A/N: "Sorry for the delay! I'm in the process of moving, which is crazy stressful and time consuming! Thank you everyone for all the kind reviews and support so far! Enjoy!" –E
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oOoOoOo
The first time Remus visited Brighton Beach was that infamous trip over New Year's Eve with The Marauders. They'd left James' house on Boxing Day, catching a muggle train to the small, seaside town, and even though the train doors had opened to a cold afternoon, with the bright skies and such excitement in their actions it could have been midsummer rather than the winter solstice. They spent the next few days pub-hopping, picking up muggle girls, and looking at motorcycles. For Remus and The Marauders, teenagers on the edge of adulthood, it felt like a dream. However, it was a dream that blinded the reality, and as the war drifted closer and closer upon them all, they were painfully unaware of the freedoms that most of them would never see again.
Remus was called to arms right out of Hogwarts, fighting alongside those very same friends as the wizarding world was torn apart by Voldemort. Yet, hope was in their actions, a youthful optimism that what they were doing was just and right and they would win and be rewarded for their efforts. But such ideals can never be guaranteed, and in one horrible, inevitable, repeating night, the four people Remus cared about the most were gone.
The world cheered and celebrated Voldemort's fall, but Remus was alone, at a loss on how to handle such loss. All he wanted was the life he'd been fighting for; and with the people who would have made that possibility now dead or imprisoned, he returned to the familiar place, hoping the memories would be enough to sustain him. And so, the second time Remus visited Brighton Beach he stayed for almost four years.
It was strangely easy to live as a muggle, to set his wand aside and turn to it only when the moon arrived. He found part time work in a bar, rented a flat with a couple other guys around his age, and made new friends, though these connections paled in comparison to what he'd lost. Remus spent most of his time alone, disconnected from the wizarding world, disconnected even from himself and the new life he'd built. It wasn't until his father died that Remus woke up and turned back to the life he'd once known. Standing beside his mother at his father's grave, there was the desire feel the sparks under his fingers once again, and Remus finally found himself able to leave Brighton Beach.
The years moved by, and for a long time Remus didn't need that place by the sea. There were the occasional visits to his muggle friends, the small reminders of the life he'd once lived there, but with each year that passed, he found himself moving in new directions. Life was never easy, his condition guaranteed that, but the struggles were manageable. He grew up. He was able to take risks. He was able to approach the wizarding world again. But for all the good that happened, the healing, the growth, there was no avoiding the pain. He agreed to work for Dumbledore and returned to Hogwarts, but then it all turned back again. As Remus found himself looking into the bright-green eyes of Lily and James' son, Sirius, another phantom from his past, escaped from prison.
Perhaps that's why he clung to Hermione Granger so much. She, like Brighton, became an escape. Remus was able to walk the halls of Hogwarts and not dwell on all the horrible things that had happened. Instead, he was able to think of the warmth of her embrace, the sharpness of her mind, and the adoration behind her smile. But of course the truth eventually came out, Hermione left him, and war broke upon their world again.
Remus, the dutiful soldier, was called back into action. However, this time he could feel the shadows amongst the fighting, that inevitability, that lone-ness that seemed more his life than the moments he was alongside people. He was reunited with Sirius again, but it didn't last, another secret she'd kept from him, another friend lost to the shadows. Night after night seemed to repeat around him as Remus began to understand that he was supposed to be alone in all of this. And yet, as a bold act of defiance, he fought against it. He took risks as if he had a life to waste. He let himself fall in love with Dora. He let himself live the lives of men and actually marry her. He let himself start a family.
Then with one horrible, inevitable, repeating night it all happened again. As the battle erupted around them, Remus ran further into the shadows after Hermione. Dora was killed. His son, that poor, innocent child, lost his mother. Everything happened as it did before, the world cheering and celebrating Voldemort's fall, but nothing changed as Remus found himself alone again.
And so, for a third time, Remus returned to Brighton Beach.
Remus Lupin sat upon the bench, silently watching the ocean before him, the sound of rushing water filling his ears, the smell of salt stinging his nose. The locals had all noticed him, the lone man who sat upon the bench hour after hour, but Remus wasn't alone; temptation sat alongside him. This was where he'd once been happy. This is where he'd one stood, his friends and his future intact. This was where he already rebuilt his life once before. Now all that remained here was the ocean. And every day he sat there he was tempted. He was tempted to stand and step out into that water. He was tempted to let the levels rise, to let the coldness move upon and over him, to let his lungs fill with water. He was tempted to let that loneliness finally, once and for all, fill him completely.
If only he had the courage to do it.
oOo
"I'm not delicate!"
"Of course you're not."
"What does he need? Bed rest? Should he perhaps spend tonight in the hospital wing?"
"I'm fine!"
"Well, he should have some chocolate, at the very least,"
"I've already had some," said Harry with a look to Hermione. "Professor Lupin gave me some. He gave it to all of us."
"Did he, now?" Madam Pomphrey nodded in approval. "So we've finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies?"
McGonagall turned back to Harry. "Are you sure you feel all right, Potter?"
"Yes."
"Very well," the professor sighed, "kindly wait outside while I have a quick word with Miss Granger about her course schedule, then we can go down to the feast together."
Harry left with Madam Pomphrey, leaving Hermione alone with McGonagall in the small office just outside the Great Hall. "Dementors upon the train, I can't believe such madness." The older witch rubbed her eyes. "Now, regarding your schedule and your elective classes, Miss Granger, it's come to our attention that you've signed up for every class offered?"
Hermione nodded.
"That's quite ambitious," McGonagall continued. "However, after two years of observing you as my student, I don't doubt your ability to handle such a load—a thought agreed upon by Professor Dumbledore."
Hermione beamed with pride at this, but McGonagall didn't elaborate further. Instead, the older witch moved to the desk in the small office and opened the top drawer. There was a strange distraction upon her movements as she pulled out a blue, velvet bag—a hesitation in her expression as she turned back to Hermione.
"The headmaster is giving you an interesting opportunity, Miss Granger, one I hope you take with the extreme severity it deserves." McGonagall held out the velvet bag. Hermione stepped forward and took it, instantly surprised by how light it was. "It's called a Time-Turner, a most rare and delicate instrument… Use it wisely…"
And a little over five years later, Hermione Granger stood with Guillaume next to a large cabinet, where, upon the same blue velvet, lay about a dozen similar Time-Turners. They all sparkled in the bright light of the Hall of Time, but as Hermione looked them all over, a strange disappointment filled her. They were all of a similar design, though ornately varied as if made by different wizards over the years, yet she saw no familiarity in their delicate faces. Guillaume laughed at her hesitation.
"If you are looking for the Time-Turner you used at Hogwarts, it isn't there," he said, seeming to read her mind once again. "I'm afraid it's lost in time for the moment."
She looked up at him. "Lost in time?"
"It happens, but I'm sure we'll get it back someday." He shrugged. "Just pick another—I recommend this one here, very balanced, I carried it for a while myself."
Hermione took his suggestion and picked up the sparkling time-turner. It was slightly larger than the one she'd carried in her third year, the weight noticeably different. But Guillaume didn't give her much time to dwell on it before she was ushered away again.
Most of that morning had been spent at Guillaume's desk, quill in her hand, signing documents until her fingers ached. "Here you are, Miss Granger. Now, this document designates that your research as an Unspeakable is available through Ministry funding and all developments and work is property of said Ministry—one more signature, at the bottom, yes—and then this document claims that the Ministry has no knowledge or connections to the work performed here and cannot be held liable for any research concluded within these halls." Such contradictions paused her pen at first, but after an hour of such confusing documentation, Hermione soon came to realize that the laws and bureaucratic decisions that held the Department of Mysteries together were just as twisted as its halls.
Guillaume was just as odd as he'd been during their last meeting, yet he was unable to hide the levels of excitement and triumph he felt upon Hermione's acceptance of the position. "During the next few weeks to months we'll go into more specific details on what we do here, the way time can be used for historical research, medical, and scientific means. There's a lot to cover, but you'll have the turner to help, and you've proven yourself a most dedicated student. You also have, as I've mentioned before, a strength of will that is most valued here. This industry is not without it's temptations—far from it— and it's important that you understand that nothing can be changed, that you can't, for example, go back and stop yourself from erasing someone's memory." Hermione quickly came to the conclusion that Guillaume probably knew more than he let on, and often used that unsettling fact as leverage. As he moved around the offices, showing her around and explaining details, there was a pressure upon her always. Just by how he stood next to her, the way his questions felt more like statements and his statements more like questions, showed that he was in control of the situation always.
"There's a lot to catch you up on, quite a lot of reading—though I don't imagine that to be a problem. How's your German?"
"My German?" Hermione had to walk quickly to keep up with him. "Well, I took a little in primary school, but it's been quite a while—"
"Hmm, no matter, no matter," he moved on, "You'll need to do some studying into theoretical physics and meta-physics, and I usually advise Bern, 1908, but Caltech in the 1970s has some excellent lectures too. In here."
They walked into an office off the main hall, and several, brightly-lit orbs burst forward, filling the large room with light. Guillaume looked around and frowned. "My apologies. I suppose it's been a few years since we've used this office, and it seems the dust has collected. We don't get cleaning staff down here, but we also have the complete freedoms to do what we want with these spaces. Now—"
He pulled out a large pocket watch and flipped it open. Silver and red runes shone from it. Hermione recognized a few of the symbols, but wasn't able to easily translate them. Guillaume frowned as silence filled the room, and several still seconds passed by. Then, quite abruptly, two men were standing beside them. Hermione jumped.
The first man was a short, elderly wizard with wispy, white hair. He had the appearance of being quite old and fragile, his skin almost transparent with age, yet an unbridled energy shone from him like sunshine. In contrast, the second man was significantly taller and younger, but with a dark distraction. He stood almost slumped, his expression blank and his attention absent from the room and it's occupants around him.
"May I introduce your colleagues, Messrs Benzotti and Dorn, " Guillaume faced the older of the two wizards. "You're late."
The elderly wizard, Benzotti, laughed. "Don't be absurd! We are never late—perhaps you are early?"
At this, Guillaume smiled and turned to Hermione. "Well Miss Granger, which is it—late or early?"
The two men looked to her for an answer while the third stared off, uninterested. On the spot, Hermione paused, her mind turning over the simple question, understanding that it was probably far from simple. "Well, perhaps it's both?" she guessed, shifting under their attentive gaze. "A matter of perspective? Time does fluctuate, and if the goal was to meet here and we are all here now, isn't that goal met—just off a little bit?"
"Which asks the question; what is our margin of error?" Guillaume clicked a button on his watch, and a new series of runes lit up above it. Benzotti pulled out pocket watches and did the same. "Where were you coming from?"
"Alexandria, 48 BC."
"Library still burning?"
"Of course—what are your wave readings? Hmm, I'm off just shy of three seconds."
"That's what I'm picking up also." Guillaume snapped the watch shut and turned to Hermione. "Three seconds—do you find that acceptable?"
"Well—"
He pulled out his wand. "I'm going to stun you in three seconds—Three—two—"
But Hermione didn't give him the chance. Instinct rose in a flash, and her wand was out when he was halfway through two. "Expelliarmus!" she shouted, and his wand flew across the room, clattering to the floor behind the large desk.
Hermione was instantly mortified. Even in such an odd environment, she doubted it was a good idea to disarm your boss on the first day at work. Thankfully, Guillaume smiled, Benzotti laughed, and Dorn looked at her for the first time, interest flickering behind the vacantness.
"Yes," Guillaume nodded. "Three seconds doesn't seem like much compared to millennia upon millennia, but it does makes a difference."
"However, it seems our new addition can handle such speeds!" Benzotti laughed gleefully, reaching forward to shake her hand. "Very well done, my dear! Yes, very well done indeed!"
oOo
"And what about me? I mean, you said we were friends in the future. I was just wondering how friendly."
Remus stood next to Hermione in front of the large window, the Scottish mountains in the distance. Hermione didn't answer him but she didn't look away either, and Remus was suddenly aware how close she was to him. Her hand was around his waist, his across her shoulders, and he could almost feel her heart beating. Her eyes then moved to his lips. Time stretched, the moment swelling and building, and Remus leaned closer, pressing his mouth into hers.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Hermione pulled away, panic in her eyes, and everything shifted as Sirius knocked on the door of his cottage—"He's back! Voldemort's back!"—but then it was Dora outside, sadness in her eyes and then passion in her hands as they struggled against one another. Remus moved forward, eager to reconnect with her mouth, but Hermione pushed him back and began to straighten his tie.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
This time Remus sat up. Sleep clung to him like a heavy robe, his heart racing, as he listened again for the knocking, but, no, there was nothing. He blinked a few more times, sleep trapped in his eyes, and looked around. The flat he rented was small and dirty, the smell of old cigarettes clinging to the stained carpet, the florescent lights flickering overhead. He'd fallen asleep at the kitchen table again, and the plate of Indian take-out was cold in front of him. How long had he been asleep? Cotton was in his mouth, dry and coarse. He could still feel the alcohol, but it wasn't enough. Remus reached for the bottle again.
He wasn't always a scotch drinker, but now he reveled in the light brown liquid, sharp upon his tongue, fire in his veins, cheap and effective. With each glass the room, the reality, his senses, and, of course, the memories shifted. The aching that seemed to fill each muscle, the coldness that lingered from his day sitting upon the pier, melted away, as the warmth began to grow, twisting until it became a wide and heavy heat.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
His hand slipped, and the bottle fell loudly to the side, spilling across the Formica countertop. "Damnit!" he shouted, jumping up. He stumbled slightly against his chair and grabbed an old t-shirt off the floor to clean up the mess.
"Remus!" someone called from outside. "Are you here?"
His ears were ringing, his motions slowed as Remus turned to the door. There were the sound of voices outside, multiple people talking upon the landing. Remus fumbled for his glass and hastily took another drink. He coughed against the sharpness in his throat. He hadn't told anyone he was staying here. Perhaps it was a neighbor or solicitor. Perhaps they'd just go away. He turned back to the spilled drink.
"Alohomora!"
The door opened, the light of the hall flooding his small room, and Remus spun around. He couldn't see who exactly was there, the light silhouetted them in a black veil, but he saw wands in their hands. The panic rose, the battle returned, and the inner soldier jumped in response. One of the men stepped forward, and Remus reached for his wand, throwing sparks. The spell missed, hitting the door frame in a splintering of wood.
"Expelliarmus!"
Remus' reflexes were slow, and his wand was across the room before he even knew what had happened. But the confusion stunned him for only a moment. He lurched forward, rushing towards them again. His fist made contact with something, someone's jaw perhaps, but the effort was sloppy and distorted by the alcohol. And as Remus turned to one of the others, he was shoved back. He crashed to the floor, pinned down as he tried to fight them off.
"Remus!" shouted the man on top of him "Keep it together!"
But Remus only struggled more—the Death Eaters wouldn't take him like this, not now, not after all he'd been through!—and it took several moments for the reality to finally settle in. Eventually, he recognized the red hair and then the scars upon the face. It was Bill Weasley. The familiarity was shocking, and Remus stilled as he looked up to the others. Harry, Ron, and George stood in his flat, looking down at him in equal surprise. Remus groaned, his stomach dropping; he'd rather have Death Eaters at his door.
"Give me a hand," said Bill as he and George struggled to pull Remus to his feet. "Harry, get the door—Ron, you alright?"
Ron rubbed his chin. "Fuck, that hurt!"
Remus staggered to his feet then stepped away from them. He leaned against the kitchen counter. His heart was racing, and his stomach lurched slightly. He'd had too much to drink—no, he hadn't had enough.
"How," he started feebly, "how did you find me?"
"It wasn't easy," said Bill, crossing his arms and looking around the small flat. "Nobody's seen you for months."
"Andromeda's been going mad with worry," added Harry. "We all have."
Of course his mother-in-law would raise the alarm. He'd told her he was leaving for a while, and after months of vague visits to none at all, Remus hoped she'd take the hint that he wasn't coming back. With his muscles starting to ache from such exertion, Remus crossed the room, looking for his bottle of scotch. It had spilled again in the struggle, and now lay empty upon the floor. He picked it up with a sigh. What a waste.
"Here, have this instead."
Harry rustled into the pockets of his robe and shoved a bottle into Remus' hand. Remus didn't bother to read the label, at this point he didn't care if he was being given poison, and downed it. However, his stomach instantly lurched again, the room sharpening quickly and painfully. He swayed in agony for a moment and just made it to the sink before vomiting.
Bill patted him on the back sympathetically as the sobriety potion attacked Remus, purging his stomach and veins. Everything became too sharp and focused, his ears and heart ringing. After a minute, there was nothing left of his dinner, and Remus took several deep breaths before switching on the faucet, washing the mess down the drain. Then he turned around and sat upon the floor with a heavy sigh. He put his hands in his hair.
"What," his voice refused to rise above a whisper, "what are you even doing here?"
"What are we doing here?!" asked George in disbelief. "I think the last minute-and-a-half serves as reason for some sort of intervention!"
Remus rubbed his eyes. Sobriety sat upon his shoulders, perhaps for the first time in days, and he felt like he'd been run down by the Knight Bus a dozen times over. The others watched him for a moment, the silence stretching as Remus tried taking a few deep breaths. He looked up at Ron and Harry, noting for the first time that they were wearing the dark purple robes of the Auror Department.
"You got into the program?"
Harry nodded. "You've missed a lot of the last few months, Remus."
Remus looked down. Yes, perhaps he had, but he'd been through a lot too. He struggled to his feet, and George picked up the overturned chair off the floor for him to sit down.
Bill helped him stand. "How have you been handling the moon? I know you've been—" he stumbled awkwardly for a word, "—distressed, but you've been taking your wolfsbane, right?"
"I've been distressed," Remus sighed, taking a seat. "Not irresponsible."
"Oh really?" Harry crossed his arms again, a darkness upon his face as he looked at his old professor. "Then tell me—how's Teddy doing?"
Remus stomach dropped. He leaned forward in his chair, his head in his hands again. "I… I don't want to talk about Teddy."
"Andromeda said it's been almost two months since you've seen him."
"You don't have to remind me."
"You know, I think I do!" shouted Harry, walking around the small flat as he shook his head in anger. "God, it's been, what?—not even a year since Grimmauld Place? I thought you'd figured out the stupidity of running away like this!"
"I haven't forgotten what you said that day, Harry," he answered. "If anything, I understand you all the more clearly now."
Remus shook his head. He didn't want to do this again. He couldn't go through this again. He tried to breath deeply, but his throat was raw and sore. Why couldn't they understand? Why couldn't they just leave him alone?
"I am a coward… and Dora's dead because of it."
A silence filled the room as the others looked at one another, surprised by the bluntness and heaviness in which he spoke. But Remus didn't care. They asked, and so he had answered. It was the same truth he struggled with day after day as he sat and looked to the ocean. He faced Harry.
"That day in Grimmauld Place when you yelled at me for running, for leaving her? I was so ashamed by what you said. I was so ashamed by what I'd done. And yet—" He couldn't help laughing. It was all so absurd. "—and yet, I did it again! I left her at the battle. I abandoned her there as I chased after… after something else. And so Dora died… all alone…"
"That doesn't make it your fault," said Bill. "There's no way you could know—"
"No," Remus shook his head, "there are no such things as coincidences."
Harry crossed his arms. "And what about Teddy?"
"God, I've robbed him of his mother!" Remus looked up. "He cries and cries, and I know it's not for me, but for her. And then… then when I look at him, I can see Dora and… and it just hurts to look at him sometimes…"
At this, George suddenly stepped forward, a dark anger upon his face
"Well, look anyway!" he growled, glaring down at Remus. "Do you know what I see every time I look in a mirror? I see Fred! I see my brother that I was unable to save. And I know that when I'm sixty and old and grey I will still see him—only I'll see the age upon his features too, the years he never got to experience!"
George turned back around, his whole body shaking with suppressed anger. Ron stepped forward, a hand upon his brother's shoulder, a similar darkness upon his face. Harry sighed and faced Remus again..
"So what do you want to do, Remus? Stay here? Mope along the beach with the muggles for the rest of your life? No, you need to come back."
"You don't understand, I came back once before," Remus shook his head, the memories, as always, before him. "I left Brighton. I rejoined the Wizarding World. I even took a job at Hogwarts… but then the war returned…"
"It's over now," said Ron.
"It's never over."
"So what do you want to do about it, Remus? Stay here? Drink yourself to death?" Harry asked, his voice rising again as he kicked the empty scotch bottle. "Fine then! Go ahead and kill yourself!"
They all looked to him in surprise. "Harry," cautioned Bill.
"No, no I don't think he has the courage to do it! The courage and the strength to go and kill yourself!" Harry took a step towards Remus. "After all, I would know!"
His words hung around them all.
"I walked up to Voldemort and accepted death!" Harry continued. "I understood that to die was the best thing I could possibly do, not just for myself, but for everyone in the world I cared about! You're upset, yes, but it's not the same thing! I know you could never go through with it, Remus, it's not in your nature, and—well, perhaps that cowardice is your savior."
Harry crossed the room and grabbed Remus bag out from under the bed,
"What are you doing?"
"Packing." Harry moved to the small dresser and opened the top drawer. "We've moved into Sirius' old place. I have plenty of room for you to join us."
"What? No—!"
"George, grab those books over there—"
Everyone erupted into action at Harry's direction, and Remus looked around in shock as they gathered his things.
"Harry's right," said Ron as he moved the kitchen. "When Fred died we had family to help us. You need support. We'll help you—Hermione and I are living at Grimmauld Place too."
Hermione!
A new panic flooded him, and Remus' heart raced at her name and the implication of what they were saying. No! It was too impossible! He'd returned to Brighton Beach, but suddenly time was repeating and Remus stood in Dumbledore's office next to the strange girl in blue as Albus clapped his hands together, "Wonderful! We'll have you move in with Remus right away!" and then it was her mouth upon his as the stood by the windows, the map open in front of him, the smell of rat in the air—
Remus leapt to his feet, but his legs gave out in the motion. He crashed to the floor, and Bill rushed over again.
"Easy, Remus!"
"No," he whimpered. "I can't… I can't stay there! Please, don't make me go back!"
"You need help with this."
"Just leave me alone!"
But his desperate words only fueling their actions, and Remus sat back down upon the floor, his head in his hands. Not Hermione. Anywhere but with Hermione! Hermione knew everything and said nothing. She'd been at the battle. She'd seen Dora dead upon the floor. And then, barely five years later, she would wrap herself around him, silently twisting the knife, the memories of those horrible sights locked inside her. But what could he say? What could he say that would make them stop? Everything Remus had experienced with her, and still had yet to experience, was just too big, to impossible, to explain. He was alone, he was always alone—
And then something shifted. Perhaps it was the perspective of rock bottom, but Remus began to understand. His punishment for all he'd done to Dora and Teddy wasn't Brighton. His punishment wasn't to walk the beaches here, a ghost amongst the memories, to sit alone and watching the tide come and go, to walk into that ocean and end it all with gasps of salt and water.
He was meant to suffer, and so his punishment was her.
With his flat emptied to his bag, Remus and George helped him apparate to the familiar front stoop of Grimmauld Place. Harry and the others were in good spirits now as they opened the door, welcoming Remus inside and explaining all they'd done with the remodel—but of course they didn't understand just what they were doing to him. The forced sobriety left his head pounding, and Remus moved with great effort up the stairs, thinking of each breath in his lungs rather than the pain and the voices of those around him. But then they reached the landing, and he looked up.
Hermione Granger stood before him.
She was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a Chudley Canons t-shirt. Her hair, that familiar mess of curls was pulled back as she stood next to Ron. Her eyes, wide, dark brown, the pair he'd seen across the Great Hall as Dora grew cold in his arms, looked at him now in equal surprise, drifting over his haggard appearance. It was Hermione, and yet… and yet how innocent she looked. Remus couldn't help turning away and laughing to himself.
"Which room do you want Remus?" Harry asked, drawing his attention back. "We've cleaned everything up since you were here last. Something near the back of the house where it's quiet?"
Remus sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I really don't care…"
"It—it's good to see you again, Remus."
Her voice rang across the hall and he paused. Lowering his hands, Remus looked up into her eyes again. She didn't know. She honestly didn't understand that it was her influence that made him look the way and act the way he did now. Motivation rising, Remus stood straighter and answered her.
"Yes… yes, I'm sure it is." He took a step forward. "Tell me, how have you been?"
"I—I've been well—"
"Good! And are you liking your new job?"
"Yes—"
"Are you learning a lot?"
"Yes, but—"
"Oh, don't worry, Miss Granger," he held her gaze tightly, "I won't ask what it is you are doing in the Department of Mysteries. No, I learned long ago to never ask such pointless questions."
Again, he couldn't help laughing to himself at the irony. Time was doubling all around them, again and again, and even though they all currently pitied him and babied him, Remus was the only one who could see it. They moved to the stair again, heading to the next level. Harry held out an arm to help him, but Remus pushed it away, determined to climb on his own.
"Remus, I—I am sorry about Tonks."
He stopped mid-step. Hermione's voice, her words, their implication hung around him. Dora. Remus moved back around, facing her again. Anger flooded him. You knew, he wanted to ask again, all along you knew and said nothing? Instead, Remus turned from her and continued up the stairs.
"Yes, but she's dead now, Hermione! So don't bother!"
oOoOoOo
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A/N: "It was really exciting finally writing the scene with Remus moving into Grimmauld Place, since we already saw it back in Chapter 19 from Hermione's perspective! Thanks for reading!" – E
