited for it to get cold, then filled a glass. He didn't go straight back upstairs, he wasn't 
tired enough yet - he was restless. He needed to have a proper think about that kid in the 
shop earlier, but he also wanted to pretend it had never happened. Which was a trademark 
Remus Lupin move. 
Grant leaned against the kitchen counter and realised he had not thought about 
Remus in a very long time. Maybe even a whole month. He could see the moon through the 
kitchen window, beyond the apple tree in their back garden. A shining silver crescent - 
would have been no bother for Remus, that. 
Grant wasn’t sure if it was waxing or waning, he’d stopped tracking that years ago. 
There were still some pretty decent memories attached to it, though. Not many people had 
been lucky enough to shag a werewolf the night before the full moon - he’d still be thinking 
about t​ hose​ nights when they packed him off to the old folks home. 
The cat wandered in and rubbed against his legs. He bent down to scratch behind her 
ear, and she purred appreciatively. 
He tidied up the kitchen a bit. That was supposed to be Jamie’s job, but he clearly 
wasn't going to get to it. He would only be with them another week, anyway, and this 
happened every time. Jamie’s behaviour always slipped the closer he got to going home. 
Grant had tried to talk to him about it, find out what was troubling him, but he just 
clammed up. 
So Grant did the cleaning up, just to keep himself busy. He piled up the plates from 
dinner and stacked them in the sink, tied up the overfull bin bag and replaced it, put away 
the mugs on the draining board. 
Kieron could have Jamie’s room, when he left, Grant thought to himself - depending 
how long Kieron would be with them. They didn’t usually get young kids, mostly problem 
teenagers. Marcus said that when the police had brought him in he hadn’t had any shoes, 
and they’d had to incinerate the rest of his clothes. Neglect. If there was anything that r​ eally 
made Grant furious… 
But you had to put those feelings aside, and focus on the kid. Because the kid doesn’t 
see it that way; kids will go along with anything, if they’re used to it. The trick was to 
reinvent their idea of normal. If Grant and Marcus could give Kieron a bedroom, at the very 
least, then that was a start. 

314 
 As he closed the fridge, a postcard which had been stuck on with a magnet fell, and he 
had to bend and reach underneath the appliance to fish it back out. It was from Nick - one 
of their kids from long ago, grown up now, and travelling around Australia. There were 
other postcards, letters and photos stuck to their fridge - kids who remembered them 
fondly, who wanted to stay in touch. Marcus read them out to Grant when he was feeling 
low. “Look at all the good you do!” he would say. 
It worked, most of the time, but sometimes he still felt worthless. That had been ​his 
normal, once, and shaking off that stuff had to be a constant effort. 
Remus’s letters weren’t on the fridge, of course. They were far too precious. 
Grant rubbed his eyes and sighed, exasperated. He was getting nowhere; he was just 
going around in circles. Time for bed, then. He topped up his water, flicked off the light, 
and began to climb the stairs. 
He noted with satisfaction that there was no light - or noise - coming from under the 
door of Jon and Atif’s room. They were good boys, really. However, as he passed the study, 
he did hear something. A sobbing, wet gasping sound. He pushed the door ajar to look 
inside. 
Kieron was sitting up in bed, arms around his knees, eyes wide open. The little reading 
lamp was on, illuminating Grant’s desk, the ancient desktop PC, the stacks of paperwork 
and the locked filing cabinet. It wasn’t a very nice room for a little boy, but it would only be 
temporary. 
“All right there, mate?” Grant said, softly. 
Kieron stared up at him, his cheeks wet. He looked younger than six, Grant wanted to 
pick him up and rock him like a baby, but it was best to hold off on physical affection, at 
least until they had the measure of each other. 
Grant entered, leaving the door a little bit open, making sure Kieron could see the exit, 
if he wanted to leave. “Scary in here, innit? Sorry you got stuck with the little room.” 
Kieron didn’t say anything, just watched him. Grant raised the glass of water, 
“Want me to get you a drink?” 
Kieron shook his head, clutching the duvet tightly against his body. He was wearing 
an old t-shirt of Marcus’s, which was massive on him, but ok for sleeping. They’d get some 
proper clothes in the morning, if Janine said they could. 
“Warm enough?” 
Kieron nodded. 
“Just can’t sleep, then?” 
Another nod. 
“Me neither,” Grant said, conspiratorially, “Tell you what, will you let me sit in here 
for a bit? Marcus likes the light off when he’s sleeping, but I hate the dark.” 
“Ok.” Kieron consented, unclenching just a little bit. He’d had his hair cut very short, 
the poor love. They didn’t do that anymore unless they really had to. 
Grant sat in the armchair. It had belonged to John, Marcus’s partner. He’d been older 
than Marcus by quite a bit, based on the pictures Grant had seen. One of those intellectual 

315 
old queens who liked big leather bound books and wore silk scarfs and a bit of rouge so 
they didn’t look too old. 
“Do I have to live here forever?” Kieron asked, his voice very small and high. 
“We don’t know yet. But just for a little bit.” Grant hated not being able to give kids 
the answers they deserved. He tried to always be very honest. 
“Will they send me to jail?” 
“No, mate, you’re not in any trouble.” 
“Who are the big boys? Are you their daddy?” 
“No, me and Marcus just take care of them, because their mummies and daddies can’t. 
Like you.” He smiled. 
“Why do you do that?” 
“Because when I was very little, my mummy wasn’t very good at taking care of me, 
either. And I got in lots of trouble, all the time, and it wasn’t very nice. So I want to help 
other boys, now.” 
“I don’t like it here.” 
“I know, mate, it’s not home. Like I said, you might not be here very long.” 
“No, I like this house,” Kieron said, “But I don’t like this room.” 
“Oh I see!” Grant chuckled. “Why’s that, then?” 
“In there.” Kieron pointed under the desk. There was nothing there but darkness and 
shadows. “There might be a dog and it might bite me.” 
“Oh, of course,” Grant nodded, as if this was a very reasonable assumption (which it 
was, to a six year old), “Let’s see…” he got up and went to the stack of drawers in the corner. 
They were on casters, and wheeled easily over to fit neatly underneath the desk, filling the 
empty space. “That better?” 
Kieron nodded. He lay down, cautiously. Grant sat down in the armchair again, 
yawning. 
“I used to be scared of dogs too.” 
“Are you still?” 
“Nah. I lived with a werewolf, and he cured me.” 
“Really?!” Kieron’s eyes went big again, no longer afraid. Grant felt a rush of affection 
for the sweet little face. He loved kids. 
“Really,” he confirmed, “And let me tell you, he was one of the nicest people you could 
possibly meet, and not scary at all. He liked chocolate, and eggs for breakfast, and reading 
books and watching telly, and he never ever bit anyone.” 
“Wow.” 
“Think you can sleep, now?” 
“I’ll try.” Kieron said, resolutely. 
“Good lad.” 
“Am I in trouble?” 
“Of course you’re not.” 

316 
 “Sometimes I’m very naughty…” Kieron stretched and yawned, his eyes closing. 
“I don’t think you’re naughty. I think you’re a very good boy who’s had a very hard 
time.” Grant said, his heart aching. Kieron seemed to smile a bit. 
Not long after that, the boy fell asleep. Grant stayed for a bit, just in case he woke up 
again. They’d move him into a proper room tomorrow, he decided; Jamie would just have to 
put up with it. 
Remus had come up again. For the hundredth time that day, it seemed. B
​ loody hell​, 
Grant thought to himself, ​we are in a nostalgic mood, aren’t we​? As he wasn’t sleeping, he 
thought he may as well give into it. He leaned down to the bottom of the bookcase, very 
slowly, so as not to disturb Kieron, and pulled out a shoebox from the lowest shelf. Opening 
it in his lap, he bit his lip. All his Remus stuff. 
Not very much; really just a few letters, and some scribbled down addresses and phone 
numbers; the takeaway menu from their favourite Chinese restaurant, and a book of 
matches from Remus’s first gay bar. 
He pulled the first letter from its envelope. The spindly handwriting was so familiar, 
and yet so strange. This one was from not so long after they parted ways. 
Grant, 
I hope you are well. It feels silly writing that, but it's true. I really, really hope you are well. 
Better than well. 
Things are busy here. I can't say very much, as you know, but I am ok, and Sirius too. We've 
spent more time with Harry, which has been great. We had to move, temporarily, so if you want to 
visit the flat, feel free, I know you have the key. Just so you know, I put your name on the deed. Call 
it insurance, or a gift, if you like. 
Do you have a nice flat? How's the job? I miss talking to you. 
Love, 
Remus. 
Yes, Grant remembered now. It was always love, in those letters. For the last two 
years, Remus wrote to him every month with love. In early 1998 the letters stopped, and 
Grant knew. Sometimes he thought he'd felt it, deep inside, like a thread being cut. Remus 
was dead. 
Sirius had already died, by then. Remus told him. After all that waiting, they hadn't 
had very long at all, in the end. He couldn't even write the words. It was crammed at the 
bottom of the page, like a postscript: ​Sirius no longer with us. Gone. 
Remus's letters grew sporadic after that, but he still sent brief notes, until the thread 
was cut. 
At the time, Grant grieved by textbook. He ​acknowledged​ his emotions, he t​ ook 
ownership​ of his sorrow. When he wanted a drink he attended alcoholics anonymous 
meetings, and when he needed to talk he scheduled counselling. He took time for himself, 
but was careful not to withdraw. 
But it hurt, it hurt for a very long time. He threw himself into work, and that was 
enough for a good while. And then he met Marcus, and the sun came out at last. 

317 
 The fact that Marcus had lost somebody as well helped a lot. It meant that the long 
silences weren't empty, and that the most difficult things did not need explaining. When 
Grant told Marcus about his desire to start fostering teenage boys with difficult home lives, 
Marcus was all for it, and that was how Grant knew he was the one. 
They already had the big house; left by John, with a garden just right for playing 
football, and close to the seaside. Grant was able to do most of his work from home by then 
(by computer, like a bloody scientist!) and by the early noughties no one batted an eyelash at 
two gay men taking care of kids. 
Well, almost no one. People were still dickheads a lot of the time, and there were 
sometimes comments. ​Just bloody try me,​ Grant felt like saying to them, ​I survived the 
seventies, there’s nothing you’ve got that can top what I’ve put up with. 
Nothing was ever perfect - nothing worth having. And his life w
​ as​, Grant told himself, 
every day - his life was worth everything, and he had bloody well earned it. He rarely ever 
thought about another kind of life, one with magic in it, one with... 
He closed the shoebox. He was getting sore from sitting up, and Kieron was sound 
asleep. Grant got up to leave, and took the box with him. He wished he had a picture. Then 
he’d know if that kid in the shop actually d
​ id​ look like Remus, or if he was just getting old 
and silly. 
Marcus was snoring. Grant put the shoebox down on his bedside table and climbed in, 
giving his other half a playful shove, “Oi,” he whispered, “Roll over, you sound like a bloody 
bear.” 
“Grrr.” Marcus grinned, sleepily, rolling over to envelope Grant in his arms, burying 
his face in Grant’s neck. Grant sighed, relaxing. “All right, love?” Marcus murmured. 
“Oh yeah,” Grant squeezed him, “Perfect.” 
 
 
 
 
 
 

   

318 
 EPILOGUE: OUT OF THE BLUE  
Part 2 
 
“Hiya,” Grant walked into the quiet shop. It was almost closing time, the saturday 
after Record Store Day, and you could see the difference. One or two punters wandering 
about, flicking through the ‘50% Off’ stacks, but nowhere near the scrum there had been 
last week. 
“All right?” Marcus smiled at him from behind the till. “Didn’t expect to see you.” 
“Had an inspection, it was only ‘round the corner, so I thought I’d pop in,” Grant came 
around to kiss him on the cheek. “We’ve got nothing in for dinner - came to see if you 
wanted me to get anything from Tesco.” 
“I’d be happy with fish fingers and chips, to be honest, too wiped to cook tonight.” 
“Fair enough - where’s Kieron?” 
“In the back, with Mimi,” Marcus jerked his thumb at the back of the shop. 
“I’ll just say a quick hello…” Grant went back into the little kitchen at the back. There 
was an old sofa in there, and Mimi - the saturday girl at the shop - was sitting at one end, 
scrolling on her phone, while Kieron was curled up asleep at the other end. “How is he?” 
Grant whispered. 
Mimi looked up and smiled, “Fine, no problem at all. Cried a bit, when Marcus went 
back to the shop floor after lunch, but I think he’s just a bit clingy. I distracted him.” 
“Nothing wrong with crying,” Grant went over and brushed the little boy’s hair out of 
his face, “He just needs a cuddle and a bit of reassuring, that’s all.” 
Kieron cried often, and it was true, he had grown quite clingy over the past week. His 
teacher at the school they’d enrolled him in sent a note home after the first day - K
​ ieron is a 
bit weepy, something to keep an eye on. Sure he'll toughen up.​ Marcus had had to stop Grant 
from marching right into the classroom to give the woman a piece of his mind. ‘Bit weepy’ - 
as if that was any surprise, after what the kid had been through! When were they going to 
stop pretending that little boys didn’t have feelings? 
“Just give Marcus a shout, if you need anything, love,” He said to Mimi, “Thanks a lot 
- I know it’s not your job to babysit.” 
“He’s a lot less work than the customers.” Mimi grinned. “And cuter. Heard anything 
from the lawyer, yet?” 
“No, it’s early days.” Grant shook his head. 
Kieron’s mother had been found two days after he’d been placed in foster care. She 
was barely an adult herself, and in no state to look after him, by the sounds of things. She’d 
been brought into A&E after an overdose, and though she was recovering, she’d apparently 
mentioned wanting to give him up. 
It was Marcus who suggested following up on an adoption order. They’d thought 
about it more than once, over the years, but it was a difficult and drawn out process, so 

319 
Grant didn’t like to get his hopes up. Still, they were taking steps, and if the mother really 
meant it, then their case worker thought it looked pretty positive. 
He left Kieron sleeping, and went back out the front. “I’m off, then,” he said to 
Marcus, on his way, 
“Oh yeah, before you go, I’ve got a bone to pick with you,” Marcus said, smirking, 
“You got a toy boy or something?” 
“Eh?” Grant squinted, confused. 
Marcus laughed, “Had some kid in looking for you. Didn't know your name, but he 
knew what you looked like, all right. He was tall, blue hair.” 
Grant’s insides twisted. “No, doesn't ring a bell. One of Atif’s mates?” 
“God knows,” Marcus shrugged. “See you at home, then?” 
“Yeah, won’t be long.” 
He left the shop, and started walking in the direction of the nearest Tesco. He didn’t 
feel right; he felt on edge. Why was the blue haired kid looking for him? Not that there 
weren’t plenty of young men with blue hair in Brighton, it could be a coincidence… 
He bent his head and pushed forward. He’d just made up his mind to go to the chippy 
instead of Tesco, when he became aware of someone shouting from the other side of the 
street. 
“Excuse me? Sir?!” 
He stopped and turned. 
“Excuse me? Excuse me?” The young man was jogging to catch up. It was him. 
Grant stopped still, and straightened up as he approached. It was uncanny; he even 
had the same rangy gait as Remus had, and when they were face to face, he had the same 
shy smile. “Sorry, didn’t mean to chase you,” the blue haired boy said. “Only I’ve been 
sitting in that cafe for five hours hoping you’d come back.” 
He was ten times better spoken than the Remus Grant had grown up with, who was 
pure Essex even after years of private school. 
“Can I help you?” Grant asked, warily. 
“Er… you called me something, last week, in the shop.” 
Grant didn’t know what to say. 
“You called me Remus, didn't you?” The boy pushed. 
“I'm sorry,” Grant said, wanting to back away, “I don't know what I was thinking--” 
“He was my dad.” 
Christ on a bike​. He had known, sort of, but he hadn't believed it. He didn't know what 
to say. 
The kid scratched his head (​oh, Remus​) and looked bashful, “You knew him, right? You 
must have, I mean, how many Remus's are there? And… I've been told I look a bit like him.” 
“You do,” Grant said, his mouth dry, “Spitting image.” 
The boy's face lit up. His nose wasn't quite right, Grant noticed; it was a bit shorter, 
more turned up. That made it easier to look at him. 

320 
 “Did you know my mum, too?” 
That stung like a dart, he hadn't been expecting that. Obviously the kid had come from 
somewhere​, but still. 
“No,” Grant shook his head. He tried to smile, “She must've been after my time.” 
“Look, could we get a coffee or something?” The kid asked, earnestly, hands in his 
pockets, bobbing forward on the balls of his feet, “I know this is weird, but if you can tell 
me some stuff about my dad…” 
“I don't know,” Grant said, “It was a long time ago.” 
“That's even better,” the boy said, “Most people only knew him for a little while. Er... I 
don't know if you knew, but a lot of his school friends died…” 
“I knew.” Grant said, grimly. “And he… When did he?” 
“Oh. Um, 1998. The second of May.” 
Grant nodded. That sounded about right. That was about when he'd started hurting. 
His eyes welled up, unexpectedly after all these years. The kid looked concerned, 
“Sorry! Sorry, I didn't realise you hadn't known…” 
“I knew,” Grant said wiping his eyes quickly, “I did know, I just… We hadn't seen each 
other in a while.” 
“Can we go somewhere and talk? Please?” 
How could Grant say no? They chose the beach in the end. It was anonymous enough, 
and a cold day, so no one would eavesdrop. They bought styrofoam cups of dishwater grey 
tea from a van on the promenade and sat on a big Victorian wrought iron bench looking out 
to sea. Grant made a quick call to Marcus on his mobile, 
“Hiya darling, I've been called out for work… I won't be too late, will you be ok with 
the boys? Good. No. Yeah. All right, see you later - love you too.” 
The kid waited patiently. Grant put away his phone, feeling sick for lying to Marcus, 
“Sorry, just checking in.” 
“How many kids have you got?” 
“Three, at the moment. We foster.” 
“That's cool.” 
“Sorry, I didn't even ask - what's your name?” 
“Teddy - Edward, but everyone calls me Teddy.” 
“Grant,” they shook hands. 
He was wearing black skinny jeans, torn at the knees, his legs impossibly long. His 
bright blue hair piled up in loose curls on top of his head, the sides buzzed short, and he 
wore a red checkered shirt, buttoned up neatly. He was a lot trendier than Remus, who had 
dedicated himself to corduroy at an early age. 
“How old are you - I mean, when were you born?” 
“1998. I was only a baby when mum and dad…” 
“God, your mum too? Sorry.” 
“I'm proud of them.” Teddy said, raising his chin, slightly. 

321 
 “I didn't know Remus had married…” 
“It was a small wedding, there was only one picture,” Teddy reached into his pocket 
and pulled out a wallet. He opened it and offered it to Grant. 
Grant knew it would hurt, but he forced himself to look. One of those magic pictures, 
it moved. There was Remus, almost as Grant remembered him - only more tired, and more 
skinny. The smile was genuine, though. He was beaming out of the photograph, eyes 
crinkling the way they did when he was happy. The young woman - very young, actually - 
had a cute, impish face, and the same short upturned nose as Teddy. ​How did that happen, 
my darling?​ Grant thought to himself, ​She must have been something else. 
Then he saw the date, on the back. 1997. 
“They got married after Sirius died.” Grant said, half to himself. It made a bit more 
sense. 
“Sirius Black?” Teddy sounded surprised, “Yeah I suppose they must've, I think he 
was killed in 1996... Did you know him, too?” 
“Only a little bit.” 
“I'm actually a bit related to him, through mum.” 
Grant nodded, as if he found that interesting, but he just didn't know what to say. 
“So,” he said, a bit shakily, “What do you want to know?” 
“Oh, anything!” Teddy said, eyes bright and keen. They had looked greeny-brown last 
week, but Grant was surprised to see that today they appeared much more blue - almost as 
bright as his hair. Trick of the light, maybe. “I hardly know anything about dad, I just want 
to know what he was like. People say he was quiet?” 
“He could be.” Grant smiled, fondly, “But sometimes he was so loud. Even when he 
wasn't talking. And he liked talking, he was funny - jesus christ, he was so funny. And 
bloody clever. A bit of a smart arse, actually.” 
“Really?” 
“Yeah, arrogant tosser. He was always right, too, drove me mad.” 
His phone went off again, and he checked it quickly. It was nothing too important, a 
text from Marcus saying he was home. 
“Sorry,” Teddy said, “Does your wife want you home?” 
“Husband.” Grant said, without thinking, as he slipped his phone back in his pocket. 
“Oh, shit, sorry,” Teddy blinked, “I shouldn't have assumed.” 
“S'fine,” Grant shrugged, he spent half his life making that correction, “And ‘e don't 
need me home just yet, it's ok.” 
“So… where did you meet my dad? Muggle school?” 
Blimey, he hadn't heard the m-word in while. “St Edmund’s,” he said, “That’s where 
your dad grew up, before he went off to that school. It was a place for boys who had 
problems. Behavioural stuff - did you know about it?” 
“No,” said Teddy, looking troubled. “He didn't have parents either?” 

322 
 Grant felt terrible - why did this fall to him? Why did he have to be the one to explain 
this bit of Remus? It was just typical, he always had to clean up the mess. 
“His dad died… killed himself, when Remus was little. His mum couldn’t cope, so he 
got packed off to… there was nothing ​wrong​ with him, understand,” Grant explained, 
quickly, “I reckon he was only there because of… you knew what else he was?” 
“He was a werewolf, I did know that.” Teddy nodded, seriously. 
“Right,” Grant nodded, relieved, “Right well, of course he needed to be somewhere 
secure. Anyway, that's where we met. I was there for a summer while he was back from 
school. Er… I wanna say it was seventy-five.” 
“Ok so you didn’t know him very long, then…?” 
“We lived together, too.” Grant said, quickly. “We shared a flat, in London. In the 
eighties.” 
There, it was said, and the kid could take what he wanted from it. 
Teddy looked at him for a while. “I didn’t know he lived in London. Before he met 
mum, I mean.” 
“Yeah. Twelve years.” 
“Oh…” Teddy looked out to the concrete grey sea. “Sorry, it's weird, I forget… see, dad 
was older than mum, by quite a bit. I forget that he had all that time before he met her.” 
“Of course.” Grant said. He understood. For a kid Teddy's age, the world only began 
when you were born; parents didn’t have private lives. 
Teddy was quiet for a bit, thinking hard. He looked younger than Remus had at that 
age - but there were myriad reasons for that. Remus had started going grey at fifteen, and 
even without the monthly beast rearing its head, he’d had a difficult life. Teddy’s smooth, 
lightly freckled face didn’t have any worry lines in it. Grant took some comfort from that, 
hoping it meant that he’d had a carefree childhood. The sort of childhood kids deserved to 
have. 
“Did he have a job?” Teddy asked, finally. 
“It was hard for him, because of his problem.” Grant said, “But he worked a bit - he 
marked exam papers, things like that. And he was a teacher for a year at his old school.” 
“Hogwarts.” Teddy said, fondly. 
“Right.” Grant nodded. “But I can’t tell you much about that. He kept it separate, he 
could be very private.” 
“You’re telling ​me​,” Teddy snorted, shaking his head, “I was raised by my gran - 
mum’s mum - so I know plenty about her. The only ones who really knew dad are my 
godfather and other people who fought in the war. I mean, how could I not even know 
where he grew up?! He’s such a mystery…” 
“Don’t blame him,” Grant said, hoping he didn’t sound too patronising, “He had a very 
hard time, after he lost James and Lily, and Sirius went to prison. He didn’t even like 
leaving the flat - I used to go on at him to branch out a bit, but like I say, he could be so 
stubborn. If Remus made up his mind about something, there wasn’t much you could do 
about it. God love him.” 

323 
 He looked down quickly, tears forming again. It felt good talking about it, though, he 
was glad. 
“Do you have any photos, maybe?” Teddy asked, hopefully. 
“No, sorry,” Grant shook his head, wiping his eyes and sniffing. “They’d all be back at 
the flat - there was a garage, for Sirius’s motorbike, I think it’s all packed up in there still.” 
“Oh,” Teddy said, “I see, so you lived with Sirius ​and​ my dad?” 
“Not really,” Grant shook his head, knowing he was on thin ice, “It was Sirius and 
Remus’s place, first. I was there while Sirius was in prison, and then… I left and came here, 
in ninety-five.” 
“Sirius and dad were close, then? If they lived together, I mean. I knew they were 
friends, Harry’s told me all about the marauders.” 
“They were close.” Grant said, carefully, “They loved each other very much.” 
Teddy gave him a funny look. Fucking hell, this was difficult. Grant was in two minds. 
Did it really matter, either way? This boy knew hardly anything about his father, but did 
that mean he ought to be told ​everything​? Remus might not want him to know. Though, 
Grant supposed, Remus had given up his say on that. S​ houldn’t have gone off and died, should 
ya, ya daft prick.​ Grant thought, bitterly. It surprised him, that he could still be angry about 
it. 
“You know more than you’re telling me.” Teddy said, bluntly. 
Grant didn’t answer, because he knew he’d been caught out. That was his problem; he 
never knew when to shut up about things that weren’t his business. 
“I’m sorry,” Teddy frowned, “Tell me again, how e​ xactly​ did you know him?” 
“We lived together,” Grant said, steadily. 
“Yeah, you said that, but… look, what am I missing here? You lived with him for 
twelve years, just the two of you?” 
“Yeah, we did, but…” 
“--and there was no one else, he had no other friends, or... or girlfriends?” 
There it is,​ Grant thought, with a sinking feeling. ​He’s got it. 
“No.” Grant said. He met Teddy’s eye properly, “He didn’t need anyone but me. And I 
didn’t need anyone but him. Understand?” 
“I…” Teddy looked away, his eyes darting about, chasing thoughts. 
“Look, kid, it’s really not my place, I didn’t know your dad at the end, I don’t know 
how things changed for him, or how he met your mum, or any of that. Who knows what 
went on after he lost Sirius, I mean---” 
“Wait, S​ irius​?! Sirius and my dad?” 
Bugger​. “Yeah,” Grant said, apologetically, “That’s right. Since they were kids.” 
“Merlin.” Teddy rubbed the back of his neck. “This is… I mean, Harry never told me 
any of this - he’s my godfather.” 
“Probably didn’t know,” Grant shrugged, “Like I said, Remus was very private.” 

324 
 There wasn’t any excuse for it. This had always been the problem with Remus, too 
many different faces. If you asked a hundred people who knew Remus to describe him you’d 
probably come away thinking they were talking about a hundred different people. Sirius 
had probably had a completely different boyfriend to Grant. And the man who married 
Teddy's mother… well, who knew? Grant really felt for the kid. He wished there was 
something he could do. Something to help him feel closer to his father. Remus deserved to 
be known. 
“The flat in London,” Grant said, suddenly, “You’d better have it. The garage, too. I 
don’t need it, I'll give you the address. It's in my name, but... you take the keys.” 
“You don’t have to--” 
“Sell it, or keep it, whatever you like.” Grant said, keen on the idea now. He’d been 
hanging onto it for sentimental reasons, but he never planned to return. Remus’s son ought 
to have it, that was right; that was proper. 
He went in his pockets for the keys, and scribbled down his name and two addresses 
on the back of an old receipt, “There - that’s the flat - might be some magic on it, I’ve no 
idea, maybe take someone with you… and that’s me - Grant Chapman-Scott, in case you 
need me to do any legal stuff. Though I s’pose not, eh, you lot have your own system.” 
“Yeah… Look, are you sure?” 
“He’d have liked you to have it,” Grant insisted, “Honestly. It was never mine. And he 
had a lot of happy memories there. He really did.” 
They got up to part ways, shortly after that. Teddy shook his hand again - he was so 
polite and well-mannered, Grant thought Remus would get a real kick out of that. 
“Can I… er… can I stay in touch?” He asked, shyly. 
“Yeah,” Grant answered, surprised, “If you like. No owls though.” 
Teddy laughed, “I’ve got a phone, don’t worry. Thank you for talking to me.” 
“Sorry for the nasty shock.” 
“Oh, no! I mean… It’s a surprise, but not a nasty one. Actually, it’s nice. He feels a bit 
more real, now. I had this tortured war hero idea in my head…” 
“Oh, he was that, too,” Grant chuckled. 
They both smiled at each other, and Teddy’s eyes crinkled at the corners. They looked 
green-brown again. 
“He'd have liked the hair,” Grant said, suddenly. “He'd have loved you all over, but 
he'd have thought the hair was very cool.” 
Teddy’s eyes brightened a bit, and he looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. 
“Thanks, Grant. It was nice to meet you.” 
He walked away, and Grant watched him, and for a moment he let himself pretend. O
​ h 
my darling​. He thought, I​ don't half bloody miss you. 
* * * 
One month later... 
“Dad! Dad! Look at what I drew!” 

325 
 “Grant? Where did I leave my keys?” 
“Oi, dad, can me and Jon go down the beach?” 
“Bloody hell, you lot, give me a minute…” Grant closed the front door behind himself. 
He wasn’t annoyed, though. He was home - it was loud and messy, and crazy, but it was his. 
He accepted the picture from Kieron first - of a big hairy looking animal with sharp 
teeth. It was smiling and reading a book. “Wow!” He said, kissing the top of Kieron’s head, 
“Another work of genius! Straight on the fridge, I reckon… I’ve got your keys, babe, sorry, 
left mine at work.” 
He tossed the car keys at Marcus as he entered the kitchen, then addressed Atif, “You 
can go to the beach, but be back before it’s dark, and n
​ o trouble​, hear me?” He gave the two 
teenagers a stern look. They promised, and ran upstairs to get ready. 
“Cup of tea?” Marcus called. 
“My hero!” Grant slumped onto the sofa, exhausted. 
“There was some post for you - it’s on the coffee table.” 
Grant sat up, and leaned over to pick up the cardboard box sitting on the table on top 
of all of Kieron’s discarded masterpieces, Jon’s geography coursework and six months 
worth of newspapers. The name and address was handwritten, but Grant didn’t recognise 
it. Maybe the bicycle helmet he’d ordered for Kieron, but it was a bit heavy for that. 
He tore it open haphazardly, and then gasped when he saw inside. Photographs. 
Pictures he hadn’t seen in years and years - some he’d forgotten altogether. 
They were all a bit of a jumble - big and small, black and white and colour, some still 
in the envelope from Boots’ photo counter. A little note was neatly folded on top, written in 
dark green ink, 
Grant - 
I found these at the flat, there were a few I thought you’d like. There are records, too - Dad 
had good taste! 
You were right, he had a lot of happy memories here. It looks like you did, too, and it felt 
unfair to keep everything. 
Best wishes, 
Teddy Remus Lupin. 
Grant’s eyes welled up as he sifted through all the photos. They were like treasure. 
There was him in his football kit, when he'd played on that London team - Remus had 
taken it, to make fun of him mostly. Grant was sticking two fingers up at the camera, 
laughing. Another photo was of their living room right before a demo, all of the old 
socialist crowd leaning over placards with poster paints, and Remus, coming in from the 
kitchen with a tea tray, giving that wry smile, head down. One Grant remembered taking on 
his way to get the photos developed - he'd needed to use up the last one in the camera roll, 
and was standing outside the flat. He called up to Remus, sitting half out of the windowsill 
above, smoking a cigarette. In the picture Remus was peering down at him, fag between his 
lips, eyebrow raised. Pure sarcasm. 

326 
 There were christmas trees and birthday cakes and walks through Regents park, 
Grant's university graduation, and even a lazy Sunday morning in bed. And every face 
Remus had ever had. The gravity of him, and the lightness of him. 
Grant shook his head, wiped his face on his sleeve, and called out, 
“Marcus?” 
“Yeah?” 
“Babe, come here, I want to show you something.” 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

327 
 
 

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