Written for Hogwarts' Fanfic Resolution Challenge: Write something hurt/comfort, the 365 Prompts Challenge: Genre - Family, the Insane House Challenge: Character - Remus Lupin, the Dragon Appreciation Month, Happy Newt Year: Resolution – (character) Remus Lupin, the Writing Club: Character Appreciation - Theme: Looking after your friend's child, Book Club - Sam Temple: (word) light, (dialogue) "Don't ever be sorry you don't want to kill someone.", (setting) beach, (character) Harry Potter, Count Your Buttons - (object) Picture frame, (word) repeat, and the Sticker Challenge - House-Elf - Write about looking after someone.
Also as a gift for Sammy, who wanted Remus and Harry father-son type bonding.
Word count: 1630
I found no cure for the loneliness
Remus found Harry sitting cross-legged on the beach, staring at the ocean with empty eyes. Occasionally, he threw a shell he'd dug out of the sand into the water, lips quirking up in the ghost of a smile as it hit the surface and sank underneath.
Once, as Remus had seen when he had first started to walk down toward the raven-haired boy, he had leaned forward and dipped his fingertips into the foam that gathered when the waves came to lick the sand.
It occurred to him with a heavy heart that this was probably the more relaxed he had ever seen Harry — though perhaps relaxed wasn't the right for it, not when Remus could read stress and dread in every line of his tense body. Childlike was perhaps a better term.
"Never seen the sea before, have you?" he asked idly, bypassing a greeting that would have felt awkward.
Not that this didn't, but… Well, Harry had mostly ignored him about from a handful of brisk nods ever since he'd Apparated in, stumbling upon the tail-end of a funeral.
For a terrifyingly long moment, he'd thought it was someone he knew — he had so few people left to lose — and then he'd hated himself for feeling that way when he'd learned that Dobby the House Elf had been Harry's friend.
Standing there, awkwardly watching as Harry kept staring ahead instead of turning his head to meet his eyes, reminded him of that moment — as well as countless others where he should have done, have been better.
Finally, Harry spoke. His voice was rough, almost as though he hadn't spoken in awhile. With a jolt, Remus realized he'd been crying.
"I have, actually," he said. He uncrossed his legs and drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as he rested his chin wearily on his raised knees. A ghost of a smile played on his lips for an instant, gone so fast Remus almost thought he'd made it up. "We were on a small island when Hagrid came to give me my letter — we had to take a boat to reach it."
Remus took another step forward, positioning himself so he was back to the sea but could see Harry fully.
"That's good," he said, and immediately wished he hadn't when Harry's eyes only darkened, the green almost black in the clouded afternoon light.
"Yeah, good," Harry replied, half-sigh, half-scoff. His tone made it clear the matter was closed, and that whatever this was, good wasn't it.
Remus opened his mouth to say something else, but Harry beat him to it.
Face drawn with insolent determination, he had finally twisted to face him as he asked, "How are Tonks and Teddy?"
Remus rocked on his heels, a bitter smile playing on his lips. "I guess I deserved that, didn't I?" He sighed. He went to ran a hand through his hair and stopped halfway through — somehow, that gesture didn't feel right when James' son was right in front of him. Merlin knew he had seen his friend do it often enough.
"You did," Harry confirmed, unapologetic. "So, how are they?"
Remus felt his lips stretch into a smile. "They're fine. Great — well, Tonks and I are tired, as you can imagine. Teddy may look like an angel, but he sure as hell doesn't have the lungs of one." He chuckled. "I — We can't wait for you to meet him."
Harry exhaled a long, careful sigh. His eyes shone and he started to blink rapidly, though Remus kindly refrained from saying anything.
"I can't wait to meet him either," Harry replied. His voice was so choked up it hurt Remus to hear it. His grip on his legs was so tight his knuckles were white, and Remus longed to reach out, to try to comfort him.
It wasn't his place though. It had never been — Sirius had been the godfather, Sirius had been the one chosen to care for Harry.
(And what a great job of that he did, whispered a treacherous voice in his mind.
I couldn't have done a better one, Remus whispered back, and it hurt to think about that, because Sirius had at least had Azkaban as an excuse for his absence. Remus only had his grief and Lycanthropy, and those wouldn't work with Harry.
In some ways, the teen had entirely too much of his parents in him.)
"Tell me more about him," Harry asked. "I want to know more about my godson." I want to think about something nice for once. Harry didn't say it, but he didn't have to. Remus could hear him anyway.
So he obeyed, diligently narrating the story of how Teddy had once managed to shift the color of his skin to the color of his sheets, and Remus had panicked and thought his son had disappeared.
He talked about the way Tonks couldn't stop taking pictures, until they had so many they had long run out of picture frames and had to resort to simply sticking the pictures to the wall.
"It drives Andromeda mad when she visits," Remus added, "but I think she secretly likes it. Ever since her husband had to run, she's been… withdrawn. Tonks worries."
It worried Remus too, though he wasn't sure what he could do about it.
Harry stayed silent at that, what little mirth Remus' words had managed to raise in him melting away like snow in the summer. He didn't have to say anything for Remus to understand his meaning, and he too fell silent.
Harry rubbed his scar absently before his hand fell back on his legs. Remus' mouth ran dry.
"Does it hurt?"
"Huh, what?" Harry blinked in surprise before his eyes widened in understanding. "Oh, you mean my scar." His lips twisted into a wry smile. "Always, these days."
"Always?"
Harry shrugged, drawing his knees closer to his chest. He looked even smaller than usual like this, and for some reason, it really hit Remus then how young he was. Barely an adult for the magical world — not even that in the Muggle one.
Had they asked too much of him when they'd agreed to let him and his friends do his own thing? Had Molly been right — should they have tried to hold them back, to keep them safe?
"Always," Harry repeated, his lips still pulled into that horrible dead smile. "He's always happy or angry these days, and —" He cut himself suddenly, lips pursing into a thin line.
"And what?" Remus asked, frowning.
"Nothing," Harry replied. And then, when Remus prompted him with a look, he added, "I just think we're running out of time."
"For your mission?"
"For this war," Harry corrected wryly. "I think he'll catch up to us soon."
Remus' blood ran cold in his veins. To his surprise, Harry laughed. "Not, not like that," he said. "At least I hope not," he added, his mirth vanishing almost instantly. He licked his lips. "We're almost there," he said in a whisper, and Remus couldn't tell who he was trying to convince: Remus, or himself?
"Are you alright?" The question slipped out before Remus could stop it. It was stupid — of course Harry wasn't alright. It was war; nobody was alright.
Harry stayed silent for so long, his eyes staring at the sea, that Remus thought he would never answer. But he did, though nothing could have prepared Remus for what he asked.
He should have expected it, though. He should have.
"Have you…" Harry paused, licking his lips. His eyes fell down to the sand, still avoiding Remus. "Have you ever killed anyone?"
Remus inhaled sharply. "I have, yes," he confessed.
Harry's head snapped to him. "What was it like?"
"Horrific," Remus told him truthfully. "But I learned to live with it." He had had nightmares for months — he still got them, sometimes. The Order always tried not to kill its opponents, but sometimes mercy just wasn't an option.
Sometimes, there simply were no good choices left.
"I know I have to kill him," Harry said, almost in a whisper. "But I don't want to." He sounded ashamed to admit it, and Remus' heart went out to him.
(But Merlin, if Harry wasn't the best of them all.)
"Don't ever be sorry you don't want to kill someone."
Harry's lips quirked up into a humorless smile. "I don't think what I want matters much here."
"It does, Harry. Of course it does," Remus said urgently, hating how defeated Harry had sounded.
Harry hummed back something almost inaudible. Finally, he stood back. His knees creaked a bit and he wiped the sand off his trousers before smiling at Remus softly.
He had his mother's exact smile, and it felt like a punch to the gut.
"Thanks, Professor," Harry said, and Remus' eyes burned.
"Remus," he corrected. "I've told you before — I'm not your Professor anymore."
His smile might have been Lily, but the teasing glint that traveled in his emerald eyes at that was all James'. It didn't make it any easier to witness.
It was wrong for James and Lily's son to call him Professor more naturally than Remus or Moony.
It was wrong for them to virtually be strangers when they should have been as close as family.
But it was Remus' fault. He should have… Merlin, he should have tried harder to be there for Harry.
And so, here and there, staring at Harry's retreating back, he vowed he would try harder in the future.
No more running away, he swore. He owed it to James and Lily, but also to Harry himself, who deserved so much better.
Who always had.