Hunter's Moon and Funeral days.

Ten years later.

***

Remus sat in his favourite armchair beside the fireplace of Lupin Lodge. In his hands he turned a page of A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry which had been published recently. He wasn't really enjoying it, but it was as a good a way to pass the time as any.

After another chapter he closed the report and made his way into the kitchen. He had gotten used to this solitary life he led, and found it easy to survive with little human contact. It was hard financially, but at least he didn't have to worry about where he would live.

The house had belonged to his parents. They had bought it soon after Remus had been bitten because of the large basement, which could only be reached by a trap door in the master bedroom. When he had returned home in '81, they had readily handed the house over to him as they didn't use it anymore.

It had been a buy off, he realized at the time. It wasn't that they didn't care; they just didn't know how to deal with a fully grown adult werewolf on their own. They hadn't had to do it since he had gone to Hogwarts, and he couldn't blame them for feeling wary of the job after ten years.

So he had settled down to life alone, managing to pick up a job here and there, which kept things in order and fed him. The first year had been the hardest, he supposed. The pain had been so fresh that everything reminded him of the past. It had taken nearly three years before the dreams stopped waking him every night, and a year later he had awoken one morning and it was not until lunch that he thought about his friends. It had been a painful realization that he had been able to survive without them.

Remus poured steaming tea into his cup and returned to the warmth of the living room.

He stared into the fire for a few moments, watching the flames dance just for him. On top of the fireplace was a letter he had received the week before from his old headmaster. He always wrote anytime he felt a reminder of the young man, often just after full moon to check he was okay, or when he found some work Remus might be interested in. Each letter asked him to visit Azkaban again, to give his friend one more chance.

Remus had scorned the name every time he saw it for years, feeling the old man was trying to push him towards forgiveness. He would never speak the name or answer any questions Dumbledore would ask about that man when they were together.

Then one day a letter had arrived, and as Remus read the emerald writing he felt something was missing. He had re-read the words, wondering what it was that had been forgotten. In a soft moment of realization he understood that it was the six letters that had been in every letter since James and Lily's betrayal.

Sirius.

In that moment and for the first time Remus allowed himself to miss his friend. He may not forgive Sirius, he may never forgive him, but he missed their times together. He missed the way Sirius could make him smile just by looking at him. He missed the little gestures or notes left around their home. His missed the nights when Sirius's scent would intoxicate him and draw him close.

He longed for those nights again. Nights when the years of betrayal and hurt would become easily forgettable, melting into pools at his feet. He would give up everything for one night held in Sirius's calming embrace. One night of safety in his arms, but Remus knew he never could, and never would forgive the betrayal.

Five years later, Remus had received a letter from Dumbledore, which now lay on the mantelpiece. It carried news that Remus had never expected to hear.

Sirius's father was dead.

Remus had read the note and instantly packed a small bag, and soon apparated to the Black residence. He didn't know if he'd be wanted, but he felt he should be there. He had to be there if Sirius couldn't be.

***

As he had walked in the front door, which still recognized him after all these years, he had felt unsure about how he would be welcomed. The house was quiet, and it didn't feel like the house a Black family funeral would be held in. He walked down the hallway and into a kitchen he had known well from his earlier years

In front of the sink, with her back to him, stood a figure he knew as well as the kitchen. Her shoulders had fallen and her head was bowed. He noticed his hair was almost as grey as hers was, and she was wearing her old kitchen robes.

"Emmie?" he asked softly.

The women jumped and turned.

"Oh you frightened me," she said in response to her name, before properly looking at the figure in front of her. Her face was confused for a moment before she spoke. "Remus?"

Remus nodded and smiled slightly.

"Oh Remus," she said putting her arms around a boy she cared for so much, though he was a man now she corrected. Just as her son was. "Dumbledore said he'd write to you, but I didn't know if you'd come."

"Of course I'd come," he replied. "You were always so good to me."

"Oh, but Orson gave you boys such a hard time," she said referring to her recently deceased husband, "I thought I'd never see you again after..." She stopped before she could say the words.

"I wanted to come," Remus had explained, "but I wasn't sure if I'd be welcome." Remus told her honestly.

"You'll always be welcome in my house, Remus Lupin." She said slapping his arm with a playful smack.

"Is there no one else here?" he asked as she sat him down at the table.

"They're gone down to The Cavern for a few drinks," she said easily, "they should be back in about an hour."

Remus nodded. It might have seemed strange, he thought, for them all to go to the pub on the night before a funeral, but the Black family was never one for tradition or rules.

"How are you, Emmie?" Remus asked, concern ringing through his voice as he had reached his hand out and placed it warmly around Emmie's. She smiled at the gesture and placed her own hand on top of his.

"It was a shock," she said solemnly. "He's the youngest in generations to die. He would have been seventy in August. These last years... I don't think he ever forgave himself for what happened."

"It wasn't his fault," Remus said.

"I suppose," Emmie shrugged. "But he was always so hard on..." she stopped before saying Sirius's name. "They used to have the most awful rows, and wouldn't talk for months... Did you know we never seen him after graduation? Orson would never let me contact him... I just wanted to know everything was okay. Maybe if I had forced the issue things would have been different. I just don't understand; why would he do it Remus? He wasn't a bad child, what made him..."

She held back the tears of the last ten years, tears for her lost son that she couldn't cry; tears she could never shed for him until they turned to grief and he was completely lost to them forever.

She lifted her hand and wiped under her eyes. Then, gently tapping Remus's hand, she had looked him in the eye.

"You'll stay the night, of course," she said.

"I don't want to put you out," Remus said, then wondered why he had packed a bag.

"I'm the grieving widow, Remus," Emmie had replied. "You're meant to agree to everything I suggest."

Remus nodded this time and allowed Emmie to stand up from the table. She started making some tea, and Remus watched her work silently for a moment. She always seemed like the perfect mother to him. Not like his own. Remus reprimanded himself for that thought. His mother had been good to him, but Emmie was just like the picture he had in his head of what a mother should be. Her face was worn with care and she was so warm and loving that you longed for her to pull you into a compassionate hug. Remus felt himself warming inside at the thought.

"Is Selma here?" he asked finally.

"I'm afraid not," Emmie replied, "She's working in France at the moment and can't get away in time for the funeral, but she's going to be home in a couple of days. I can tell her you were asking for her, if you like."

Remus agreed just as the front door opened and a large group of mourners stumbled through the entrance.

***

Remus sipped the tea in his hands and picked up A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. He was determined to get it finished before sunset. If only because he had little else to do.

He had only read a few more pages when he heard a familiar noise from his window. Remus sighed; he was sure Dumbledore had better things to do with his time then harass old students, but it seemed to be a hobby of the aged wizard's.

Remus opened the window and was surprised to see that it was not a Hogwarts owl at all, but a large Eurasian eagle owl. Her expansive wings swooped open and she alighted with poise and grace onto the top of Remus armchair.

Remus walked to the owl and removed the letter from her leg. She was very well behaved, and instead of flying off as he had expected, she waited patiently for him to open the letter.

Not wishing to get too close to this unknown animal, Remus took a seat on the couch and looked at the writing on the letter for the first time.

It was jet black and seemed to fit naturally onto the yellow parchment. Someone had taken time in addressing the letter, as the lines were perfectly parallel and the letters careful.

Remus turned the letter over and broke the black seal holding the letter shut. Two pages of writing came into his hands and he began to read.

Dear Remus,

You have no idea how good it feels to be writing your name. It has been so long, and I thought we would never meet again but I had always hoped.

This letter has a duel purpose. Firstly I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for attending Orson's funeral. I know it meant a lot to Aunt Emmie that you still cared enough to attend, and it helped her cope with a difficult day to have Sirius's old friend nearby.

Remus flinched involuntarily at the name.

The second purpose is a request that has been made of me and one I hope you shall be able to help with.

It is now nearly a decade since The Den has lain abandoned. I have always felt this was your place Remus, yours and Sirius's, but since Orson's death the deeds have been found in the Black papers. I do not know how they got here, and I would never believe Sirius handed them over. Nevertheless, Aunt Emmie has been very upset by this information. She hasn't been able to find any sort of solace in the last years, and feels it is about time that Sirius's belongings are returned home.

Since I have returned to England, Aunt Emmie has asked me to carry out this task for her. I would not feel right in undertaking this unless I had your approval and assistance in doing so.

I am the only member of the family who has not completely disowned Sirius, and I would be grateful if you could help me in what I assume is a consuming job. You would know the things that were important to Sirius, and I wish Aunt Emmie to have these.

I have told Star to wait for your reply, as I am unsure whether you have an owl or not.

Please Remus, you are the only one I have to turn to. I know it has been many years since we have seen each other but you were always very close in my thoughts and I shall never forget how you comforted me that day in my seventh year, even though you must have been in so much pain already.

I look forward to seeing you, Remus.

Love

Selma Black.

Remus put the letter down. He had never expected that. Not many people knew, but it had not been Sirius's betrayal that had driven him out of their home. He had left many months before. It had been something he had never talked about after his friends had died.

Remus walked to the study and after placing the letter in his desk drawer, picked up a piece of parchment and a quill.

Dear Selma,

It is very good to hear from you and I would love to meet up soon.

However, I can not help you clean out The Den. I have no belongings left there and it would be of no use to me to return, I understand this is a difficult undertaking for you but I would not be able to help you in your task.

I hope you understand.

Remus.

Remus read over the letter. He knew it was short and terse, but he had to discourage the girl, and that was never an easy thing. He also realized he hadn't ended the letter as she had but he hadn't felt that emotion for a long time.

Remus walked back into the living room and attached the letter to Star's leg. Once attached, the owl raised herself into the air and glided out the window.

Remus watched the bird disappear into the east and took up his seat again.

It was only an hour later that he had heard a loud knock on the front door. Remus had opened the door and met determined blue eyes, which almost immediately melted on sight of him.

"Remus!" Selma threw her arms around Remus's neck, and he noticed his letter was still grasped tightly in her hand. He retuned the hug just as tightly and they stood in the doorway for just a moment longer then was necessary.

"Selma, it's so good to see you," Remus said honestly. As he brought her into the kitchen he suddenly realized how much older she actually was. She was no longer a girl, she wasn't even a young woman; she was just – a woman. "You look so different!" was all he could manage to say.

"Well a decade will do that to a person, Remus." she ran a finger tentatively through his greying hair. "Won't it?"

Remus dipped his head and her hand fell away. He spent so little time with people nowadays that he almost forgot how much he had changed.

They seemed to avoid the reason for Selma's abrupt visit while Remus made some tea.

"So what else has happened in your life?" he asked.

"Well," she said beaming down at the ring on her finger. "I got married."

"Married!" Remus exclaimed, "I never thought anyone would be able to calm you down."

"Oh he hasn't," she said with that old mischievous smile. "He just puts up with it a bit more than most."

"I heard something about it, I'm sure but I wasn't certain when your letter said Selma Black." Remus explained.

Selma looked up at Remus.

"I didn't change my name," she said defiantly, "People expected me to because of Sirius but I'm proud of being a Black."

Remus looked at her. This was no silly schoolgirl notion. She had spent years with the effects of Sirius's action and she still believed him innocent. Remus sat down and poured her some tea.

"So who's the lucky man?" Remus asked putting a little too much emphasis on the word lucky.

"You'll meet him," Selma promised, "his name's Jacques Leroux."

Remus smiled slightly.

"What?" Selma demanded.

"Leroux?" he said, raising his eyebrows at the name, his smattering of French allowing him the knowledge of its translation.

"I know," she answered, rolling her eyes. "We laugh at it as well but... he's a good man." She turned pensive. "He's been my guiding star."

Remus felt his heat break at the last words; she had always said that of Sirius.

"We have a daughter," she said happily, "Isabella - Izzy, and another on the way." She patted her flat belly.

Remus eyes widened.

"You're a mother!"

"Hey, I might be likely to take offence at that tone Remus Lupin." She warned. "I am hormonal, you know."

"Sorry," Remus said but she simply smiled at him.

"What about you?" she asked softly. "Is there anyone special?"

Remus shook his head and took a sip of his own tea. He didn't want her asking questions about his love life; he hardly had a life, never mind a love life.

"Thank you for going to the funeral," she expressed again, "I know it must have been hard, with the full moon so close."

Remus looked up at her; had she checked the lunar charts, he wondered? There were so few people now who knew, or even cared how Remus adjusted at each full moon that her statement surprised him. The transformation had been the night after the funeral and he had found it hard to control himself at the ceremony even though his change was over twenty-four hours away.

Selma reached her hand out and traced a hairline scar that ran across Remus's hand. It disappeared up his sleeve and she let her hand rest on top of it.

"You have many scars?" Selma pressed softly.

"Sometimes scars are a good thing," Remus replied sadly. "They make sure you don't forget the pain."

"You want the pain?" she questioned.

Remus looked up at her and saw those same eyes that had looked at him after the funeral of his friends. The intervening years had done nothing to dull her spirit. She wanted to make him a believer of Sirius but he never could understand her devotion to him.

"Can I ask you something, Remus?"

"You can ask," Remus replied in a voice that meant she may not get an answer.

"Did you ever forgive him?"

Remus looked away from her now. He swallowed against the dryness in his throat.

"I could only forgive him if he was innocent," Remus said, pulling his hand away, "and I don't think that is possible."

They had talked for hours; talking about Selma's work as an alchemist and her time living in France. She had done some amazing research, Remus discovered, and he seemed strangely impressed that she had managed to grow up so easily through what must have been a hard time for her family.

She didn't mention The Den until she was almost ready to leave. She had not pleaded with him, but had merely made one last request, no strings attached. She had not allowed him to answer her but said that he was welcome if he wished.

Remus had lain in bed that night looking at the ceiling. He already knew what he was going to do the moment she had turned up at his door; he supposed she knew that too. That was why she had come. Remus turned in his bed and wondered what it was about the Blacks that made it so easy for them to read him.

***