Title: Home's the Farthest Way

Chapter: 14

Author: ReeraTheRed

Date: June 6, 2005

Rating: PG13

Our Story So Far: When a semi-cure for werewolfism goes wrong, Lupin is transformed into a woman, and is forced to choose to stay in that form, or lose the benefits of the cure. In the last chapter, Baron threatens to harm the students at Hogwarts if Lupin teaches there. Lupin is forced to tell Dumbledore that she cannot become the DADA teacher in the fall.

Acknowledgements: Especially BIG thanks to beta readers Patti and Michelle, who helped a lot with this chapter.

Author's Note: I also can't help noticing my stories have a lot of food in them. I'm really not obsessed with eating, but food and drink make good props in a conversation, plus it's all very nurturing. Chocolate, of course, is a staple of life, so I make no apologies for that.

Again, many, many thanks for the reviews – you guys are so much fun!


Chapter 14

Lupin was reading when she was startled by the sound of bursting flames in the fireplace. Severus? He would be coming by that evening.

But it was Harry's face that appeared in the flames. "Hello, Professor Lupin," he said, a little shyly.

"Hello, Harry," Lupin said, smiling and putting her book aside. She glanced at the clock, which showed nearly noon. "Care to join me for lunch? The House Elves always bring too much food."

Harry grinned. "That'd be great." He stepped out of the fireplace and shook himself off on the hearth.

Lupin went into the kitchen, Harry following. Lupin found, to her surprise, that the kitchen table was laid for two, and contained even more food than normal. "The House Elves are uncanny," she said, as she sat down. "Someone knew you were coming over."

"Dobby still looks after me," said Harry, sitting down opposite. "I think he knows everywhere I go. From anyone else, I'd be bothered by that, but it's different, with him."

Lupin nodded as she passed a plate to Harry. I should try to think of it that way, she thought.

Harry helped himself, but did not start eating. He hesitated, and then said, "I was really sorry to hear about Hogwarts. It's not right, that the werewolves can get away with making a threat like that."

"It will die down, in time," Lupin said. Though Baron will always have a grudge against me, she thought, even if he leaves the others alone.

Harry's eyes flashed. "If he'd made that threat against any of the other teachers, the Wizards would be up in arms. But they won't because you're a werewolf."

"The Wizards would be up in arms if they knew a werewolf had threatened their children," Lupin said. "And I don't think they'd care that only one werewolf made the threat; all the werewolves would suffer. So it's very important that this not get out."

"Even if something happens to you?"

Lupin shook her head. "Baron has already hurt me as much as he can; he can't do anything more, not to me. It's the other werewolves I'm worried about."

Harry frowned. "It's not fair."

"No," Lupin said. "But if we're going to make a list of things that aren't fair, we could be here all day. Starting with a lot of things that have happened to you."

She shrugged and smiled. "Besides, there are a lot of things I can do besides teach at Hogwarts. Moody says he's going to use me as an unofficial consultant for the Aurors, so I can say I'm fairly earning my Ministry pension. Not to mention all this wonderful food."

"So you're doing all right," Harry said, "even with these werewolf threats?"

"Yes," Lupin said. "I'd say I'm doing all right. Better than I have for a very long time, in fact." Even if it's not as well as I had hoped, the thought came into her head. She mentally slapped it down.

Harry nodded. He took a bite, and then began to eat in earnest.

"How about you?" Lupin asked.

"Well, I'm still finishing my studies for this term," he said. "We're doing exams now." He shook his head. "I don't know how I'd've made it through without Hermione. As usual."

Lupin smiled, and said, "You and Hermione do make a good team."

Harry smiled, and looked down for a moment. "I'm not sure what I'm going to do for the summer, whether I'll do an Apprenticeship or just relax. Hermione's going to spend the summer with her family, and Ron's working, of course." He looked at Lupin. "You wouldn't be interested in letting me help out with your Dark Arts work, would you? I'd do it just for the experience."

"I'd be delighted," Lupin said. "Not that you need a lot of Dark Arts experience work, I'd say." It was her turn to smile shyly. "I'd be happy just to have you come by, you know. If you're ever at odds for a meal or a place to sleep, let me know. You're always welcome. Just like last summer, at Hogwarts."

Harry grinned. "Be careful about offering, I could be here a lot more often than you'd want me."

"Never," Lupin said. "You should have had your parents, for the summers, you know. I can never be your mother or father, but I would be very pleased if I could, maybe, stand in for them. If you ever need anything." She felt a pang in her heart. It was Sirius who was named Harry's godfather, not me. But then, they thought I was the spy, back then. And I couldn't even take care of myself, much less a child.

Harry looked directly into her eyes, and smiled, no shyness, and no holding back. "I'd like that." Then his eyes grew mischievous. "Of course, I wonder how Professor Snape would feel, if I was always around."

"I think he's getting more used to you," Lupin said. "You might see more of Shadow than you do of him, of course." She looked at Harry. "How would YOU feel? He's over here a lot; he used to live here, he comes by most evenings."

"He'll mind me more than I mind him," Harry said, "now that I think I've got him figured out. As much as anyone can figure him out, that is."

Lupin had to nod agreement at that.

They ate, and chatted, about the classes Harry was taking, and Harry told her the latest escapades among his fellow students. Eventually, the food was gone, and they were full, and Harry couldn't postpone getting back to his studies any longer. A handful of floo powder, a flash of green, and he was gone.

Lupin returned to the sofa. See, she told herself. Life can still be very pleasant. If I were at Hogwarts, I wouldn't see as much of Harry and Hermione. Or Severus. And even if I'm not teaching classes, tutoring and research will be enjoyable.

She opened her book, and began to read.

x-x-x

Hermione coughed and blinked tears from her eyes – she had never really got used to using floo powder. At first, all she saw were the green flames, but they faded to reveal a dark, bare sitting room. Professor Snape stood in the center, a column of black, scowling at her.

"Professor Snape," she said. "It's very important that I talk to you. Is this a good time?"

Snape's scowl grew deeper, as if to say it was not a good time, and would probably never be a good time. However, he gave a curt nod. "Yes, Miss Granger."

"May I come over? I've got something for you."

He drew up, radiating deep suspicion. Reluctantly, he said, "Very well, Miss Granger. You may enter."

Hermione stepped out of the fireplace into the sitting room of Snape's flat. It was stark, holding only the bare minimum of furniture. Two chairs on either side of the fireplace - well, the other chair would be for Professor Lupin, wouldn't it. A table between them. Shelves filled with books – the only luxury in the room. She had to force her eyes away from the titles; Snape would surely have some real treasures in his library. But otherwise, the room did not feel lived in. She suspected the whole flat would feel that way. He could afford better, this wasn't poverty – even Professor Lupin's place did not have this feeling of emptiness. Was it penance?

"Well, Miss Granger?" said Snape.

Hermione glanced at a chair.

A frown again from Snape – if she sat down, this would not be a quick conversation. However, he gestured at a chair, elegantly, if not graciously. She sat, pulling her bag close to her, and he sat in the chair opposite, and looked at her with cold eyes, expectantly.

"It's about Professor Lupin," she said, watching Snape carefully. Was there any reaction? She could make out nothing. Of course, this man had kept things hidden from Voldemort himself; she couldn't expect to win any battle of expressions with him.

"We all know she's been threatened," Hermione went on, "by the werewolves. I was there the first time she was approached by the leader."

"I am aware of Professor Lupin's situation, Miss Granger," Snape said. "And I know of Baron."

"Yes, she told me you'd faced Baron down, and that she's safe because you're there to protect her during the full moon." Did his face soften, just a little? Was there a little less coldness in his eyes? Hermione went on, "But she's alone the rest of the month, most of the time."

"Professor Lupin has declined any extraordinary protections," Snape said, with some annoyance in his voice.

"I know she'll be careful; she's not stupid, or incapable," Hermione said. "And I know it's important that she be seen to live normally. And I also know how much she hates asking for help."

"And she refuses when it is offered," Snape said. No question, there was definitely annoyance in his voice.

"Well, I've got something here." Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out something small, wrapped in a cloth. "I made one of these a year ago." Two of them, actually, she thought, but didn't say. "A tracking spell – it's a mirror. So that Professor Lupin could watch out for you, last summer."

Snape had seemed to be opening up to her, but at the mention of the mirror, she could feel him withdraw into himself. His hair fell forward, covering much of his face in shadow, and the very temperature in the room seemed to drop.

"Anyway," Hermione continued quickly, "I made one that will track her, and allow you to Apparate to wherever she is. I thought you should have it." She held it out.

Snape stared at her hand. His scowl seemed to be gone, but it was hard to tell, his face was still covered in shadows.

"If you don't want it, I'll keep it," Hermione said.

"No," Snape said. He reached out, hesitantly, and took the mirror from her hand with long, pale fingers.

"Brush your hand across it, and it will be keyed to you," Hermione said. "No one else will be able to use it."

Snape ran his fingertips across the surface of the mirror, then stared into it. Something flickered across his face, and he put the mirror down, though still holding it tightly in his hand.

"It is working, Miss Granger," he said, stiffly, as if each word were carefully controlled.

"There's a, um, modesty spell on it," Hermione said. "She'll look blurry if she's in the bath, or anything like that. So you don't need to worry."

Snape was still. "How very thoughtful of you, Miss Granger," he said.

I can't make out anything in his face, she thought, but he wouldn't be making it so blank if he had nothing to hide, would he?

"Professor Lupin said she – well, HE, back then – could sense your presence through mirror, even when he wasn't looking into it," Hermione said. "Even when it was deep in his pocket, he said he knew if you were close by, and that you were safe. I think it's because he cared so much about you."

Snape's eyes flicked up to stare into hers.

"I expect it will work the same way for you. Because I know you care about her."

Snape did not answer, but he continued to stare at Hermione. Did his hand tighten around the mirror? He CAN feel her, she thought.

"Professor Lupin cares very deeply about you, you know," Hermione said.

Snape still looked at her. "Professor Lupin is my friend, Miss Granger."

"Yes," Hermione said. "But she's a woman now."

Snape cocked his head.

"She cares even more deeply now," Hermione said. "More than friends."

Snape blinked, but otherwise did not move. "It has been barely a month. I hardly think she has had time to develop any special feelings, for anyone."

"For someone who has been such a dear friend to her?" Hermione said. "It can take much less than a month." It took less than that for you, didn't it, Hermione thought. It took barely a few days. Maybe it was even the moment she changed. I saw how you looked at her, that night.

Snape stared. "Professor Lupin has made it very plain that she thinks of me as a friend, but no more."

"She's certain you'll be repulsed if you know how she really feels," said Hermione. "So she's trying very hard to keep it from you. She's terrified of losing your friendship."

"No," Snape said, softly.

"She would be content with just your friendship," said Hermione, "if that's all you want. She said that it was enough." Hermione gave a little shrug. "I suppose it's in your hands now."

Another long pause, before he said, gently, "Yes, Miss Granger."

Snape looked again into the mirror, for just a moment, then he placed it carefully within the folds of his robes.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," he said. It wasn't warm and friendly, but it wasn't the cold, icy voice he'd been using before, either. And he was still very uncomfortable with her there, no question; there was definitely a "please leave now" feel in the room.

Hermione sat up straight. "Well, I've said my piece. I'll be going now." She pulled her bag into her lap, and then stopped, and looked at him. "We're a lot alike, you know." Where did that come from?

Snape did not move.

"Harry and Ron, when we first met, on the train to Hogwarts, they couldn't stand me," she said. "Who knows how much worse it would have been if I were a boy. And Sorted into another House." She shrugged. "It was only an accident that we became friends at all. That time with the troll in the bathroom. Just that one little chance." She suddenly felt impossibly sad, and for a split second, wondered if maybe things would have been easier if they hadn't become friends.

Snape said, "And is it enough, Miss Granger? Friendship?"

She gave a brave smile, then clutched her bag, and stood up.

"I'll be going," she said.

"Potter's a fool, Miss Granger," Snape said quietly.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, he is." She threw a handful of floo powder into the fireplace, spoke her home address, and disappeared into the flames.

Snape sat in his chair. The flat felt even more stark and empty than normal.

He pulled out the mirror, holding it in the palm of his hand. There was Remus, curled up on the sofa in her sitting room. A book was in her lap, but she'd fallen asleep. Her head lay against the cushions and her eyes were closed. Her hair fell across her face, light brown shot with silver. He tried to remember the man Remus had been before, and found he could not recall it. This was Remus now. Still Remus, always Remus. But SHE, now.

He touched the surface of the mirror with his fingertips. It was as Hermione had said; he could feel her presence through the mirror.

He stared at her for a long time, before he placed the mirror back in his pocket. Even then, he could still sense her, through the folds of cloth.

He stood up, and walked to the spare room he had set up as make-shift Potions workroom. He stopped in the doorway, hesitating. He started to walk away, then stopped, turned, and went into the room.

Quickly and efficiently, he assembled ingredients and equipment, measuring and preparing. This was an old spell, invoked by countless schoolchildren throughout the ages, and the ingredients were common. Except for the last, which was, of course, unique. He opened a drawer and pulled out the envelope he'd placed there, when he'd told himself he would not do this spell, but could not bring himself to throw the envelope away.

He lit a flame beneath a cauldron, and began - pouring, measuring, adding each ingredient at precisely the right time, waving a hand this many times in exactly the right fashion, saying the old words in the right cadences, until the mixture boiled and frothed, and colored vapors rose in thin streams, pooling in a cloud on the ceiling.

At the last moment, he opened the envelope, and pulled out three long hairs. Two were light brown, the third was silver. He stared at them for a moment as they lay across his hand. Then he carefully fed them into the cauldron. The mixture began to bubble violently, and he said the last phrase of the incantation. Surprisingly simple words. But it was an old spell, and though the words were simple, they were ancient. Except for her name, of course. Who does Remus love?

The colored vapors rising from the surface began to spin together, coalescing into the form of a human figure less than a foot high. Details emerged, clothing, hair and face, until Snape was staring at a replica of himself.

But as he'd never seen himself. The figure was him, no question, there was his pale face and great, hooked nose, his black hair, and dark robes. But there was more there. What was it? It wasn't the ugly face he saw when he looked at himself. Not ugly at all.

He knew, if someone were to take a photograph of this, they would see only a little doll image of himself, floating before him. It was the spell that showed the rest of it, resonating in him. Himself, magnified. All his flaws, but all his virtues as well, through her eyes, and her heart. Fear, but, even stronger, there was courage. Gaping wounds of the spirit, and tremendous strength. Anger, shame, and self-hatred, but also a hero's endurance and sacrifice. Forever striving for the light, even if never reaching it.

It is how she sees me. And it is beautiful.

He realized he wasn't breathing.

He sank slowly until his knees hit the floor, his hands clutching the edge of the table, his eyes level with the little form floating above the cauldron. Almost absently, he reached with a hand to his own head, pulled out three hairs, and fed them into the cauldron. He said the words. Who do I love?

Her image appeared beside his, forming from the rising vapors. Her sweet face, so young, and yet lined, framed by light brown and silver hair. As with his image, he could see more than her mere physical form. The lines of scars everywhere, on her body, on her spirit. Guilt. Shame. Sorrow and loneliness. But shining through came her strength, her wisdom, her warm heart, and her gentle laughter.

The little figure's eyes seemed to light on him, and take joy in the sight of him. In her eyes, he was good, he had worth.

He knelt, absolutely still, staring at the two figures, until the fire under the cauldron had cooled, the vapors thinned, and the images faded away, leaving only a few wisps of rising smoke.

He rose stiffly, and sat down on the one old chair in the room. He pulled out the little mirror.

There she was, still sleeping. He watched her for a long time, until she stirred and raised her head. Then he put the mirror back in his robes. It was not right, to watch without her knowledge. He would see her that evening; they'd already made arrangements. He would show her the mirror then.

Tonight then. It was only a few hours away. Until then, he could feel her, in the mirror.

TBC