October 5th 1992

Had he not read so many warnings, Remus would have thought it almost impossible that such a delicate small flower could be so dangerous. Still, if he was to remember his Potion lessons back at school, one of the things Slughorn had told them over and over was that the external appearance of any given substance could be terribly deceptive. This purple flower, aconite, seemed to be a living example to that.

Remus twirled the delicate stem between his fingers, almost shining at the morning light. He was just buying his time again. But he had already made his decision: he would try to brew that terribly difficult potion this time. And he had to do it now if he was to drink it seven days in a row before the next full moon, according to the instructions he know knew by heart.

"Wolfsbane Potion," he whispered, reading the heading of the piece of parchment that was now pasted on the wall of his apartment.

Is it possible that this could change everything?

There was only one way to know it.

Slowly, he placed his old cauldron on the table and lit a fire with his wand.

Harry had certainly grown up a lot in the last few years. That was to be expected. There was something else though, and Remus was pleased to see for himself that Dumbledore had been accurate when describing James' son behaviour.

He could not help but feel a tad proud on seeing him actually teasing his cousin a bit, threatening him with a Magic both Remus and Harry knew he was not allowed to use outside school. Apparently Harry had forgotten to tell his cousin that.

How odd that he thought precisely about that before drinking the steaming bluish liquid he had just scooped from his cauldron. He remembered Harry, and James, and how his time at Hogwarts could have been so much easier, had a potion like this one existed.

He toasted to his memories and drained the cup in one large gulp.

A moment later, he realised something had gone terribly wrong.

It felt like being stabbed by thousands knives from his insides. His legs were trembling and he collapsed on the wooden floor of his apartment. He had to do something; he had to reach for his wand and…

In front of his eyes, everything went black. He felt a heavy weight on his brain, he could not do anything, he could not move, but he had to.

Trying to get off the floor with all his might, he probed on the surface of the table, without being able to see a thing. The loud clang and a heavy blow on his right shoulder told him that the cauldron and its remaining content had fallen on him. The liquid on his skin was burning, but he had to ignore it. He needed to do something, he needed to call somebody.

Finally his numb fingers touched the wand. Concentrating as hard as possible, he thought about past happier times and directed the greyish mist, hoping that it would reach its destination, before losing all conscience.

He could feel somebody moving his body and fidgeting with his robes. Warmness and coldness all around him suggested that this somebody was casting spells on him. Remus could not move, though, or open his eyes. He tried to say something, to check if the person as his side was indeed Mad-Eye Moody, but he could not make a sound.

Another spell washed on him, and this time, he could not think about anything else.

It felt like a blink later when he finally could open his eyes. Through the window, he could see the dark blue sky; he must have been unconscious for a very long time, despite his own blurred impressions.

He groaned loudly, but relieved that he could do so at least.

"About time," the harsh voice sounded nearby and the distinctive clunk of the Auror's wooden claw made Remus sigh in relieve.

"Wha-?"

"What on the name of Merlin were you thinking, lad?"

Remus tried to move her arms to press a soothing palm on his forehead. He could not.

"Don't even try it. It's best if you don't move."

"What happened?" Remus felt his throat dry and his voice weak.

"You tell me. It was darn difficult to figure out what on earth was on that cauldron, toppled over on the floor. I almost had half of the entire Auror office summoned over to reverse the mess and figure out the antidote!"

It was difficult for Remus to follow what Moody was saying.

"You didn't-?"

"Of course I didn't. I'm capable enough, right? And I suspect you wouldn't want the publicity, am I right?"

Remus shook his head slowly. The small movement seemed to be too much for his tired muscles.

"I swear I would have killed you haven't you been already half-dead," Moody grunted.

"Half dead?"

"A right mess. The only person I've seen that wounded before is me! All raw and bleeding and… what on earth were you trying to do? How did you think you could brew Wolfsbane on your own? Haven't you read that it's one real nasty piece of potion? That it's darn difficult and almost a complete poison if you don't brew it right?"

"I kno-"

"It's almost a miracle you could do a Patronus in that condition and you should thank your stars I wasn't on duty, lad."

Remus sighed. When had been the last time he had felt he had to thank his stars for anything? He could not remember.

"I want to know a couple of things now. Why were you trying to do this on your own? Isn't your mother a Healer? She could have brewed this in no time, I'm sure. And even if she wouldn't have got it right the first time, she could have healed you much better and quicker than me!"

"I couldn't tell her. I… there's no need to raise her hopes."

Moody grunted, but looked a tad mollified.

"Besides," Remus added. "The ingredients are expensive, she can't afford them every month, and neither can I."

He could feel his strength coming back. Despite of what Moody had said, it was obvious that he had managed to cure him all right.

Making an effort, he heaved himself to a sitting position. Moody did not say a thing but took a sit on one of his chairs, right in front of him.

"And what would have happened if you had gotten it right?" he asked. "Still you wouldn't have been able to buy it ever month now, would you?"

Remus shrugged.

"Maybe I could have found a job. If this thing works, I would need only one day off to transform, not two or three to recover."

"Codswallop! Who told you that? Transformation using Wolfsbane is still as painful for your body, don't kid yourself."

Remus just shrugged.

"When did you come back, by the way?" Moody asked.

"A while ago."

Nobody said a thing for a moment. Remus felt he needed to apologise for not letting Moody know he was back, but he could not find the words.

"Dumbledore told me something the other day," he said instead.

"I bet he did."

"He said you've faith in me."

Moody reached to an inside pocket of his travelling cloak and produced a hipflask. He took a large swig and Remus wondered if he would say anything.

"Dumbledore uses funny words to describe things," the Auror finally said.

He pointed his wand to the table where not long ago the cauldron had been bubbling. Remus saw now a mess of shattered glasses and blood, and a lonely cup in the middle. Moody summoned the cup and gave it to him.

"Drink that."

He obeyed. It did not tasted good, but it soothed his raw insides almost instantly.

"I wouldn't say faith," Moody spoke again, slowly. "You are the first werewolf I met. Of course, you don't know that," he added hastily. "It was odd because I wasn't that young and still, I never had the opportunity to meet one of you. And there you were, a child, all skinny and looking at the world with big scared eyes."

Remus felt a little uncomfortable with the description, but he was more curious so he did not say a thing.

"One of the occupational hazards of being an Auror is that it toughens you up, it makes you stop feeling things eventually. All those rotten things we've to see day after day, they eventually cost us a toll. And yet there are those moments in which something touches us and it feels like suddenly being awake after a long sleep. You get to feel again, sorrow, indignation, anger, pity, the very reasons you took the job in the first place. You were one of those times for me."

Remus shifted in his seat, he did not know what to say.

"Eventually I'd forgotten you. You were just one casualty of a very long war going on, another victim. And then we met again, in Diagon Alley."

"I remember," Remus said.

"Yeah well… you had little to do with what happened later. It was your mother actually."

Remus frowned.

"My mother?"

"Yeah." Moody chuckled. "I am pretty sure that that night, when you were attacked, your mother would have killed me if she had had the chance. She was angry, Merlin she was. And the one responsible for that was out of her reach so she turned against me instead! It wasn't the first nor the last time something like that happened to me. And yet… well, that other time in Diagon Alley, I could see she still held me somehow responsible for what had happened to you back then. She made me think, you see? That's why I suggested Dumbledore to take you in. He agreed, of course. Too easily, if you ask me. You know the rest of the story," he finished.

Remus tried to stand up but his legs did not seem to hold his body. He gave up and rested his head on the back of the sofa.

"Do you think there is a chance for me, Mad-Eye?"

The Auror took another swing from his flask.

"A chance for what exactly? For potion making you're hopeless."

Remus chuckled dryly and rose his head again.

"Not for that, no. For… I don't know… do something. Find a place, I guess."

"What sort of place are you expecting to find?"

Remus shrugged.

"What is it that you like to do?"

"I'm good at fighting."

"I know you are," Moody grunted. "I though you some of your moves, haven't I? That's not what I asked. I asked what do you like."

"I guess… studying… reading… that's what I missed the most while living with packs."

"Then do it."

"And how am I supposed to get to the end of the month?"

Moody snorted.

"Narrow-mindedness exasperates me, you know."

Remus grunted.

"Still, it's getting more difficult every day to find a job…"

"Nobody said you have to work for wizards. Nobody said you have to love your work. Nobody said you have to lead a perfect life. Because you won't do any of those, and it'll be better for you to stop pretending or wishing you will." Moody stood up. "You're not James, with his perfect wife and his perfect son… look where it all ended! You're not Sirius, either, and I'm not going to talk about that sort of scum! And you're not Peter. You're not going to have the tragic hero's death, you hear me? You're made for other sort of things."

Remus had tried to interrupt him several times but Moody did not seem to want to catch a breath.

"So now stop experimenting with potions that are way out of your league and above it all, stop wishing for the past to come back. I'd thought that after a decade you'd be over it, but now I see you're not. That's what I'll tell you: get over it already! And forgive yourself for surviving! Good evening!"

And without another word, he was out of Remus' flat.

AN: Thanks a lot to everybody who fav'ed this tale or put in on their alerts! And very special thanks to the oh-so-very-kind reviewers login password, Masks and Teapots, QueenCobraWing, TearsOfaSingingPhoenix, tt crews (you made me think a lot about Moody), ludmilla, Louey06, AnnaMariaNordlade, Snarky64, Dimcairien, Star Ash Myst (welcome back!), strukkfirst, PureAwesomeness13, , Mischiefer, NeverBeenDarkMarked, pepe200, catwalkingowl, Tonks23 and Naina15 (thanks for the wonderful beta job, over at Tonks'!)

A very happy 2012 to all of you!