Disclaimer: I neither own the intellectual property of the Harry Potter universe, nor do I profit from this work produced here.
IMPORTANT: If you didn't get the chance to read Chapter 13, which I posted two days ago, please read that one first; this chapter will make more sense that way.
Warnings: Blood; arguing; cursing; references to Remus being attacked as a child; and married people, ah, living out their vocation (last section). Oh, and for those of you who mind it, a few religious references.
A/N: So I was intending on posting this tomorrow, but because I'm going on vacation today I wasn't sure what the wifi conditions would be like. Enjoy the early chapter!
The rain was pelting down in gray sheets across the Scottish highland hills, and Draco Malfoy grimaced as he fastened the clasps on his cloak. He was in a particularly foul mood; after a few second-years had found him in the bathroom– weak, pale, and clearly having just lost his breakfast to school plumbing and any monstrous creatures that happened to inhabit it– he'd been forced by Madame Pomfrey to stay in the infirmary all morning and most of the afternoon, despite his insistences that he'd merely eaten something that disagreed with him.
Thankfully, his enforced bed-rest had been mercifully short and uninterrupted, save for a few snickering fourth-years who'd heard the rumor that he "couldn't stand the sight of his own blood." (Draco wanted to tell them that he'd seen more blood exit a human body at once than they'd probably ever see in their entire lifetimes, but he figured this wouldn't help bolster his failing popularity). He'd been released just in time for his last class, and now, ignoring the pointed looks and sneers from the other students, he threw the hood over his head and muttered a water-repelling charm on the warm material before tromping out the side door, resolutely not thinking about the troublesome revelation of the morning's defense lesson.
The grounds were soggy with mud and trampled grass, particularly the student-made path leading down to the groundskeeper's hut where the Care of Magical Creatures lessons were held. Moods driven sullen by the rain, the group of black-clad seventh years looked nothing so much as a flock of surly wet crows, save for the one spot of ridiculous raspberry-pink that was Lavender Brown.
Professor Hagrid was waiting for them at the end of the path, next to a suspiciously closed pen. "Afternoon!" he called cheerfully to the students as they approached the pen nervously. "Gather 'round, now– 'lo there Ginny, Luna."
"Hello, Professor," the blonde girl replied rather dreamily, apparently not minding that her platinum hair was now being slicked flat to her head by the rain, making her rather resemble some sort of white-headed duck. Draco bit back a snigger.
"A'right, now, e'ry'un, settle down," the half-giant ordered as the crowd gathered. What little conversation the driving rain hadn't drowned out swiftly quieted. "Right, well, welcome ter class," he began, for whatever reason casting a nervous glance in the young Slytherin's direction. "Today, we're, uh, we're gonna be studyin' a real beauty, here, really somethin' special…"
Draco fought back a groan; he'd forgotten how utterly inadequate the half-giant was at public speaking, let alone teaching a class. He glanced surreptitiously around at the others, and found to great surprise that the professor wasn't the only one shooting him hesitant looks. The rest appeared somewhat confused. It took all of three seconds for the young Malfoy to discern why, and when he had, he felt his insides twist uncomfortably with shame.
He knew he hadn't exactly made the half-giant's job easy in the past; no other teacher would have tolerated his disrespect, but the easily flustered new professor, far from growing angry, had only ever become more anxious. Once, Draco had seen this as a mildly amusing game; now it only made him want to sink into the ground. No doubt the professor had a better command over his classes when he didn't have to worry about the wealthy brat of the school governor stage-whispering criticisms from the back row. In an attempt to show his repentance was genuine, the boy quickly schooled his face into an expression of determined interest.
"Er, um, yeah, a, uh, a real beauty," the professor repeated, and then caught sight of the young man's serious expression and seemed to recover some of his earlier confidence. "So, as yeh all know, Seventh Year yeh'll be studyin' the most dangerous o' beasts I'm allowed ter show yeh. Takes special permissions from the Ministry itself ter be handlin' this stuff, so I'll warn yeh all again: no one is ter get any closer wi'out me say-so. Yeh hear?"
Everyone bobbed their heads. Several of the students looked excited; several more very frightened.
"Right. E'ry'un take a step back, now." They did so hastily, and the professor grinned, turned to the pen and gave a loud whistle.
Out of the forest trotted one of the most magnificent creatures any of them had ever seen. The class burst into gasps, several of the students inching closer to the fence without thought, and Draco stared, stunned, as the golden griffin stopped and tossed its head, eyeing the students with interest. "It's so pretty!" he heard Lavender Brown gasp from behind him.
"Beautiful, ain't he?" Hagrid agreed with admiration. "Now, who can tell me where griffins are from? You there, Jimmy."
"Greece, Sir," said a Hufflepuff whom Draco recognized as James Garland, Sailor's muggle-born beau.
"Right in one; five points ter Hufflepuff. Now, griffins are one o' the oldest documented magical creatures. We've got pictures o' them datin' back more'n five thousand years, if yeh can believe it."
"Pictures?" a Ravenclaw inquired.
The professor waved his massive hand. "Art. Paintin's, symbols on temples and the like. Yeh get the idea. Now as yeh can probably tell by the anatomy, this feller here ain't no vegetarian!" A few people giggled. "Yeh've got a main diet here o' raw meat, which can include humans if they haven't been fed properly."
Several of the students began to back away, but the man chuckled, shaking his head. "Really, now, how long have yeh lot been takin' me classes? D'yeh think I'd starve the beast? No, this boy–" Everyone gasped, shocked, as the professor reached out to pat the griffin's neck affectionately, "He's been fed and well-trained. Don't yeh worry 'bout him flyin' over the fence, either, I've set up a few wards ter keep yeh all– what?" For now the whole class was gaping at him, open-mouthed.
"You touched it," one of the younger Gryffindors whispered, awed. "It actually let you pet it…"
"Oh, not much o' a secret ter that. Griffins are kin to hippogriff's, so they've pretty much got the same temperament; all yeh've got to do is earn its respect. O' course, if any o' yeh lot are brave enough, I could let yeh give it a go," he joked, only to be surprised when a voice called from the back:
"I'll do it."
The class turned. Draco didn't even realize he'd spoken aloud until he noticed everyone staring at him. The professor laughed nervously. "Er, are yeh sure? Proud creatures they are, griffins…" He trailed off. Neither had to be reminded of the last time the Malfoy had made a similar attempt.
"I'd like to give it a go," he said, drawing on his courage, and then added, "Er, if you think it'd be alright, Sir."
The upperclassmen were glancing back and forth between the pair. Parvati and Padma Patil had begun to whisper fiercely in Hindi, and Draco was pretty sure he saw two of the younger Ravenclaws making a bet. Hagrid eyed him thoughtfully, and then, to everyone's surprise, he gave a nod. "A'right, if yer sure. Come forward then."
Draco swallowed and did so, approaching the pen. The griffin seemed to be sizing him up with his golden eyes. "Take off yer cloak," Hagrid instructed, "them silver clasps'll get yeh a claw in yer neck…"
His stomach dropped at that, but there was no backing down now. He took off the cloak and hung it on the nearest fencepost, reminding himself fiercely that he had faced death and withstood torture and lied to the Dark Lord's face; he was not about to turn coward at a bloody school lecture.
"Now climb on inside the paddock; don' worry, I'll pull yeh out if things get hairy."
The blond nodded and clambered over the rail. The class had gone dead silent behind him, holding their breath, as the half-giant stepped over the fence with ease and nodded to the Slytherin. "Right. Now what yeh want ter do is bow, jus' like with a hippogriff– there yeh go!– and then yeh want ter extend yer hand, let him catch yer scent, decide if he trusts yeh or not– no, no, not like that!" Draco broke eye contact just long enough to glance over, startled, as the half-giant corrected his hand position. "Palm facing the ground, let him sniff the back o' yer knuckles; shove 'em in his face like that and he'll think yer offerin' him a treat, bite yer fingers clean off. There yeh are."
The griffin sniffed at his hand with his bird's beak, and then bowed in turn. "Go on and pet him on the neck," the professor encouraged. "He trusts yeh now."
Draco glanced to the half-giant uncertainly, but did as instructed. The griffin closed its eyes as his fingers brushed over the silky gold feathers on his neck. "Nicely done," the professor commended. "Now griffins, they're prouder than hippogriffs even; won't let no one ride on them, not e'en their trainers. But they're natural treasure-guardians, like dragons and Sphinxes; rumor has it some o' the Greek and Egyptian wizard banks use 'em, but that's jus' word on the streets…"
He drifted off, a rather wistful look in his eyes, and then returned to the present. "Right, he's accepted yeh so yeh can stay here; anyone else want ter give it a go?"
"I'll try!" a female voice called eagerly from the other side of the paddock; it was Lavender Brown.
Hagrid nodded, grinning, and helped her up over the fence. "Same idea, now, jus' bow an' let him get yer scent–"
But the moment the girl extended her fingers, gentle as she could be, something terrible happened: the griffin reared and let out a screeching cry, like an eagle diving in for the kill. Its talons slashed down in merciless attack, and it was only thanks to Hagrid's swift jumping between the two and Draco's flash of hindsight as he pulled her away that Lavender very narrowly avoided being cut straight down the middle.
Hagrid let out a roar of, "GE' HER OUT!" as the beast reared again, and Malfoy dragged the terrified girl back to the fence, very nearly shoving her over it before scrambling out himself. The class was screaming; Lavender was in hysterics; the half-giant was still trying to calm the panicked creature, letting out bellows of pain whenever the bloodied talons came down again. Two seconds later Hagrid threw himself over the fence, landing on his back in a blow that made the earth shudder as the griffin charged. The air erupted in a crackle of magenta lightning as its talons struck the barriers.
"Is she hurt?" the professor demanded, eyes shut tight and teeth gritted, one massive arm clutching the other to his torso.
"She's okay," Draco replied, still breathing heavily. But Lavender was not okay. While not physically injured, she had burst into tears, sobbing over and over, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…!"
"Yeh've nothin' ter be sorry fer," Hagrid growled, getting to his feet. "My fault, forgettin' ter be careful– griffins don't much like werewolves –"
This was the wrong thing to say. Lavender only sobbed harder, leaving Draco in the rather uncomfortable position of bearing up an emotional girl on his shoulder. The rest of the class was whispering. Draco's blood boiled as he saw several of his own younger housemates snickering to themselves. Did they think this was a joke?
"Hagrid, you're bleeding!" Ginny Weasley gasped. It was then that the rest noticed the vicious claw marks along the half-giant's left arm, red blood running down in torrents onto the rain-slicked ground.
"I noticed," Professor Hagrid muttered, jaw still clenched. "Run and get Madame Pomfrey; the rest o' yeh, class is dismissed."
Ginny nodded and dashed off; the other students looked hesitant to leave the scene, but another order from their professor drove them off, save for Draco, Lavender and the Patil twins. The werewolf was still crying, though she seemed less hysterical now, and the kindly sisters quickly took over the job of consolation, for which the Slytherin was incredibly grateful. Inside the pen, the griffin had begun to pace in circles, lion's tail lashing back and forth, clearly still agitated. It didn't stop until after Madame Pomfrey arrived and, after giving Lavender a soothing potion, allowed the twins to escort the sniffling girl away.
As the healer set to bandaging the professor's arm, Draco fetched his cloak and gratefully shrugged it over his now-soaked school robes. As he turned to go, he heard a voice call from behind, "Mr. Malfoy," and turned, surprised.
The half-giant was regarding him with a look of approval. "Yeh did good, kid," he said, nodding. "Yeh did good."
And, just as before, the unspoken message was mutually understood. "Thank you, Sir," the teenager replied, and the man smiled.
Harry was going to be sick.
Lupin had caught him after class and requested the young wizard come see him at quarter to six that evening for his careers interview, and Harry, knowing the jig was up, had reluctantly agreed. He had spent most of the afternoon studying with Ron and Hermione in the library, trying to forget about his upcoming obligation. At first it had been easy to ignore the passing of time: working on his transfiguration essay; battling Ron with charmed paper airplanes; they'd even popped down to say hello to Hagrid during their study hour, before Hermione had gone off to Arithmancy. But as the time ticked nearer to his dreaded meeting with Lupin, he'd felt his stomach knot itself into ever more convoluted knots. Now the clocks were chiming half-five, and he knew he couldn't wait any longer.
"Just go up there and tell him you're not sure about being an auror," Ron urged him as they left the library. "Honestly, Harry, it's not that hard."
"Easy for you to say," the dark-haired wizard muttered, lowering his voice as a group of fourth-years walked past. "You're not the one who's going mental."
"You're not going mental; you're just working yourself into a state. Now go up there and get it over with already."
And so, feet heavy as lead, Harry dragged himself up to the defense office and, taking a deep breath, knocked thrice on the door.
"Come in!" a voice called, and he swallowed, pushing the door open.
Lupin's office looked nearly the same as it had the last time Harry had visited it, back in his third year. The only difference he noticed was that now his desk also bore a few framed photographs: one of the Marauders, one of Tonks and Teddy and the last, which Lupin was just setting down, a still muggle photograph of a young man and woman in a church, the former of whom bore such a striking resemblance to Remus that Harry could only assume they were his parents. "Harry!" the professor said happily, straightening the photograph. "I wasn't expecting you for another five minutes!"
Harry grimaced internally. He would have gladly taken those five minutes to prepare himself, but it appeared that Lupin was having none of it. "Well come in, sit down; I've got your file right here."
The teenager sat down without a word in the chair in front of the professor's desk; if Remus found his silence odd, he didn't say anything. "Tea?"
"No, thank you."
"Alright then." He sat down in the opposite chair, opening a cream-colored file and scanning the page. "Let me see now, class marks… very nice scores in Defense Against the Dark Arts, aside from your fifth year, and I'll make sure to leave a note about the incompetence of that particular professor… Transfiguration, Charms and Herbology all at proficient levels, although it wouldn't hurt to improve your grade in the first… they don't usually ask for Astronomy, but I'd highly advise putting a little more effort into your History of Magic classes, I know Binns can be a bit dull but it's important material…" He frowned and looked at Harry with mild suspicion. "A sudden increase in your potions scores in your sixth year."
"Er, I may have gotten a little help," he admitted uncomfortably, and then added, "Not really cheating, though, just using better notes."
"I see. House Quidditch captain two years running, awards for special services to the school– ah, and an Order of Merlin, I see!" Lupin joked, as if this were a great shock, and straightened the papers in the file. "Well, Mr. Potter, I feel very confident in assuring you that the Auror Office would be pleased to accept you into their ranks."
This was it, the moment of truth. Harry steeled his will. "…I don't want to be an auror."
Remus, who had been making a note on the page, looked up, startled. The young man was not meeting his eyes, staring straight down at the floor as if he were once again a third-year being scolded by his professor. "Harry?" he said, surprised.
"I don't want to be an auror." He didn't sound any more certain of it the second time- dull and numb, but with just the slightest hint of hope, as if begging Remus to contradict him.
The professor eyed him carefully, and then did nothing of the sort. "I see. And what, precisely, would you like to do for a career?"
Harry shrugged and didn't respond.
"Hm." He leaned back in his chair. "Don't suppose you'd care to explain this change of heart."
"No."
"Ah." He considered for a moment what he ought to do. His surrogate nephew was looking positively glum- no, glum wasn't quite a strong enough term; more like miserable. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to have any intention as to divulging why. "Well, I still need to submit an internship application, so why don't you at least give me some hint as to where and under what conditions you'd like to spend a good portion of your life?"
"I don't care. Anything."
More and more curious. He had to get Harry talking, that was for certain- but how to do it? Remus glanced towards the stack of application forms, and was struck with inspiration.
"Very well," he replied lightly, shuffling through the stack and pulling out a sheet of parchment. "I just need you to sign here, and my job will be done for the evening." Harry picked up the quill, not even bothering to read over the sheet. "I'm sure Xenophilus Lovegood will be very appreciative of to take on an editor-in-training."
Harry dropped the quill. "What?"
"You said anything," Lupin replied, feigning surprise. "Mr. Lovegood mentioned he'd like help editing the articles, so I thought-"
"I didn't say I wanted to work for the Quibbler!"
"Oh? Then I suppose you do, in fact, have some idea of what you'd prefer to do for a living?"
Harry flushed red and didn't answer. Remus sighed. "Harry. Why don't you want to be an auror any longer?"
The boy glanced up, hesitantly, and he saw the fear and guilt filling Lily's green eyes, before they flicked away. "I… I'd rather not talk about it."
"I'm a very good listener," Remus said gently. "And I've had my own share of Shameful Awful Secrets About Which No One Should Ever Know." He offered a smile. "I promise, whatever it is, it won't leave this room."
Harry swallowed, looking very much like a defeated old man. At long last, he closed his eyes and began to speak.
"Professor, ever since- ever since May, I've been having these… nightmares. Awful nightmares. And they've been getting worse." He gripped his hands around the arms of the chair. "I… I see things in them. See myself."
"And what are you doing in these dreams?"
Harry looked up, and the fear had suddenly spilled out of his eyes to the rest of his face, draining it of blood. "I'm an auror," he said hoarsely. "And I- I'm out on a raid, or something, and- and there's this man in front of me. A Death Eater." He swallowed. "And I know that I'm supposed to arrest him, but- but I'm so angry. I don't know why, I just am. So angry I could kill someone. And- and I'm torturing him, and then I point my wand at him and-" His voice broke of strangely, hands shaking on the arms of the chair. He dropped his eyes.
"Do you kill him?" Remus said quietly.
"Yeah," Harry whispered. His teeth were gritted hard. "And before you ask, no, my scar isn't hurting, no, he's not back, it's just me, it's me going mad and taking it out on some poor bloke-"
"Harry- Harry calm down!" Remus said hurriedly, standing up and walking around the desk to where the young man was gasping in and out through his teeth. He flinched as the professor set a hand on his shoulder. "Harry, look at me!"
The bespectacled man looked up, and for a moment, Remus was floored by just how much he looked like James, but for Lily's green eyes, which were even now brimming with tears.
"Harry, I want you to listen to me," he said firmly, taking him tightly by both shoulders. "You are not evil. You're not. You're simply a young man who has been through far, far too much in his life, more than most people can understand."
"I don't want to be like him," Harry spat. "I don't want to be an auror if it's going to give me that chance!"
"You're not him, Harry."
"You don't know that!"
"I do know that." The man's gasps were coming more quickly now, and Remus shook him slightly, afraid that he would pass out in his chair. "Steady, Harry. Steady. In and out."
The young man managed one breath, and then another. Slowly, his gasping evened out, although his hands were still shaking. "Good."
"He was in my head," the teenager said hopelessly. "For sixteen years he was in my head, and I never– what if something's gone wrong with me, Professor? What if this is just the first sign that something's broken that can't be fixed?"
He looked up at his mentor, desperate, expecting Remus to treat this revelation with shock or perhaps even thinly veiled disgust. Much to his relief, the good professor's expression was one of deep compassion. "I understand, Harry, truly…" He stood and lifted his cloak off the back of the chair.
"Professor?" Harry said, startled. "Where are you going?"
"I get the feeling this is going to take some time. What do you say we go for a walk?"
The steady rain had lightened to a cold drizzle as the pair made their way around the Black Lake. After nearly ten minutes of silence, which Harry found both disconcerting and oddly comforting, Remus stopped in front of a row of small boulders. He dried them with a wave of his wand and then nodded to Harry. "Take a seat."
The teenager looked up at him, surprised.
"Go on, before the rain wets it again.
Confused, Harry obliged. Remus sat down on the other and took a moment to look out at the lake and the distant gray hills, composing his thoughts.
"The first thing I want you to know, Harry, is that you are not a bad person, and you are not going insane," the professor said at last, turning to his student. "Quite the contrary; you're reacting in a very common way to a traumatic, shocking experience. Frankly considering what happened here I'm surprised more kids aren't. And people do things all the time in dreams that they would never, ever do in real life."
"But it means something, doesn't it?" Harry argued. "I mean, what if on a subconscious level, I really do want to, I dunno, go out and torture Death Eaters or…"
But Lupin interrupted him. "On a subconscious level! Merlin's beard, Harry, you've been in a war! If your anger towards Voldemort and his followers is on a merely subconscious level, you're doing a right sight better than the rest of us."
"This is a bit more than just anger, though," the teenager pointed out. "I mean, that bloke…" He shivered, and Lupin nodded.
"That is exactly my point. Harry, would you ever, in your waking life, go out and cold-bloodedly murder someone? Even a Death Eater?"
"I dunno. I mean, I hope not, but–" He broke off, looking away. "A-a few times, I– I tried to use the cruciatus curse. I'm not proud of it, but- but I did."
"Harry." He looked back over, shame in every feature, and found that Lupin's eyes held no judgment. "As horrible and wrong as that may have been, I don't think it's quite the same as what you described, is it?"
"No… but I…" His mouth was tight, lips white with fear. "I still wanted to hurt them. I wanted to make them pay, and… Professor, what if something really is wrong with me? How can I be a good person if I want to do something so evil?"
It took Remus a moment to catch his breath, for Harry's words had hit rather close to home. He could recall saying something very similar to James, perhaps then only a year older than Harry was now, and decided that he would let the father's answer calm the son.
"Harry, I am going to tell you something… something very personal," the teacher said, causing the student's brows to raise in surprise. "But I need your word that you won't repeat what I'm about to say; can you promise me that?"
"Yeah. Of course."
The werewolf took a deep breath and said, as calmly as possible, "You are aware, of course, that Professor Slughorn brews me Wolfsbane potion every month?"
Harry nodded.
"He does a very good job, as did Severus before him. Wolfsbane, as you know, allows me to keep my human mind during the full moon. However…" He trailed off, choosing his next words with great care, "However, there are certain things the potion cannot do, certain… cravings… it cannot prevent. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Harry frowned, confused, and then after a moment it dawned on him. "…Oh," he said, looking surprised and somewhat uncertain. Lupin sighed.
"What I mean to say is, no one is ever a 'bad' person because of what they want to do, only because of what they actually do. Now that being said, if you were burning with an all-consuming need to go off and kill every Death Eater in sight, I would agree that signing up for auror training would be putting yourself in an unwise situation. But as far as I am aware, you have attended school for several weeks without attacking your two Death Eater classmates, so I think we can assume that's not the case, yes?"
"I suppose so," he replied, looking startled that he hadn't come to this conclusion himself. Then, his face clouded again. "But I'm still worried, Professor. I just see so many similarities between us, and I'm afraid that if I keep going on like this, someday– I mean, I don't want to become like him, you know?"
"I do," Remus said sincerely. "I really do, Harry. What do you mean by similarities?"
"Dunno… just…" He shrugged and mumbled, "Both half-bloods… both orphans… and…"
"And?" Lupin prompted.
Harry closed his eyes. "I know I sort of… fixate on things, Professor. Like Quidditch, or… or the Hallows." Remus nodded; he'd heard the whole story back in the spring, and had not at all been surprised to hear about the young man's obsession with the tokens of the story. "And he did the same thing, y'know, with the Prophecy and, well, wanting to kill me. ...What if this is my next obsession?"
"Oh, Harry," Lupin sighed. "Is this what's been bothering you?"
He nodded and fidgeted with his tie, not daring to look Lupin in the eyes. "Harry James Potter, I want you to listen to me," the professor said quietly, gripping his shoulder and drawing his gaze upwards. "You are not a sociopath or anything of the sort."
"I'm not?"
"Of course not. I won't sugarcoat it for you: you are an obsessive personality, I noticed that during your third year. But you didn't get that from Voldemort. You got it from James."
Harry started. "My dad?"
"Mm. He was just the same way; so was Sirius, although in much stronger force. Never could let things go, those two. Dora gets it, too, and Andromeda. You're two generations removed so you're not likely to experience it as strongly, but I'm not the slightest bit surprised that it affects you to some degree."
"It?" Harry said, confused.
"The Black Madness."
Harry frowned. "But I'm not a Black."
"You didn't know?" said Lupin, surprised. "I thought for sure someone would have told you– one of the professors, or Ronald if no one else." At Harry's baffled look, he explained, "Harry, your grandmother Dorea, James's mother, was a Black. You're second cousins to Dora."
"My grandmother? But wait– that means I'm related to Sirius! And you too, I suppose…"
"I can't believe no one's told you. They must have assumed you already knew."
"Oh." He pondered this for a moment, and then a rather important question occurred to him: "How, er, how closely am I related to the Weaselys?"
"Hm? Oh, you're maybe third cousins at worst, certainly no closer." At Harry's deflated look, Remus laughed. "It's hardly scandalous, Harry; all the old wizarding families intermarried for ages, and you and Ginny are distant enough that it really won't matter genetically. But that's why the Madness became a problem in the first place; too much interbreeding among the Blacks led to some unfortunate genetic pairings. Poor Sirius's parents were first cousins." Harry made a face, and Remus laughed and nodded. "Yes, exactly."
The teenager let out a sigh, but now it was contented one; a smile had graced his face for the first time all afternoon, and a great weight seemed to have lifted off his shoulders. "Well!" Remus said, standing up, "What do you say? Can I tell my wife she doesn't have to kill me now?"
Harry hesitated. "There was… there was one other job I was looking at. But there aren't any openings, so…"
"I'm sure that's not true; where were you going to apply?"
"Er, well… here, as it happens," the young wizard said honestly. "I'd like to work here."
Remus raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"
"Yeah, but like I said, all the positions are filled. Besides they've already got a pretty good man for the job I'd want." He gave the professor a wry grin, and Remus smiled.
"Well, I'm honored." He paused, and then said thoughtfully, "Harry, certain people have special gifts. Your dad, he was brilliant at transfiguration. Your mother could charm a furniture set into singing Beethoven's fifth– as a matter of fact, she did once, sixth year." Harry laughed despite himself. "But in this way, I think you and I are a bit alike. By nature, we are teachers. We show people what they can't see on their own."
"Yeah," the bespectacled young man said softly, as if awed by a new revelation. "Yeah, I guess so."
"You're a lot of things, Harry; you're brave and selfless and good-hearted. You would be and will be an excellent auror. But," he added with a smile, "you've got a natural gift for education, a gift you would've had even if you'd never been the Chosen One or any of that. You shouldn't let that go to waste because of other peoples' expectations."
"So what should I do now?"
Remus clapped his shoulder. "Be an auror, Harry. Get your experience in the field- not that you need much more of it anyhow." Harry snorted. "And when the time comes, if you feel it's right, send in your application. If there's a job to be had I've no doubt that McGonagall will agree."
"Why not you?"
Remus blushed and laughed, shaking his head. "A werewolf headmaster? No, Harry, this- this is more than enough for me. Besides, I'm fairly sure this is your careers interview?" The young wizard laughed. "Come on. Let's go get those forms filed, hm?"
Harry nodded, face lighting up exactly the way James's used to when Remus had suggested a particularly brilliant addition to a prank, and the professor couldn't help but feel as if for once in his life, he'd managed to do everything just right.
In hindsight, he should have known better than to trust that particular sentiment.
After spending the rest of the afternoon marking, Remus decided to reward himself with an extra helping of steak and kidney pie at evening supper, so famished that he only gave a passing thought to the fact that the seat beside him was curiously empty. He was halfway through his second slice when Professor McGonagall swept into the Great Hall, climbed the stairs to the dais and informed him tartly, "I would highly suggest, Professor Lupin, that you retire to your chambers early this evening."
He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Yes. And a word to the wise, Remus–" she glanced around and lowered her voice, "–when you considering leaving your occupation, it is advisable to consult your wife prior to speaking with your employer."
He paled as he realized what she meant. "Oh, Merlin. How did she–?"
"I happened to mention it when I was dropping off a few class materials, mistakenly assuming you'd already discussed your plans with her last night." The headmistress's voice was positively chilly. "Sometimes, Mr. Lupin, for as smart as you are you can be incredibly thick."
"You don't need to tell me twice," he mumbled, wiping his mouth and rising to his feet. "Thank you, Professor."
"Don't thank me yet," she said dryly, and he grimaced before rushing out of the hall.
The apartment door was unlocked when he arrived back at the tower, and he pushed it open hesitantly, scanning the room with his impeccable vision. With a sigh, he found that Dora was nowhere to be seen, and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
"Ahem."
Apparently not impeccable enough.
He winced and turned to see his wife standing cross-armed in the kitchen, her hair a violent shade of crimson. Remus bit his lip. "Er, hello, Love," he said nervously. "Where's Teddy?"
Nymphadora raised an eyebrow. "Oh, are you talking to me now?"
Remus sighed. "Dora–"
"Teddy's in his crib," she interrupted, "and I've already mufflatioed the room."
He grimaced. That could only mean one thing. "…We're going to have a row, aren't we?"
"That we are, darling."
He steeled himself, straightened up, and gestured for her to continue.
And that was when Dora exploded.
"What in Merlin's name is wrong with you, Remus Lupin?!" she shouted, throwing her hands in the air. "Quitting your job before I'm even bloody awake?! Are you kidding me?!"
"Dora–"
"I cannot believe you went behind my back like this! We're supposed to be married, Remus! MARRIED! Do you know what that means?! It means that when you make a life-altering decision, you talk to each other first!"
"I thought I was doing the right thing!" he snapped. "And frankly, I thought you'd understand!"
"Well that's just your problem, Remus! You assumed you knew how I felt without even asking me! You assumed you knew what was best for our family! For the son whom, I'll remind you, we created together! Do you have any idea how incredibly arrogant that is?!"
"I wasn't trying to be arrogant!"
"No, you were trying to be a noble pratt!" she cried. "Like bloody usual!"
"I was trying to protect you!"
"Protect me? Well news flash, Remus Lupin, I don't need your protection!"
"Believe it or not, Dora, yes! This time, you do!"
"Excuse me?!" Her hair turned a flaming scarlet, and he knew he was in trouble. "I am the chief superintendent of the bloody sodding Auror Office! If anything, I should be protecting you! When were you planning to tell me, huh?! What, were you just gonna come home and say, 'Hi, sweetheart, how was your day? Oh, by the way, I'm uprooting the whole family and moving us to Merlin-knows-where, hope that's okay with you!'"
"I wasn't – that wasn't going to happen!"
"What the fuck does that mean?!"
Remus opened his mouth, and then closed it again. Dora's eyes narrowed. "Remus," she said through gritted teeth, "what does that mean?!"
"I–" Oh, this was not going to come out right, he needed to go away, take time to compose himself, "I knew it was safer here, for both of you–"
"You were going to have us stay here," she breathed, hair flushing black. "You were going to leave us again."
"That's not what I said," Remus interjected quickly.
"You didn't have to!" Dora was positively livid, tears filling her eyes in anger. "I cannot believe you, Remus! I cannot believe you were just going to up and abandon us all over again-"
"I WAS TRYING TO PROTECT YOU!" he bellowed, temper finally snapping. Dora's eyes flew wide. "YOU– YOU HAVE NO IDEA– BLOODY UNGRATEFUL–"
"EXCUSE ME–"
"DO YOU THINK IT WAS EASY FOR ME, MAKING THAT DECISION?! DO YOU THINK I WANT TO GO?! OF COURSE NOT! BUT I PUT YOU FIRST! I ALWAYS PUT YOU FIRST, AND YOU MAKE ME OUT LIKE I'M SOME AWFUL SOD YOU GOT STUCK WITH–!"
"I NEVER SAID–!"
"WELL I'M SICK OF IT! I'M BLOODY SICK OF IT, DORA! AND MAYBE YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT WHAT THAT MONSTER DOES TO YOU OR OUR SON, BUT I DO! AND I WILL BLOODY WELL PROTECT HIM AND YOU ANY WAY I DEEM NECESSARY! AND THAT IS FINAL!"
His words rang off the apartment walls, and for a moment he was satisfied that Dora was not screaming back. Maybe he'd won after all.
Then, he heard it: in the other room, a baby was crying.
Dora let out a low gasp and hurried to the nursery door; both noticed, far too late, that it had drifted open a crack, breaking the muffling charms. Teddy was screaming, clearly terrified by the loud noise of his parents' shouting, and Dora picked him up, rocking and trying to sooth him. It was only then that Remus noticed the tears streaming down her face. "Dora–" he said, uncomfortable, but she shot him a furious glare.
"How dare you," she said lowly, "How dare you, Remus. Not care about our son! I–" Her voice broke off into a sob, and she turned away.
Remus watched, remorse crashing down on his shoulders. He wanted to rush over and comfort them both, but his guilt held him back. Instead, he mumbled, "I'll be in the study," and fled into the other room, locking the door behind him and leaning against the door. As his breathing slowed, one thought continued to circle through his mind:
I really am a bloody coward.
It was after two in the morning when Nymphadora Tonks awoke and found that her husband had not joined her in bed. This was not a surprise to her; she assumed he was sleeping on the couch, and was about to roll over and go back to sleep when the little twinge of guilt in her chest reminded her that it was often cold in the apartment at night, and Remus's favorite blanket was sitting on the edge of her bed. Clearly he'd felt too guilty to come in and get it.
With a sigh, she got up, and with that one motion all the remorse she'd felt immediately upon seeing Remus retreat to their office and lock himself inside welled up inside, filling her until she felt she might burst into tears again. She couldn't believe she'd been so insensitive. Of course Remus hadn't meant to abandon them. He'd panicked after seeing the bones, and understandably so; without a doubt, his actions were only those of impulsive, instinctive protection of his family against a truly horrific threat. She alone knew how deep her husband's terror of the man who'd turned him ran; she would never forget the feeling of him trembling in her arms for the first time, after coming across an article of some poor child being attacked. If Remus went a little off the rails where Fenrir Greyback was concerned, well, who was she to blame him?
Gathering up the blanket in her arms, she crept out into the sitting room, and was surprised to see that the sofa was distinctly Remus-free. "Don't tell me you decided to sleep on the office floor, you miserable pratt," she muttered to her absentee husband, walking over to the study door.
To her surprise, it was unlocked. She pushed it open, peeking her head in. "Remus?" she called softly into the darkened room. No voice replied, and she stepped inside, triggering the oil-lamp on the desk to light. The study, like the sitting room, was empty, and for a moment she was frightened before she noticed the note on his desk:
Went up to tower. Needed to think. Be down soon.
-R.
Dora frowned and looked up. A white cord dangled from the trapdoor in the ceiling. She and Remus had discovered the empty, open tower above their apartment their second day there, and he'd liked it immediately, so she wasn't surprised he'd gone up to clear his head. With a sigh, she summoned her cloak, buttoned it around her shoulders and pulled down the door.
It was a sign of how deep Remus was in thought that he didn't even notice as she crept up the ladder to the floor above. The tower was apparently built as a sort of large observatory, the pillars around the outside forming cathedral-style arches which gave a spectacular view of the grounds, the forest and, in the distance, the now-quiet village of Hogsmead. The wooden railings which had once served to make the tower safe had long since rotted away, leaving only the floor and arches behind; her husband now sat in the middle of one of these, his feet dangling out over the edge into the open air.
She watched him for a while, just drinking in the sight of him. The rainy clouds of the day had faded away, and now her husband's form was framed by indigo sky and stars, greying hair catching the light of the waning moon to flash like silver. He was bent over, head inclined, and she knew from his posture that he was reading from his mother's prayer book, the last gift he had received from Hope before her untimely death. She had seen it often enough over the past three years to know that he went to it when he needed answers, usually to questions he couldn't even bear to speak aloud. Indeed, even as she watched she heard him emit a low sigh, closing the book and tilting his head skywards, lost in thought or prayer.
"…I know you're there, Nymphadora," he said at last, startling her.
"Bugger. And here I thought I'd finally managed to sneak up on you." Dora draped the blanket over his shoulders and sat down beside him, dangling her legs over the edge. Together they watched the pearly crescent moon rise in the indigo sky.
"I'm sorry for overreacting," she said, after a long while. Neither looked at each other; neither had need of it.
Remus sighed. "No, I'm sorry. I should have talked to you first… and then have refrained from being such an over-controlling arse."
"Hm. Can we both be sorry?"
He chuckled sadly. "I think that can be arranged." He glanced over. "Forgive me?"
"If you'll forgive me."
Both managed a small smile, and then fell into silence again. Dora waited patiently, knowing it wouldn't take long for her husband to compose his thoughts. At last, Remus let out another long sigh through his nose and rolled his shoulders.
"…When we were out there, living off the land," he began, eyes gleaming yellow in the light of the moon, "living like animals, he took so much from us."
"Greyback, you mean?"
Her husband nodded. "We couldn't use magic or cook our meat, let alone contact our families or interact with ordinary people. He didn't even allow marriage among members of the pack– called it a 'human institution,' and he wanted to destroy anything that reminded us that we were human." Remus paused. "But he couldn't destroy everything. Our humanity, we craved it, even as so many of us tried to deny it. Little things… shaving. Singing. Marriage and family, love. The way men and women cling to each other, need each other. The way we civilize each other."
Dora remained silent, just watching him. His scars seemed deeper by the pale light, but his face looked younger, too, like that of a battle-worn prince in a fairytale. "It kept me going, Dora," he murmured, "the thought of you, somewhere, waiting for me. Even if it wasn't true, even if I'd rejected you and pushed you away, I needed that… You were always with me."
"And you with me." She touched his arm, drawing his eyes to her at last. "I know this can't just be about the fight. What brought this on, love?"
He shrugged, looking away again. "We discussed it in class today. What it means to be human, that is. And…" He hesitated. Dora squeezed his arm. "When I was talking to Lavender, Monday evening, she asked me about it. About whether we were just… animals. Monsters."
"And you set her straight, I assume?"
"I did my best." He paused. "She asked about the cravings." Dora's eyes widened in surprise, her mouth opening in a little o. "I told her they were normal, considering our condition… I wonder if 'normal' is the right word to use. 'To be expected,' perhaps, but certainly not normal." He shook his head. "Nothing about this is normal."
His wife sighed and took his hand in hers, rubbing her thumb comfortingly over his knuckles. For a long while they sat there, until Dora heard Remus draw a shuddering breath. She looked over to see tears brimming in her husband's eyes. "Oh, Remus…"
"He broke me, Dora," Remus whispered, gaze still fixed on the silvery moon. "He broke me in ways from which I will never, ever be able to recover." He blinked, and the glassy tears rolled down his cheeks. "Every month at the full moon I want to do depraved, repulsive things. I want to be an animal… to be like him. And I - I hate him for that."
"He doesn't deserve your forgiveness, Remus."
The man choked out a laugh. "That's not exactly the point, is it?"
"Why do you feel you need to?" she demanded, turning to look at him. "Why should you, of all people, have to forgive a monster like that?"
And the honest truth was, Remus didn't exactly know. He wasn't sure if it was just some grudging feeling, a misguided sense of obligation drawn from the lessons he'd learned at his mother's knee about "loving thine enemies." Perhaps it was some sort of vindictive pride in "being the bigger man" and taking the moral high ground, he couldn't say. All he knew was that, for ounce of loathing and hatred he embraced for the man who had savaged him, there was an equal amount of discomfort in that same fact. It was one of Remus Lupin's rare gifts: he could not give into true and genuine hatred for another person without feeling as if he had violated some core principal of his being. He could hold a grudge for a very long time, decades even… but each day cost him a bit more of his precious humanity, and that was one thing he could not afford to lose.
In the end, he settled on a vague sentiment for his vague thoughts, ringing with the day's irony: "I don't want to be like him."
Dora sighed, unable to comprehend her husband's strange motives, and let go of his hand only to wrap her arm around his waist. He settled his own on her shoulders without a word, and she leaned against him, offering her support.
How long they sat there, staring up at the waning moon, neither knew, but after a timeless interlude Remus sighed and stood, offering her his hand. She accepted, and together they retreated again down the ladder and into their bedroom below. "I married a man, Remus Lupin," Dora murmured, pulling him close. "A man who is good–" she kissed him, "and kind–" another, "and caring–"
"And broken," he whispered as she drew back, unshed tears gleaming in his hazel eyes. "I'm broken, Dora."
She shook her head. "Scarred. Not broken."
A half-sob escaped his mouth, and in gratitude and adoration he kissed her, fierce and burning and bittersweet, fire and wine. When at last he broke the contact, drawing a breath of air, he choked out in agreement: "Scarred, not broken."
Then he kissed her again, and this time, neither pulled away.
Hope you all liked it! Please leave a review telling me what you thought! Pax et bonum!