My version of what happened runs along these lines: the Marauders split up just before the Fidelius. James and Peter went into hiding, and Sirius left to send the Death Eaters on a wild goose chase across Europe. Remus was sent away on suspicion of being a traitor, although that's probably not what they told him. He received news of James' and Lily's deaths and Sirius' arrest late, and returned to London only after everything was over. After that, he was more or less forced to relief-teach DaDA at Hogwarts for approximately half a year so that Dumbledore could keep an eye on his protégé and make sure he didn't commit suicide or anything. This story goes on from there.
Finished 14/07/2002
A Clean Break
"... the numbers of werewolves in Europe were greatly reduced in the 18th and 19th century, and it is now believed that the last werewolf packs exist now only in the forests of Eastern Europe.
It is also the general opinion of most experts that the English werewolves are completely extinct, but there has been some evidence pointing to the presence of at least three werewolves in Great Britain, based on a number of group sightings and farm thefts too crude too have been executed by humans and too clever to have been perpetrated by real animals..."
Remus Lupin paused, and then ticked twice against the paragraph in swift quill strokes.
"... There were, in fact, a number of recent sightings of a werewolf around the Hogwarts grounds, mostly in the Forbidden Forest, and once in the Hogsmeade area. Descriptions agree that this was a large male with ash-blond fur verging on brown, and so it seems quite possible that this particular werewolf is very much a real one.
However, few reliable accounts were obtained after some years, and it is assumed that this werewolf, if he did indeed exist, has since moved on..."
Remus almost smiled, instinctively reaching up with his free hand to flick stray strands of hair out of his face. Ash-blond, verging on brown. But perhaps a little more silver, now.
He added ticks to this paragraph, too. Remus was quite aware of how suicidal it was to instruct his students on how to identify werewolves, but for as long as he kept this position, he would be obliged to teach the subject and teach it well.
He traced his quill across the margin gently as he went on reading: "… During the height of Voldemort's power, it was greatly feared that he would bring the entire pantheon of Dark Creatures back into England. However, this never happened, and if there were any plans to do so, they were halted by the unexpected fall of the Dark Lord…"
Remus' quill stopped.
Presently he lifted his hand and stared at the spreading patch of green ink. He'd already managed to stain his own sleeve. "Oh, damn. "
Too late.
Remus sat back in his chair, covering his eyes with the crook of his elbow. This is ridiculous, you understand? It's been half a year.
People took care not to mention certain names in front of him, not to appear too happy about certain news, and especially not to speak too righteously against a certain someone.
Remus was aware of all of this. It made him sick to his stomach.
Well, you're one to talk.
Which was true. He still couldn't separate the idea that Voldemort was gone from the fact that James was, too. And Lily, and Peter.
I never got to see any of them again. Not even Harry. They fostered him out before I came back.
It's as if half my life never happened.
He realised, with some surprise, that he'd skipped across the subject of Sirius entirely. It had hardly taken any effort at all. Remus still preferred to think of him as dead. It was easier than the alternative.
I suppose it had to happen, sometime. I couldn't have stopped there forever, after all.
There was a soft knock on his office door. Remus uncovered his face and straightened up. "Yes?"
Professor Dumbledore stepped in. Remus saw his gaze sweep over his desk, resting just a moment too long on the stained essay. "I do hope I'm not interrupting."
Albus Dumbledore was a good man. It meant that people were inclined to be polite to him, simply because he seemed to believe that you would. Interestingly enough, it worked. Remus ran one hand through his hair as he stood. "No, sir." He paused, and then turned to pick up a blotter, dropping it casually over the essay. "You wanted a word?"
Dumbledore waved one hand absently. "Do sit down, Remus."
It was Remus' own office. Nevertheless, he heard himself say, "Thank you, sir."
"You look a little under the weather."
Remus glanced at the calendar on his desk. "I'm all right."
Professor Dumbledore seated himself on the other side of the desk, resting his elbows on the edge. Remus watched him steeple his fingers. "Remus – "
The last time Remus had seen Dumbledore even vaguely uneasy was when he'd given him the news about James. "Sir?"
Dumbledore's eyes traced another sweep over his desk. This time they focused on the little stack of letters in one corner.
"Job offers," Remus supplied.
"I suppose I couldn't persuade you to stay?"
Remus shrugged. "No, sir."
Dumbledore paused and changed the topic. "We – that is, the Ministry – have been looking through Sirius Black's will."
Remus spoke a little too quickly. "He's not dead, sir." But as good as.
"We have discovered that life imprisonment in Azkaban often amounts to the same thing," Dumbledore said, delicately. He waited for Remus to reply. He didn't. Dumbledore continued speaking. "Sirius had a Muggle apartment, and his will was made via a Muggle lawyer." He paused. "As a result, the law has taken an interest in his disappearance, and the course which requires the least magic is – " He shrugged.
"I see."
"He stated that he should leave everything he owned to James, Peter, and you."
Spite.
Remus was surprised at himself. A few months ago the same news might have given him reason to hope. Now the only thing he could think of was spite.
"I don't want any of his things."
"But perhaps a look – ?"
"No. "
Dumbledore smiled the smile of the mildly tolerant. "I'll give you a little time to think it over."
Remus opened his mouth. And then he closed it again. "Yes, sir," he finally said.
.
Remus stared at the polished wooden door of the apartment while the lawyer dug in his pocket for the keys.
"Ah, here we are." He turned the key with a click. "Shall I come back in… half an hour's time?"
"All right."
Remus stepped into the apartment. He'd been present at the reading of the will.
"… I, Sirius Black, hereby declare that, in the unfortunate event of my own death, all that I own should be divided equally among James Potter, Peter Pettigrew, and Remus J. Lupin."
The apartment was clean. Which was almost funny, considering that Sirius was a born bachelor. Remus hadn't visited him often, but when he had he'd generally found himself practically having to wade through the living room.
Now his footfalls echoed on the parquet floor.
Remus stopped in the centre of the living room and looked around. Sirius kept his old Quidditch broom in a display case. And his Beater's bat, broken in two but painstakingly glued back together.
The ghost of a smile played across Remus' lips. The bat had been school property. Sirius had broken it on purpose, so that he'd get to keep it for posterity.
"And when I say everything, I mean everything. The house, the files, the motorcycle, the photographs…"
Photographs. There weren't any.
Sirius had believed in photographs. Even Remus had folders full of the things, but Sirius kept veritable archives. They've got to be somewhere.
Remus opened the door to the bedroom. There was dust on the window.
"… everything. I have full confidence that there will be no petty arguments."
The same mental voice that had haunted him since yesterday spoke. Of course. Because I'm the only one left.
The desk was completely empty. Remus hesitated a little, then opened the closet doors. There were still clothes hanging in it. So he wasn't sure. He thought he might get to come back.
And he would, wouldn't he? If he was working for Voldemort? Sirius hadn't counted on Lily and Harry…
Remus glared at the desk. He remembered the photographs on it. He slid open each drawer in turn, carefully. In one there was nothing but the general debris of crumpled paper, paperclips, a couple of keys, a single pen and pencil, and a number of quills and a bottle of ink tucked in the back. The second held fresh parchment. The third was locked.
Remus tried the keys he'd found in the first drawer. The lock clicked open on the second try.
Oh.
The photographs, still in their frames, were arranged neatly in the drawer. Remus sorted them out on the desk, then sat in a chair and glared at them.
He kept them away.
He didn't know what to make of that.
Remus' gaze was dragged to the fourth drawer. He tugged at it, expecting it to be locked, but it came open easily. There was nothing but a slim volume in it. He picked it up and flicked it open. A journal.
His fingers brushed the edges of the pages absently. I could flip to the back. And then I could find out, once and for all.
Only, of course, he didn't know what he was going to find out, although he could make a pretty good guess – Remus stared at the photographs again – and he wasn't even certain if staying ignorant might not be a good thing.
Remus bit his lip in thought. And again, all he could do was look at the arranged photographs, a dozen copies of himself and James and Sirius and Peter, laughing and waving.
And then he replaced the journal and the photographs, very carefully, and was surprised when he found himself starting to cry.
The lawyer had a faint glazed look in his eyes when he returned accompanied by Professor Dumbledore. They found Remus standing by the door, perfectly composed. "I hope you haven't been waiting long."
"No, sir." Remus dropped the keys into Dumbledore's palm. "Sell what can be sold. Burn the rest. The money can go into Harry's trust fund."
Dumbledore raised one eyebrow. Remus shrugged, gently edged past him, and left.
.
Dumbledore looked up at him over his half-moon glasses, fingering the envelope. "What's this?"
Remus stood behind the chair. "My resignation, sir. Two weeks of notice."
"Oh?" Dumbledore sat back in his seat so that he could look at Remus properly. "I suppose I should have been expecting it."
Remus said nothing. Dumbledore reached under his desk. "A little farewell gift, then. From the faculty of Hogwarts." His hand came up with a suitcase of russet leather. "Here you go."
Remus stared. There were letters in one corner, emblazoned in gold. "Professor R. J. Lupin?"
"It is a teaching job you're taking, isn't it?" Dumbledore asked.
Remus knew better than to try to ask how he knew. "Yes, sir. "
Dumbledore smiled. "That's good, then. When are you leaving?"
"In two weeks' time. Switzerland."
"Ah. So that would be the little place in the Alps – Dorf, is it?"
Remus frowned. "Yes, sir."
"Do have fun, Remus."
"Yes, sir."
Remus left the office holding on the briefcase and feeling cheated. It would probably turn out that Dumbledore had been sending letters of recommendation around.
Nevertheless. That's it, then. I'm out of here. Somewhere where I can start over.
Finally.
.
Two weeks later Remus packed his things and prepared to leave the school.
He didn't own much. Most fitted in the case that Dumbledore had given him. The rest went into a bag he carried over one shoulder.
It was a school day and Remus was leaving during class time. Nevertheless, he met Severus Snape on the way out. "Hello."
Remus smiled. He'd seen the little card that had come with the briefcase. There'd been a number of signatures. Snape's had actually been among them, very small and in black. It exuded reluctance. Remus wondered how many people had had to breathe down Severus Snape's neck before he'd signed it.
Snape didn't bother with a greeting. "I hear you're leaving London."
Remus glanced down at his case. "It's frankly amazing, how fast news get around," he replied mildly.
Snape shrugged. "Good luck," he muttered, and shouldered past Remus.
"Thank you," Remus called after him. He picked up the case and went on.
And then he was out of the school, where a carriage was waiting. Remus paused and looked back at the school building for a moment, then swung his case up and stepped in.
The carriage started moving. Remus looked out of the window at the horizon, and smiled.
End
Notes:
I've noticed that Dumbledore bears a striking resemblance to Lord Vetinari of Pratchett's City Watch series. Don't ask me why.
Dorf is from The Solitaire Mystery, by Jostein Gaarder. Switzerland seemed as good a choice as any.
A note on what I think happened next: nothing. I don't think Remus fell in love with anyone, I really don't think he went around killing vampires, and I don't think anyone died. I don't think he deserves to have his world turned completely upside-down a second time.
I think, or hope, that he had twelve years' worth of peace and quiet.
I could be wrong. But I hope I'm not.