Chapter 4: The Middle of the Middle

"Well, this has been one hell of a year," said James, lying on his bed after the end-of-term feast. "And you know what the best part is?"

"What?" asked the other three Marauders in unison.

"I don't think Evans hates me any more."

"Bully for you," said Sirius moodily. "Freeman still thinks I'm a flobberworm with legs."

"How can you tell, Prongs?" asked Remus, ignoring this.

"Just little things. She doesn't scowl every time she looks at me. And she's stopped walking out of any room I walk into." James sighed dreamily. "Not that I don't love to watch her walk, mind you. Those legs..."

"Better not let her hear you saying that," said Sirius. "Girls tend to take that stuff the wrong way."

"Say, Wormtail, how come we never hear you talking about girls?" James sat up to look over at Peter. "All the rest of us have someone we fancy–"

"Speak for yourself," said Remus, folding robes into his trunk.

"Even if Moony won't admit it," James continued without a pause. "But you've never said word one about a girl. Do you fancy anyone?"

Peter shook his head. "Not really," he said. "And it wouldn't matter even if I did. No girl would want me."

James threw a pillow at him. "Knock that off. How do you know no girl would want you?"

"Because Margie told me so."

"Who's Margie?" asked Sirius.

"A girl I used to know in my neighborhood at home. A Muggle. She was older than me, and she would always play with me, and pick on me too."

Remus looked up from his packing. "Why didn't you play with someone else?"

"Because as long as I was with her, no one else picked on me." Peter was warming up to his topic. "And I didn't really mind what she would do. It was kind of nice, actually. She didn't mean half the stuff she said. We would always play house. She would be the mum, and I was the dog."

"The dog?" James guffawed. "Not the baby? The dog?"

"She didn't want babies," Peter explained in a tone of perfect reason. "She said they were too much trouble. She wanted something that would listen to her, no matter how old it got."

"So you were her dog." Sirius chuckled. "Do you still see her sometimes?"

"In the summers, sometimes."

"And that reminds me," said James. "Are you sure you can't come?"

Peter nodded regretfully. "Mum says I'm not to be a burden. And that means no visiting."

"You wouldn't be a burden – my parents want you all to come – maybe you could try and talk her around?"

"You don't know my mum." Peter sounded certain. "Once she makes up her mind, she never changes it."

James sighed. "All right. I suppose I'll survive with just these two prats."

Sirius and Remus looked at each other, then simultaneously dived at James.

Remus' parents had come to King's Cross just to see him, since he'd be going home with James. He hugged them both goodbye outside the station. "Sure you won't miss me too much?" he teased.

"Are you crazy?" Katherine Lupin kissed her son. "You have no idea how much your father and I have wanted this vacation. Not that we don't love you, mind, but you can always have too much of a good thing."

"Oh, I don't know," said John Lupin lazily, putting an arm around his wife's waist. "I've had an awful lot of you over the years, and I'm not tired of you yet."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere." Katherine laughed. "It's Remus who has to go. Goodbye, love, we'll see you in August. Behave yourself, if that's possible."

"Yes, Mum, I will. Goodbye, Dad, have a good time." Remus waved as his parents got back into their car and drove away.

"Come on," said James, steering Remus away with a hand under his arm. "Time to get the summer of fun started."

It was fun. The Potters had an estate in the countryside, with fields, woods, and a lake – sheer heaven for three sixteen-year-old boys. Remus couldn't ever remember going to bed so tired, or so happy.

Full moon fell in the middle of the month. James' parents had accepted Remus' condition philosophically, and arranged for him to have a safe room in the house. Of course, they couldn't know that after they'd gone to bed, Prongs and Padfoot snuck downstairs to let him out, exactly as they had at his house over summer and Christmas holidays. James' father did marvel, the next morning, at the claw marks on one of the trees outside the kitchen window.

They owled Peter every few days, and he wrote back sporadically, telling them bits and pieces of news about himself and his summer. James spent hours agonizing over whether or not he should write Lily Evans a letter, and always ended up hurling all his attempts into the fireplace. Sirius made plans to get Aletha Freeman to stop hating him, all of which were doomed to failure, since most of them were missing the essential ingredients of losing a bit of his ego and being nicer to her, and none of them had the two in combination.

And Remus thought quite a bit about Gertrude Granger, about what she might be doing to pass the time in the long, lazy eight weeks of holiday. Reading with her father, perhaps, or gardening with her mother, or writing letters to Samuel Bevington...

But every time he got to this point in his thought process, he had to stop and calm himself down, because a wild, animal rage rose in him at the mere thought of Danger writing letters to another boy.

Why shouldn't she write letters to him? He is her boyfriend, after all. She's nothing to me, and never will be. Just another girl, a friend if she cares to be. That's all.

Bevington's a good match for her. He's smart – McGonagall says he's one of the best she's ever taught – and he's always polite. She'll like that.

But he doesn't seem to have much of a sense of humor. I don't know if I've ever seen him laugh. And he's a bit full of himself...

He pulled himself firmly off the topic. I have no right to criticize Samuel Bevington. Danger likes him, and that's what counts. Case closed, end of story, full stop.

This particular conversation with himself took place on 28 July. Remus had reason to remember it in later years.

"Moony, where did your parents go again?" asked James over breakfast on 29 July.

"I can never remember the name of the place, why?"

"There's been a fire at one of these Muggle towns." James handed Remus the Daily Prophet. "They're reporting it because there was a wizard there. And it says..."

Remus was already skimming the article.

... sources say that although the wizard, who was not identified, escaped the blaze safely, he was unable to save his Muggle wife from the flames...

Time seemed to slow, even to stop. In the few seconds it took the newspaper to fall to the floor, Remus had time to think several leisurely thoughts.

There's lots of wizard-Muggle marriages. Lots of vacation towns. Lots of vacationers. Nothing says this has to be my mum and dad.

Dad would never have left Mum. He loves her too much. He would have stayed and died with her, not saved himself and let her die.

It's not possible.

That was the thought in his mind as the Daily Prophet landed on his feet.

It's not possible.

It can't be my parents. It just can't.

"Moony?"

Remus blinked and looked up. James, Sirius, and Peter were all looking at him oddly. When did they get here, he wondered, recalling that a moment before, James had been alone.

"You've had an owl," said Sirius in an odd tone for him. It sounded almost... gentle. "Here." He held out a slip of parchment.

Remus took it. Four words were scrawled on it in his father's handwriting.

Come home right away.

Nothing else, no word of explanation, and suddenly Remus felt very cold.

Mum.

Peter packed a bag for him, Sirius walked him to the Floo, James went to tell his parents what was happening. Remus' mind was caught on one idea. His mother – his laughing, sweet, generous mother – might be dead.

He barely felt the motion of the Floo, which he ordinarily disliked intensely. It seemed like only an instant, and at the same time a hundred years, before he fell out of the fireplace at number seventeen, Oxman Road.

His father was sitting on the couch. He looked worn and weary and a hundred years old. Remus could barely bring himself to speak.

"Mum?"

John Lupin looked up at his son.

"She's bad, cub," he said hoarsely. It had been his nickname for Remus ever since the bite. "She's in a bad way."

"But – she's not dead." Everything hinged on that.

"No. She's not dead."

Remus' world, which had been tilted ninety degrees, seemed to right itself, and the awful feeling of cold in his chest went away. "What happened?"

"Have you seen the Prophet?"

Remus nodded.

"It's more or less right. Hotel caught fire. Smoke detectors not working. I woke up almost too late. She'd already breathed smoke. I had to carry her out. She was badly burned." He stopped to cough, painfully. "Breathed some smoke myself. Healers say I'll be all right, though."

"Where is Mum?"

"She's at St. Mungo's. We can go to see her as soon as you want to."

"Can we go right away?"

"Yes, of course." John got to his feet.

"No, wait," said Remus, recalling something. "I want to let the others know. They're all worried. May I firecall?"

John drew his wand and lit the fireplace with a silent flick. Remus added Floo powder from the vase on the mantelpiece and called out "Terra Cotta Place!" A few moments later, he was explaining everything to James and promising to come back for the rest of his things as soon as he'd seen his mum.

Almost as soon as he'd pulled his head out of the fire, the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," he said, forestalling his father.

He went down the hall, opened the door, and stared for a moment at the person on the front steps.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"I saw the article in the paper and took a guess. Is it true?"

"No. She's not dead. But she was hurt – we're going to see her now."

"All right. I'll leave." Danger turned to go down the stairs.

"No," said Remus impulsively. "Don't. Come with us."

He could have kicked himself, as he heard his voice sounding half commanding and half plaintive, and the worst half of both. And she hates being bossed and being begged for things equally... I've really done it now...

Danger turned back, surprised. "You mean that?"

Remus nodded.

"Won't your dad mind?"

"He isn't thinking of anything except her." And I don't want to be the third wheel, even if I am their son.

"If you're sure I won't be in the way."

"You could never be in the way," said Remus firmly, stepping aside and holding the door open.

She must have come as soon as she saw – just on the off chance it was my family –

He didn't understand the feeling he was having, as if his heart was filled with helium like a balloon, lighter than air. His mother had been badly hurt. He ought to be worried sick about her. And yet, here he was, happy.

The happiness lasted until he saw his mother.

Her face was covered with some kind of salve. Her hands – her sensitive violinist's hands – were mittened in white bandages. She was lying deathly still in the hospital bed, the only tinge of color about her the long brown hair spread out over her pillow.

But that wasn't the worst of it. The worst was the look on his father's face, as the man went to his knees by the bedside.

Remus had to turn away. His father had always been the strong point in his life, someone to turn to, someone who was simply always there – he might not be exciting or fast-moving, but he was dependable, as strong as a rock. And now the rock was crumbling.

He didn't realize he was crying until Danger silently handed him a handkerchief.

It was three long days and nights until Katherine Lupin opened her eyes again. Remus and his father spent every spare minute at the hospital. When they got home at night, their house was always clean and there was always something on the stove or in the oven, waiting for them. In the morning, there she was, on the doorstep, ready to come in and make them some breakfast, which they barely touched, before they left.

She didn't try to make conversation, though she answered their occasional half-hearted attempts at politeness appropriately. She didn't seem to expect to be paid in any way. She was just doing what needed to be done.

"Fine girl," said his father unexpectedly on the morning of the fourth day of their vigil, as they sat side by side in his mother's room.

"Yes." Remus didn't trust himself to say any more.

"Is she seeing anyone?"

"Yes."

"Not you."

"No. Not me."

A long pause.

"Why not?"

Remus looked at his father, startled. "Dad – you know I can't have a girlfriend."

"Why not?" John repeated.

"Well – because–" Remus rubbed his left thigh, where he had received his first ever scar – though not his last – from the teeth of a werewolf. "You know."

"I know about that, yes. But what does that have to do with it?"

"What – it has everything to do with it! What could I ever offer a girl? 'Marry me, and I'll turn into a horrendous monster and try to kill you once a month – oh, and by the way, I'm going to have trouble holding down a job, so I hope you have one, and I can't ever give you children'?" Remus was amazed at the bitterness in his own voice. "Any sane girl would run in the opposite direction as soon as I told her."

"This one may not be entirely sane, then," John began, but broke off at a sound from the bed. Both wizards were on their feet – had Katherine just sighed?

A Healer came running in through the door, summoned by some signal Remus hadn't been aware of, and waved his wand carefully over Katherine's head. "She's coming around," he said, looking at the two wizards. "That's a good sign. Usually, if they're going to die, they don't bother waking up."

"Well... I can't... sleep... my life... away... can I?"

The voice was hoarse and breathy, hardly more than a whisper.

It was one of the most beautiful sounds Remus had ever heard.

Remus nearly fell out of the fireplace in his hurry. There were footsteps in the hall, someone was about to leave...

"Danger, wait!" he called, running into the hallway. "Wait up!"

"What's wrong?" She turned, hand already on the door handle. "No, something's right, isn't it? Has she woken up?"

"How'd you know?"

"Your face. I've never seen you so happy." Danger smiled. "I'm happy for you. Please give her my best."

"Give it to her yourself – she wants to see you."

"What? Now?"

"Do you have to be somewhere?"

"Well, no, but..."

Remus wasn't listening to any buts. As soon as the "no" had left Danger's lips, he was dragging her back along the hall, through the Floo to St. Mungo's, up to the appropriate floor, and into his mother's room (she'd been given a private one because her injuries were so severe). "Here she is, Mum," he announced.

Katherine was sitting up in bed, holding her husband's hand, but turned away from him to smile at Danger, though the motion seemed to cause her newly healed face pain. "I wanted to say... thank you," she said huskily to the girl. "For... taking care of my menfolk. They are... rather hopeless by themselves, aren't they?"

"Oh, only a little," answered Danger easily. "I had to stop this one from trying to cook with grease from the garage." She waved at Remus. "That was when I decided it would be easier just to take care of them myself than to bail them out of every little disaster they created."

Katherine laughed, and the two women began to swap stories about taking care of the poor helpless men. Remus judged it was time to leave.

On his way up to the hospital tearoom, he spotted a familiar face.

"Letha! Letha Freeman!"

"Remus?" Aletha turned around. "Remus! It is you! What are you doing here – you're not ill, are you?"

"No, it's my mum – she was caught in a fire, burned badly, but she's going to be all right – what about you?"

Aletha smiled sadly. "It's the summer of the mums, it seems. Mine's ill."

"But – I thought you were Muggleborn."

"I am. But there's no Muggle treatment for what Mum has."

"Oh, is it bad?"

"I'm afraid so." Aletha's hands were fisted, she was clearly fighting tears. "She has cancer, Remus. She's going to die. And there's nothing anyone can do – I saw the look on the Healer's face, they haven't got anything to help her, I know it..."

Remus pulled her to him and let her cry on his shoulder. It was a bit awkward, since they were about the same height – not like Danger, who fit so neatly against him, being as small as she was...

Some friend you are, he scolded himself. Letha needs you, stop thinking about Danger.

But on the other hand...

"Wait here," he said when Aletha's first bout of tears was over. He hurried back down to his mother's room and explained the situation to his parents and Danger, who was out of the room and heading up the stairs in an instant.

Then he went to the public fireplaces, to make an important call.

Aletha's second crying jag was getting worse, not better, and she knew it. She was going to be a complete and total wreck in a public place, in the place where she had hoped to work someday, and she couldn't do anything about it, and neither could Danger, and Remus had left...

Strong, warm hands were on her shoulders, someone was turning her around, and then she was leaning against someone comfortingly larger than herself, and sobbing into his shoulder – it had to be a him, from the size and the shape and the smell. Not an unpleasant smell, mind, but it wasn't a woman's smell – only men ever smelled quite like that...

And why am I noticing that so very particularly?

"I'm sorry," said a quiet voice close to her ear. "I came as soon as I heard – how bad is it?"

"Very bad." Aletha sniffled. She ought to know that voice, but her mind wasn't working correctly. "It's invasive, and it's already spread to a few places it shouldn't – she doesn't have long, unless they can do something about it here, and I don't think they can..."

"Oh, you never know," said another voice. This one belonged to a woman, and was brisk without being unfriendly. Aletha rubbed her eyes clear and turned to see a young brown-haired woman in a Healer's uniform extending her hand. "Andromeda Tonks," she said. "I'm this one's cousin." She pointed to the person who was holding Aletha in his arms.

Aletha's mind, which had been stalled for a while, suddenly began to work again with a vengeance, and she realized exactly who "this one" was. And why she felt she ought to know his voice.

She pulled away from Sirius Black, straightened her robes, and shook Andromeda's hand all at the same time. "Nice to meet you," she said, trying to ignore the stupid grin on Sirius' face, which was actually rather endearing, if you looked at it the right way...

Stop that.

"Do you really think they can – you can – do something for my mum?" she asked instead.

Andromeda nodded. "There have been some wonderful advancements made in treatments for Muggles – we've actually wiped out cancer in the wizarding population, if you can believe it, but the potions we use for that are toxic to Muggles and Squibs, so we have to keep experimenting – but yes, I think we can certainly help her, if not cure her entirely."

They were walking down the hall now, away from Sirius, who was looking dejected – Aletha glanced back over her shoulder to see – and all at once, she made up her mind about something.

"Excuse me a moment," she said to Andromeda, and walked quickly back to Sirius.

"Would you like to meet my mum?" she asked, looking him in the face.

Sirius looked surprised, but recovered. "Yes. I'd like that very much."

"Come on, then." Aletha led him down the hall. "And thank you."

"Any time," said Sirius lightly.

"I'll remember that."

"I hope you do."

(A/N: Scared you all, didn't I? I told you this would be a fluffy little thing – and that means making just about everything that went wrong in the LwD universe come out right instead... like Valentina Jett, I'm a sucker for happy endings... and for updating far, far too often... but please don't forget to review anyway! Oh yes, how do you like my chapter titles for this? Funny? Annoying?)