Author's Note:  FF.N's back up (hopefully for good, this time) and I can't wait to look and see what everyone else has written in the downtime, here's some of what I did.  Disclaimers?  Oh, all right, I don't own them and you know it!  Reviews are always welcome, along with constructive criticism and suggestions.

Chapter Four:  Sam

Remus sat up.  Groaning, he searched for a clock. 3 am.  Scrubbing his hand across his face, he decided that this was not really the most comfortable way to spend a night—sleeping in your clothes on a sofa—but he'd had less comfortable beds.  His head was pounding; the promised headache had arrived in full force.  Deciding that maybe a glass of milk would help—or possibly a stiff drink, he thought wryly—he headed for the kitchen.

It had been a night of unsettling revelations, not the least of which had been Sosia, and her fiancée, he reminded himself.  That had been a shock; although looking back on it, he probably should have been prepared for a husband and children. 

Remus had been uncomfortably aware of the looks Sam had been shooting at him all evening, from the moment he walked into the living room.  Looks that any intelligent man might give a strange man who absconds with your fiancée, removing her from her place of work and then ending up alone in her house together. 

"Renee called and said your brother had shown up out of the blue and she'd let you go for the night."  To his credit he had been obvious in his curiosity.

"So that's why she let me off so easily.  No, Remus here is only an old friend of the family.  He's brought me some family news, it's a long story."  She ended rather lamely, trying to avoid the issue.

"I've got time, is there anymore tea?"  Sam was not one to be sidestepped easily, Remus had to give him that.

Sighing, Sosia moved to fetch more tea, "No, it's all right.  Here, give me your cups."  And Sam left them alone in the living room.  Remus had a feeling it was a deliberate move.

Leaning towards Sosia, "does he know?"  His low tone was more accusatory than he had intended.

"What?   That my brother is an unjustly convicted mass-murderer on the lam?  That I'm a witch? Or that owls aren't really indoor pets?"

"Don't be snide, that you're a witch of course."

"No.  It's not exactly something that comes up in everyday conversation.  Besides, I haven't done any magic in almost thirteen years; well almost none."  She amended nervously.  "What am I going to tell him?" 

"That, fortunately, is not my problem."  Remus was feeling uncharacteristically muleish, and didn't particularly feel like examining the precise reasons why.  He had a feeling he didn't really want to know.

"Why did Dumbledore send you?  Did he send you to find me, or is there someone else you were supposed to meet?" 

"You know, I'm not entirely sure."  Remus stood up, concerned.  The thought had not even occurred to him, but Sosia might not be the person he was sent to contact.  'If I was there to meet someone else, I've really screwed up."  He began to pace as Sam returned to the living room, the cups of tea in his hands.

"So, figured out what you're going to tell me?  And will it be the truth?"

"No."  Remus replied shortly.

"Remus!"  Sosia snapped.

No to which question?"  He inquired calmly, ignoring Sosia's interjection.

"At the moment, both."  Remus swung around to face Sosia, "May I borrow Ptolemy?  And some paper?"

"Of course."  Glancing fretfully at Sam, Sosia led Remus to a small library, gestured towards the desk and said, "Just launch Ptolemy from the back garden, or I'll have the RSPCA on my case."

"Yes, yes.  Go back and calm down what's-his-face."  He moved towards the desk picking up paper and a pen, grateful to Lily for showing him how to use the odd things all those years ago.

"Sam." She replied remonstratively, and she left him to his writing.

Remus stared at the blank page for a moment, wondering how to explain what had happened to Dumbledore.  What if Sosia wasn't who he had been sent to meet?  What if he had missed an important contact because of his distraction?  Shaking his head, he put pen to paper.  The only way to find out was to ask.  After several revisions, he got the gist of the day's events down in a form he was satisfied with.

Professor Dumbledore,

I went to the park as you directed.  While there I found Sosia Black.  Is she who you sent me to meet?  If not, I am very sorry, but I have missed your contact completely.  Please send further instructions as I am at a complete loss.

Remus Lupin

Short and to the point.  Sitting back, he surveyed the library.  Not a magical text to be seen.  Not that he was surprised; she left all her books behind when she had run off.  But her trunk, her Hogwarts trunk, rested against the wall on the far side of the room.  Remus got up and walked over to it.  Wistfully, he ran his hand along the lid of the battered old trunk and, after a fierce inner debate, he resisted opening it to see what it might contain.

Glancing at the clock, Remus realized it had taken him quite a while to compose his brief letter.  He'd better send Ptolemy off now, if he wanted an answer by morning.  Meanwhile, where would he stay?  He doubted Sam would be amenable to his staying here, so he had to figure out where to go.  He hadn't planned this out at all; but then, he hadn't planned on seeing her again.

Out in the hall, he attached his note to Ptolemy, who was fluffing up excitedly.  "I'll bet you haven't been on a delivery in a long time, have you?  Well, this one goes to Dumbledore and quickly, please."  Remus said, as he carried the owl to the backdoor.  Ptolemy ruffled his feathers and nipped his ear.  "Alright, I know you're always quick, sorry."  Opening the door, he launched Ptolemy from his arm and watched him fly off into the evening sky. 

Surveying the back garden, he smiled at the sight of peonies and a pretty little pond.  There was an old-fashioned kissing bench beside the pond, the kind with two opposite facing seats attached to one another, it reminded him of a similar bench that had stood in the her parents' garden.  He still recalled the summer between his sixth and seventh years, when they had all had their pictures taken sitting in it.  James and Lily first of course, looking positively besotted in the depths of new love.  Next, Peter and his mother, who was visiting the Blacks after the death of her husband--Peter's idea, a way to distract his mother's mind.  Sirius and Sosia after that, looking very much like two versions from one mold as they glanced mischievously at one another. 

Then, as a joke, Sirius had insisted that Remus and Sosia have their picture taken.  He had protested of course, but such protests always fell on deaf ears when directed at a Sirius Black with an idea.  So, eventually, they had sat for their picture.  He still remembered the funny swoop his stomach had done when he'd looked in her eyes and seen for the first time a glimmer of something that might be more than friendship.   Sighing, he shook his head, banishing the memories.  Even then he'd known it was never to be, he was what he was and he wouldn't inflict that upon anyone, least of all some one he loved.  It had taken him a long time, but he had finally accepted that.

He closed the door firmly, just as raised voices met him from the direction of the front room.

"This is not in the least bit amusing, Sosia.  If you don't want to tell me what's going on, all you have to do is tell me it's none of my business."

"Do I sound to you like I'm trying to be amusing?"  She sounded irritated; Remus paused at the doorway, out of sight.

"Fine, if this isn't for amusement, then prove what you say.  Do some magic, produce a wand, turn into a bat, do something.  Make me believe it."  The skepticism in his voice was evident.

An exasperated sigh, and " I don't have a wand, not anymore.  And it takes years of study to become an Animagus, and even then you can't choose your animal form."

"You're avoiding the issue.  If you really are a witch, prove it."

Author's Note (part two):  If you have no idea what a kissing bench looks like, here's a picture--Kissing (courtship) Bench