Disclaimer: It's the world of JKR. If Harry Potter were mine, I assure you I wouldn't still be at my day job. ;-)
Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay between chapters. While the story is outlined, Remus gave me a bit of trouble at first. We've worked out our differences, though.
There are a few points and acknowledgements I'd like to make. First of all, thanks as always go to my betas. A special 'shout out' (who knew I'd ever get to use that phrase? g) to Wishweaver, who faced the wrath of her husband to give my work a quick perusal (as she's also currently beta-ing for his novel, too).
Secondly, the explanation for Tonk's clumsiness is something I've encountered before in fanon. While I apologize that I cannot remember where first I read it, it wasn't a BBB creation. It made complete sense, however, as that's what I perceive coordination to be – comfortableness in your own skin. I'm rather fond of the legal twist, though. That's me. ;-)
It's been suggested that this chapter is too short. I agree, but then so the first two chapters have been as well. Once we get rolling, plot-wise, that will naturally begin to change. For now, though, Remus firmly showed me that he needed a transitional chapter as well, and at long last I have obliged. ;-)
Thank you to all who have left your input. I assure you feedback is always appreciated and considered. However, please don't feel slighted that I don't reply individually at the end of the chapter like I did during the early days of NANA. This change was made by reader request. As always, reviews are anxiously awaited and eagerly read! I hope you enjoy the chapter.
All That's Left Behind
Chapter 3 – Death and Decorum
Remus paced anxiously back and forth in the windowless, musty room he'd claimed as his own at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. He'd chosen the bedroom furthest from Sirius' mum's portrait, uncaring that it was also likely the most neglected, situated as it was near Kreacher's old quarters. Already a light sleeper, Mrs. Black's vicious words made Remus want to do all sorts of things that would only reinforce why the Ministry said werewolves should be feared.
It had been nearly a month and a half – Harry's birthday came and went and still Dumbledore wouldn't consent for Remus to retrieve him from the Dursleys. Other than his required communiqué every three days and the thank-you's he'd sent to anyone who'd sent a gift, no one heard much from Harry – not even his friends. Remus hated the hollow tone Harry's letters held, and that he'd been forced to celebrate yet another birthday alone. Of all the times to be in exile…
Remus knew his gift to Harry, books, were the last resort for a desperate gift-giver, but he couldn't help it. Their relationship wasn't strong enough to know what Harry would want (except that, and what he wouldn't do to be able to give that), so was forced to get what he knew Harry would need. Gibson Gottfried's Offensive Spells Used Defensively was one manual he was particularly fond of, even if the author came to a bad end using his own techniques. Remus included an article detailing the author's demise so Harry would know to skip chapter six.
Although nearing the end of his financial reserves, Remus had also bought the Year Six Standard Book of Spells to allow Harry a head start on studying for next year. According to Moody and the rest of Harry's 'watchers', he didn't appear to leave his room much, and hopefully this would help to keep him occupied.
Molly Weasley was beside herself with worry, and campaigned for Harry's release at every Order meeting. Dumbledore gently refused each of her requests, and as he sat in the shadows, slightly distanced from the rest of the members, Remus remained silent, unsure exactly where Harry would be better off. The Burrow, yes. Here…?
Grimmauld Place now felt like a giant crypt to Remus, tangible evidence of all Sirius had tried to leave behind but ultimately never could. When he'd been in his second year at Hogwarts and his friendship with Sirius had begun to deepen, Remus had been equally horrified and fascinated by his friend's description of what 'home' was like.
He'd had no point of reference to begin to imagine the kind of wealth Sirius came from, and there had always been a little voice inside that whispered it would have been nice to have money with problems rather than just problems. In retrospect, though, even Sirius' seemingly exaggerated descriptions didn't do justice to the reality of just how oppressive, dark and suffocating Grimmauld Place was.
The halls still resonated with Sirius' deep unhappiness, and Remus had to force himself to stop looking at vague half shadows as if they might be him; that he was somehow still there - a bitter observer slowly slipping back into his Azkaban mentality rather than the man who'd rediscovered the beauty of freedom and friendship. Could this place really be better than the Dursleys for Harry?
At the beginning of Harry's third year, Remus spent his time keeping a distance from James' son. He'd thought Harry already had a life of his own: a network of people who loved him. Remus had signed on to protect Harry, but not to get involved. Just because he had been frozen in time, tortured by grief for those he'd loved and lost, didn't mean Harry was. The last thing he'd wanted to do was cause the boy pain. Little did he know…
The signs had been there, even in the beginning, when he first began to interact with Sirius' godson – but Remus refused to acknowledge the possibility, even to himself: Harry's watchful eyes, noticing everything - always reading and gauging the environment around him; the way he seemed both genuinely surprised and pleased with even the most casual kind word; the fact that he never spoke of his home life – ever... Even his thinness.
The first, primal impression the wolf whispered in Remus' mind that day he'd met Harry on the train had not diminished with time. He'd behaved as prey: forever wary of predators, weary but determined to fight for survival no matter the odds. Sadly, even after five years as a student in the 'nurturing' environment of Hogwarts, the wolf's first impressions still resonated.
Neither James nor Lily were petite (although he'd never have admitted that to Lily's face). Neither were shy or soft-spoken. Confidence had never been an issue with James, and Lily had always been self-assured, yet Remus' Patronus lessons revealed Harry had very little confidence. Yet even with all the obvious incongruities, Remus couldn't believe Dumbledore would have allowed Harry to suffer. Not when he'd promised James and Lily he'd personally see after Harry's well-being if anything happened to them.
What Sirius' godson did seem to have in abundance was a nearly obsessive tendency towards trying to protect the underdog, whoever that might be at the moment. In times past, people labeled it chivalry, but the way it manifested in Harry was unmistakable to Remus – Harry reacted as someone who'd suffered at another's hands. People like that were always the most tireless at trying to protect everyone else. He supposed it was a way to compensate for the reality that no one had been there for them.
Sirius once confessed to Remus that he had sensed it from the very beginning. Of course, the first time Sirius laid eyes on Harry, the boy had just left the Dursleys with no idea where to go, dragging his trunk down the street in the dead of night. Sirius and had aptly described the look in Harry's eyes as 'Anywhere but here'. Remus thought that summed it up nicely. It meant even sleeping behind a dumpster was better than home.
By all accounts, Harry's stay this summer was a quiet one, but thanks to Fred and George Weasleys's Extendable Ears, the Order got to hear first hand the comments Harry endured, and while this was, according to Harry's 'watchers', a more recent development, Remus knew instinctively that the sharp words and vicious insults were more normal than the unbearable silence had been.
As for how Harry was doing… No one really knew. Other than the softly spoken 'Yes, sir' or 'No, sir', he didn't say much else. Only the faintest rustle of paper indicated diligent page turning, day after day, and was the primary reason for Remus' gifts.
He wished he'd understood sooner what life with the Dursleys was like. Only in hindsight could he see that he should have tried harder to have his own relationship with Harry… but he'd been so concerned about Sirius and hadn't wanted to interfere. He saw how much joy the man got out of spending time with his godson, and had been more concerned with nurturing their relationship. Now that Sirius was gone, Remus didn't know where to begin.
Ironically, he now found himself where Sirius had been – trapped in Grimmauld Place, unable to leave: a liability because of circumstance – only in this case, it was his being a werewolf rather than an escaped prisoner.
The last full moon had not gone well. He hid his grief as a man, but the wolf held no façades. The damage the last change had wrought had nearly been permanent. Even weeks later, Poppy visited him every few days with healing potions and salves to try to repair the worst of it.
He withdrew, even more quiet and reserved, much to Molly's dismay. It was all he knew to do – to hide his pain behind a mask of calm. Cruelty only beget more cruelty when others knew they'd scored a direct hit. A lifetime of being referred to as an 'it' as opposed to 'he' left him eternally careful not to reveal too much of himself. He'd learned long ago that showing emotion could be exploited as a weakness and was to be avoided at any cost.
Now, though, his injuries revealed the depth of his grief, and his normal, calm façade fooled no one. It was mortifying. He felt as if he sat naked in the Order meetings, stripped bare of all his defenses. Sometimes he had to resist the urge, when he caught pitying eyes cast his way, not to get up and leave.
In more maudlin moments, he could at least acknowledge to himself that a part of him felt he should have leaped after Sirius… It would have been better than being here; useless and ineffective. Instead, he had done the right thing, what had to be done, and held Harry back, feeling beneath his fingertips as Harry began to realize that Sirius wasn't coming back.
While James followed his heart, and Sirius followed his instincts, Remus had been the steady Marauder - the reliable one. He'd spent hours helping Peter with his homework because the others, while good intentioned, were far too distractible, especially concerning things that didn't interest them.
Remus had been the voice of reason to James' intellectual curiosity, to Sirius' intuitive grasp of magic, and Peter's odd but often right leaps of logic. But he couldn't reason away Sirius' death. It wasn't just untimely, it was… inappropriate. Wrong. Even the Avada Kedavra would have at least given finality.
Instead, Remus felt the same way Harry probably did - confused, stunned, bewildered, mixed in with more than a little denial. He couldn't shake the feeling that Sirius could come strolling through the front door at any moment, tired and gaunt but with an entertaining story of how he'd avoided Death Eaters and Ministry workers alike for days until finally making it home. Hah. Home. Remus closed his eyes and wearily sat on the tattered duvet, pulling absently at a loose thread until he realized he was unraveling a portion of the bedspread.
Someone tapped softly at the door, but before Remus could decide whether or not to answer, Tonks was coming in anyway with a tray floating behind her. Instinctively Remus whipped out his wand to help, then tucked it quickly away when she scowled at him.
"Just because I'm a klutz doesn't mean I make mistakes with magic," she jokingly scolded and directed the tray to sit on his nightstand, knocking over some of Poppy's potions and tinctures in the process.
"Whoops," she said, blushing, and redirected the tray to Remus' tiny desk as he slowly bent to pick up the assorted bottles and tins. He wished she'd have set it on the nightstand anyway. He'd rather have his potions ruined than the small pile of books that sat on the desk, but said nothing aloud.
"Well, normally I'm not a klutz magically," she amended.
Remus gave a small, sympathetic smile. He knew frequent use of her Metamorphmagus abilities was what caused her lack of coordination. Kingsley once confessed he thought their superiors foolish to exclusively utilize her shape changing abilities, saying, "She's a fine Auror if they'd just let her be one,". Unfortunately, a current loophole in Ministry law stated that if evidence or testimony was gathered by means of Polyjuice without the consent of the person whose hair was used in the potion, it was inadmissible. However, as a Metamorphmagus did not require a strand of hair, anything gathered by them was allowable.
As the tray settled with the teapot still upright, Remus let out a quiet sigh of relief and Tonks quickly came to kneel beside him. "Let me get these," she said, indicating the few remaining tins that had rolled partially underneath the nightstand. Remus shook his head.
"Don't be silly. I've got them," he replied. Tonks grinned apologetically and, as she stood up, her knees popped loudly.
"Goodness," Remus commented, then indicated the salves on the nightstand as he used it to gingerly pull himself upright as well, "I think there's enough to share."
Tonks stuck out her tongue at him as she crossed the room and began putting scones and sandwiches on a plate. "Knave," she said.
"Ah, yes, but who here doesn't seem to know knocking means you're supposed to wait to see if someone's there?" Remus retorted.
"I circumvented the system. I knew you were here, but was courteous enough to give you a few seconds in case you were indecent," Tonks replied.
"I know that it may only take you a few seconds to get dressed, but the rest of us mere mortals need more like a few minutes," Remus said. Tonks handed him the plate of food and went back to pour some tea for them both.
"Milk?"
"Of course."
"How many lumps?"
"Three… or four," Remus replied, and Tonks smiled widely.
"I have discovered your weakness," she announced, clearly pleased.
"I thought you already knew that," Remus commented dryly, nodding his head towards the small gold box of truffles on his nightstand.
"Besides chocolate. You, Remus Lupin, have a sweet tooth in general," she accused playfully. Remus suppressed a small grin at the irony in her chosen words.
"Amongst other things," he replied, feeling oddly buoyed. It surprised him.
While he avoided contact with most everyone else, save Poppy of course, he found he liked Tonks' company. She had the capacity to lighten moods with banter and made for companionship without expectations. It was a trait he admired.
She knew he was a mess. They all did. All they had to do was look at him to know the truth, yet she'd never once pried or tried to get him to open up. However, she did seem to have made it her personal mission while at Grimmauld Place to be sure to seek out and spend time with him whenever she was in the neighborhood. It both touched and annoyed him in equal measures.
"Would you like some help?" Remus offered as she poured, then gave a contrite look as her glare reflected back at him in the dresser mirror.
"That would be a 'no', muffin," the mirror supplied for his benefit, and Tonks' lip quirked in barely suppressed mirth.
After pouring both cups, she heaved a martyrish sigh and walked very slowly to Remus with a saucer held out front awkwardly in each hand. The cups chattered threateningly as they wobbled in their saucers, but thankfully neither spilt… much.
"Thank you," Remus said gratefully and drank deeply. It wasn't scalding hot, and the caffeine was a welcome pick-up to counteract some of Poppy's stronger pain potions.
"Mmmmm," Tonks agreed as she drank as well, sighing and closing her eyes contentedly.
He took the opportunity to scrutinize her profile. While she had the capacity to manipulate her features, he'd discovered she often didn't disguise basic things like fatigue unless someone noticed.
"Long day?" Remus inquired.
"It's been a series of long days. They've got us working double shifts," she explained between gulps and stood abruptly, quickly crossing the tiny room to refill her cup. He caught the brief look of distaste as she glanced around the room but thankfully didn't say anything. She'd agreed with Molly and Albus when they'd approached him about staying in the set of rooms closer to the others, but relented when he'd refused to compromise.
"Is there a lot of activity out there?" Remus asked, hoping to head her off in case she was thinking of broaching the subject again.
He'd known that Fudge was doing an enormous amount of damage control now that news of Voldemort's return was public knowledge, but he hadn't read of many raids in the Daily Prophet, and nothing was being discussed in the Order meetings. Not that he wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to keep that information from him.
He'd already expressed a strong desire to return to the field as soon as he was able. Keeping busy kept Remus from thinking too much, and due to his transformation injuries, he'd had too much idle time already. It did him no good to allow his thoughts to circle over could have been, should have been, and what could now never be.
Each time Albus visited, he didn't even bother to be subtle; stating that of course it was Remus' choice, but that Grimmauld Place could be the best thing for him, and didn't he want to be there when Dumbledore finally allowed Harry to come? Of course Remus wanted to be there for Harry… As long as I don't do more damage than good.
"Now that Voldemort's gone public, Fudge has us all working mandatory overtime to prevent widespread panic. People were caught unprepared," Tonks said, interrupting his thoughts. Remus shook his head in disgust.
"And whose fault is that?" he asked bitterly. Tonks leaned against the dresser and eyed his plate.
"Less talking and more eating," she instructed. Remus complied, although he wasn't hungry, nibbling on the egg sandwiches and spreading a healthy bit of jam on a scone. It surprised him when he eventually cleaned the plate. Tonks beamed at him like a proud parent.
"Has my nutritional intake met with your approval?" he asked wryly.
"I thought you'd never finish! Now let's go get Harry," Tonks said as she headed towards the door.
Remus reacted instantly, setting aside the tray and rushing after her.
"Why didn't you say so? Should I find some Muggle clothes? When did you hear we could get him?" Remus asked, breathless with anxiety, anticipation, and frustration. She should have said that first!
"We'll be arriving as proper wizards. Come as you are. Professor Dumbledore has the Portkeys waiting downstairs. The window of time we're exposed is minimal. No wild broomstick rides this time!" Tonks said over her shoulder as she walked briskly down the hallway towards the stairs, her voice bright with energy. She was fond of Harry, and clearly as relieved to get him as he was.
"If everything's ready, you should have just told me, instead of waiting until I ate first," Remus grumbled in annoyance.
"Sorry, but I was under strict orders from Molly that you were to eat before we left. We don't know how Harry's going to be until we get there, and Molly was insistent that you needed a decent meal first. No offense, Remus, but I'd rather face a werewolf's wrath to Molly Weasley!" she said cheerfully, which woke Mrs. Black's portrait up as they passed it.
He didn't even hear the bitter woman's words as they headed into the kitchen. It was finally time. They were getting Harry. He ran his fingers through his hair self-consciously. I must look a wreck, he thought. He wished he'd had a moment to pull his appearance together a little more before they left.
He had no idea what they'd find, but he was determined to do what he could. He cared deeply for Harry, and prayed he'd be able to reach him, and that he hadn't left working on their relationship until too late.
tbc…