All the Young Dudes

The War
The War: July 1978

Sunday 2nd July 1978

“Hurry up , 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. 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.
“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,
“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.”
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.
 “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--”
“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 best 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.
“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.”
“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?”
The War: Infiltration

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?”
“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.
“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.
“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 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.
“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 himself .” 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--?”
“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 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 think
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, oh 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 not his whole army.” Remus replied sourly, wiping sweat from
his brow. He was still buzzing from the agony Gaius had put him through.
“And that 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 you .”
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 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.
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.
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.”
“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 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, how 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.
“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.
(Grant had put it best - Remus phoned him as soon as he had the chance -
“A fixed address, eh?
Blimey, we have 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.
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, no, 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. How 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 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. Fuck .
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.”

The War: Autumn 1978

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 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?”
“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.
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?”
“Someone else calling you sweetheart? You slag.”
Remus laughed, grinning ear to ear.
“Sarky tosser. Where have you 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,
“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?”
“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.”
“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.
The War: Winter 1978-1979

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?!”
“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.”
“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.
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.
“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.”
“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
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.”
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?”
“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 had 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.
“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.
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?”
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, finally , 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.
“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 - 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.
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

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.
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 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.
“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 now ! “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.
“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.
“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 here .
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…”
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.
“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.

The War: The Pack

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 you 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.
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.

***

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 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…”
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. Jesus Christ,
Moony , he hissed at himself, Sort yourself out, you’re not really one 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.
“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 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.
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 rather 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.
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
church ?! 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.”

The War: Captive

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?”
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. Remus Lupin has joined us, they say, he
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…”
“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 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.

***

“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 his 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.

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.
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.”
“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.
The War: Submission

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.
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?” The 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 looking 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 bulky , 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.
“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 you get me out.” Remus said.
Castor raised an eyebrow, giving Remus a long hard appraising look.
“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.”
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.
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.”

The War: Foot Soldiers

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.
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
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.
“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.”
“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 blistering 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.
“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.
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 were 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 if 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.
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.
“Seen loads of mansions lately,” Jeremy cackled with laughter. He caught
the look Remus was giving him. “Oh, what?! I told you, they deserve 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 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."

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. Shit . Shit shit
shit .
Of course they 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.
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 be 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.
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 must 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.
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. Castle. 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.
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.
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 oh god Remus 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.
“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.
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 safe .”
“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!”
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?”
“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?”
“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 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,
“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. Five .”
“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…”
“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.
The War: Late Spring 1979

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.”
“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?!”
“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 he 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.”
They stared each other out, as the echoes subsided. Remus was breathing
heavily, his cheeks hot, but he felt good . 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 very 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.
“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?”
“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 twenty
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. Of 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.
“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 live 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!”
“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 that 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.
“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.
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.
The War: Summer 1979

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.
“Another thing you can blame the noble and most ancient house of cack
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 anyone 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 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!”
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.
“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.
“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 that 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. One 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 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 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
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. Fuck . Sirius had been so 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.
“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.”
“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.”
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?”
“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
such 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!”
 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 obfuscate 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?
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.”

The War: Autumn 1979

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?? Stag 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?”
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.
“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.
“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 really 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 is 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.

***

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?
“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.
“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 babies ?! 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.”
The War: Winter 1979

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 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 are 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.”
“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 any 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?”
“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 believe you. You’re
amazing. Thank you.”
“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 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 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 lager 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.
“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.”
“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?”
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 on !”
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.
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.
“...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 think 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 believe 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.”
“You couldn’t wait, could you? The second I left the house you had to--”
“You’re always 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 your 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.

The War: Spring & Summer 1980

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.
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.
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, James 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!”
“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.
“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.
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.”
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.
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.
“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 Ferox !” 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 you 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…”
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. Potter 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!”
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.”

The War: Autumn & Winter 1980

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 perfect .
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?”
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.”
“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.
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 Padfoot …””
“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.
“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.
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 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 fine .” 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?”
“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 me . 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.
“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 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.
“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.
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.

The War: Winter 1980 & Spring 1981

 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 worry .”
“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 you 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--”
“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 know
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 saw 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 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 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. Why did this have to happen now ? He thought, as his shoulders
began to shake and he tried to get himself under control. Why 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.”
“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, this 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.
He climbed into bed and rolled onto his side, facing the wall, to prove that
he couldn’t care less which way Danny ‘swung’. Have you seen 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.
“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.
“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.
“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 want
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.
The War: Triage

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…”
“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.”
 “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.”
“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 does make sense!”
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.
Woosh - 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.”
“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.”

***

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 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.”

The War: Summer 1981

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 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.”
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.
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.
“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 in ?… 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. “ No .” 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 my 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.
“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 though to himself, it’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!”
“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.
“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!”

The War: Autumn 1981

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.
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.
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 best 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.”
“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.
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.
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.
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. Must 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.

Armistice

***

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 at 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.”
“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.

***

1982

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, 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.
“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.
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 Sirius ...
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.
1983

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. One 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.”
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.”
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. Not 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 stop 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?”
“I want you , 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 really 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.”
“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.”
1985

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.
“ 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 Neil 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 don’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…”
“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.
“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 real . 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?”
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 really 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.”
“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.
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 Threads , 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;
"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.”

1986

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 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.”
“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.”
“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 really 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
pathetic ; 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?”
“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 why 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, she 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…”
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 not 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 knew 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 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.
1987

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.
“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!”
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.
“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?”
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,
 “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.”
1989

In 1989, Remus actually went to Oxford Street to do his Christmas

shopping, on Grant’s insistence.
“You’ve never 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.
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 sack 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.
“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 socks, ” 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.”
“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.”
“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?”
“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.

1990

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 teasing , 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…”
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 two 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 want 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?”
“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 - one 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.
“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.”
1991

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.
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 bit …” 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,
“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
Elton 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.
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, are 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 brazen , 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.
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 cheering.
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 that . 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 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…”
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 you 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.

Summer 1993
 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 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
Private 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.”
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.”
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?”
“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.
“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.
Summer 1994

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 revisiting 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.”
“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?
No 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.
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, and 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 your 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.”
“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.
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.
“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. He 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. Show
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,” James’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!” Lily 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 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 more at fault, because he
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.
“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 Peter
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 you’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.”
“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.

Early Summer 1995

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 here ?!”
“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.
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
think .
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 know 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. ”
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,
“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, everything 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?
“‘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.
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 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.
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?”
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.
“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.
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.”

Summer 1995: Grant

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. 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 knew 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.
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 stared 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.
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. Easy 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.
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.
Summer 1995: Sirius

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?
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 could 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.
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.
Remus 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 everything , 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
here ; 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.”
“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?
“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.
'Til 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,
“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.”
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.
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.”
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 table manners. He will come back to me, Remus told himself, as Sirius
buttered his toast daintily, bit 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 are 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…”
“I loved you, and you left me with nothing , 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 it.
”
“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.”
“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
hard . 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
yes, yes yes ! and he held onto Sirius with both hands, you’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 he 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?”

***

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 sure ?”
“Of course I am! And anyway, it won’t be half as grim if I have you there
with me, will it?”
“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?”
“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. ”
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.
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.