A/N: No, no, no. I don't have anything against Remus Lupin. Nothing personal, just for this story. Thank you, reviewers.
A "Saving People" Thing
Chapter 2. Locked Up, Set Free
Harry paced the four steps that brought him from one end of his cramped room to the other. Turned. Paced again.
One, two, three, four.
Like a Clabbert testing and retesting the confines of his cage, he moved restlessly. And that's just what he felt like, he thought, a sodding zoo animal. Because he was bloody well locked in.
One, two, three, four.
He'd explored the room, but it offered little of interest: a bed covered in an eye-catching neon green quilt that no one but Tonks would ever have purchased; a bedside table; a small chest of drawers; a window that looked onto the grimy brick wall of the building opposite. So he'd sat down on the bed, taken off his trainers, and lay back, trying to relax.
Hadn't worked.
Although he'd appeared outwardly calm when he'd walked to this room--when Lupin had forced him into this room--inside he was seething with the pent-up anger and frustration of being treated like a kid. First Dumbledore, now Lupin. Harry had no idea what had got into Lupin, why he seemed to resent Harry's very existence. But whatever it was, there was no reason to pack Harry off to his bedroom like a misbehaving toddler when he was nearly sixteen. Just so Lupin could fight with his girlfriend in private.
With his girlfriend.
Merlin. What a laugh that was. He was practically old enough to be her father. And the way he was acting, Harry didn't think that a girl like Tonks would put up with that kind of behavior for very long. She probably had her pick of blokes. God only knew how Lupin had ended up living here.
Harry was bending his head left and right, trying to work the tension out of his neck, and wondering if he could possibly sleep at this hour, when the voices had started up in the other room. It had sounded much like the argument that he and Dumbledore had interrupted when they'd first arrived, although the voices were quieter now; Harry could no longer make out any of the words, only the argumentative tone.
Thankfully.
Harry had reassured himself they were probably arguing about something else, not about him; it was probably just something that Harry's arrival had got in the way of. From the pitch of their voices, he could tell that at first Tonks was trying to reason with Lupin, to placate him. But it went on and on, and eventually Tonks's tone changed to one of frustration, and gradually, to anger. He couldn't make out Lupin's words, but he sounded cold, emphatic, and completely unmoved by whatever point Tonks was trying to make.
The bickering continued, eventually forming a background noise that Harry was almost able to tune out. He had just about convinced himself that whatever was making Lupin angry had nothing to do with him. His thoughts had drifted away to the image that was never far from his mind, that was always waiting for him, and that tormented him as nothing else ever had: The sight of Sirius falling through the veil.
His godfather's last moments.
Harry was attempting, for the thousandth time, to imagine a scenario where everything turned out differently. Where he had contacted Sirius through the mirror before going to the Ministry. Where they had figured out between the two of them what Voldemort had been planning. Where they had concocted a brilliant plan to trap and capture the Death Eaters at the Department of Mysteries and--
Voices rose in pitch. Words floated through the locked door.
"I'm so sick of this attitude. It never ends. And it's mad. You know it is. I--" Tonks sounded thoroughly exasperated.
Something from Remus that Harry couldn't make out and then--
"But why, Remus? He's only a--"
More unintelligible words from Lupin and then his voice rising enough for Harry to make out, "--rubbing up against him like a common tart."
"You're mental! It was just a hug, Remus, a friendly hug!"
Suddenly, there was a loud crash, and then a thump as if something or someone had fallen.
Harry was on his feet in an instant and at the door. He had his hand on the knob before he remembered that he was locked in.
From the other side of the door, he heard Tonks cry out, "I-- No, I-- Please, Remus--" and then a sharp yelp.
Harry rattled the knob uselessly, and then hammered on his door, shouting. "Tonks!? TONKS! Are you alright? Let me out! LUPIN!"
There was complete silence on the other side of the door as Harry continued to pound on the wood with his open palm and call out. Feelings of powerlessness, of rage, welled up inside him until he felt as if he would burst. It was just like with Sirius. Watching him fall. Nothing he could do. Nothing he could--
In desperation, he pulled his wand from his pocket. He couldn't use magic outside of school, but surely now that Voldemort was back, the Ministry wouldn't punish him if he-- And if someone was in danger, and he--
"Harry?" It was Tonks. Her voice, pitched slightly higher than usual, held a slight quaver.
"TONKS!" Harry yelled back. "Are you--? Has he--"
"I'm-- I'm fine, Harry. Look. Just-- Could you let us be for a while? And I'll-- I'll get your tea soon, right?"
What she was saying was so ludicrous that Harry didn't know how to answer. Get my tea soon? My tea? Who wanted fucking tea? Had Lupin hurt her? Or had she just tripped over something? But she'd said Please, Remus. Didn't that mean Lupin had done something to her?
And... could he have misunderstood that bit of what Lupin had said about him? Could he really be jealous of Harry? The idea boggled the mind. He'd called Tonks a tart, over a hug. How could Lupin possibly believe--? And Tonks was so-- While he, Harry, was only-- And, hadn't Lupin been angry with her, with him, even before the hug?
The thoughts stuttered around in his brain and refused to gel together into anything coherent. This afternoon was turning out to be nightmarishly strange.
"Harry?" Tonks said again.
He took a few deep breaths and then said through the door, "Yeah. Fine." And that's when he'd started to pace.
One, two, three, four.
That hour he spent in his room was one of the hardest Harry had ever passed, and he'd been locked into his room more probably hundreds of times since he was just a little kid. It had been bad enough having to listen to them argue, especially when it had turned physical, but the part where they were making up--for surely that's what the guttural moans and rhythmic thumping coming through the thin wall indicated?--was, if anything, worse. He stared down at his white-knuckled fists and tried to block out the insistent sounds.
They were doing it in the bedroom next to his, and right up against the wall that divided their two rooms by the sound of it.
He could hear everything, from Tonks's gasps and hitching breaths to Lupin's grunts at each thrust, thrusts that slammed someone, probably Tonks, against the wall again and again. He couldn't see how that wouldn't hurt her.
He could picture it as well, although he tried desperately not to, because it was starting to make him sick. Literally sick. He felt so angry he was shaking. Was Lupin making a point, shagging her practically in the room with him, rubbing his nose in it?
What the hell was wrong with the man? Had Lupin lost his mind? He'd always seemed so mild and controlled the times Harry had ever been with him, except for that one time in the Shrieking Shack.
In the Shrieking Shack. When Lupin had come face-to-face with Sirius Black for the first time in twelve years.
Had losing his friend Sirius again, this time forever, somehow unhinged him? The idea would have seemed laughable to Harry a month ago, the suggestion that losing someone could drive you mad, but he felt as if he were halfway there himself.
The suggestive noises from the other room gradually increased in volume and tempo until Harry buried his face in his fists, praying for it to end, and soon. And when it was finally over, when he was left in deafening silence, Harry looked down at his clenched hands and slowly relaxed them. He could see the red crescents where his fingernails had dug into his palms.
A few minutes later, Harry heard the latches on his door click. He was, apparently, free. He couldn't bring himself to come out. Not yet. Instead, he simply stared at the marks on his palms and rubbed them, doing his best to think of nothing at all. Not Lupin. Not Tonks. Not Sirius.
After what might have been half an hour, his door magically swung ajar. The aroma of food came drifting in. It smelled like chicken soup. Lupin called mildly, "Harry, your things have arrived."
Harry pushed himself off the bed and trudged into the sitting room without looking at either Tonks or Lupin. Hedwig, appearing highly pleased with herself, was sitting on the small dining table pecking at a piece of cheese. A miniaturized cage and school trunk were tied to her legs. She ruffled her feathers and hooted in greeting as Harry came close. He scratched at her neck the way she liked for a moment before bending to untie the two parcels.
When he had freed them, Harry placed the tiny cage and trunk on the floor, realizing belatedly that he would be unable enlarge them himself without magic. He glanced at Tonks, who was behind the counter that served to divide the living area from her tiny kitchen. She was fixing sandwiches, slicing cheese and tomatoes and bread with a sort of exaggerated care and was resolutely not looking at Harry. He noticed that her hair was short now, spiky, in a sort of fiery mixture of red and orange.
He transferred his gaze to Lupin, who was sitting on the sofa reading the Daily Prophet. Lupin must have felt Harry's eyes on him, because he looked up, set aside the paper, and came over. Taking out his wand, Lupin knelt and tapped both of the items, muttering an Engorgio charm under his breath.
"There you are, Harry."
"Thanks... Professor Lupin," Harry said, somewhat grudgingly.
"You're welcome. And it's Remus, Harry. I'm not your professor anymore. Shall I levitate them to your room?" Lupin offered. He seemed completely at ease.
"No."
Lupin shrugged. "Suit yourself," he replied coolly and then strolled into the kitchenette to stand behind Tonks, who was now putting the sandwiches together. When he raised his hands to lay them on her shoulders, she flinched slightly at his touch, and then relaxed and smiled up at him. She still hadn't looked at Harry.
As Harry dragged the trunk and cage to his new room, he heard Lupin ask her gently, "What can I do to help?"
By the time he came back out, Tonks and Lupin were laying out the meal, with places set at three sides of the little table. Tonks gave him a quick smile and then flushed deeply. Harry managed to return the smile without showing too much embarrassment himself. He didn't want to make her more uncomfortable than she already was.
She said, "Hope you like soup and sandwiches, Harry, because aside from reheating I'm not much on cookery spells--"
"No, it's-- it's great. Thanks."
"Well, good, cos it'll be this or take-away while you're here, I'm afraid." She gave a slightly nervous laugh. "Sit down. I'll just get the Butterbeers."
Harry moved to sit at the middle place setting, between Lupin and Tonks, but Lupin interposed. "No, Harry. That's your place." He nodded to the seat on the end, near the window, and then sat in the middle spot himself, leaving the end farthest from Harry for Tonks.
When Tonks returned with the drinks, the three of them began to eat. Tonks kept up most of the conversation, gossiping cheerfully about some of the other Order members, telling a funny story about Mad-Eye jinxing a Muggle drinking fountain, and chattering about her work, which normally Harry would have had a million questions about.
He wondered if she'd laugh at the idea of him wanting to become an Auror. Somehow, he thought not; she'd understand the impulse.
Harry and Lupin both put in only a word here or there, Lupin most likely because of natural taciturnity, and Harry because of the anger still bubbling in the pit of his stomach from what he'd overheard between the two of them. If Tonks was bothered with Harry's quietness, she seemed intent on not showing it. She didn't appear to have any trouble carrying the conversation almost single-handedly.
Maybe it was a case of opposites attracting, because Lupin had never been the world's chattiest bloke.
Harry looked at Lupin's placid face as he chewed his sandwich. He looked at Tonks as she giggled over some story she was telling with determined lightness, flushing slightly whenever she caught Harry's eye and then darting quick, almost nervous glances at Lupin.
Harry gripped his napkin as he was suddenly filled with an overwhelming urge to pick up his Butterbeer bottle and knock Lupin over the head with it. He'd felt the same way about Uncle Vernon more times than he could count after being knocked around by him for any reason from burning the bacon to having his hair stick up the wrong way.
Harry wouldn't have thought it, but it turned out that feeling was even more intense when it was someone else getting the knocks.
Somehow, Harry had generally managed to carry on and eat meals with the Dursleys as if nothing were wrong, to ask Uncle Vernon to please pass the peas, or whatever. The trick was to carry on, not let them get to you. That's what Tonks was doing as well, he realized.
"Something wrong, Harry?" Lupin was eyeing Harry's spoon, which was paused halfway between his bowl and his mouth. Harry put the spoon down.
"Could you pass the salt, please, Professor Lupin?"