The freezing wind was howling on the heath, and Harry shivered as he was pierced by the gale from above and the icy ground below. He had chosen this day above all others because no one else was fool enough to go out in this. Wizard flu was stampeding through the castle, and anyone who might have tagged along in a calmer climate was confined to the dormitory today. Harry couldn't bear to do this with anyone else around.

"It's nearly Christmas," he murmured to the slab of stone beneath his knees. "I know you always felt out of place at the Burrow holiday celebrations, just like I did. The Weasleys, they're a unit, you can join in but you can't join them. They tried to adopt us, though, didn't they, Remus? Poor lost sheep without a flock. 'Course, then there was Tonks, and Teddy, too, so you didn't have to perch on a spare armchair in a crowd of redheads anymore." Harry drifted into a pensive silence, watching the few limp thatches of heather wave furiously at him.

"There's something I never told anyone about those days, Remus, not even Ginny, not anyone. Sometimes, I'd look around at that bright, cheerful, loving family, and I'd close my eyes, and I'd wish them gone. Not vanished off the face of the earth, no, just having their holiday somewhere else. And you and I would have our own Christmas, together. You'd tell me about my parents, and Sirius, and all the pranks you pulled at Hogwarts, all the detentions Sirius landed in with McGonagall. The day I was born. And all the days after, when we were a family in the little house in Godric's Hollow. I wouldn't have cared that you'd been my professor, Remus, if it hadn't been so damned important to you. You knew how much I wanted someone to claim me, like a lost handbag in a railway station. You knew, and you wouldn't do it. I could call you a coward again, Remus, for running away instead of stepping up and calling me yours. No arguments, just like that. It wouldn't be any truer now, though, than it was when I said it. The truth is: I wasn't what you wanted. I was a piece of your past that couldn't fit back into your life, not anywhere, not until I helped you make that final choice, to rejoin the family you'd built for yourself, and you helped me to my destiny. I can't ever tell you, now, how glad I was to have you there, right there with Mum, Dad and Sirius, protecting me, standing with me just because I needed you all so badly. I guess we're even now, Remus. And I will take care of Teddy; I'll do my best, I promise. It's just… Merlin," Harry gasped, unable to stave off the swelling grief any longer, "I wish you were here, Remus. Why couldn't you stay? Why did I have to lose…no," he growled furiously, "why did you have to leave me, too? Again!"

"Oh, Harry, you know better than that." Harry shot up in fright, convinced that either someone, most likely George Weasley, whose tricks had developed a slightly nasty edge since the loss of his twin, was playing a prank, or he, Harry, was going stark, raving bonkers. He infinitely preferred the latter, but it was not a pleasant thought, all the same. And yet… He definitely recognized that soft, slightly pedantic cadence that had taught him, so very many and so few years ago, how to defend himself against the monsters that persisted in resurrecting the crowning nightmare of his babyhood.

And then he saw it. White, glowing, insubstantial, drifting closer with the mist swirling down from the moors. It was Remus, almost exactly as he'd appeared to Harry that night at the edge of the forest, and yet slightly less transparent, as if he'd decided to kick off his shoes and make himself at home. "Remus, wh—what's going on? You're dead! You shouldn't be here."

Remus smiled grimly. "Neither should you, Harry," he said gently.

Harry flinched, his mouth dropping open. "How can you say that to me?" he rasped. His chest felt as if his ribs and sternum were contracting, piercing and ripping their way through his flesh. The fury swelled in him like a riptide. "Ever since Dumbledore sat me down, while I was still trying to pretend that Sirius was fine, and told me I would have to kill Voldemort, that I really was the Chosen One, I've spent the waking hours of every day being afraid. Every time I've lost someone, beginning that night with Sirius, I've had to push it aside because there was no time, because the threat of Voldemort was more important. Fred was killed, and I had to think what to do next. I saw you and Tonks lying there, in the Great Hall, so empty, not the people I knew anymore, and I had to think about walking into the Forest so Voldemort could finish both of us. And it's done, he's gone. I'm free, and I'm damned well going to mourn until I decide I'm finished, whether you like it or not." By the end of this speech, tears were sluicing down his cheeks, and he curled himself up, head to knees, on Remus' grave.

The apparition of Harry's old friend settled down beside him with a sigh that sounded like the wind fluttering through the trees. "Harry. It's all right. I'd bet you've been waiting some time for a chance to say all that, and for someone to say it to. And of course, you're right. No one's denying you've had a rough time of it, Harry, and no one could wish harder than I that you'd been spared all that pain. But I can also see how you've used it, what an admirable man you've made of yourself, and you can't imagine how proud I am to have known you, lad."

Harry smiled weakly in Remus' general direction, severely blinded by his runny eyes and fogged glasses. "But you said…"

"Harry, I don't want you to forget me, or any of the others." Remus sounded slightly exasperated. "I just don't think you should be sitting out here, alone, in the middle of a bloody Arctic winter, thinking of everything you've lost. You can remember us much better with your living loved ones around you. Besides, that isn't really me down there, you know," he pointed out, nodding his head at the ground below Harry's trainers. "That's just biology, nature recycling itself. It has nothing to do with me anymore."

Harry wasn't interested in biology lectures—he had another rather pressing question. "Are you a…a real ghost? I mean, are you haunting me?"

Remus laughed. "Do I look like the Bloody Baron to you? Don't worry, I'm not going to be breathing down your neck and popping out of walls. Although, when you leave Hogwarts for Auror training, I could follow you to classes and critique your progress." When Harry ignored his teasing, Remus shifted closer in concern. "Harry, what is it?"

"You…you can stay? Really?"

Remus smiled ruefully. He'd never been able to say no to Lily, either, and those same brilliant jade eyes were begging him now, whisking up all of his affection and compassion for this boy into a wrenching tornado. He'd come here for a reason, though, and he steeled himself to resist that beseeching face. "I can stay for a bit, if you need me, but…Harry, I haven't come back to life. I'm an echo of the Remus Lupin you knew, with no ties to this earth that can't be severed in the blink of an eye. I'm here to help you forgive yourself and revel in the rest of your life, not to mire you in memories of things gone forever."

Harry had squeezed his eyes tightly shut. "I'm not…I…I can't do this. Any of it."

"Yes, you can. You're so much stronger than you'll ever believe. But you need to believe it before you can survive this. I know you, Harry. I've seen how you follow your gut into terrifying ordeals, coming out the other end with amazing, unbelievably improbable achievements, but flagellating yourself for every single mistake, thinking someone else could have been smarter, done it better. The truth is, Harry, for a human being – lacking any powers of precognition, I might add – you are extraordinary. Please don't think otherwise."

"Stop!" Harry screamed. "Just stop, okay? I don't want to be strong, I don't want to get over anything, and I certainly didn't send away to the afterlife for a shrink! I don't want therapy – I want my family back!" Harry tried to keep the sobs in, but they willed their way up his throat with a vengeance, and he curled up on the frigid stone at Remus' side, twisting himself into a fetal position.

Remus' diaphanous form trembled, and his hand drifted toward Harry's face. Immeasurable desperation fueled his concentration, and willing himself not to fail, he managed to shift just enough energy into his fingertips to properly solidify them. Satisfied with the result, he reached out for Harry again, sifting a whisper-light touch through the messy black hair.

Harry rolled over and looked up at him, reddened eyes still streaming. "Remus, I'm sorry. I'll try, really I will. Just…don't leave yet, please?"

"I'm not going anywhere, Harry." Remus smiled softly, and Harry caught the patchy sunlight reflecting off trails of mist on the shadowy cheeks that looked like nothing so much as tear-tracks. The strain of keeping any part of himself in solid form was beginning to show in the line of the ghost's jaw and the rigidity of his posture, and Remus managed one last feeble caress to Harry's temple before his fingers diffused again into hazy outlines. "Rats," he muttered. "That's harder than it looks."

Harry giggled. "Thanks for trying." He lay there for a moment deep in thought. "Remus? Not that I'm complaining, but how did you get here? I mean, it's not like you can just hop on the Underground. And can anyone else come, too?"

"Your recent adventure to the Other Side and back has created a small doorway around you, Harry. It won't last long; probably no more than a couple of months. And when I say small, I mean miniscule; it can handle just one spirit, round-trip. We, um…" Remus looked very sheepish. "We sort of…drew lots."

Harry's eyes widened. "You – what?"

Remus looked down at his hands. "Well, we all wanted to come, but only one of us could leave, you see. So James, Lily, Sirius, Dumbledore and I put bits of paper with our names on them in Dumbledore's hat, and Fred closed his eyes and pulled one out, and it was mine."

Harry dissolved into endless hysterics. "You – drew – straws – for me?" he chortled.

Remus grinned. "Well, it seemed the fairest way. And since it was Sirius' idea in the first place, he couldn't complain about it afterwards. Of course, there were others who wanted to use the doorway, people who just wanted a little vacation back on their old stomping grounds." A frown crossed the usually placid features. "Dumbledore sorted them."

Harry gulped. An angry Dumbledore had been frightening enough in life, but Harry didn't want to imagine the power his headmaster must always have wielded, if dead people were afraid of him. Harry shook his head in wonder. It always amazed him when he thought about Dumbledore's undaunted power and unfathomable wisdom that this was the same man who had casually mentioned finding the Room of Requirement one night in the dark because it manifested itself as a water closet. Yes, he missed the old wizard fiercely, and Harry felt warmth flare like molten gold in his veins when he remembered that Dumbledore had been as eager as any of Harry's Marauder family to make the trip between worlds just for him. He shuddered; Remus was here, it was the perfect time to finally come to terms with That Night. He described every step of the journey, cathartically dwelling in excruciating detail on the hellish ordeal of being forced to pour poison down the old wizard's throat, hearing him begging for death, hating himself for obeying his headmaster when all he wanted was to grab the man and run, to leave the cave in the sea wall far behind them. He swallowed, continuing in a small, shaky voice, describing the return to Hogwarts and the nightmare scene on top of the Astronomy tower. Harry had barely finished telling how the green streak of light had ripped the life from Dumbledore's body, hurling it off the tower to the ground below, before he cut himself off, the agony of grief swelling in his throat once more, blocking any attempt or will to continue.

"I've seen it so many times, Remus, when I close my eyes at night. It's the same every time, everything happens just the same; I can't move, and he dies. I wish, just once, I could stop it, even if it's only in my head."

"Oh, Harry, I know. But he wanted it that way; we both know that. Nothing you could have done – and there really wasn't anything – would have stopped it. After all, how often was anyone able to scupper the plans of the great Albus Dumbledore, especially ones he'd made months, possibly years, in advance? Believe me, it would have been next to impossible. Albus was the best man I ever met, Harry, but he was also very secretive, manipulative and deceitful when he needed to be. From what I've heard about the conversation you had the night Sirius died, Albus granted you quite a rare look into his real purposes and desires. In fact, strange though it may seem to you, you probably knew him better than anyone he'd befriended in over a century."

"I wish I had that time back," Harry whispered. "I wish I'd had more time with all of you."

Remus smiled. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but you're going to have to content yourself with just this old werewolf for now."

"You can't let a bloke just wallow in self-pity, can you?" Harry whined, scowling as hard as he could at the apparition smirking down at him.

"Sorry. I can't stand it in you, Harry; it doesn't suit you." Remus reached down to ruffle the untamed mop on Harry's head, swearing as his hand passed straight through the scalp. Harry yelped with the sensation of ice-water seeping through his skull. "Oops."

"Remus, if this is going to work, you're going to have to remember you're a ghost. I'm a living, solid human, which means I'm driving this necromantic therapy train."

"I see. Well, then, what's our first order of business?"

Harry smiled softly. "Oh, I think we've already covered the first two or three items on the agenda." Remus looked as though he were about to say something embarrassingly mushy, so Harry hurried on. "I'd say the next step is to head back to the castle. I'm frozen solid."