Time's Bitter Flood Will Rise

by forsakenphoenix1

But think about old friends the most: Time’s bitter flood will rise. A story told through photographs in which Remus remembers. RemusTonks.

But think about old friends the most:
Time's bitter flood will rise

- W.B. Yeats

i.

The box lies conspicuously on the kitchen table when Remus returns from a trip to London. In his absence, Remus notes that the house has been cleaned from head to toe—his loved one itching to do something besides waiting for him to return safely.

The design on the box is vaguely familiar and Remus half-remembers a time when Sirius used to scribble those same marks in the margins of his notes. It never meant anything, those doodles, just a simple design Sirius had created one day out of boredom. But he thought it looked cool and the box was once a birthday gift to store the many photographs Remus had taken during their years at Hogwarts. Photographs, Remus remembers. That's what is in the box.

Photographs of what? He tries to remember what he's kept stored in the precious box, one of the few reminders he has left of a past that was once filled with friends and happiness. But it's been so long since he last shoved the box into some dark corner of a closet—shoved probably in anger, or loneliness, somewhere where he'd never have to see it again—that he doesn't remember what secrets he's locked inside. Yet, here it is sitting, begging for those secrets to be told again, to be shared with the one person who has finally brought light back into his life.

"Tonks?" Remus calls out.

His fingers clench the countertop as he looks hesitantly between the box and the kitchen door. Finally, the door swings open and Tonks shuffles in, her short hair a lovely shade of brownish blonde he's never seen on her before, and a brilliant smile on her face.

"You're home." She greets him with a kiss before turning to put the kettle on.

He smiles gently, resting a hand at the small of her back, before kissing her forehead in return.

"Where did you find that box?" he asks casually, taking mugs from the cupboard.

"In a closet in the guest bedroom. I threw away a lot of what was stored in that closet, but the box—it said it was from Sirius. And I knew that I should have you look through it, because I'm sure you'd want to keep it. What's in it?"

He shrugs. "Photographs. I don't remember what of, though." He furrows his brow and tries to remember.

"Do you want to go through them? I could help," Tonks offers as she pours the tea into his cup.

Remus nods, barely perceptible, as he grabs the box in his free hand and walks out of the kitchen, settling comfortably on the couch. Tonks follows shortly after, her mug held carefully between her two hands. She sits beside Remus, pulling her feet up beneath her and leans slightly into him. He glances at her quickly and she offers him an encouraging smile as he gently pries the cover open. The musty smell of age swiftly greets them both and Tonks wrinkles her nose in slight disgust.

"You have a lot of photographs," she comments, gaping at the amount of pictures that are stored in the box.

"I loved photography. Took a camera with me nearly everywhere I went." He sifts through the photographs and nods, as though confirming what he was thinking. "These go back all the way to first year and finish right before James and Lily's death. There are ten years worth of memories stored in this box."

Tonks' eyes glitter with anticipation and Remus can tell that her fingers are dying to touch these photographs, to learn about the Marauders; four boys who were bound by both friendship and magic; woven into the lines of promises and secrets—a pact, signed in blood, that means nothing now.

"Tell me some stories from your past, Remus," she urges him, resting her hand lightly on his forearm.

Remus looks at her glowing face over his cup of tea and slightly raises an eyebrow. "What do you want to hear about?"

He thinks that perhaps she'll ask about Sirius. After all, he was her cousin, and she does not remember much about him from his younger years—she's only familiar with the shell of a man who was once so full of life. So when she looks up at him and says, "James", he nearly has to ask her to repeat herself.

"You want to hear about James?"

She nods. "Well, I want to hear stories about all of the Marauders. But, focus more on James; you never talk of him. I know that he was a wonderful husband and a loving father. A man who was brave beyond his years and sometimes felt like the responsibility of the world was on his shoulders. I can get that much from anyone in the Order. But you were one of his closest friends, Remus. Who was James to you?"

She is innocent in her quest to gain knowledge of the man Remus once called his king—in jest, while they were once drunk—but Remus knows that he meant what he said and James deserves the title. He was a king to Remus and to the rest of the Marauders, a king without a crown.

He pulls out the picture that is on the top of the pile and smiles fondly at the memory. Tonks' lips curve into a gentle smile as she sees the familiar look of reminiscing and longing on Remus' face.

"First night at Hogwarts," Remus says, watching the way eleven-year-old James' face breaks into a brilliant smile as he throws a pillow at Sirius' head. "I was so nervous that night. But James…James was really kind, you know? He made me feel, for the first time since I was bitten, that I belonged. Made us all feel that way, even Sirius."

The steady pressure of Tonks' hand on his thigh urges him forward and he remembers that first night like it was yesterday, still fresh in his mind because memories like that never seem to age with time.

ii.

Remus fingers the bare threads of his robe anxiously, looking into the room with trepidation. The other three boys have barely noticed his presence and are busy rummaging through their trunks for pyjamas. He makes his way over to his trunk which is lying at the foot of his bed between James and…Peter—yes, that was his name—and pulls out his favourite blue pyjama pants and a white tee-shirt.

The other boys are stripping with ease, even Peter, who doesn't seem to care that he's slightly overweight and ignores the fact that Sirius (who glares darkly at the three boys behind a curtain of jet black hair) might make fun of him. Remus wrings his hands and James glances over, laughing aloud, and teases Remus for acting like a worried grandma. Remus wrinkles his nose and James shakes his head, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter as he claps Remus on the back on his way to the bathroom. The other two boys follow shortly after and it is only when he's alone that he peels off the uniform, revealing ugly scars that mar his otherwise smooth skin. He slips quickly into the pyjamas and pads softly to the bathroom.

"Got something to hide, Lupin?" James asks, eyeing his reflection in the mirror as he walks past.

"Don't we all," Remus mutters before he starts brushing his teeth.

Sirius barks a laugh and Remus' heart jumps into his throat at the sound.

"I'm sure you've got a lot of things to hide, Black," James shoots at the dark-haired boy beside him.

"You're one to talk, Potter."

Remus eyes the two boys with a cross between apprehension and confusion.

James looks at Remus and sighs. "Don't tell me you've never heard of the Blacks."

"What are you, a mudblood?" Sirius drawls.

"Hey!" James cries indignantly. "Don't you dare say that word again with me around, Black. Or you'll regret it." He points his toothbrush at Sirius in a threatening manner, trying to get his point across.

"What are you going to do? Hex me with a toothbrush?" Sirius quips, raising an eyebrow.

Remus' lips quirk up in a small smile as the seemingly cool-headed boy blushes furiously and shoves his toothbrush back into his mouth.

"Wise move, Potter."

The boys finish getting ready for bed and as soon as they enter their dormitory, Peter crawls into bed and pulls the curtains for privacy.

Remus opens his trunk once more and pulls out his camera to put on his bedside table for the morning.

"This kid's acting more like a Hufflepuff as the night goes on," Sirius says, his head shaking in disbelief.

James glares at Sirius. "Just because you don't belong in Gryffindor doesn't mean that Remus doesn't either."

"The sorting hat wouldn't put you in Gryffindor if you didn't belong," Remus says quietly, fiddling with the lens of his camera.

"Tell that to my family," Sirius mutters darkly. "I'm going to get an awful howler tomorrow morning."

James frowns before softly apologising for being mean. Sirius looks at him, surprise evident in his features. He shrugs almost imperceptibly.

"You're a Potter, I'm a Black. It's only natural."

James eyes him, his eyes gentle but calculating. "You're not like the others," he says, tilting his head to the side.

Sirius picks a stray thread on his comforter and begins to look uncomfortable at the assumption. James picks up on his body language and doesn't push it any further. Instead, his eyes flash for a moment before he picks up his pillow and launches across the gap between his and Sirius' bed. Remus picks up his camera just in time to capture the maniacal grin on James' face and the look of shock on Sirius' as James lands on Sirius' chest, beating him with the pillow. Sirius recovers quickly—the first of many natural talents that Remus learns throughout their friendship—and yanks his own pillow from beneath him. In a matter of moments, there is a tangle of boy limbs—scrawny and long, not yet toned or attractive—and Remus is trying desperately to save his camera from being broken while Peter is groaning from behind the curtains to get some sleep. James and Sirius are laughing like mad and Remus feels his own grin threatening to creep behind his mask of seriousness.

They stop when they can no longer breathe without gasping for air between laughter. Remus is pinned beneath Sirius and he's got James' elbow in his ear and he can't breathe but even though the positions are awkward, he could care less. He's happy and he feels like he finally has friends. For once in his life, he belongs. The sorting hat doesn't make mistakes, and he realises that perhaps Sirius understands this too because he's smiling and there's a light dancing in his eyes that could only possibly mean that he feels that sense of belonging too.

Remus glances appreciatively at James, whose arms are tangled with Sirius' legs, and grins widely at the raven-haired boy who is the cause of these new, warm feelings. James is laughing like he's never laughed so hard in his life and when he finally untangles himself he puts an arm around Sirius' shoulders and ruffles Remus' hair affectionately with his free hand.

"We'll be just fine," he says, finally.

Yes, Remus thinks, with you here with us, we'll be more than just fine.

iii.

Tonks looks at the picture fondly and Remus knows that she feels a rush of gratitude for James who accepted both boys despite their apparent flaws and made them feel as though they belonged in a world that, if given the chance, would shun them. She gazes up at Remus' face in adoration and he is glad that he is no longer the timid, anxious boy he used to be. He plants a kiss on her forehead before turning his attention back to the moving photographs on his lap, each picture opening a dam of memories that flood forward into his conscious mind.

"Pick a picture?" he suggests, handing them pile over to an eager Tonks.

She bites her lip as her nimble fingers flip through the pictures. Remus nuzzles her neck and is glad that he's finally found someone to share these memories with. And the fact that it's Tonks that he's sharing his past with makes his heart swell. Her eyes sparkle with an emotion Remus cannot identify as her sight lingers on a photograph she's found. She pulls it from the pile and waves it in front of his face.

He can feel himself grin and his chest aches with an emotion he hasn't felt in a long time; pride. Before him, in a picture that tells a story of three boys who risked life and limb for their beloved friend, stand a stag, a dog, and a rat. This is one memory that he has no problem recalling and one that he had hoped to share eventually. He had hoped to share it with Harry, who deserves to hear this story more than anyone else, but Tonks is a close second and she's here hanging on every word that falls from his lips as he cherishes each memory these photographs bring forth.

"Tell me all about their quest to become Animagi to be with their friend on the full moon," she says with flourish, slightly mocking, but merely in jest.

She grins broadly at him and he kisses her then, because he loves her when she acts this carefree—something he's rarely seen since the beginning of this war. And he's willing to do anything, whether it is to tell a story about his childhood or lay his life on the line for this woman, if only to see her smile this way every day.

iv.

Two weeks. For two entire weeks the rest of the Marauders avoid Remus as much as they possibly can, barring the fact that they have to sleep in the same dorm as him though Remus is certain they'd probably sleep elsewhere if given the choice. He isn't completely sure what he has done to make them upset with him but he doesn't like these feelings of loneliness and anger that have buried themselves in his heart.

In the months leading up to those two weeks, the three of them have gone off more and more frequently to do Merlin-knows-what without him (he could really care less if it means one less detention on his record) but they haven't blatantly ignored him until now. And he's not like James or Sirius—he won't march right up to them and demand to know why they're ignoring him because it really does hurt his feelings. But sometimes he wishes he was a bit more like them because it hurts even more that he doesn't even know what he's done to deserve this treatment.

In the midst of the third week, Remus has just about had enough. He is determined that he'll speak to them right after breakfast and figure out what the hell has been going on because he's one who doesn't like being kept in the dark for so long.

He looks at them from beneath his messy fringe of hair, huddled closely together, whispering secrets and smiling. Smiling without him.

"Glaring at them won't kill them," Lily says quietly from beside him, a hint of humour lacing her words.

He looks at her, startled, and she smiles. She leans into him, nudging him slightly.

"Talk to them, Remus. If you don't, I will. I'm tired of seeing you mope."

"I'm not moping," he mumbles.

Lily raises an eyebrow. "Right," she says, "I must have confused that look on your face—you know the one where you look like your heart's being twisted because your mates have been ignoring you for the past couple of weeks—for one that means you're completely happy and you want to dance with fluffy pink bunnies."

Remus chokes on his juice. "Fluffy pink bunnies, Lily?"

She shrugs. "I had a dream the other night where Severus was dressed in a fluffy pink bunny suit handing out Easter eggs to the other Slytherins."

Remus looks at her in disbelief but cracks a smile at the uninvited image that pops into his mind.

"Got you to smile," she says with a triumphant smirk before standing and ruffling his hair affectionately.

He ducks away and meets her eyes before she jerks her head towards the other Marauders.

"I've got to go to Arithmancy. Will you just talk to them?"

He nods. "Thanks, Lils."

She smiles genuinely at him. "What are friends for?" she replies before heading towards her first class.

Friends. He looks over at the other boys and sucks in a deep breath before getting up and shuffling over. Their whispering stops abruptly as he reaches them (he still won't admit that it really hurts that they're doing this) and the look of disappointment on his face doesn't go unnoticed by the other boys.

But they have a secret to keep. So Sirius gets up first, clapping Remus on the shoulder and bolts out of the Great Hall with a "see you later, Remus, got somewhere to be." The other two boys leave in a similar fashion, leaving Remus to stand by himself in the middle of the Great Hall, looking dumbly after the boys he thought were his friends.

Remus stabs his potato at dinner and wishes it was Sirius' head instead of something that he'd rather be eating. The other three boys are once again sitting together as far away from Remus as they can, their whispering a bit more feverish than this morning. Sirius is so excited that Remus swears that he's sweating and there's an absolutely mad glint in his eyes that he's never seen before.

Lily sighs in frustration from beside him. "Did you try talking to them?"

"I did!" he exclaims, stabbing his potato too hard and splitting it in half. "They just stopped talking, got up, and basically ran away from me."

He buries his head in his hands and mutters something about soft potatoes. Lily purses her lips together before pushing herself up from the bench and stalking over to where the other boys are sitting. Remus glances up to watch her—her brilliant red hair no match for her fiery attitude as she probably complains about how annoying it is to have Remus moping for two weeks straight—and hides his face in the crook of his elbow in embarrassment. He hears the seat beside him creak and the warmth of Lily's presence spreads over him as she sits down again. He peeks at her from under his hair and she smiles at him, slipping a note under his palm. He sits up straighter and looks at her curiously.

"Read it," she says before finally concentrating on her dinner that has now gone cold after watching Remus murder his potato for the first twenty minutes of dinner.

He unfolds the note to see Sirius' familiar scrawl and smiles.

Meet us inside the Shack. 9 o'clock sharp. – S

Maybe now he'd finally get some answers.

At five of nine Remus picks up a long branch to prod the knot in the tree that stills its violent thrashes. He knows this tunnel by heart, every stone and root, and can make his way to the Shrieking Shack without having to light his wand.

It's nine o'clock by the time he reaches the bottom floor of the Shack and there's no sign of the other three boys. A creak upstairs alerts his attention to the fact that they are indeed already in the shack and whatever they have planned has started without him. His heart sinks at the thought. He cautiously makes his way upstairs, wondering if the boys will stop whatever it is they're doing when then realize he's on his way. As he expected, the low murmur of voices he had heard suddenly stops and he's left facing nothing but silence. A part of him wonders why he even agreed to meet them here, but the other part of him—the part that he wishes would show itself more often—is just as curious to discover what his friends have been up to.

When he opens the door to the bedroom he is stilled in his tracks. The magnitude of what they have done is overwhelming. His throat closes up and he blinks back tears because boys do not cry. He opens his mouth but has to swallow and he pinches himself to remind his lungs to breathe. The large dog before him pads across the floor to him and nuzzles his hand, giving him a brief lick before morphing into Sirius, who flings himself on top of Remus, grinning like a maniac. They tumble to the floor but Remus' eyes are locked on the two remaining animals. The rat transforms second and a plump Peter appears, smiling at Remus. That leaves James. Remus finds it oddly fitting that James is the majestic stag before him; king of the forest, king of the Marauders.

Remus untangles himself from Sirius and moves forward, his eyes transfixed on the stag before him.

"I don't understand," he says finally, his voice finally deciding to work.

Sirius gets up from the floor and throws an arm around Remus' shoulder.

"Can you believe it, Remus? We did it. It took us the better part of three years, but we finally did it."

Remus opens and closes his mouth, not really knowing what to say. He feels the tears threatening to fall again and he wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand in embarrassment. "I…uh…"

James gives the other two boys a knowing glance and they quietly leave the bedroom, leaving Remus alone with James.

James grabs Remus by the elbow and sits him down on the torn and broken bed. Remus bites his lip and again, wipes angrily at this eyes.

"You okay?" James asks, concern evident in his tone.

Remus nods. "You uh…you guys did this all, for me?"

James smiles broadly. "'Course we did, Remus. And 'm sorry about these past few weeks. It was getting harder not to tell you about it so we figured that avoiding you would be the best way to get around it. We didn't realise that it upset you so much. But uh, you understand, yeah?"

"Why?" he asks.

James looks at him confused. "Why what?"

"James…do you know how difficult it is to become an Animagus? Of course you do. But you're only fifteen. And it's really dangerous. Why would you risk all of that just for me?"

James laughs. "You're joking, right? Remus…you're our best friend. We'd do anything for you. If it means that you'd be more comfortable when you're…when you're a werewolf, we'll take the risks. It's what friends are for—to be there for one another. And you're always there for us but when you needed us the most, we couldn't. So we just thought that this would be the perfect way to help you in your time of need."

Remus shakes his head. "I don't deserve your friendship. You could've killed yourself trying to master that."

James wraps an arm around Remus' shoulder and pulls him in for a brotherly hug. "Shut your trap, Lupin. 'Course you deserve it and we wouldn't have had it any other way."

Remus smiles then, a real genuine smile, for the first time that night and buries his face in the crook of James' neck. "Thank you, James. Really."

James shrugs. "Aw, it was nothing. It was kind of fun, and it's not every day I get to turn into a stag."

"Speaking of stag," Sirius says as he pops into the bedroom, sensing that Remus has finally recovered from his shock enough, "we've come up with nicknames. Sort of like codenames based on our Animagus, and well, your werewolf-ness."

Remus laughs and shakes his head. "Okay, what are these nicknames?"

"I'm Wormtail," Peter replies with a grin. "Sirius is Padfoot because he's a dog and James is Prongs."

James leans into Remus and says, "And you're Moony. Our Moony."

Moony. A nickname. A name that means more to him than it probably should because it means that he belongs. That he's a part of this group of boys who have, and will, do anything for one another because that's what friends are for.

They've done this because of me, Remus thinks with a smile. But most importantly, they've done this for me.

v.

Tonks sighs in contentment beside him. "You were lucky to have such understanding friends."

"They were the best," Remus agrees.

"Whose idea was it originally to become Animagi? If it took them the better part of three years, they would have begun planning Second Year. That's a bit of complex magic for a twelve-year-old to want to accomplish."

"There was nothing too small or big for Sirius and James to accomplish. I think they both brainstormed on the idea but it was James who really put their plan into action. James probably could have suggested stabbing me through the heart with a silver cross and Sirius would have followed him, blindly, and with just as much enthusiasm."

"You all would have followed James, wherever he went," Tonks points out.

"I doubt we would even have questioned him. That's just who he was; a leader, and he was good at it too, you know? A lot of people were surprised when he was named Head Boy, but he was the best choice. Dumbledore couldn't have picked a better man for the job."

"I bet Lily wasn't too pleased with his choice of Head Boy, from what I've heard."

"Of course she wasn't," Remus chuckles, "but she too learned that she wouldn't have wanted anyone else beside her during that year. The war had just begun and the school needed someone like James to keep everyone strong. Everyone looked up to him. And he was what kept us all together during the war. It was difficult because I was a 'creature of the night' and Sirius' family was heavily involved on Voldemort's side. Trust was hard to come by in those times. I think, more than once, we would've turned on one another—Sirius and me—if it wasn't for James, making us get our heads out of our arses."

"You and Sirius?" Tonks asks disbelievingly. "I would have thought that the two of you were the closest out of the four."

Remus shakes his head. "That was Sirius and James. Granted, I was very close with Sirius, but like I said, the war really hurt us all."

"Not like this war."

"I think that living through the war the first time has given us insight but it's still difficult to know who you can trust. Look at Peter. We all trusted him, would have never believed him to be the spy, but he was. Wars corrupt people and turn the closest of friends into feuding enemies."

"Like you and Sirius."

Remus sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Sirius and I were never enemies. But the fact that I was a werewolf and he was a Black—he never believed in what his parents, what Regulus fought for, but they raised him as a Black and you can't erase certain things. The prejudices he grew up with still lingered deep down, somewhat covered by the opinions he formed himself as he grew old enough. I think that this led to our distrust in one another and why Sirius tried to convince James to use Peter as the Secret Keeper rather than me; he didn't trust me, thought I might have been the spy."

"Didn't that hurt? From what you've told me, the opinions of your friends mattered a lot to you," she says, resting a reassuring hand on his knee.

"It probably would have hurt more if I didn't feel the same way about him at the time."

"But James thought that you…"

"James had complete faith in his friends," he cuts in. "But yes, there were doubts as to where my loyalties lied."

Even now, Remus wonders what he could have done to prove that he was not a spy. He half-heartedly wishes that Peter didn't feed both him and Sirius lies, that Sirius had more faith in him, that he had more faith in his friends. Instead, he buried himself in assignments for the Order, to escape the talk of traitors and deaths that plagued every conversation.

Flipping through the photographs, he can see how the war had aged them all and made them dark and bitter—their light growing dimmer as the years dragged on. Most of the photographs taken after Hogwarts became candid shots; the subjects never given the chance to fake a smile for the sake of the photograph.

"This was the last photograph I ever took," he says with a sigh as he pulls out a photograph of three brooding young men swallowing their anger with alcohol.

"Must have been a rough night," Tonks observes, looking at the photograph over his shoulder, her arms wrapped around his neck.

Remus leans back into her embrace and nods. "I'll be the first to admit that we all showed sides of us that we've never seen before."

"Want to talk about it?"

Remus offers her a faint smile. "I'd talk with you until I ran out of words to express everything I've ever felt or done in my lifetime. The good and the bad."

"So, tell me about this photograph—"

vi.

"—god damnit, Remus. Put the fucking camera away!" Sirius snarls as his hand automatically goes up to shield his eyes from the blinding flash.

"One last memory," Remus says with a shrug.

James snorts. "You want to remember us all drunk?"

Remus snags the bottle of firewhiskey from Sirius' clenched fist and takes a swig. "I want to remember us all before this bloody war takes us away."

"Who says anything about us dying?" Sirius says suspiciously. "You one of those Seers, now? Another secret you've kept from us?"

Remus head begins to pound and he groans in pain. Looking at Sirius with bleary eyes he mutters, "What are you going on about now?"

"What is anyone going on about?" Peter mumbles, half-asleep with his head resting wearily on his hand.

"You! You're always gone and you don't tell us where you've been—"

"Assignments for the Order, you idiot. You know that."

Sirius steals his alcohol back and glares at Remus darkly. "Since when did our assignments become secrets? And how come you go by yourself? We always go in pairs, safer that way. Things don't add up."

"Yeah, things don't add up," Peter pipes in.

Remus ignores Peter. "I'm a werewolf, Sirius. I've been trying to recruit werewolves for Dumbledore. I'm pretty certain you wouldn't want to find yourself among them, do you? That's why I go alone. Stop being a suspicious bastard. If anyone has reason to be a traitor, it's you. Your family certainly leaves a legacy behind."

In a flash, Sirius has Remus pinned to the floor. Remus' arm is twisted angrily behind his back and he grimaces slightly in pain. Sirius nose is inches from his own and when he speaks, Remus can almost taste the alcohol on his breath.

"Don't you ever speak of my family again."

"Okay," James says loudly, "let's break up this love match and save it for another day."

James pulls Sirius off of Remus rather violently and Sirius stumbles slightly before catching himself on Peter's chair. Remus sits up and rubs his shoulder, looking at Sirius venomously.

"C'mon, Moony," James utters, helping Remus stand. "Sirius, go home. You're drunk and not thinking clearly. We'll talk tomorrow, yeah?" Sirius nods and gives James a brief hug before Apparating. "You too, Peter. I don't think Remus wants you to fall asleep on his table, might mean he'll have to cook you breakfast tomorrow morning with a hangover." Peter waves before he Apparates quickly and without question.

"I'm sorry, James," Remus mumbles. "It got out of hand."

James shrugs. "You knew how Sirius gets when he's drunk. Never been able to hold his liquor."

"That's for certain," Remus retorts.

"Let me see your arm."

"Are you keeping secrets too, James? Did you secretly become a Medi-wizard on us?" he asks mockingly.

James smirks. "Yeah, I liked the outfit, makes me look good. Let me see your arm, Remus."

"It's fine. I may look scrawny but I'm not weak. Sirius couldn't have hurt me badly."

"Now, that's the truth," James laughs.

"Look, James, about what Sirius said earlier…"

James shakes his head and puts a restraining hand on Remus' shoulder. "Don't. You know, Lily probably would have hexed Sirius into next year if she heard him accuse you of being a traitor."

"Lily has always believed in me. But do you?" Remus is desperate now because although he won't say it, James' faith in him makes this war a little more bearable.

"I'm not saying that what you're doing isn't suspicious," James says, "but I don't think you would ever intentionally hurt those that you love."

"You're like family to me."

"But Sirius…"

"…is closer to you than I am," Remus finishes.

James looks at Remus apologetically. "You've always known that." Remus nods. "Which is why…" he begins, searching for an easier way to put it. "Lily and I have decided to perform the Fidelius Charm—you know it's the only way, Remus, to protect ourselves and Harry. And…we've chosen Sirius as our Secret Keeper."

Remus sighs, knowing that Sirius would have been the first choice anyway. But part of him wished that they had considered him—he would go to his grave with their secret kept safely behind his lips. He doesn't doubt that Sirius would do the same; he loved James, loved him more than he would ever admit. But he has a sinking feeling in his stomach that something might go terribly wrong.

"He's a good choice, James," Remus says without any conviction in his voice.

James frowns. "You doubt him?"

"Something just doesn't feel right, James."

James opens his mouth and closes it again, unsure of what to say. "I never thought that you'd be jealous," he finally says disbelievingly.

"Jealous? James this isn't some popularity contest. This whole thing—whoever you choose—your life depends on it. Your wife, your child…their future depends on this spell and on the loyalty of whoever you choose."

"And you feel that by choosing Sirius, I'm saying I don't believe that your loyalties lie with us?"

Remus laughs bitterly and sinks to the floor, leaning against the wall for support. "I don't know what to feel anymore."

James sinks down beside him and looks at Remus, his eyes unreadable behind his glasses. "Remus…"

"No, don't say anything, James. You don't have to explain yourself to me. I completely understand."

"No, you don't," he sighs. "You just want to get rid of me so you can sit around your flat moping."

"I do not mope!"

James smiles and shakes his head. "Everything will be fine, Remus. We'll be just fine."

Remus' heart clenches as he recalls James saying those exact same words years before and how much he wishes he could believe him now and as easily as he did when he was eleven.

"Yeah," he says quietly, "with you here, everything will be just fine."

"Look, Lily will kill me if I don't get back soon. You'll be all right?" James asks, using Remus' shoulder for leverage to pull himself up.

"I'll be okay. Be careful, James. Promise me that you'll stay safe." He's desperate now, hoping for empty promises to soothe his worried mind.

"Always the grandma," James says with a smirk. "We'll be safe. Don't worry, Remus."

With a crack!, James is gone and Remus is left alone in his apartment to contemplate what had just passed between them.

vii.

"They weren't as safe as they thought," Tonks muses.

"Betrayed by the person they thought least likely to be a traitor."

"You did what you had to, Remus. No one blames you. Sirius was always quick to judge…if he saw you sneaking around, he would have immediately thought you were up to no good."

No one blames you.

Remus stands up abruptly and Tonks looks at him in surprise.

"I'm sorry," he says quickly. "I just…I have to do something. Will you be okay?"

She nods and stands, picking up the long-empty mugs of tea. Remus pulls her into an embrace.

"Thank you, Tonks. For letting me relive those memories. It meant a lot to me."

"Anything for you," she says with a smile.

She exits to the kitchen and Remus follows her. He grabs his jacket from the back of his chair, presses a hasty kiss to the top of her head, and heads out the door with only one thing on his mind.

The graveyard is beautiful this time of year, Remus thinks as he shuffles through small piles of leaves. He breathes in the crisp autumn air and feels young again, young and unscarred. His feet travel a familiar path, one he's followed many times in the years following 1981.

He kneels in front of James' grave, his fingers brush over the smooth stone, dipping and rising with the indentations spelling a name that Remus has uttered during nightmares since that fateful night years ago.

He sighs and licks his cracked, dry lips. "James…" his voice cracks. "You promised me that you would be safe. You promised and it was the last thing you ever said to me. 'Don't worry, Remus' you said. But I did worry and I had every right to worry. And when I heard that you and Lily…things weren't fine, James. You said we'd be okay and we weren't. You were dead and so was Peter, supposedly, and Sirius was in Azkaban and where the hell was I?"

He takes a deep breath and swallows, sniffling loudly.

"I was just there, barely existing, and I wasn't just fine. I blamed myself, you know, and I know you would never blame me but I'm the last one standing and I feel like somehow all of this is my fault. That maybe Sirius should have been able to trust me more and maybe…maybe he would have changed places with me instead of Peter and you'd still be alive and Harry would have parents. He'd be happy and not chasing after deranged lunatics because he's gone and taken after you with that 'save the world' attitude and fuck, James, he's just like you. I wish you could see him. He's grown up to be a fine man. He's just like you; a king who's looking after those who look to him for their strength, for their freedom. Because that's what you were, what you always will be. You don't have the crown but I'd make you one in a heartbeat if it made the difference. Butyou don't need a crown. You already know. You don't need the proof because you already know."

Remus wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, his breathing laboured as he sobs for his fallen king. "And I just wish that you were here, now, James, to tell me that you don't blame me. To tell me that it isn't my fault, that there was nothing that I could do to prevent all of this from happening. Just tell me because I need to know that you don't blame me, that you loved me and when you died, your faith in me did not falter once because you believed in me. Because in those last moments of your life, you must have realised that I was never a traitor, that I would never betray you. I would have died for you, James, you know I would have. I wasn't the one who uttered the secret that would have kept you alive and you must have known that, deep down. Just tell me you forgive me, James. Tell me and I'll stop blaming myself."

"I forgive you, Remus," a voice says from behind him.

Remus whips around and wipes at his tears. "Harry? What are you doing here?"

"Tonks floo'd me. Said you were talking about the past and then suddenly you got up and left." He shrugs. "I had a clue as to where you were headed."

"How?"

"I didn't know where else you might have been going. And if I was wrong, then I'd be wrong. But I wasn't, and you're here."

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Its okay, Remus. I forgive you. I know it might not be the same as my dad forgiving you but…"

Remus shakes his head and smiles at the boy in front of him, the boy who has matured in the last few years to become the man they knew he would be; the saviour of the wizarding world. "No, it's even better."

Harry returns the smile and helps Remus to his feet. "Thank you, Harry," he says, putting a hand on the younger man's shoulder as he leads them away from the graveyard.

Thank you, James.