Chapter 89: Friday, February 26, 1982

"It is hopelessness, even more than pain, that crushes the soul."

-William Styron

There had to be something somewhere in Britain that could tell Remus how to work the amulet. But, if there was, he hadn't found it. He had scoured the books he had on the Dark Arts, searching through them for anything that might give him a lead. When he'd left Hogwarts after his meeting with Dumbledore, he'd gone straight to Flourish and Blotts and purchased a couple of volumes that seemed promising. It had cost him meals for two days, but if there was anything of use in them, it would be worth it.

Now, he was still without answers and hungry.

Remus, during his Hogwarts years, had been known to be more than a little obsessive when his mind caught wind of something he couldn't readily understand. Much of his life had been bad circumstances and things so far out of his control there was nothing to do but accept it. So, when it came to the questions he could do something about, things that actually had answers, he made it his duty to find them.

It was a personality quirk Hermione shared with him and understood about him—his need to research, to understand, to make sense of something that seemed, frankly, nonsensical.

Which was why Remus wanted to kick himself for not exhausting every resource at his disposal. Snape, the slimy git, had said that a Black might know about the amulet, given it was from their family vault. Talking to Sirius was off the table—even if Remus had considered it while heavily intoxicated.

He, instead, wrote to Andromeda. She was Sirius' cousin, after all, and if anyone would know about Black family heirlooms and be willing to talk to a werewolf, it would be her.

Remus knocked back the remaining dregs of tea in the bottom of his mug and weaved his fingers together, stretching them out before him. His hands were cramped from scratching notes about time related magic onto the parchments strewn over the table. He got up to tend to his growling stomach, grabbing the last of the remaining bread to toast.

He stared out the dusty window over the sink, his eyes straining to see out into the dark. It was nearing dawn, he could just see the first signs of sunlight peeking through the trees in the distance, and he wondered if he'd ever be able to sleep again. The nights were the hardest. In a moment of weakness about a week ago, Remus had gone back to the cottage he shared with Hermione and found himself taking one of the shirts from the hamper in the corner. It was his shirt, but it smelled like her.

A loud, yellow colour, it was one his mum had bought him around his sixteenth birthday—a cartoon redrawing of the Seargent Peppers album cover on the front. It was worn in, with a hole in the right armpit and torn seams at the hem. For whatever reason, Hermione had loved it. She wore it to bed nearly every night and often she would laze about the house in nothing but the tee shirt and a pair of knickers.

But, he had finally managed a few hours sleep, holding the shirt pressed close to his face. He knew how it must look—a grown, nearly twenty two year old man weeping into a silly old scrap of cloth every night. He was thankful to be by himself now. He wasn't sure he could take the jabs to his mental stability that would come should someone walk in. Remus could only imagine the conclusions one would come to upon seeing the state of the cabin and finding him curled up on the couch, clutching onto an article of clothing like it was the rarest of jewels.

It would be a sad scene for anyone to stumble across, he could admit.

As if it were calling to him, he walked over to the couch and plucked it up from where it laid. He held it to his face and inhaled, her scent fading away with every passing day. He was terrified of what would happen when the day came that he could no longer smell her coconut hair products and jasmine and vanilla soap that had seeped into the fabric. Remus knew he didn't have it in him to make another trip to the cottage.

Pathetic.

Remus groaned out loud and grit his teeth. Shut up and leave me alone.

Quit pissing about and find her, then!

I'm trying.

Not enough.

He sighed and dropped the balled up cotton from his nose, setting it back near the lumpy pillow where he laid his head at night. "I'm trying," he said aloud, to no one.

Remus' eyes fluttered open, a mess of curls tickling his nose. He sighed, content, as his arms tightened around the weight cradled in them. Hermione burrowed into his chest, her nose against his sternum, her lips slightly parted as she slept.

Her arms were folded between them, her hands clasped in unconscious prayer. Fuck, she is so beautiful, he thought.

The way the golden light of five in the morning shone against her olive-tan skin would always be breathtaking to him. This early morning hour had always been his favourite. After he had been infected, it was the reprieve of transformation, when his body and mind was finally his own again. He felt safe in the five a.m. light.

The sun always meant the promise that the pain had passed.

Now, the early hour's glow highlighted the only thing he held dear—the only thing that mattered in the world. It hadn't been but a few months since she had fallen into his life and then opened her home to him. He had been enamoured from the second she entered the dining room at Dorcas' house. Remus never felt stupid, but for some reason when Hermione was near him, it was like his brain worked at half capacity.

He was blinded by her.

"You're staring," she mumbled, her breath hot against his chest.

"You're supposed to be asleep," he said.

"So are you."

He huffed a laugh into her hair, his breath stirring the few errant strands. She shifted and looked up at him, tired eyes questioning.

"Do you make it a habit of watching me sleep? Some people would find that odd."

"Do you?"

She shimmied closer to him, pressing a kiss to his chest. "No."

He rubbed circles into the warm skin of her lower back. In a few short moments, her breathing evened out again, her body relaxing against his. It was in this moment he knew he was done for. He felt his heart hammering in his chest as a very complicated, very off-limits four letter word bounced around his mind. It was too soon, he knew that. Far too soon to confess his feelings, to make a fool of himself and admit that he wanted nothing more than to be with her every moment of every day. That he wanted to grow old with her, and father children with her, and spend every second of his life consumed by her.

Hermione made him want things he never thought he could have. She made him believe he could. Her reassuring smile accompanied by the determined words that she used to try and prove to him that he could have anything he wanted. He wanted only for one thing, though. And, although he knew she could never reciprocate it, knew she didn't have the option to invest in those emotions with limited time, he wanted only to tell her he loved her.

Tell her he loved her.

Tell her...

Remus blinked his heavy eyes open and stared up at the ceiling of the cabin in Yorkshire. The dreams had come, more often than not, in the form of nightmares. Something like this, a slow, sweet memory of holding her in his arms was almost worse than the terrors that plagued his subconscious of the night he found out she had gone. Worse than the night James and Lily had…

He jolted when he heard a loud tapping coming from the kitchen and pulled himself up off the couch. The bird looked fierce and angry, as if it had been trying to get his attention for quite some time. Remus unlatched the window, shivering as the cold air blew in from outside. He took the scroll from the owl, hissing an obscenity under his breath when it nipped at his fingers, and opened up the letter.

Remus,

I would be pleased to meet with you today, if you are able. I will be in the shop on Diagon this afternoon, should you choose to drop by.

Hope all is well,

Andromeda

He sighed in relief. Finally, he might get an answer.

The bell above the shop door chimed as Remus walked through it and his eyes scanned the room. He hadn't been back to the shop since the attack, and he suddenly felt very guilty for not coming by sooner to check on things.

"Andie said you may be dropping in," Ted's voice came from somewhere to the far left. His head popped up from behind a bookcase and he offered a smile. "Good to see you, Remus."

"You too," Remus said with a tight smile.

Ted stepped out from the corner he'd been in, organizing a large heap of books. His cheery smile faltered a bit as he approached. "You been okay? Taking care of yourself?"

Remus almost laughed. He had put very little effort into his appearance before coming, but still it was more than he had done in months. At least he showered and shaved.

"Yeah. I'm all right. And you-you guys are good?"

Ted beamed again, the light returning to his eyes, "Oh, we're getting along okay. Getting the shop put back together finally. It'll be nice to not have to worry about it getting blown up again. Not sure if we could afford the repairs a third time."

Remus let out a dry laugh, "I imagine it's not cost effective."

"Too right!" Ted chuckled, "Andie is just up the stairs, if you'd like to go on up! She's just sent Dora off to spend the afternoon with my mum."

"Great. Thanks, Ted."

Remus made his way up, grimacing at the crunchy feeling in his left knee. The moons had gotten harder than they had been in years, leaving behind a myriad of issues afterward that were somehow worse than the roadmap of new scars present. His knees hurt the more he moved, his back ached all the time, and there was a crick in his neck that hadn't gone away for two months. He was fairly certain he had cracked a rib on the last full moon and when he got to the top of the stairs, his breathing was laboured and painful enough to remind him of it.

Andromeda was seated in a delicate looking wingback chair. It didn't look very comfortable, in Remus' opinion, but she seemed perfectly content as she flipped through a magazine. He cleared his throat, trying not to startle her.

"Oh, Remus!" Andromeda said. Her face looked tired, but then again, so did his. "Come in, have a seat. Tea?"

"Please," Remus hummed, pleasantly surprised to find that the chairs were far more padded than they looked. "Thank you for inviting me."

"I would have just responded by owl," she waved her wand to prepare tea from the tray that sat between them. "But, to be honest, your letter was a bit...cryptic. I thought maybe it would be best that we speak in person."

Remus nodded, "Probably, yeah."

"Biscuit?" Andromeda nudged the tin toward him.

"Thanks," he mumbled, plucking a small, chocolate biscuit from the container.

"They're nowhere near as good as yours. But, Ted's mum makes them decent enough."

Remus smiled politely and bit into the treat, more for something to do. He felt a bit smug at the thought that she had been right, his were better, but he shoved it aside and nibbled on it anyway. It wasn't as if he could afford to be picky when it came to free food, even if they were slightly over baked biscuits with a touch too much flour added.

The silence between them was not uncomfortable, but Remus still felt awkward. The chair was a bit too small for him to really sit comfortably, and he didn't want to take up more space than necessary by stretching his long legs out before him.

"Shame about the Longbottoms, isn't it?" Andromeda whispered.

"Frank and Alice?" Remus asked, looking up from his hands to meet her gaze.

She nodded, "You didn't hear?"

"Hear what?"

The kind smile that had been pasted to her lips since the moment he announced himself fell. Her dark brows drew together and the exhaustion became more apparent. "Perhaps something a bit stronger than tea," she suggested, getting up to cross the room.

Remus stared down into the steaming cup he had barely sipped from, wondering what the hell could have happened to Frank and Alice. He hadn't heard anything from anyone. But, then again, it wasn't as if he had gone to any of the meetings that had been called. In fact, he had made it his duty to dispose of the letters he received from Dumbledore before he even opened them, most of the time.

"Elf wine," Andromeda said, handing a glass of blood-red liquid to Remus. "Haven't got any Firewhisky left, I'm afraid."

"That's okay," he said, accepting the glass from her shaking fingers. "What's happened?"

"Frank and Alice are in St. Mungo's."

Remus' eyes went wide and he coughed on the inhale he took with a mouthful of wine. He beat his hand against his chest a few times, waving off Andromeda's apologies. "I'm fine. I'm fine. I should go visit them when they get home, I haven't seen them since…"

He didn't need to say that he hadn't seen them since James and Lily's funeral. He hadn't seen anyone since then, and he assumed she knew what he meant.

"They won't be getting out, I'm afraid." Andromeda reluctantly replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She drained the wine in her glass and summoned the bottle from the counter, pouring much more than the usual dinner amount and leaning over to top off Remus'. "They're permanent residents in the Janus Thickey ward now."

"Permanent...? What happened?"

She sighed, "Bellatrix."

Something sickening and acidic burned in his stomach. "I don't—"

"She tortured them. So long that their minds have completely gone. They'll never be the same again. I don't think they'll be able to even talk coherently," Andromeda cleared her throat and sniffled, taking a long drink from her glass before she continued. "Bellatrix is in Azkaban now, though. Where she belongs."

"What about their son?" Remus asked, unable to think of anything else to say.

"Augusta—you remember Frank's mum—took him."

"Poor Neville," Remus said, his throat constricting around the words.

Had he been so wrapped up in his own grief he had forgotten that dangers still lurked? Hermione had warned them that Voldemort was not the only one to fear—the only one with power on their side. Remus had allowed himself to be so consumed by his own suffering, his own losses, that he had completely neglected his duties as a member of the Order of the Phoenix. He felt sick. He drained the rest of his wine, silently wishing he had more in his glass.

"You said in your letter you had something to talk to me about," Andromeda stiffly stated, blessedly changing the subject and pulling Remus from the grip his thoughts had on him.

"Oh, yes," He shifted in the seat, stretching out one long leg to dig into his pocket. His fingers wrapped around the necklace and he pulled it out. "I need to ask first—do you remember Hermione?"

Andromeda's face pinched in thought and she slowly shook her head. "No, the name doesn't ring a bell. Was she part of the Order before Ted and I joined?"

Remus sighed, "Kind of."

Dumbledore must have given that memory potion to everyone in the Order. Hermione told Remus they were making this potion, he knew she had been planning to make sure everyone took it. But, to think that no one else remembered her…

Of course, they all thought he was devastated by the loss of James, Lily, and Peter—by Sirius' betrayal. And, obviously, he was. More often than not he found himself thinking of something he'd like to tell one of his friends. But, it was more than that. He had lost his family and the only person he had ever loved so wholly, he thought it'd kill him. And now, no one even remembered she even existed.

Remus swallowed and held out his hand, showing the gold stone that sat in his palm. "Do you know how to—"

"Where did you get this?" Andromeda hissed, her voice suddenly fierce, completely void of all pleasantries.

"It's complicated."

"Uncomplicate it then."

Remus sighed, "Hermione came here on 31st October 1979…"

Over an hour later, Remus had explained what he could of Hermione's existence in his life. He tried to make it sound objective, as if he needed her to return to help him with some mission or assignment. Which would have worked, had the Order not been disbanded weeks ago. He cursed himself for throwing away the letters Dumbledore had sent him. Andromeda seemed at a loss for words and particularly frustrated with him when he couldn't explain exactly how Hermione had come to possess the amulet. All she had told Remus was a friend had given it to her to use, but who that friend was, he was unsure.

"So, do you know how it works?" Remus asked, tentatively.

"Yes."

"Can you tell me?"

"I can."

"Will you?" Remus pressed, knowing how desperate his voice sounded. "I don't expect you to help me bring her back, if you can just tell me how it works I can—"

Andromeda held a hand up as if to stop his words from falling past his lips. "You have interfered with the timeline enough, don't you think?"

His throat went dry and he felt enraged. Everyone was so concerned about the bloody timeline, and he understood—truly he did—but he had to see her again. If even just to say goodbye. Didn't anyone understand that? Hadn't he been robbed of enough? Hadn't he been the subject of enough pain and heartache and grief in the last four months? Fuck. He couldn't breathe. He felt the throb in his chest swell up to his throat and tighten, holding his windpipe in a vice grip.

Calm down, you twat.

Oh for fuck's sake.

Look at her. You're scaring her. She'll help if you stop acting so fucking ridiculous.

Remus took a slow breath in through his nose, trying to steady himself. He closed his eyes and counted to ten before opening them back up to look at Andromed.

"I know how it sounds," Remus finally muttered, his voice hoarse. "I know the timeline has to remain protected. But...Andie, I've lost everyone."

He hadn't meant to say it. He had meant to beg her, to convince her to see reason. Instead, his traitorous tongue pushed through the most pathetic sounding thing it could. It wasn't a lie. He had lost everyone...everyone except his father, but his father had checked out shortly after his mum died. He was just as lost as Remus and his only words of comfort were to suggest a strong calming draught when things got too hard. That stupid voice that occupied his brain was right. He was ridiculous, and pathetic—

And a twat.

He held back the urge to laugh at the supplied insult from Moony, not wanting to look anymore like a nutter than he was sure he already did.

"I just want to say goodbye, Andie. I deserve to tell her."

"I'm sorry, Remus."

He grimaced, nodding slowly to himself at the reality of the situation. Another dead end. So he stood, sniffling as his eyes began to burn and itch. "Well, then that's that..but thanks for the biscuits and tea."

.

.

a/n: I promise there is a reunion happening soon. I promise. I love you.

xoxo

mimi