The following Saturday morning Remus trundled down to Hogsmeade alone. It had snowed the night before, and the grounds were pristine and quiet; there was a hush in the air that made the titter of every bird seem a loud and sharp intrusion upon nature itself. Remus's were the first footprints leading from the school down the road to the village, and he watched his booted feet sinking into fluffy whiteness with each step. The sun grazing the stark landscape made him squint in the bright morning light, and he pulled his cap lower over his ears to keep the frigid air at bay. He would meet his friends at Zonko's Joke Shop later, but first he had a meeting at the Three Broomsticks. He had gotten permission from Dumbledore to leave early so that he could get there on time.

Lucas Lovegood, Remus had discovered, was not high on anyone's list at the Quibbler these days; it was doubtful that anyone would become suspicious of any meeting the journalist scheduled. After the Greyback murders, Lovegood had been shunted off to write about things like cook-offs and dog shows. Now, fourteen years later, the reporter had worked his way back up to writing about fantastic beasts and such, and he was part of the personnel department in charge of hiring. Therefore, when Remus had written to him several weeks ago, he had implied that he was interested in a job at the Quibbler so that no one would become suspicious if the owl were intercepted. Lovegood had responded immediately in writing, but this was the first weekend that the reporter had been free to meet him in Hogsmeade.

As Remus walked, listening to the regular crunching of his boots in the snow, he felt again the comfort that only being alone with his thoughts brought him. For a time, he merely watched the warmth of his breath as it hit the air and became vapor. But eventually his traitorous thoughts dragged him back to the memory that had plagued him night and day ever since the night of his party at the Hog's Head. He shook his head and walked faster. After his talk with Lily on the way to Herbology, he had tried to shake off the whole experience; and, to her credit, Lily seemed to be doing the same. They were friendly and cordial with one another, but they never allowed themselves to be alone together or to mention again that night on the road. Whether Lily's discretion was out of respect for Remus's wishes and his friendship with James, or because she had come to the realization that she had simply made an error in kissing Remus in the first place, he would probably never know. Lily didn't know that Remus was a werewolf, so that wouldn't have deterred her if she actually did fancy him – which Remus found more and more unlikely upon consideration. Remus certainly wasn't a handsome, unpredictable charmer like Sirius; nor was he a witty, athletic force of energy like James. Why on earth would she want to date Remus with those two around?

Remus had resigned himself to the fact that he would have to suffer for his mistake, shouldering the guilt without the relief of a confession; that was the least he could do, after all. He didn't want James hurt with the knowledge of his betrayal, and he trusted that Lily would not tell him. Even so, the awareness that Remus had crossed that line ate away at him, albeit a little less each day as time passed. Maybe one day, when the jaws of guilt released him, he might feel whole again. Perhaps he could look at James and not feel a twinge of shame; perhaps he could talk to Lily without a pang of regret and longing.

Severus Snape, on the other hand, was another story. Would he use what he had seen that night to trump James? Or to get revenge on Remus for the near-attack in December? How could Severus prove that anything had happened at all? Remus couldn't allow himself to worry about this; there was nothing he could do. Besides, if Severus were indeed becoming more involved with the Death Eaters, he probably had more important things on his plate at the moment that meddling in a secret love triangle. Remus smiled wryly, considering how ludicrous it was when he really thought about it. How can you be so self-involved? he chastised himself.

At last Remus found himself shivering and panting at the door of the Three Broomsticks. He stomped the snow off his boots outside the door, then thought better of it and performed a melting charm. He entered the tavern. Only a handful of people were inside, and Remus quickly spotted a man sitting alone in a booth facing him. He removed his cap and approached him.

Lovegood appeared to be in his early thirties. He had large, pale blue eyes; and his blond hair, which had been haphazardly combed straight back, was receding prematurely at the temples, creating a steep widow's peak. The hairline, along with his sharply raised pale eyebrows, gave him a look of perpetual surprise. He was muttering into some sort of device which Remus saw, as he approached the table, resembled a small, handheld Wizard's Wireless. The gadget hung on a cord tied around his neck, and he pressed a button down as he spoke into it. Was it recording what Lovegood was saying? Remus stood next to the table and was about to introduce himself, but couldn't seem to find a moment to do so because the man continued speaking into the handheld device as he assessed Remus from head to foot.

" … The young man appears to be in his early twenties, although he must still be at Hogwarts, as his school uniform seems to indicate. The tie tells me he's in the house of Gryffindor – not nearly as good as Ravenclaw, but what the hell. There are circles under his eyes, and he's rather thin. Perhaps he wants me to buy him breakfast. We'll just see about that." Lovegood clicked off the device and stood, extending a hand toward Remus. "Hello! Lucas Lovegood, the Quibbler."

"Er, hello, Mr. Lovegood," Remus replied, shaking the reporter's sweaty hand. "Remus Lupin, erm, sixth year Hogwarts student."

"Excellent! Sit down, sit down. I suppose you'll be wanting breakfast?" Lovegood eyed him suspiciously but not unkindly.

"Er, no, I ate before I left school. Thanks."

"I have already supped, as well," Lovegood responded. The two sat and faced each other across the table. The reporter's bulbous blue eyes reflected the white sky penetrating the window behind Remus.

"May I buy you a cup of tea? Coffee?" Remus offered. He had brought a few coins with him, as he could never resist buying a few sweets from Honeyduke's; it would be strange, though, going there knowing that Adelaide Honeyduke was dead. However, Remus thought the money might be better spent winning Lovegood's confidence, as the man seemed to be rather a cheapskate.

"Coffee? Never drink the stuff. Makes me jittery," Lovegood replied, wrinkling his nose.

"Well, then – "

"Butterbeer, perhaps. Yes, that sounds divine," the journalist concluded, blowing into his hands to warm them up.

Remus ordered tea and a butterbeer, trying not to contemplate what rudeness would allow a man with career and a salary to permit a teenaged student to buy him a drink.

Remus could only assume the dark, buxom woman behind the bar was Rosmerta's mother, or perhaps an aunt; the resemblance was too uncanny. Rosmerta, the owner of the establishment, was an attractive young woman whom all his friends not so secretly coveted. She wouldn't be in at this hour, he was certain. Remus thought of her dancing dark eyes and imagined that Rosmerta would much prefer to be around when the carousing started later this afternoon. What vibrant young woman would want to serve the breakfast crowd if she could avoid it?

The matronly woman set the hot drinks down in front of them, and Lovegood absently slipped her some coins, apparently already having forgotten that Remus had offered to pay. Remus shrugged and pocketed his sickles once more, thanking the older man for the tea.

"So, why again are we meeting?" Lovegood asked. "I wrote it down somewhere but evidently I've misplaced it. Those dastardly office elves, you know."

Remus couldn't help but smile. Lovegood clicked on his gadget once more, and Remus quickly asked whether he would mind terribly if their conversation remained "off the record." Lovegood's face fell, but he acquiesced. He confessed that he never could remember what had gone on during the day without recording it.

Remus told Lovegood that he had read the brief articles about the Greyback murders and was curious if he had uncovered any other information after his last report. He explained that he hadn't wanted to ask him in an owl about the Greybacks, since they were a prominent family and very connected to the powerful Honeyduke family, as well. Remus didn't mention the increase in werewolf attacks, or his conclusion that Voldemort might somehow be behind them; he might be paranoid, but, like many others, he figured the less he said out loud about Voldemort the better, especially in a public place.

The blank look Lovegood wore, however, made Remus feel a bit concerned.

"When was this? Are you certain it was me?" Lovegood asked, sipping his butterbeer and leaving a wet mustache across his lip.

"Yes, quite certain," Remus confirmed, wishing now he had brought copies of the articles as proof. "The Quibbler had you reassigned after you wrote those articles. Apparently the Greyback and Honeyduke families were rather upset."

Lovegood still stared. Remus shifted uncomfortably, fearing that this might be a dead end. Then Lovegood started muttering to himself and blinking furiously, as if by fluttering his eyelids he might somehow page back through his memory archives.

"Hmm, Greyback, Greyback, Greyback. Werewolf. Fenrir Greyback. Both parents murdered. Robbery? Kid disappears. Hmm."

While Lovegood searched his scattered memories, Remus prodded him with other key elements of the reports. "There were trolls patrolling the grounds. You found a book in the library that you couldn't take with you because it was hexed. It had names, perhaps contracts, in it. You thought you head noises coming from the root cellar – "

"Aha!" Lovegood's index finger stabbed the air with a flourish. "That's it! The root cellar!" His victorious gaze fixed solidly on Remus, then drifted out the window as he became lost in whatever memory that phrase had triggered. His eyes darkened and the surprised look disappeared as his eyebrows dropped. He wiped the butterbeer mustache from his lip and pursed his lips, thinking. His eyes flitted to Remus once, twice, then back to the window.

"That cellar had a stench," Lovegood said quietly to himself, still gazing out the window at the bright sky. His brow furrowed, almost involuntarily, it seemed.

Remus's stomach lurched. He could only imagine what the stench might have been, what those cloudy eyes might have seen there in the cellar. "I'm sorry," he heard himself saying.

"I remember," Lovegood said, although he shook his head as if recollection were the last thing he wanted. His large eyes raked Remus's face briefly.

Remus had to ask. "Did you see Fenrir?"

"No, no. Just the – the evidence of his having been there. Bones. Other … things." Lovegood took a huge swig of butterbeer. "That was enough."

"Did the Ministry of Magic ever – er, process the – the evidence?" Remus hated to pry such delicate information from the journalist, but there was no avoiding it. He certainly couldn't expect a straight answer from the Ministry itself.

"To my knowledge, no official ever set foot in the home once the parents' bodies were removed from their bedroom. Nothing appeared to have been touched by law enforcement. Certainly not the cellar. The family probably paid someone off."

"And the library?" Remus's palms began to sweat.

"It was in a filthy state. Books were strewn all over the floor. Trampled. Old food sat on the desk. And a book. That book." The surprised look reappeared as Lovegood raised his eyebrows again. "Huh," he said quizzically.

"What?" Remus urged. "Was it a list of victims? Contracts between Fenrir and –" Remus glanced about and lowered his voice " – and someone else?"

"I think it was a calendar of events. Scheduled events. Or events that had come to pass. What could that mean? There were lists of names, yes, but dates, as well. Hmm."

Remus waited for him to go on.

"I paged through it. It was relatively brief, and I wanted to record everything in it before leaving. But just then a troll shattered the library window and started climbing through it. So I took the book and let myself out the back door. As I passed through the door, the book flew out of my hands and sailed back down the hallway toward the library."

Remus sat back and considered this information. Perhaps Voldemort or the Death Eaters had given Fenrir lists of names of people, and dates when he might best attack or kill them. But why would he keep that list in a book – to keep track of his victims? And why would he go to the trouble to place a spell on the book so that no one could remove it? Why not protect the entire house? Was the book that important?

The two sipped their drinks in silence for a moment. More people slowly trickled into the Three Broomsticks, and the place was becoming livelier. Remus was grateful for the presence of the others; he was feeling decidedly spooked and didn't fancy the thought of being too alone just now.

He leaned forward with his elbows on the table. "Can you tell me anything else about Fenrir Greyback?"

Lovegood looked at the ceiling and pondered. He pondered for quite a while. Remus watched him patiently, taking several sips of tea while he waited. Remus reflected that Lovegood was probably the same age as Fenrir, and suddenly he wondered what the werewolf looked like. Finally Lovegood brought his milky gaze back to Remus.

"It may not have anything to do with anything – "

"That's all right," Remus encouraged. "I'll hear whatever you have to say."

"One of my classmates was Mathilda Honeyduke. I had a bit of a crush on her, I must confess," Lovegood smiled, blushing. "Her cousin was Fenrir Greyback. Of course, he wasn't allowed at Hogwarts. They don't allow werewolves, you know."

"Ah," said Remus.

"After we graduated, when the murders happened, I looked her up, since the rest of the Greyback and Honeyduke family wasn't very, er, forthcoming. Mathilda and I had a lovely friendship while at Hogwarts. She was in Gryffindor," he scoffed, "but what the hell – "

"And what did she tell you?" Remus probed, trying not to sound anxious.

"Well, only that she didn't think very highly of her aunt and uncle. She disagreed with their whole – what did she call it? – approach. Yes, she thought their approach was all wrong."

"How do you mean?"

"First off, the Greybacks rejected everything about Fenrir's affliction. Really, about Fenrir himself. They isolated him. They didn't let him play with other children. He only saw older family members once or twice a year, at Christmas and perhaps his birthday. Mathilda herself never saw Fenrir after he was infected, although they had been playmates before then."

Remus himself hadn't had many playmates after he was infected, either; but it wasn't for his parents' lack of trying. Once a potential friend's parents found out about his condition, they invariably severed the relationship. The Lupins lived too far from Muggle towns for Remus to develop any friendships with Muggle children. Remus's first real friends had been James, Sirius, and Peter, whom he had met his first day at Hogwarts.

Lovegood went on. "The Greybacks tried every possible cure they could muster. They never left it alone, never let him forget what he was. They tried things that were painful and probably poisonous to Fenrir, Mathilda told me." Here he leaned closer to Remus and whispered, "She hinted that they tried Dark magic, too."

Remus cocked an eyebrow and said nothing.

"But while the Greyback parents isolated Fenrir from everyone else, they never let him out of their sight. Mathilda told me that they watched his transformations, each and every month, to make certain he didn't somehow dig his way out of that cellar and hurt someone else."

Remus, feeling ill, downed the rest of his tea quickly and stared at his fingers interlaced around the cup. His own parents were always nearby at the full moon; but they never, ever watched him transform. They told him when he was older that they knew he might feel vulnerable or embarrassed if they saw him in his animal state, and they wanted him always to know that they respected his privacy. For his part, Remus was grateful that they allowed him to endure his most grotesque moments alone; he didn't want them to think of him for one second as his werewolf counterpart.

"Grisly conversation for such an early hour, eh?" Lovegood remarked, shuddering. Then his eyes locked on Remus's. "Have you considered becoming a journalist? You have a very trustworthy face. Why on earth I let you dredge all that stuff up, when I was apparently doing a remarkable job of forgetting it …"

Lovegood trailed off and began rummaging through a worn leather satchel sitting on the booth beside him. He rooted through it for quite a while, and at last he produced a small datebook.

"What's the date?" Lovegood asked absently.

"The nineteenth of March," Remus replied.

When Lovegood thumbed through to the date, he gasped. "I'm late! I was to meet Mrs. Fitzgerald twenty minutes ago. She says she may have spotted a Crumple-Horned Snorkack on her family's Shropshire estate!"

And with a pop, Lucas Lovegood Disapparated in front of Remus without so much as a goodbye.

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As planned, Remus met James, Sirius, and Peter at Zonko's Joke Shop just before lunchtime. When at last they exited the crowded store with their pockets emptied of several sickles, carrying sacks of dungbombs and nose-biting teacups and other sundry items, he quietly told them all about his meeting with Lucas Lovegood. As the four sauntered toward Honeyduke's Sweetshop, they discussed how they could locate the Greyback manor, as Lovegood had disappeared before Remus could ask him where it was.

Just as Remus opened the shop door, Lily, on her way out, nearly bumped into him. She carried a large sack of sweets in her arms; and her friend Olivia was behind her, apparently still angry with Sirius, judging by the daggers she shot him.

"Hello," Remus mumbled, somehow managing a smile as his heart did a tumble. He held the door while the two girls slipped through under his arm. Unable to help himself, he inhaled as she passed, almost tasting her now painfully familiar scents of bed linens and water lilies.

"Hi," Lily replied, flushing. She smiled briefly at Remus and the other boys as she continued past them toward the street.

"Sweet tooth?" James joked.

"These are for my parents," she called over her shoulder as she disappeared into the foot traffic. Olivia followed with her own small bag of treats, trotting to keep up.

James hastily counted out some coins and, thrusting them at Remus, asked him to buy him some Cauldron Cakes and Chocolate Frogs. He would see them back at school. Then he rushed into the busy street after the girls, calling, "Evans! Hey, Evans! While we're here, how about a drinking contest? I'll let you win again … "

Remus entered the crowded sweet shop with Sirius and Peter, but he discovered that his craving for chocolate had suddenly disappeared.

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A/N: Is this the end of Remus and Lily? Can this author resist such an appealing romance? Leave a review and find out …