Author's Note: I imagine everyone, even Remus, needs a good swift kick in the hindquarters from time-to-time. This is his. Hope you enjoy it!

Random Acts

"Year Thirty-Four"

"Whatever games are played with us, we must play no games with ourselves."

Ralph Waldo Emerson

The professor….former professor limped out of the austere Hogwarts bastion and into the bright sunlight of a new day, bereft of promise.

Cane in one hand and grindylow tank tucked firmly under an elbow, string-tied suitcase barely holding on by several fingers underneath it, he limped toward the carriage waiting to collect its fare.

"Professor Lupin!"

Footfalls heavy and fast behind him.

"Professor Lupin….." the boy breathed heavily.

"Hello, Neville."

"It's true? You're leaving?" he said, gasping for air.

Remus nodded and forced a small smile.

"They say you're a werewolf…Is that true, too?"

"Yes….Yes, Neville. It is…." He reached to put a hand on the boy's shoulder then thought better of it. "You must…I hope you can understand that I've had no choice in what I am. And I did try to ensure that my employment here would not jeopardize the safety of you and the other students. I hope you believe me when I say that."

"Yeah! Of course I do."

Remus looked at the carriage seat, slightly embarrassed at getting caught so close to departure.

"You've been a good student, Neville. I've enjoyed teaching you and the others. And…" He put his cane in the seat and finally rested a hand lightly on the boy's shoulder. "I wish you the very best of luck in life. Take care of yourself. And your grandmother," he added with a strained smile as he disappeared into the black coach.

Neville looked after the retreating carriage with his mouth slightly open, a hurt expression on his face. The one professor who accepted him entirely for who he was, who had challenged him and knew he could best the challenge, was leaving. And now, just the top of the carriage peeked over the hill, the horses' hooves clopping faintly then diminishing into the still afternoon.

The fare would take him to Hogsmeade, where he hoped to get a room for the night. Pomfrey had wanted him to stay in the infirmary. Dumbledore had wanted him to stay in his rooms. Remus wanted to flee as soon as possible.

A very old, very powerful urge to run had kicked in, and he had needed to go, needed to move on, not because of some worry that he would be hurt, tortured, or chased down by an angry mob. Although those were actual possibilities when people discovered a werewolf had been living amongst them, masquerading as what they would no doubt call "one of us."

No, he was simply hauling away a deep sense of guilt, hiding it from others by hiding himself. He couldn't face the students, the faculty, the owls swooping in from every which way demanding his dismissal. He had let them all down. And he knew it. Not by being a werewolf. But by having a strict regimen he needed to adhere to in order to maintain their safety. And he hadn't done it.

Such a simple thing. Take the potion twice a day, seven days before the moon. Look at what--

The pocket watch in his trousers chimed at two, reminding him to take the wolfsbane. In a fit of uncharacteristic anger, he unclipped the watch and threw it out the carriage window and then, in spite of himself, allowed himself a small self-deprecating smile.

Pulling into small, sprawling Hogsmeade, the carriage let him out in front of The Three Broomsticks, where Madame Rosmerta peaked through a distorted window and disappeared only to quickly emerge from the door. She looked around nervously then pushed him into the small side alley beside the tavern.

"Are you alright?" she whispered.

He nodded his head with a wary smile. "It appears that word travels fast…Is…is there a room I could purchase for the night? I'm really not up for traveling and need a place to rest before I head all the way home."

"Remus.." she said sadly, touching the deep talon punctures on the side of his face. "They won't let you stay here. Everyone…everyone knows. And there are lots of rumors flying around."

"I see."

"But you can stay with me tonight. It's not far from here at all."

He glanced down to find his hands held together between her lightly stroking fingers and felt immediately uncomfortable. He didn't want pity right now. He didn't deserve it.

"No, Rosie. Most of Hogsmeade would see that as consorting with the enemy…I wouldn't do that to you. Thank you for letting me know to be careful today. I'm…"

He looked up, searching the streets for a moment, actually wondering where he would go when he saw the shrieking shack in the distance, groaning and swaying slightly on its foundation.

"I'll stay at the shack and leave in the morning."

Rosmerta averted her eyes to the dilapidated building then looked back at Remus with concern.

"Remus, the shack is haunted! You don't want to go in there."

He laughed. "If you still believe that, Madame, apparently not all rumors make it into the mill." When he picked up the suitcase and tank and leaned on his cane, she said, "Wait here" and returned moments later with a small bundle.

"Rosie, I'll be fine. I don't need anything."

"Take it, Remus!" she blurted, desperately wanting to help him in some way. She hooked the parcel through a strap on his worn suitcase then stepped back, eyes roaming over him worriedly but not knowing what else to say. "Promise you'll let me know how you're doing? That you'll keep in touch?"

He nodded, a worn expression on his face as he traced his eyes across the building, remembering all the butterbeers, the firewhiskeys, good meals and laughter he had shared with her and others in that tavern. "Thank you for the good memories, Rosie."

She moved forward silently to kiss him on the cheek, letting her lips linger and her fingertips brush against his ear. And he was surprised to see her tear up before she fled inside, obviously not wanting him to see her cry. His eyes lingered on the shut door, cane loosely in his grasp, as he ran the back of his hand over the spot her lips had touched.

She fancied me…Imagine what her life would be like right now if we had dated.

Remus ducked his head and hobbled across the street to begin a furtive trek towards the shack.

It was time to get his life in order, to go back to the way things were. Time to face reality, instead of attempting to live a life he simply couldn't have. He could still feel Rosmerta's gentle lips pressed against his scarred cheek and shook his head roughly against the young memory of her lingering, intimate touch.

Time to own up to the reality of being a werewolf, Lupin. Time to stop being selfish. Learn to be practical about things again.

Last night, he had entered the shack quickly, not sparing a moment to muse about this terrible place. He had run up the stairs and burst through the barred door to find Sirius and the children. And from that point on, he had a job to do. He hadn't thought about what had happened there, over and over again so many years ago.

But now, as he trudged up the stairs with his head hung low, ill memories crept out of rotting baseboards like malevolent spirits and seeped into his mind. The narrow corridor wrapped him in an ugly embrace, it's joints creaking in dark and decrepit welcome. Once upon a time, this place had been both his prison and his salvation.

The alkaline smell of decayed blood and hair flared his nostrils and burned like tin against his teeth, tightened every inch of skin on his body and turned his stomach. It triggered memories of white blinding pain and mournful loneliness. And frustration. And complete and utter misery.

In the main room where he had spent many early hours of recovery, Remus deposited his things in the corner and tried to separate his mind from his surroundings. He pulled a filthy sheet off the ripped, loosely-filled mattress that lay crumpled in the corner and gave it a good pop then took off everything but his trousers and sat slumped on the edge of the mattress, resting on his palms and looking down.

One day at a time. Tomorrow, he'd return home where the note on the house was long taken care of, and the basement had a quite admirable cage, which he would desperately need again for lack of wolfsbane. As soon as he found some means to support himself again and fund a search, he'd start looking for Peter.

His bandaged hand reached absentmindedly to his chest and felt the waxen seared lines of his registry number. He didn't remember Peter transforming and retreating into the dark thickets of the forest. Dumbledore had to tell him that. No, the last thing he remembered before the wolf's soul swallowed him whole was Sirius' hand resting there on his body.

"This heart is where you truly live…This flesh is only flesh," he had said.

He remembered that. Remembered it twice. Words Sirius had told him long ago when he had first seen the number, still pink and scabby, on his friend's skin. But Sirius was wrong.

I injured you…I could have hurt the children…and Snape, as well. And because of me, Pettigrew is probably sitting in Voldemort's lap by now. You were wrong, old friend. If I can't control the wolf, I'm little more than his most desperate urge.

He felt sick…and disgusted….and was surprised to find that the smell of food emanating from Rosmerta's parcel made his stomach grumble with hunger. He untied the large white cloth to find a cool butterbeer and a large flask of firewhiskey, a roast beef sandwich on thick, heavy bread and a brown paper bag of freshly made crisps, dark with oil around its outer edges. Head down, he ate slowly, ignoring his surroundings and focusing on the flavors and textures. Comforted by the meal, he vowed to send Rosmerta something in return for her kindness as soon as he had settled down again.

If I can settle down. What if word reached home? What if the house is destroyed?

Suddenly exhausted, Remus lay down on the mattress and pulled the dirty sheet around himself; and despite the terrible burden of all the black thoughts roaring inside his head, he passed out, falling into an intricate mire of uncomfortable dreams.

"Is he alright?"

"He's sleeping."

"No matter what he decides, he should come back for the night, Professor. So Poppy can look after him.

"Mr. Potter, you had to see with your own eyes that the citizens of Hogsmeade haven't. torn him from limb to limb. And here you have it. He'll be fine. Now I want you to go back to Gryffindor tower immediately. You can tell your friends that he's safe. But you are not to tell anyone that he's sleeping here tonight, do you understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Now back to your rooms."

Remus heard Harry mumble something under his breath and head down the creaking shack stairs."

Minerva and Harry…he had smelled them coming, but couldn't he just pretend to sleep? He didn't want any more goodbyes. No more pity, or judgment, or hate. No more waiting to figure out which one he'd have to deal with since everyone within fifty square miles knew about his Lyncanthropy by now. He just wanted to leave.

"Professor Lupin."

He was shocked to feel Minerva's light touch on his bare shoulder, bypassing the dirty sheet that covered the rest of him.

Remus opened his eyes and gauged her carefully.

"Are you trying that title on for one last time?" he asked with a gentle smile.

"Pomfrey wanted you to stay in the infirmary tonight. Why didn't you?"

"You knew I was leaving this afternoon, Minerva. You were there when Dumbledore arranged my fare."

"I realize that, of course," she said quietly. "But you could have stayed."

"How did you know I was here?"

"Albus told me you planned to stay in Hogsmeade for the night. And Madame Rosmerta told Harry and me that you came here because…because they wouldn't let you stay at The Three Broomsticks…" she ended, a bit of heartbreak in her voice.

"Yes, well…" Remus struggled to sit up with a small grunt and lit the room with his wand.

"You left without telling the children goodbye, Remus," she chastised in a voice he had heard many times as a Hogwarts student. "Miss Grainger and Ronald Weasley were particularly heartbroken. As was Neville Longbottom who, apparently, saw you off but felt like there were things he had wanted to say, and he did not have the opportunity to do so."

"Minerva…" he began with a sigh of resignation. "It was easier for everyone if I left quickly."

"Apparently, a great majority of your students do not agree with that assessment."

"Better to have me a stone's throw away when the potion hits the fan, is that it?" he said with a dark smile. Minerva stumbled on her thoughts for a moment, realizing Remus had expected little, if any, concern from his students.

"Albus summoned everyone to the great hall and explained your condition and your wolfsbane regimen in great detail…. And although it was not formally discussed, the students seem amply informed about what occurred last night."

"Word travels," he said with a guarded grin. She looked at him worriedly as he studied the far wall, adamant that he wouldn't meet her gaze. She finally looked away from him and sighed.

"Your students don't hate you, Remus. And they realize that we took precautions to make you safe."

"But uncaged, without the wolfsbane, I am NOT safe, Minerva. If it weren't for Hermoine and her quick thinking, several people could have died because of me. It just takes one day to forget. One day. It's not like remembering to spell out the garbage, you know. When it comes to Lycanthropy, there is no excuse for forgetting something as menial as a twice-a-day dosage."

"You went looking for the children, Remus. You realized Pettigrew was still alive, and they were in danger."

"That's the reason I forgot, but it makes for a pretty poor excuse." Remus got up and walked past her to the far wall, studied the chaotic rips and bloody scrawls peppering it, each one a specific yet unremembered moment in his past, combined into one memory now - a mass of unutterable terror.

"You'll explain to the students? That I would have never wanted to hurt them?"

"Remus, they know that."

He shook his head, refusing to believe.

"Tell me what you're thinking."

His carefully laid emotional barrier began to crumble. And suddenly, he felt Minerva's small hand on his back as she came around to look at him.

"I was your teacher for six years. And I've been your friend for many more."

He glanced at her briefly then looked back at the wall. And she suddenly realized that something was not right, something hard had crept into his eyes. She had always wondered how much Remus could take. Perhaps last night was the final straw.

"Young man, will you not talk to me?"

"Young man!" he laughed. A small smile lingered on his lips then died away.

"I forgot myself, Minerva. I forgot my place."

He touched a slash mark carefully then turned around to lean against the wall, hands thrust in pockets. Shirtless, unshaven and hair awry, his gaunt body covered in scars and wounds - he realized he was a sad shadow of the professional man who worked alongside her. And a far cry from the quiet, studious boy she had taught all those years ago.

"When I was younger, I used to think that I deserved the same things as other people, deserved a fair shot at a normal life. And I was angry because I wasn't given that. But now, I'm older…and wiser…and I've come to realize that…" He gave a strained, tight sigh, finding the words hard. "That there are some things that I cannot have. And attempting to have them is dangerous and harmful…for everyone. I've learned my lesson." He smiled and pushed off from the wall with his upper back and walked forward, finding a bit of professorial demeanor in himself again.

"What things, Remus."

He turned around to face her. "What things?"

"What are the things, may I ask? That you shouldn't expect to have?"

"Oh…" Remus sniffed thoughtfully, tracing his eyes. "Steady work….. Acceptance. "A…" He blushed slightly and wondered if he should utter his next thought. It had been on his mind an awful lot that year. "A woman's love. A family. A wife and children…. Purpose…I had it in the first war…and I was good for it. I was expendable, but I worked hard. I was needed."

"There's a difference between expecting something and deserving it, child. I understand that things have been difficult for you these past years, that you may feel…beaten down…and that you expect less from people sometimes, because you've experienced so much prejudice. But that doesn't mean you deserve less than equal treatment."

"Really, Minerva? Perhaps all the legislation, the bigoted slants on my freedoms, are correct. Perhaps, by default, I don't merit a family, a job. I'm a danger to others. I don't know why I never saw it before, never saw things from the other point-of-view. I'm dangerous. People should be afraid. People should be protected against me. It's obvious I can't always be responsible for my own precautions. Maybe I should be controlled."

Minerva looked like someone had just slapped her. "What did last night do to you? What are you saying?"

"I – "

"No, Remus! I'll have no more of this! I won't hear this kind of talk, won't have you saying such things. You're coming with me. Now gather your things immediately. We're going to the great hall."

Remus just looked at her mildly. "Minerva…I'm going home. I'll finish the night out here and then --"

"You will NOT be staying here tonight."

She saw a flit of confusion in his eyes.

"Remus," she sighed and walked to stand in front of him a bit impatiently. "The students are practically maudlin. It's as if someone died."

"I let them down."

At that, she grabbed his face in her hands and shook it lightly.

"They're not upset because they feel let down or betrayed! For Merlin's sake, they're upset because you've LEFT! You meant a lot to them and you've resigned. And even worse, you resigned without telling them 'goodbye.'"

"Remus…" She began gathering his clothes and handing them to him. "Our last two DADA professors were, to put it mildly, absolute failures in the position…and very much lacking in merit as human beings, to be brutally honest. You, on the other hand, are one of the finest people I've ever known. And you were an absolutely brilliant teacher. I can I only hope you believe in your talents enough to return to the field someday. For now, I understand your decision to leave. I do NOT support it and…aside from Severus, neither does the rest of the faculty. In the meantime, I would think the least you could do to follow up your stellar term with your students is to leave properly - by telling them goodbye, Remus, not slinking off from the castle."

He stood silently, his hands full of clothes and shoes. When he looked at her blankly, Minerva's clipped, proper voice raised an octave.

"Look what running off is doing to your train-of-thought! Are you entirely unaware of how much you were valued as a teacher? As a fellow professor? As a friend to so many people, both young and old, at Hogwarts this past year? Have you completely erased that? Do you truly think it would all go away once people learned about what happened? Hogwarts is not Hogsmeade, Remus."

Minerva's mind suddenly hit upon a sad possibility and ran with it. "Are you so utterly terrified of forgiveness that you'd rather believe you deserve foul treatment as a rule of thumb? Are you so afraid of being forgiven?"

He stood still for a full minute, but she saw no epiphany in his face when he quietly answered, "Perhaps."

"Why?"

"Because…if I'm…unforgiven, I feel that I've paid."

"So you're prepared to punish yourself by condoning your suffering at the hands of others. Does that lessen this enormous guilt you're constantly thrusting upon yourself?"

"Yes, Minerva, it does!" he snapped.

Minerva stung from the verbal affirmation, and the two gauged each other quietly for a moment.

"Remus, for once, can't you be open to the possibility of expecting more from people?"

When he looked at her cautiously with knitted brows, she added softly, "Do you not value them enough to say goodbye? Are they not worth that?"

"Of course, they are," Remus whispered, his voice full of sadness. "Of course, I value them."

"But you left anyway. Without a word. And that is what makes them feel betrayed, not any revelation about your Lycanthropy. Not any rampant loping you did in the forest last night. Now, you're coming back with me to the castle. The students want to see you off properly. And if you refuse to see them, you will STILL sleep in the infirmary so that Pomfrey can look after you. I can't have Potter sneaking out to check on you in the middle of the night, which he most certainly will do if I don't come back with you in tow."

And the minute he got his final piece of clothing on, she snatched him by the hand like a mother hauling away an errant child and took him back to Hogwarts.

The party went well into the night. It was joyful and boisterous; and all the fear Remus had about uncomfortable goodbyes and distant students was unfounded.

He could not remember any moment in his entire life when he had felt so much love, so much understanding. He had never been hugged by so many people and felt in those quick and heartfelt embraces his value to them so clearly transferred.

Remus caught Snape, at one point, furtively standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and a dark look on his face. When Remus turned and looked at him, a slight glint of fear shown in his eyes that cut Lupin to the bone. But when he began to stand up, Snape flung himself around and disappeared down the hall in a swirl of black cloth and broad steps.

But Lupin didn't have time to dwell on it as one student after another came by, each talking easily and many at length before they were pulled away by other students who wanted to talk, as well.

Neville Longbottom stayed the longest, and Remus realized their conversation wasn't much different from others they had shared after class. It was simply closure. But before he left to get another slice of cake, Neville said quietly, "Thank you for believing in me, Professor Lupin."

Remus pondered the implications of such a statement before answering, "Neville, can I give you a very fresh piece of advice?"

The boy nodded.

"Always expect good things from yourself as well as from other people. Never let a bad moment in your life change that. Somewhere….somewhere along the way, I think you may have lost that - a sense of expectation. I lost it today for a short period of time. And..I've lost it in the past. But I've learned my lesson. Lack of expectation is a very dark path, Neville. And it leads to very dark thoughts. It can destroy you. And quickly at that. Not everything dark and dangerous exists apart from us."

Neville was looking at him intently, his eyes wide.

"Did that make sense?"

He absorbed the advice, lost in thought for a moment. "Yes, sir. I understand. From now on, I'll believe in myself. And I don't need someone else to do it first. But I can always expect them to…even if they never come around.….Did that make sense?"

Remus laughed and put an arm around Neville. "Yes, son, it did." And Neville gave him a genuine smile as he loped off to find a slice of chocolate cake.

Remus spent the scant few remaining a.m. hours in the near corner bed of the infirmary where he spent so many days as a child, looking up into the interconnecting grey cut stones and maple vaulting, watching the school banners flutter lightly about on Winter days when the whistling wind crept through stone cracks and batted at the light fabric.

Potter came by to talk quietly for a few minutes before Minerva came in on his coat-tails.

"Potter, please! To bed!"

"I'm going! I just wanted to say 'goodbye'"

"You've been in the great hall with him for the past three hours, Potter."

"Goodbye, Professor Lupin," Harry murmured, upset to be kicked out and sent to his room for the second time in one night.

"Goodbye, Harry. Write often."

"I will," he said with a smile and headed to Gryffindor tower.

Minerva sat on the edge of his bed, exhausted. Like everyone else, she had drank too much, eaten too much, and laughed long and well.

"Albus wanted me to check once more. Will you not reconsider?" she asked quietly.

"No, but I do appreciate the offer, more than you'll ever know….As soon as I can find a new job, I'm going to search for Peter."

"Remus," she said lowly and patted his knee, regretting that she felt compelled to bring up words spoken hours ago. "Please…don't ever think the thoughts you uttered in the shack tonight. I don't ever want to hear you say such things again."

"You won't." He took her hand and kissed the back of it. "Sometimes even werewolves need a swift kick in the arse, Minerva. Thank you for the swift kick."

"Well, the students kicked harder. And in a less direct way. But I shall always be available to provide one. Proverbially, of course."

"Of course," he laughed.

Before Minerva got up, she kissed him gently on the forehead. "Goodbye, Remus. Don't be a stranger."

In two blinks, Lupin shut his eyes and slept soundly, his bed lit by a dim glow emanating from the large stack of spelled pictures, notes and cards on the nightstand -- a heart-felt beacon of deserving and expectation to light the way for a tired werewolf's soul.

tbc

Author's Note: Next will be a moment with Snape, followed by a guard duty conversation with Nymphadora Tonks and ending on Christmas day with Sirius. Wishing you all a lovely summer!