DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. I'm just borrowing him for a bit of fun.
PAIRING: SB/RL this means SLASH (do I have to keep saying this?)
SUMMARY: AU Two weeks after Sirius Black fell beyond the Veil, Harry is in the midst of mourning (though he doesn't want to talk
about it), the Ministry is still indecisive, Tonks is a bit confused, and Lupin is… well, Lupin has other things on his mind. But Harry and company must learn that not everything is as it seems and the difference between believing and madness is not so straightforward.
THIS CHAPTER: Snape bashing, a seed of doubt, attempts by author to reconfigure (new) canon pairings, fluff and bonding
WARNINGS: none for this chapter
NOTES: Thanks again to Catclaw for being a wonderful beta! Thank you to Nightelf who raised some important questionsconcerning the title. (Yes, discovering something new makes me squee as well; ) ) "Hope is the thing with feathers..." isfrom a poem by Emily Dickinson, and therefore also not my property. Sir Deranged Reindeer- I tried to fix that typo... it should be 'How dare Ihe thought' Fanfic gave me the space, but not the question mark : ( Has anyone else had their'hits' counter act all weird? I can't tell how many people have read the story... unless they review. hint hint
Chapter 3
Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. "Pooh!" he whispered. "Yes, Piglet?" "Nothing," said Piglet, taking Pooh's paw. "I just wanted to be sure of you."
A.A. Milne
No one in Grimmauld Place slept easily that full moon. The Silencing spells, despite Lupin's best efforts, could not block out all of the noise of an enraged werewolf. Harry and Ron attempted to play Exploding Snap and ignore the howling coming from somewhere far below them. Ginny and Hermione, regardless of Mrs. Weasley's orders to go to bed, slipped from their room shortly after midnight. The four of them spent the rest of the night in their own thoughts, occasionally drifting off to sleep. When Mrs. Weasley found them in the morning, dozing on the floor propped up against one another, she said nothing. She, too, had the look of someone who stayed up all night, and was obviously more worried than she wanted them to know. They all shuffled down to the kitchen to eat breakfast, but not before glimpsing a frazzled Madame Pomfrey ascending the stairs. Mrs. Weasley waved off all of their inquiries with a brisk, "Everything's fine."
Mr. Weasley appeared downstairs half-way through breakfast carrying a rather bloodied towel, which he quickly vanished with a flick of his wand.
"Dad?" Ginny asked. Harry had never heard her sound so vulnerable. "What happened?"
Mr. Weasley blinked as if he hadn't realized they were there. "Not quite sure, exactly. Dumbledore assured me that Professor Snape gave Remus the correct dosage of Wolfsbane—and the potion was brewed perfectly," he added before Ron could say something.
"Poor lad," Mrs. Weasley mumbled from the sink.
"Yes, well, it actually looked worse than it was, thank Merlin. Madame Pomfrey was able to fix him up in a snap. Everything should heal nicely with time. All he needs now is a bit of rest."
"I bet it was that greasy git's fault. I don't care what Dumbledore says about him, I don't trust Snape. He's a lunatic." Harry agreed whole-heartedly with Ron. Hermione, unfortunately, did not.
"Don't talk about him like that! He's on our side, remember? And if Dumbledore trusts him, so should we." Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron's gagging noise. "Besides, the potion isn't perfect. If the werewolf is emotionally or mentally unable to aide in fighting off the wolf, the potion is practically useless."
"Where'd you hear that?" Harry asked. "From how Snape goes on about it, that potion is perfect."
"I read about it somewhere," Hermione said indignantly. "That's why the Ministry won't provide funding to create free Wolfsbane services. There are still large numbers of werewolves out there that would not benefit from the potion. They prefer staying on the fringe of society away from those that persecute them, and therefore have little reason to put effort into fighting the disease."
"So Lupin is mentally unstable?" Harry asked bitingly.
"No, I didn't say that! I meant that with recent—events—he probably had other things on his mind."
Mrs. Weasley decided it was time to interrupt the argument.
"Harry? Would you be a dear and take this food up to Remus? I want him to eat as soon as he wakes up."
Harry obligingly took the tray of food Mrs. Weasley was holding and started up the stairs. He was glad that Hermione, Ron, and Ginny stayed in the kitchen. It wasn't hard to remember where Lupin's new room was. All Harry had to do was wander as far from the kitchen as possible. Sure enough, on the top-most floor at the end of the dirtiest hallway, Harry found it. He thought briefly how inefficient it was to have an injured and exhausted wizard so far away from everything. The door was slightly ajar, so Harry knocked softly and entered. Lupin was most likely sleeping.
However, when Harry looked up from placing the tray on the bedside table, he found a very awake and very alert Lupin watching him. He felt his face flushing.
"Professor! I'm sorry, I thought you were asleep. I didn't mean to wake you. Mrs. Weasley just wanted me to put this food in here in case you woke up, but obviously you are awake so I'll just leave and let you eat—" He knew he was babbling, but Lupin's piercing gaze was unnerving.
"Thank you… Harry." His voice was barely a croak. Harry stood awkwardly for a few minutes. Lupin gazed sadly at the end of his bed. He appeared to be staring at something.
"Um—Professor—I was just thinking," Harry stuttered. "Maybe it would be better if you moved closer to the—"
"No." Lupin's voice was quiet but resolute. He turned his gaze back onto Harry, and softened a little. "Too many… memories."
Harry's eyes began to burn. Lupin returned his gaze to the foot of the bed. Harry took this opportunity to examine the werewolf's injuries. There were a few minor scratches that would heal in no time, but there were several large patches of gauze on his arms. He could easily smell the Quick-Heal potion Pomfrey had smeared on the gashes. The thin t-shirt he was wearing had some stains on the sides from where the blood seeped through.
"Been… worse." Harry jumped and blushed again. Lupin had caught him staring at the blood and offered the faintest of smiles.
"Mr. Weasley said you just needed some rest."
"Can't." It was obvious that Lupin really needed to sleep, but Harry didn't know how he could help. He thought about the nights when he couldn't stop thinking long enough to fall asleep. Without a word to Lupin, Harry practically ran from the room. Slightly out of breath, he returned carrying Ron's chess set.
"I thought maybe you'd like some company," he said sheepishly. The relief on Lupin's face was worth it.
They didn't talk for the next half hour due to Lupin's throat, but that suited Harry just fine. Lupin was the best teacher Harry ever had, and he liked him a lot; however, there was only one thing that he could think of to talk about and he wanted to avoid that. Harry had just moved his knight into a rather favorable position when he heard a small sigh. Lupin had drifted off to sleep. His face was entirely relaxed and peaceful for the first time Harry could remember. Hermione's words from that morning echoed in his head. Mentally or emotionally unable… He looked closely at Lupin, slumbering quietly on the bed. Lupin's not cracked! he determined. I don't care what Hermione says. Even as he thought this, the memory came unbidden of Lupin pouring two cups of tea. Quietly, Harry packed up the chess set and left the room.
When Harry entered the kitchen the next morning for breakfast, he was greeted by the welcome sight of Lupin sitting at the table eating toast. Some of the gauze had been removed, showing faintly pink remnants of his wounds. Tonks was the only other person in the room. She had stopped by the previous evening and inquired after Lupin's health. When she found out that he was still sleeping it off, she had decided to stay the night in one of the spare rooms. Harry didn't have to look hard to notice that Tonks was not in a very happy state of mind. She glared at Lupin, emptied her cup of juice in one gulp, and stormed out of the kitchen. He thought her eyes looked a bit tearful.
"Good morning, Harry." Lupin's voice was still quite gravely, but immensely improved from the other day.
"Morning, Professor," Harry greeted. "What's wrong with Tonks?"
"She's… a bit confused right now. I'm sure it'll work out." Lupin carefully avoided Harry's eyes.
Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were surprisingly the next people to make an appearance at breakfast. Mrs. Weasley was usually up and making breakfast at this point, but she was mysteriously absent.
"I'm glad to see you up and about, Professor," Hermione said.
"Yeah, it sounded like you'd be out for days," Ron stated tactlessly.
Lupin snorted into his pumpkin juice. "I'm very sorry about that. I expected the silencing spells to hold more than they did."
"Prat!" Ginny hissed to Ron. Turning to Lupin, she said apologetically, "We were all just concerned about your health."
"Well, I'll probably be bed-bound for the rest of the day. And I doubt I'll be able to leave the house for another week." Lupin frowned. "At least, not on any missions."
A cane propped against the table caught the attention of Harry. "What's that for?"
Lupin shifted uncomfortably. "I somehow shattered the bones in my leg. The transformation back only made it worse." He smiled glumly at their shocked expressions. "Don't worry. Poppy is an excellent healer, and I should be fit as a fiddle before you know it."
To Lupin's obvious relief, Molly Weasley bustled in and put an end to their conversation. She held a letter in one hand.
"Oh, you'll never believe it!" she announced. "Charlie's been granted a week off and he's decided to visit!"
"Charlie's coming? Brilliant!" Ron gave an ecstatic whoop. Ginny jumped up and gave her mother a hug.
"What time is he expected to arrive?" Hermione asked. She and Harry shared the excitement of the Weasleys. Charlie worked with dragons, and would probably have the most entertaining stories to share.
"In two days." Mrs. Weasley was beside herself. "Oh, dear! We'll have to clean this place up a bit. And set up a proper room for him."
"But Mum!" Ginny protested. "We just finished scouring this entire house—"
"We cleaned the upstairs. The lower levels probably need another sweep by now."
Lupin gathered his dishes together. "Well, Molly, I won't be able to help much in that respect. However, I'm sure Sirius and I could set up a bedroom next to Harry and Ron's."
The entire kitchen fell deathly silent and everyone froze in their places. Harry felt his heart relocate somewhere near his throat. Lupin's face, once he realized what he said, became even paler. "I suppose I really should be getting back to bed. These old bones need some more rest." He rushed out of the kitchen with as much dignity as he could while heavily favoring his right leg.
"He must still be a bit confused from the full moon," Mrs. Weasley rationalized. Without allowing them any time to ponder about what happened, Mrs. Weasley assigned chores for the day and ushered them out of the kitchen.
In all the excitement and preparations for Charlie's visit over the next two days, Lupin's slip of the tongue disappeared from Harry's mind. Lupin himself contributed as much as he could to the cleaning, but remained a bit aloof. Harry mostly saw him wandering the rooms, still relying heavily on his cane. He wasn't the only one not overly thrilled by the impending visit. Tonks, who usually made an appearance at least once a day, stopped by once only briefly. She merely smiled at the Weasley's eagerness.
Charlie's arrival fell on a day that the Order held a meeting. There was a constant stream of people entering the house that afternoon; some were familiar to Harry while others were complete unknowns. Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron watched the parade of witches and wizards from their hiding spot on the staircase. They spotted McGonagall, Fred and George (members since spring), Mundungus Fletcher, Tonks (who sported a shockingly mundane brown hairdo), Kingsley, and, to their disgust, Snape. Lupin stood at the door to greet everyone, but received only a cold, calculating look from the potions professor and a rather baleful glare from Tonks. Dumbledore was the last to arrive.
They knew from experience that even Fred and George's Extendable Ears would not help them eavesdrop on the meeting. So, with a sigh of disappointment, Harry led them all back to his room to wait. The meeting lasted more than two hours, despite the fact that Voldemort and his Death Eaters had been relatively silent for the past few weeks. Harry had to agree with Hermione's theory that the Order was conferring over more drastic and possibly direct preventative measures now that Voldemort's return was recognized by the Ministry. They spent most of those two hours discussing what those measures could possibly be. He wondered if Voldemort's plans were completely derailed from the arrest of so many Death Eaters at the Department of Mysteries.
When they were finally allowed back downstairs, only the Weasley's and Lupin remained in the kitchen. Bill and Mr. Weasley were debating Ministry policy with Lupin, Fred and George were scheming over new Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes products, and Mrs. Weasley was starting to put dinner on the table.
"Would you mind helping me, Ginny?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "Charlie will be here any minute and I want dinner completely ready for him." Ginny obliged, but Harry thought he heard her mumble something about "never asks Ron".
Sure enough, as soon as Mrs. Weasley put the last plate on the table the doorbell rang. She waved at the others to remain seated and hurried to the door. Harry could hear distant talking, and Mrs. Weasley's excited inquiries, and then Charlie entered the kitchen. He had a long, weathered traveling cloak over his uniform, which was slightly singed around the edges, and appeared exactly the same as Harry had last seen him. Charlie gave his father a brief hug then turned to greet the rest of the room. Before he could say hello to more than Bill and the twins, Tonks burst through the door carrying several books.
"Remus, I know you said I'd find the Smarmuth book in the third floor study," she said frustration, "but I can't see it anywhere!" As she darted towards Lupin, she tripped over a chair. Both her and the books went flying.
"Oomph…" Ron grunted as a rather large one hit him in the stomach. Harry and Ginny had both ducked in time.
"Oh no! You poor thing," Hermione whispered as she tried to fix the binding on a book that had completely fallen apart. Ron rubbed his stomach and glared at her.
"Someone get that book out of the gravy!" Mrs. Weasley bellowed.
Once the food (and the books) were saved, they prepared to hear Tonks's flood of apologies. When none was forthcoming, they all looked towards her. Charlie had turned just in time to catch Tonks before she hit the floor. He was now looking down at her with a small smile on his face. She was staring back up at him.
"Oh," Tonks gasped. She blushed vividly. "Hello!"
Charlie grinned and pulled her to her feet. "'Oh, hello' to you, too." Tonks, if it was possible, blushed even more.
And then it was possible as her hair slowly turned bright red.
"I'm Nymphadora Tonks," she said as she shook his hand.
"Charlie Weasley. I remember you from Hogwarts." The tips of his ears turned just as red.
Fred and George began snickering in the background. Bill grinned and nudged his mother. Harry saw Ginny and Hermione exchange that awful knowing look. Lupin seemed pleased.
"Oi!" Ginny shouted mockingly. "Haven't got time to say hello to your only sister?"
Charlie practically jumped away from Tonks and turned towards Ginny. "Of course I have!" He swept her up in a big hug. "How's the little princess doing?"
"The 'little princess' is currently starving. Let's eat!" There was a murmur of agreement as people started sitting down at the table.
"Tonks, dear, I know you said you were quite busy, but are you sure you can't stay for dinner?" Mrs. Weasley asked.
"Well…" Tonks quickly glanced at Charlie. "I suppose I could stay for a few minutes." The twins snickered again.
Dinner was a boisterous affair. The entire Weasley clan—noticeably still missing Percy—was gathered together for the first time in quite awhile. Talk centered around Charlie's job at a dragon reservation and Fred and George's prosperous business. Mrs. Weasley still obviously disapproved of the twins' choice of vocation, but could not deny that they were doing well for themselves. Harry was glad that there was no mention of Voldemort, the Ministry, or other current affairs. The only painful reminder that all was not well with the world occurred during Charlie's account of one of the practical jokes the dragon trainers played on each other.
"—So, Johansson heads over to the Horntails—" he spoke between chuckles.
"He still didn't notice what you drew on his uniform?" Hermione interrupted incredulously.
"No, he was completely oblivious!" Everyone started laughing. "So, he heads over to the Horntails, and Brunhilda—the new mother, remember?—she comes right up to him and starts licking his face!" Ron was on the floor with laughter. "He couldn't get her away from him no matter what he tried. And then—" Charlie started laughing, "And then Johansson looks at us and asks, 'Do you smell peanut butter?'"
The entire kitchen erupted with laughter. Once things calmed down a bit, Lupin spoke up. "That reminds me of a stunt we did at Hogwarts." He looked at the empty seat next to him. "Do you remember, Padfoot, the Niffler and the Ravenclaw Quidditch…" Lupin trailed off. The laughter and warmth of the kitchen turned icy. Ginny and Hermione looked like they would start crying any second. Mrs. Weasley abruptly started clearing the table.
"Dessert!" she cried. "How about some pudding?"
"That sounds lovely, Molly." Lupin's voice was strained and he avoided all eye contact. There were no more tense moments for the rest of the evening, but the exuberant cheer of earlier could not be completely restored.
Remus's leg, despite Poppy's best potions, still ached dreadfully. Simply walking, or limping in this case, from one room to another was quite a chore. He didn't let the others know how much pain he was in; he didn't want to concern them even more. They already thought he was still in the depths of mourning, not that he could blame them. After all, the Wolfsbane potion didn't work like it should have and he was in apparent denial that Sirius was truly gone. Remus was beginning to wish that was the case.
It was true that the Wolfsbane didn't work due to his inner turmoil. That should not have caused such extensive injuries, however. Remus could recall bits and pieces of that night. Apparently the hallucinations were present at such a subconscious level that even Moony could see Padfoot. The poor wolf had been aware that Padfoot was permanently gone and was prepared to mourn the loss of his pack mate. However, he could still see and smell the black dog, but was unable to touch him. This caused such rage and frustration that the werewolf went absolutely berserk.
For several days after the full moon, it was Padfoot that followed Remus around. It was as if he realized the injuries were his fault, and was in a permanent sulk. Remus was concerned that these hallucinations were getting worse, not better. And yet, Padfoot's constant presence was oddly comforting. When Sirius finally returned to human form during Charlie's first night at Grimmauld, it was rather natural for Remus to turn to him for some reminiscing.
Since then, Remus was on his guard against falling for the delusions. But no matter how much he focused his thoughts and steeled his control, he began to slip up more and more. He became jumpy when in the company of others for fear of saying the wrong thing. Thankfully they were mostly too caught up in Charlie's visit to pay him much attention. Unfortunately, every now and then, he caught a pitying look from Mrs. Weasley, a questioning gaze from Harry, or a calculating stare from Hermione.
Two days into Charlie's visit, Remus found himself in the first floor drawing room studying a map of the Black Forest region. Sirius had changed into Padfoot and curled up in front of the fire. Remus had his back to the door, but could smell Harry before he even entered. He had a feeling Harry was going to corner him sooner or later. I had hoped for later… he thought. Out loud, Remus said, "Come on in, Harry. You're not interrupting anything important."
"How did you know it was me?" Harry entered and sat next to him.
Remus paused. "I could smell you."
"Smell me? I took a shower this morning…"
"Oh, no. I don't mean you stink or anything." Remus didn't know why he had even brought this up. "I could smell you. It's part of my 'furry little problem.'" Padfoot looked up at him and grinned.
"Really? So you can always tell when someone's near?" Harry must have been thinking of all the times he'd eavesdropped because he suddenly looked guilty.
"Not always. If I'm not thinking about it, I can be as oblivious as the next person about scents." He smiled faintly. "One time, James accidentally set off a dungbomb in the dorm. I was in the middle of a riveting book, and didn't understand why everyone had suddenly run from the room." Harry chuckled. He tried to get a closer look at the map in Remus's hand, but Remus quickly folded it up and put it away. A frown creased his forehead.
"What do I smell like?"
Remus was taken aback. He had been expecting Harry to coax for more information about his missions. "Well, it's a bit complicated."
"Just try," Harry challenged.
"Hmm. I would say sweat and grass, typical of Quidditch players. A good bit of disinfectant smell, probably from that place the Dursley's call a home." Remus sniffed again. "Something that reminds me of the sky right before it storms, like the build up of energy. And—well, I'm not quite sure—but mainly you smell like metal. Not the sharp tang of iron or the bitter chill of silver. More like—more like a snitch that's been out in the sun. A liquid gold. It's warm and welcoming, and familiar, but secretive as well."
Harry was staring at him. Remus felt his cheeks heat up. He hadn't meant to ramble on like that. It felt like he'd just let Harry see the part of himself he never let anyone see before; at least, not anyone still alive.
"What did Sirius smell like?" Harry asked so quietly that Remus barely heard him. Remus nearly choked. Padfoot was now staring questioningly at him. Harry must have realized that he'd crossed a line.
He quickly said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—it's just, I was wondering. You don't have to—you probably really don't want to talk about it." He stood up. "I'll just leave now." He started towards the door, but paused a few feet away. With his back turned to Remus, Harry whispered, "I know you still miss him. I do, too."
Remus knew enough about Harry to know that this admission had taken a lot out of him. Before Harry could open the door, Remus cleared his throat and blinked a few times. "Sirius smelled like everything. And nothing."
Harry slowly went back to his chair and waited for him to continue. Remus closed his eyes and simply breathed for a few moments.
"He smelled like the rain. He smelled like a summer's breeze from the ocean." Memories began to tumble through his mind. "He smells like cinnamon and fresh leather."
"Cinnamon tea," Harry whispered.
"He smells like firewhiskey. When he was little, he had a musty smell from this house. I think he picked up an icy smell from Azkaban. He smells like the fields we often visited when we were younger." Remus let out a long breath and smiled. "Mostly, though, he smells like everything I love about life and nothing I could ever replicate." When he opened his eyes, Harry had already stood back up.
"Thank you." Harry's eyes watered. He quickly left the room.
Remus sighed again and looked at Padfoot, who was staring sullenly back. "He'll be fine. Time heals almost all wounds, and the young have plenty of time." He wasn't sure whether he was reassuring himself or Sirius. "He'll be fine."
That night, for the first time in many weeks, Remus was not haunted by dreams of the Veil. Instead, he found himself immersed in a mixture of memories and fantasies. He dreamt of Hogwarts, the Marauders, and what should have been. James ran along the seventh floor corridor to catch the Quidditch game, yelling at the others to hurry. Harry was playing with a snitch his father had given him. Lily was making a cake to celebrate Harry's first letter from Hogwarts. Remus, Sirius, and James were laughing so hard in the common room that Lily threw a book at them. Padfoot and Moony were chasing each other through the Forbidden Forest. Finally, Sirius and Remus were lying side by side in a secret field, watching the sun set and the stars come out. The Marauders had just performed the Animagus spell successfully for the first time.
'You'll never have to be alone again, Remus,' Sirius had said.
'Don't say that.' Remus had responded. 'No one can promise forever.'
'Well.' Sirius had shifted closer to Remus. 'Think of it this way, then. As long as I have the power, as long as I'm capable, neither Heaven nor Hell can keep me from you.'
Remus had sighed and breathed in Sirius for a few minutes. For the first time in his life, Remus had been completely peaceful, completely happy.
Remus woke with that peaceful sensation still buzzing through his body. Sirius was sitting on a chair next to the bed, gazing down out him.
"Do you remember the meadow in the Forbidden Forest, Moony? The one only we knew of? I promised forever there." Sirius smiled gently.
Perhaps the dream had put a haze over his mind. "I was just dreaming about it. No one can promise forever, Padfoot."
Sirius looked surprised that Remus had answered, but continued the conversation. "I know. But no one can escape Azkaban, either." Sirius smirked. "And no one can love a werewolf."
"You're such a pain sometimes." Remus smiled.
"But you love me anyway."
Remus sighed. "Yes. I love you anyway." He paused. "I've missed your voice."
"Really? It's a bit more worn than when we were younger. And even then it wasn't musical or anything."
"I know. I missed it anyway." He climbed out of bed and limped over to the dresser. "I shouldn't be talking to you."
"Why not?" Sirius watched as he got dressed.
"Because you aren't real."
"I wish you'd stop saying that." Sirius frowned. "I feel unwanted."
"But it's true. And the more comfortable I become with it, the worse it gets. I can hear you now, can't I?"
"Maybe you'll actually start listening."
Remus picked up his cane and limped out of the room.
"Prat," Sirius whispered. Remus could still hear him from the hallway.
Yes, Remus wished that he was merely mourning the death of a dear friend as the others thought. Instead, he feared he was going mad.