Chapter 88: Monday, January 18, 1982

"But fate ordains that dearest friends must part."

-Edward Young

Remus hated Yorkshire.

The cabin was small and filthy. It stunk of old potions and mold and the constant draft in the blasted place made the warming charms he constantly used utterly ineffective. It sat surrounded by miles of moorland and every inch of snow covered grass grated against his nerves. The trees that stood frozen surrounding the place made him want to tear his hair out. The dead of winter showed here. The only life anywhere nearby was Remus, himself, and he wasn't sure he could even call this living.

He stumbled from the lumpy old couch to the gouged wooden table and snatched the bottle of Firewhisky off the top of it. He hadn't even bothered to put the cork back in last night and he flicked it across the kitchen, giggling when it smacked against the teapot. Putting the bottle to his lips, he took a deep swig, relishing in the feel of the burning liquid as it seared its way down his throat.

This was how he had spent the last week and a half since the full moon. It had been the worst one yet, and he was so tired of trying to remain upright. Moony must have been trying to top them both off this month, because when he awoke, he had several new slashes across his frame and there was blood smeared along the floor of the shed.

He had begun locking himself in the dilapidated shed that sat behind the cabin. It was small, and looked as if it would fall over if the wind blew too hard, but with a few reinforcement charms it held him just fine. At this point, he was contemplating just transforming in the middle of Diagon Alley next month. Maybe then, he'd get put out of his misery.

He took another gulp of Firewhisky and fell into the chair at the table. At least if he was drunk, Moony was quiet and he didn't have to deal with this arsehole living in his head telling him to find her every waking second. He scrubbed at his face and pressed the heel of his palms into his eyes, leaving them there until little bursts of light created fireworks behind his eyelids. A broken memory of New Years Eve and a snowball fight wormed its way into his mind and he took another drink. It was easier this way, he had decided. If he drank, he didn't cry, at least not that he could remember. It was easier to think of them if he was plastered.

A persistent tapping pulled his attention from the mark on the table he had apparently found interesting. He looked up to see a large tawny barn owl ruffling his feathers impatiently. Remus stood, catching himself on the table as he wobbled on his feet, and staggered over to the window. The owl nipped his finger as he untied the scroll and Remus cursed at it, shoving the bird out without a treat. Not that he had anything to offer, unless owls liked Firewhisky.

He opened the letter and upon seeing the slanted writing, promptly crumpled it up and pitched it toward the bin, missing by half a foot. Dumbledore had been writing for weeks, and his letters were getting more and more incessant. He requested three meetings with Remus now, and Remus had stayed at the cabin for every one of them. He didn't want to go to Hogwarts and walk the halls of the place he had met them. He didn't want to see the hidden entrances to the secret passages they had found together, or the broom cupboards and alcoves they had hidden in under James' invisibility cloak. He didn't want to look in the library, where he and Lily spent so many hours revising together or see the tree by the lake where they would all sit when the weather was nice and the grounds were quiet.

He slumped back into the chair and picked up the bottle, tipping it to his lips and sighing heavily when he realized it was empty. That was the last of what he had brought with him, the bottle from inside the briefcase he had been gifted last Christmas.

His heart clenched and his chest felt tight again. The thought of James' face lighting up as he unwrapped the gift was almost too much to bear, the words of encouragement from Lily and Peter… He swallowed as the memories of the rest of the night pushed to the front of his mind. He could still feel her lips against his throat as she whispered his name, her skin against his, her eyes looking into his as she…

"Fuck," he breathed, pulling a hand through his hair.

He needed more to drink.

He grabbed his cloak off the hook and fell into the wall, hissing a string of obscenities as he rubbed his elbow and pulled his trainers onto his feet. He tripped out the front door and spun on the step, disappearing in a blur of patchworked robes.

When his feet hit the ice-slick street he choked on the breath that returned, his eyes landing on the caved in roof. He swallowed, the burning whisky in his stomach pushing up the back of his throat. He hadn't looked at the house. He had averted his eyes at the funeral, he didn't crane his neck to look down the street when he had come to Hermione's cottage. He took a tentative step forward and before he could take his next breath, his hand was gripping the wooden frame that surrounded the door that hung off the hinges.

He bit out a sarcastic laugh. Of course. Of fucking course. Another chuckle bubbled past his lips and as he fell through the threshold of the house, and he couldn't stop. He choked on the bursts of laughter as he stepped into the living room.

"Sorry, Lils! I ran out and thought hey—why not swing by fucking Prongs' house and raid their liquor cabinet!" Remus babbled on as he stumbled through the living room and into the kitchen, leaning down to the locked cabinet under the sink and tapped it with his wand. He cheered when he saw the three bottles of Firewhisky inside the cupboard. "Not like they're going to need it any time soon!"

"Oh, Remus, it's fine," he said to himself, using a higher pitched voice—a distorted mockery of Lily's tone. "We know you would never get inebriated without a good reason."

"Well, you see, I have a pretty good reason!" He chortled, opening the bottle and taking a swig. He walked back into the living room and fell into the chair, swinging the bottle out to the side before putting it to his lips to take another drink.

The closer Remus got to the bottom of the bottle, the harder he laughed. The whole thing was ridiculous, really. He stood and moved toward the bookshelf, a few of Harry's blocks lay on the ground and he picked them up, placing them back on the shelf where the basket of other collected toys sat. He took another swig from the bottle and moved into the kitchen where he began to sing loudly.

"...picks up the rice in a church where the wedding has been...nobody came!"

"Can you believe that? A whole wedding that no one shows up to? And father Mackenzie, well he just keeps on writing sermons! The whole idea of it is ridiculous."

"She died, never knowing that someone was there for her, that someone cared. Eleanor spent her entire life thinking she was alone." The memory of Hermione's voice rang in his head, from the first conversation they ever had about the Beatles.

"All the lonely people, where do they all belong?" He sang.

He took another swig.

Remus closed his eyes, swaying as he mumbled broken lyrics that faded into more fits of laughter, trying to shove away the memories. A whirlwind of images flooded through his head—snapshots of moments from his younger years at Hogwarts. The time they snuck into Hogsmeade through the tunnel under Honeydukes and nearly got caught by the old man that owned it. The first Quidditch match James had captained. The look on Pete's face when he realized he got an O on his Herbology OWL. Sirius dancing around the common room with his tie on his head, trying to convince Marlene to go out with him…

"Where do they all belong?" he sang, again.

He took another swig, drowning the sadness that now stained his past.

"Moony, old boy, you've gone around the bend!" Remus declared in a poor imitation of James' voice.

"I get why Padfoot is constantly drinking this stuff," Remus slurred, gesturing to an imaginary James. "I haven't felt so good in months. Not since you and Lily left. Since Peter left and Sirius…" His laughter subsided and he put the bottle to his lips, and a small whistling sound rang in the air as his breath moved through the opening. He tipped it up, choking down another gulp of the amber liquid. "And Hermione. You all left."

Remus hiccupped, taking another mouthful from the bottle. "You all just...fucking left me behind."

He bumbled back into the living room, tripping over his feet and grasping onto the back of a chair to keep himself upright. He made his way toward the couch to sit, taking another swig, trying to drown the hurt that felt like knives in his back.

"...wiping the dirt from his hands as he walked from the grave, no one was saved."

Another image flashed through his mind, of mahogany caskets and a fistful of soil falling from his hand. The look on McGonagall's face as she watched him fall apart next to the headstone. His father's face when he'd begged him for help—pleading for answers on how to make it better. How to make it hurt less.

He took another swig, banishing the horror to the recesses of his whisky addled brain.

"No one was saved…" he whispered with yet another sip.

His hands began shaking, his breath coming out in ragged pants. The seat beneath him felt like it was swaying and he stood up. He rocked forward, his shins knocking hard into the oak coffee table and his knees came down onto it, the wood splitting beneath him.

"YOU ALL LEFT ME BEHIND," Remus bellowed, "YOU LEFT AND YOU...YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO LEAVE!" His empty fist came down onto the wood, cracking it even further.

"YOU PROMISED! YOU FUCKING PROMISED!"

Remus shoved himself up from the middle of the living room floor, the broken wood splintering against his hands and cutting into his palms. He lurched to the side, and held the bottle high over his head for a moment before sending it flying across the room. It hit the wall and exploded. Dozens of shards of whisky coated glass rained over the carpet, showering the large potted fern with glittering pieces.

He stared at the wall, heaving in shaking breaths as he willed the tears to stay away. Just one day, just one damn day without weeping, please!

He had felt so numb at first, so hollow, and now he wanted the pain to stop. The absolute agony he was in every day was suffocating, and he couldn't eat, sleep, or breathe without being reminded of them. Of everything they had been robbed of. Of everything he had been robbed of.

His head whipped to the side, catching movement from the corner of his eye, and the room spun before him. He steadied himself, taking a deep breath through his nose and stepped forward, his eyes scanning the floor. There was something in here—he had just seen it...

"Argh!" Remus jumped backward and tumbled again, landing hard on his backside. Chester darted across the room and backed into the corner, puffing up as he growled and hissed at Remus. "Stupid damn cat."

He stared at the cat, "You miss them too, I reckon."

The cat took a few steps forward and hissed. Remus held his hand out, trying to get the silly thing to approach him. Chester's demeanor changed a bit as he neared Remus, the fur on his back flattening down and his tail relaxing. "That's it, I can find you some food…"

Remus stood and stumbled back into the kitchen, the cat on his heels. "Ow! Oi! Why're you biting—hey, stop it! Dos I chwarae efo dy nain!"

Chester bit at Remus' ankles, nipping the tender skin through his socks. The cat was persistent, nipping at him even as Remus attempted to kick him away. Finally, Chester gave what appeared to be his new favourite food source a break and turned, darting around the corner to disappear into another room.

Remus stared after him, his vision swimming. He pressed a hand against the wall, wet where the bottle had broken against it, and followed the yowling sound coming from the master bedroom. His eyes lingered on the hole in the wall that marked where the door to Harry's nursery used to be. At another insistent scream from the cat, he tore eyes away from the destruction, swallowing back the sick feeling in his stomach and stepped through the doorway to the master bedroom.

"I'm trying to help you!" He said, "Come here!"

The cat slinked out from a space beside the bed and rubbed against his legs before nipping at his ankle again.

"To hell with you then," Remus muttered, waving Chester off.

He cried loudly and attacked Remus again when he turned around. He saw the cat run beside the bed and poke his head out and meowed.

"What?" Remus spat, pulling his brows together and stooping over to get a closer look at where Chester was hiding. He lowered himself to the ground and crawled toward him on his hands and knees. "What have you got there?"

Next to the small creature, on his circular pad, was a glittering gold stone on a thin chain. His eyes went wide with comprehension as he reached out, wrapping his fingers around the necklace and pulling it from the hiding place.

"Why is this here?" He asked no one, leaning back onto his knees.

Find her.

Sunday, February 14, 1982

Remus tipped the phial to his lips and grimaced as he swallowed it down. He counted to ten, feeling the draught spread through his veins, forcing his muscles to finally relax. He rolled his shoulders and twisted his head to the side, wincing at the pull in his somehow still tight neck.

The calming draught coursed through him and he closed his hand around the amulet sitting on the table. The potion had been a suggestion of his father's, when he had last visited him in Wales. His father had given him a thirty day supply, explaining that it had helped him with the loss of his mother.

He looked down at his closed fist, a rock on the end of a chain, physical proof that she was here. That by some divine intervention—or Dark Artifact intervention—she had graced his life for two years. He turned his hand over and opened his fingers, looking at the stone in his palm. Something so small had changed his life—who he was as a person—so greatly.

A tapping on the window interrupted his thoughts and he waved his wand to allow the owl entrance. The eagle owl fluttered to the table and stuck his leg out, presenting a neatly rolled scroll. Remus untied the letter, and sighed, giving the owl a crust from his toast that sat on the table from breakfast. It ruffled his feathers, giving Remus a disapproving look, before taking flight back through the window.

Another letter from Dumbledore, he could tell by the slanted writing of his name on the parchment. He wasn't sure why he was avoiding him still. He looked around the empty cabin, the several days of crusts from old cheese toasties and open cans from beans that littered the counter stared back at him, a constant reminder of how clearly he had given up. Socks lay on the floor in crumpled piles near the couch where stuffing had fallen free from the cushions. Books lay open across the table, copies of The Daily Prophet, Hermione's journal left open to the page where she had written about Harry's birth.

The place was a mess and he temporarily felt embarrassed for the state of his belongings. Should Dumbledore decide he wanted to be more persistent and show up at his door, something he'd been known to do, he was sure there would be a conversation that involved being placed in the Janus Thickey ward at St. Mungo's until his mental state was improved.

Sighing, he finally opened the letter and took in the words.

Remus,

It is imperative that we speak. Please join me this evening at 6:00pm in my office at Hogwarts. You will find that I am partial to Fizzing Whizzbees.

Regards,

Albus Dumbledore

Remus ran his hands through his hair and scratched the back of his head. He knew there had been a few meetings between the remaining Order members since…

But, he hadn't seen the reason to go. It wasn't like they needed to plan strategies to vanquish Voldemort, anymore. The Death Eaters that hadn't been pardoned or captured had likely fled the country and gone into hiding. There was no reason that The Order of the Phoenix needed him now.

Not that he was truly needed before. What good had he done?

Find her.

Are you capable of giving me any other help?

Find her, dickhead.

Brilliant. Thank you.

If the disembodied voice of the werewolf in his head had eyes, Remus was sure they had rolled.

The old man has answers.

Did he? Did Dumbledore have answers to his questions? Did he know how to work this blasted stone? Would he be able to tell him how to do the ritual to bring her back—could it even work like that? He rubbed his eyes, feeling exhausted at the very prospect of leaving the cabin. Christ, I've become a shut in. He made his way to the bedroom to find something besides stained pyjamas to wear, if he was meeting with Dumbledore, he'd need to at least look a little more presentable.

Remus' stomach growled the moment he walked through the massive doors leading to the entrance hall of Hogwarts. It was dinner time, and he could hear the cacophony of students as they talked amongst themselves, laughing about their weekends and lamenting over assignments due the following day. The smell of roasted meats and gravy made his mouth water—it had been so long since he had eaten something that substantial.

He turned and made his way up the stairs, ignoring the angry protest in his knees as he climbed. His hip clicked with every press of his heel to the stone and he had the passing thought that perhaps Madam Pomfrey would be willing to part with a pain relief potion or two to get him through the next full moon. Recovering from them had become far more difficult than he could ever remember them being.

"Fizzing Whizbees," he muttered to the gargoyle statue that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office. The statue obliged, moving slowly to the side to allow him passage.

The door to Dumbledore's office stood open, inviting Remus into the room before he even needed to knock. Dumbledore was standing next to the window, staring out over the grounds, his back to Remus.

"H-hello, Professor." Remus said, suddenly feeling very nervous.

"Remus," Dumbledore said. He motioned to the seat in front of his desk, "Please, have a seat. Tea?"

"Yes, thank you."

As Dumbledore sat, the tea tray on the edge of the enormous desk began to busy itself. Hot water steamed from the teapot as it poured into a small cup, before Remus could open his mouth to ask for milk and sugar, the small ceramic dish containing the sugar added three lumps to the cup, followed by a splash of milk. The cup and saucer floated over to him and waited patiently in the air for him to take it, an impressive bit of magic, really.

Remus held the cup in his lap and looked back at Dumbledore, unsure of what to say.

"I'm embarrassed to admit that I had begun to wonder if you had left the country, Remus."

"Oh?"

"Indeed. I have sent no less than twenty nine letters to you in the last three months. I thought you may have decided to finally join the pack in Prague, they had spoken so highly of you."

Remus shook his head, "No. I've been at my grandfather's cabin in Yorkshire."

"Ah, I understand that decompressing in trying times is difficult to do when you have an old man badgering you for your company."

"No, it wasn't...it wasn't that, sir. I-I apologize—"

"No need for apologies, Mr Lupin, I assure you." Dumbledore said, pleasantly. "Now, for the matter at hand," he leaned slightly forward, folding his hands before him on the desk as he looked at Remus. "It has come to my attention that Ms Hermione Granger has gone missing. The other members of our resistance had grown rather fond of her, it should seem, and I must admit I was stunned to learn of this disappearance, although, not all together surprised."

Remus swallowed, his throat feeling tight, despite the lingering effects of the Calming Draught. "She's gone," he whispered.

"It would seem that way, yes."

A silence that felt thick and uncomfortable to Remus, but looked amicable and relaxed to Dumbledore, fell over them. Remus shifted his weight in his chair, the cup rattling with his movement.

"I believe you know the truth about Ms Granger's whereabouts and the circumstances surrounding her presence in our lives the last two years?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then you understand that with her departure comes a large amount of questions from the others."

"Questions?"

"Oh yes," Dumbledore said. "You understand, I'm sure, how confused people can become when the disappearance of someone is so sudden. Without evidence of her existence left behind, aside from the home you shared, of course."

"I'm not sure I understand what you're getting at," Remus said, putting the tea cup to his lips.

Don't drink it.

It's impolite not to.

Smell it, you idiot.

Carefully, so as not to alert Dumbledore that he was suspicious of his tea, he took in a slow breath through his nose, letting the scent enter. There was something tangy beneath the floral blend of tea in the cup, a subtle pungency lingering behind the notes of lavender. Remus set the cup back onto the saucer and took a steadying breath, straightening his back as he met Dumbledore's eyes.

"Is something wrong, Remus?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes roaming over Remus' suddenly hardened features.

"What have you put in my tea?" he asked.

Dumbledore looked thoughtful for a moment before answering, "Why do you believe I have put something in your tea?"

He's deflecting.

I know, you great mutt. Shut up.

"You aren't having any."

"I find this time in the evening, it is best to keep away from tea. An old man's heart can only handle so much these days, I'm afraid."

"What did you put in my tea, Albus?"

To Remus' irritation, Dumbledore had the nerve to look amused.

"I will not further insult your intelligence. While Hermione was with us, she had expressed the need of a memory potion, should she depart."

"You spiked my tea with memory potion." It wasn't a question. Remus knew before he asked what it was, what it had to be.

"You have ignored every attempt to invite you in to do this willingly, Remus. I must admit, I had hoped you would understand the reasoning that this is necessary."

"I understand perfectly fine, thank you." Remus growled.

"Then, it would seem, you understand that you must take the potion. To protect Hermione's future, and your future with her, by extension."

"I have no future with her."

"No, I do not think that you will be romantically involved in the future. However, to say you do not have a future with her whatsoever could be untrue. Therefore, it is imperative that you consume the potion. We must protect what little of the timeline that has remained untouched."

"Protect the timeline," Remus muttered. Before he could stop it, a mirthless puff of laughter fell from his lips and he nearly snarled. "She spent two years worried about the bloody timeline, and for what? She took my future from me when she left, but you can't take my past. You can't take away what I have left of her."

"I'm aware that this must be devastating. It is difficult to ask you to willingly remove the memory of a loved one—"

"She wasn't just a loved one!" Remus said. He stood up, the cup and saucer falling to the floor and shattering against the stone. "She wasn't just some passing bint I had a fling with! She was everything, and I won't let you take her from me."

"Remus—"

"No." Remus said, holding up a hand as if it would stop Dumbledore's words from hitting his ears. "You won't help me get her back, fine. I'll find—"

"Get her back?" Dumbledore interrupted with an even tone. "How do you mean?"

"I mean," Remus dug into his pocket and held up the amulet. "I want to know how this works. I want her here! She was going to stay, she was going to live here with us, and I want to know how to work this damn thing!"

"Hand me the stone, Remus."

Remus scoffed, "No. You can't take her away from me! She's all I have—I won't let you!"

"You could be putting everyone you know in danger."

"THERE'S NO ONE LEFT!" Remus shouted, bits of spit flying from his mouth.

"There is a host of people who—"

"She didn't trust you," Remus spat. "I know she didn't. She wouldn't tell me why, but I know she thought you were—were duplicitous!"

"Remus," Dumbledore said, his patient tone wearing thin.

"You can feed that bloody potion to everyone else, but not to me. I deserve to keep her! I've lost everything for this war—for you! You owe me, Albus!"

With that, Remus turned on his heel and stormed out of the office, slamming the door shut behind him. As he made his way down the stairs he made up his mind. Snape. He would go to Snape and fucking beg if he had to; but, he had to know how to work this damn amulet. He was a Death Eater! Reformed or not, he had a wealth of knowledge on strange Dark Artifacts.

Remus shoved past the throng of students emerging from the Great Hall and making their way back to their dormitories. He heard a few kids shout as he bustled past them, his elbows slamming into the shoulders of eleven year old Hufflepuffs. He sped down the stairs that led to the dungeons, ignoring the ache in his hips and knees. When the door to the potions classroom came into sight, he pushed it open, bursting into the room.

Snape sat behind his desk, two students on the floor, scrubbing out cauldrons with a manky old scrub brush.

"Sni-Severus," Remus said. "I need to speak to you."

Snape looked up from his stack of parchments and quirked an eyebrow in his direction. "It is considered common courtesy, Lupin, to send an owl with a request for a meeting before arriving."

"It's about Hermione," Remus said, desperately.

"While I'm sure that you have a very good reason to interrupt me while I am working," Snape motioned to the students who had stopped scrubbing to stare at Remus, open mouthed. "I am not overly fond of the idea of helping you with anything, regardless of who or what it is about."

He took the potion, Remus thought.

Of course he did, you fucking nitwit.

"Out," Remus said to the two students. "Get out."

"Don't move," Snape hissed at them.

The two boys stared between Snape and Remus, looking back and forth between them, unsure what to do.

"Fine," Remus spat, moving further into the room. He held up the necklace, the stone swaying on the chain, glittering as it caught the low lighting. "This is a time amulet from the Black family vaults. You're going to tell me how it works."

The two students' mouths dropped further open as their eyes moved to the swinging gold stone held between Remus' fingers. Snape narrowed his eyes at Remus before standing up and straightening his robes over his chest.

"Get out," he hissed at the students. "You will return tomorrow at seven in the evening to finish."

They nodded and sped past Remus, a look of shocked confusion donning both of their faces. When the door snapped shut, Remus rushed closer to the desk.

"Have you seen it? Do you know how to work it? I know it takes a blood sacrifice, every thirty days or so, I've seen the ritual happen a few times. But, I don't—"

"Why do you have a precious stone from an ancient family's vault?" Snape asked.

"It was Hermione's."

"That provides little context."

Remus huffed in frustration, "Look, can you tell me how it works, or not? I need to get her back here."

"Contrary to what you and your friends may have believed, I do not know everything about the Dark Arts. This amulet is extremely rare."

"I know it is!"

"Then it would be in your best interest to speak to the person who's vault you stole—"

"I didn't steal it!"

Snape narrowed his eyes at Remus again, "I would imagine your useless traitor of a friend would know how to work it. Apparently he was well versed in the Dark Arts."

A chill ran through Remus at the thought to Sirius and he pushed it away. "You know that's not possible."

"I can not help you."

"Can't or won't?"

A sickening smile twisted up on Snape's lips, "Both."

Remus clenched his jaw and sucked at his teeth, nodding. "I don't know why I bothered."

a/n: Oof.

Another emotional chapter.

I promise, there is light at the end of tunnel, but Remus has to work through some shit first.

Also, if you didn't know, This story has been nominated and made it through to the final round of the Granger Enchanted awards on FB. It's up for best Time Travel and one of the very few non-dramione stories on there. If you're on my FB group (mimifreed writing) or the Granger Enchanted Survivors (18+) group, PLEASE go vote.

You have until 4/27 (a week from today) to get your votes in!

I love you all!

xoxo

Mimi