DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the content referenced/quoted. Warning for swearing.
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The Return
Remus returns to Hogsmeade on a cold rainy night. He stumbles onto a cobblestone street, his body aching with exhaustion. The moon hangs low in the sky, barely a crescent, looming over him, mocking him. The rain is light but cold, and he tries not to groan as it trails down his spine, spilling in through the gap in the neck of his shirt. When was the last time he showered? He's not sure.
The street is quiet, so it must be late or maybe very early. He doesn't know; Remus lost all sense of time a few months ago.
He staggers forward. He slips on the wet cobblestones and tries to piece together his mind. He knows why he decided to Apparate to this street, it is safe. The flats are cobbled tightly together, some over little ancient-looking shops. A few lights shine warmly through the rain and he shivers.
This street is safe. He just can't quite remember why.
His feet do though, and they lead him down the windy roads and around forgotten corners until he finds himself standing outside a plain blue door.
In his hand is a set of keys and they fit perfectly into the little lock. The door opens easily and he steps inside. A blast of warm air greets him and he sighs, the tension in his body seeping away. In front of him is a narrow staircase. He takes a step and then pauses. He sniffs the air, resumes his ascent until he reaches another door. He doesn't hesitate before pushing this one open.
He lurches to a stop. For there it is, the scent that dogs his every step, that fills his dreams, his daytime delusions.
Oranges, sweet but sharp.
He stills as a murmur comes from the darkness, and a lamp suddenly turns on. He recoils, blinking hard against the harsh onslaught of light.
"Remus?" The words are quiet, confused. He turns to see a small woman at the other end of the hall, dressed in oversized pyjamas with her hair mussed. Em. And suddenly, he wants to cry.
So he does.
He tumbles to the floor, his knees crashing against the carpet as sobs start to rack his thin form.
After a moment, small warm arms wrap tightly around him. One hand goes to his hair, the other to his back where it moves in comforting circles. He is trembling, his grip tight on the small woman. He clings to her like she is a life raft.
Em, Em, Em, he thinks. Home, home home.