Shadowed Souls

Chapter 7.

If you haven't found the disclaimers yet, you're reading this story in a very odd way indeed *grins*.

A/N: Once again, chocolate tree decorations to all reviewers (and a chocolate elfie to Farewell).

I'm so, so sorry that I haven't posted in ages. First, I was kidnapped by the Elrond plot bunnies, then my muse decided to go on a Christmas holiday.

This was written in a hurry, as it's 22:15, and I have to be up at 3:30 tomorrow morning to catch a flight to Prague. Hopefully I'll come back with a new chapter as a Christmas present for you all.

Pie: Sorry I couldn't get this to you for beta-ing. Just not enough time. Uck, 3 in the morning should only be seen when you've been awake all night.

Farewell: Hee hee. I have another Elrond fic up: Desolation (self-promotion? Moi?). I'm also suffering from serious Hugo withdrawal due to not being able to see TTT until after Christmas.

Now, the fic…

"Nah, it has to be Cockroach Cluster. Just imagine the look on his ugly mug."

The clear, mischievous voice penetrated Remus' grim thoughts. Lifting his gaze from the contemplation of his meagre change, he saw Harry, Ron and Hermione standing only a few yards away.

"What has to be Cockroach Cluster?" he asked, amusement dancing across his face.

Harry spun around, then cried, "Professor Lupin."

Hermione and Ron followed him as he wandered over. The youngest Weasley boy grinned maliciously.

"We were trying to think of a Christmas present for Snape," he replied.

"Ah, yes," the werewolf chuckled. "As I am no longer your teacher, I can tell you that one year when I was at school, we tried to give him one of the young Mandrakes."

"You could have been seriously hurt," Hermione gasped, raising one hand to her mouth. Ron gave her a scornful look.

"What happened?" he inquired eagerly, hoping for useful tips on how to avoid the Potions test the following morning.

Remus pretended to sigh.

"Alas, the Herbology teacher saw us when we had to take the Cloak off to manoeuvre the Mandrake, and we never got to see what would happen."

Ron looked more than a little deflated at this outcome.

As they chattered, Remus became aware of the bitter cold of the wind which swept over the sea from the Arctic. Glancing down at his hands, he saw that the skin under his nails was white. Shifting his attention to Harry, he realised that the boy's lips were turning a vivid shade of blue. Remus cursed the Durselys for their arrogance and stupidity as he studied the thin lines of Harry's face, and the uncannily slender wrists.

Smiling gently, Remus said, "This cold is rather too much for me, I fear. Would you like to have tea?"

The trio nodded eagerly, glad for the invitation, although Ron mumbled that he would much prefer a Butterbeer, and they hurried off down the street.

Remus led them up a shadowy alley, and into his dingy flat. Closing the door behind him, shrugging off his threadbare cloak, he suddenly frowned at Harry, who merely gave him a questioning look.

"Should you be in Hogsmeade?" Remus asked in a grave voice.

"Why shouldn't I?" Harry responded lightly, but there was a steely note in his voice, and a mulish expression on his face.

"Harry," Remus said warningly. "You know that Voldemort" – Ron winced – "is searching for you, and that we have not identified all his supporters. Places like Hogsmeade could be very dangerous."

"That's what I said," Hermione interjected, but she was quelled by the look on her friends' faces.

"It's not any more dangerous than Hogwarts, with Malfoy slinking round all the time," Harry said quietly. "Anyway, Dumbledore hasn't stopped me yet, so I'm going to have fun while I've got some freedom left."

He forced a smile.

Once again, Remus was reminded of how different this child was from James, despite appearances. The sad sobriety, the weight of destiny in those green eyes ill-befitted a child. Silently, he damned Voldemort for placing such a heavy burden on the shoulders of Harry, of all that was left of James and Lily.

With a smile just as desperate as Harry's, he clasped one hand briefly on the boy's shoulder, and said, "Quite right. I must apologise."

With that, he set about the task of making tea.

Harry wandered curiously around the flat. Grey wallpaper peeled in uneven strips which hung from the dusty walls like wilted leaves in autumn. A long crack ran from the ancient carpet to the damp-ribbed ceiling. The furniture was sparse and battered, the curtains ragged. Books of every description, looking out of place in the dingy space, as if they were only a patina laid over the unrelenting poverty, crowded every available surface, piled on chairs and beneath them, stacked against the walls, heaped haphazardly in the middle of the room. The ceiling was so low that Remus and Ron had to duck their heads as they moved around. Over everything there hung an unmistakable pall of desolation.

Remus noticed Harry's look, and smiled wryly, pushing back a fleeting feeling of self-pity.

"Ah, I see you have noticed some of the more interesting … alterations made by previous inhabitants. It does remind me of the Shrieking Shack."

Harry blushed at being caught, and sat in silence as the older man gathered up tea things, boiling the kettle with one tap of his wand.

"And I believe it will be a Butterbeer for you, Ron?" he asked, with a hint of a sly smile flickering across his tired face. There were, after all, some advantages to being a werewolf, uncannily acute hearing among them.

Ron gaped like a fish until Hermione kicked his shin, then nodded mutely.

As they sipped their drinks, thawing out their fingers, Harry remembered something.

"Professor Lupin…"

"Please, call me Remus, as I no longer teach you."

"Well … Remus, um … did you know that Sirius is here?"

The werewolf stiffened, and, momentarily, something dark gleamed in his wistful grey eyes. His hand, reaching for the teapot, shook ever so slightly. When he spoke, his voice was monotonous, grim and controlled.

"Yes," he bit out. "I know."

Harry was surprised to here the distress in those harsh syllables, instead of the warmth he had expected.

"Did Dumbledore tell you he is here?"

"No," Remus hesitated. "No. I met him in the street."

"Really?" Harry brightened visibly at this news. "Was it recently? How is he? I haven't been able to speak to him for ages."

"I don't know how he is."

A very perceptive observer might have been able to discern a slight tremor in Remus' voice, a quiver as he avoided speaking Sirius' name.

"But why ever not?" burst out Ron.

Tea slopped from Remus' tightly grasped cup.

"It was not an appropriate time," he whispered almost inaudibly, gaze fixed on the flood of tea in his saucer, hair shading his eyes from scrutiny.

"But why?" asked Harry, confusion clearly written across his face.

"Naturally, he was in his Animagus form. I could not conduct a conversation with a dog in the middle of Hogsmeade."

"You could have brought him here," Ron exclaimed inopportunely.

Remus blinked back tears, praying that they would go unnoticed. He sat as he was for some time, his thoughts seeming to be mired in some impenetrable substance. Finally he cautiously replied, "Sirius and I are colleagues. There is no reason for him and me to have contact outside of our work. He would not wish to be here any more than I would wish to bring him here."

"But … him … you … my dad … you were all friends. What happened? WHY aren't you talking to him?"

Thinking of that dreadful night when he had lost all hope, Remus fixed his eyes on the carpet's hideous pattern, trying to quell the nausea which rose up inside him.

"That was fifteen years ago. Things change, Harry, and what has passed cannot be undone." The lines of worry and frustration deepened on his face. "We are no longer friends."

Harry made an inarticulate noise, but he caught Hermione's withering glare, and subsided.

"Anyway," Remus remarked, "tell me how Quidditch is going."

The rest of the conversation was stilted, confined on one side by bafflement and the other by sweeping misery.

Finally, as the sun lowered into the west, the students gathered up their cloaks, and shuffled out into the dimly lit street, burying their hands in their pockets. As they walked back to the main thoroughfare, Harry cast a glance sideways at his former teacher. Remus' mouth was set in a straight line, his lips blanched. A deep furrow divided his eyebrows, and, beneath them, the grey eyes glittered strangely. Weariness marred every feature. Gazing hard at the sorrowful face, Harry saw the moisture beaded on the end of Remus' lashes.

At the end of the passageway, Remus bade them farewell, and, waiting until they had joined the milling crowd, turned.

"Good afternoon, Sirius," he addressed the shadows icily. The figure of an enormous dog detached itself from the space between two dustbins. It briefly caught the man's eye, and then slunk passed him into the street, tailing the retreating trio. Remus sank to the filthy ground, his legs failing, and cupped his face in his furiously trembling hands.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

"What was that all about?" asked Ron, as he stomped through the drifts of leaves.

"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione snapped irritably.

"If it was, I wouldn't be asking, would I?"

"Don't you see anything? Honestly! Boys!" she sighed dramatically.

"You're just saying that because you have to convince yourself that the great Hermione Granger is so superior to us petty mortals. I bet you don't know any more than we do," he accused.

"Oh for God's sake, can't you two stop arguing?" complained Harry, greatly filled with apprehension about both Sirius and Remus. "Hermione, if you tell us what's going on, we'll be able to sort this out."

She looked sceptical.

"I'm not sure we can." After a pause, she continued, "OK, I'll tell you, but not here. We have to go somewhere private this evening."

Harry and Ron exchanged an amused look at Hermione's sudden secrecy, but nodded, and they trudged back to the secure warmth of Hogwarts, their breath forming plumes in the freezing air.

TBC

Positive reviews are definitely festive.