Chapter 5: Back to the Living

Bill winced as he tried desperately to get the last of the snarls from his long hair. He could scarcely remember when he had attempted to managed his hair, but today he had deemed that it was time to take Remus up on his offer. It wouldn't do to show up looking like a bum off of the streets. Bill eyed the scissors for a moment, but dismissed the thought. His hair was perhaps the only thing of his old self that had survived. Shoving the scissors in the drawer, Bill gritted his teeth and went back to the job at hand. By the time he was finished, the long fiery locks were pulled back in his signature pony tail. Next, Bill picked up his razor.

"I must be out of my bloody mind," Bill murmured to his reflection. He'd done a lot of thinking over the past two weeks, and come to the conclusion that there was some truth to what Remus had said. He needed to get out of the house, even if it was only for a few hours.

By the time Bill was finished, he studied the face looking back at him. Without his beard and hair to mask them, his scars looked less sinister. Oh, he was still ugly; he merely looked less menacing. Bill remembered what it was too look in the mirror and think that he looked good. No, he didn't just THINK he looked good, he KNEW he looked good. Women had loved his smile, and so had men.

He slammed his fist into the wall. "What am I thinking?"

In his heart, he knew that if he didn't do this now, he never would. He turned his back on the mirror, and left that demon for another day. Bill threw on his old jacket turning the collar up like he had years ago.

Diagon Alley was bustling as always. Few people along the street spared him much more than a glance. Those who did gave him either cold stares or pitying tsks. You can all go to hell, he thought morosely. Bill didn't need or want anything from them. All he wanted at that moment was to turn around and go home, but he kept walking until he saw the sign for Remus' store.

The lycanthrope was absently stroking the ears of a thin, black cat when Bill came in. Remus smile was genuine and warm. "It's good to see you, Bill."

Bill couldn't stop himself from smiling back. "I made it," he replied guardedly. "I thought that maybe I'd see if you could use a hand."

"You're timing is impeccable. I received a shipment from a friend in Scotland, and I could use a hand sorting it all out." Remus gestured to a stack of boxes nearly as high as his head.

Bill snorted. "It looks like it."

"Let me show you the back room."

The back of the store looked like a hurricane had hit it. Though clean, there were stacks of books everywhere. Bill had a hard time seeing the rhyme or reason to Remus' stacking methods. The room smelled musty, and reminded him of his days as a curse breaker. He'd spent hours pouring over old texts, and for a second he missed his job. Remus stopped before and empty shelf. "I cleared this off for some of the new stock, but I haven't gotten around to arranging anything yet."

"I can tell. So where do we start?" Bill asked unenthusiastically.

The two men worked and sorted in an easy silence. The books were arranged by subject and title. Remus set aside a stack of the more popular titles to go out on the floor, and handled the few customers to come through the door. Bill was rather glad to be left in the back. He wasn't in the mood to deal with the public just yet. From the front of the store, he could hear Remus laughing and talking to the patrons like he had known them for years. He had to admit that Remus was well suited for this kind of thing.

By noon, they had a definite order to most of the clutter. Bill felt a tiny bit of accomplishment looking at the shelves. Though it wasn't much, it was the first time since the war that his day had any kind of purpose to it. By the way Remus breezed through the piles, he had begun to wonder if he'd needed the help at all. He decided to dismiss the thought as he watched the older man lovingly set aside a volume of poetry.

"I can't resist hoarding some of them for myself. If there is anything you want, feel free to take it," he offered.

Bill scanned the titles. His eyes stopped on a leather bound book. "How to Hunt and Handle Werewolves and Other Despicable Creatures," he read aloud. "Lovely."

Remus stiffened. "I have a special place for things like that." He took the book and strode into the hidden sitting room. With his wand, he stoked the flames in the grate, and tossed the filth into the fire. "Normally, I would never agree to burning books, but I can't allow myself to spread this kind of thing through the world."

"I understand," Bill agreed curtly.

"Sometimes," Remus said wearily as he sank into a chair, "I wonder if the bigotry will ever stop. Humanity seems to always find something evil in something different. I'll never say that there aren't dangers associated with werewolves, yet I don't see how people can ignore the fact that lycanthropy is manageable."

"It's never going to stop. People are shallow and stupid. They don't want to know anything more than what they can see." Bill watched as the flames devoured the pages slowly. "Even the woman I married turned out to be nothing more than the rest. For all of her bravado when we wed, she couldn't take a lifetime with me."

"Yet how much were you drinking when she left? I never liked Fleur much, but you can't see only her faults and none of your own. Yes, people aren't perfect, but you can't go through life passing the blame. I learned that the hard way." Remus turned away.

"Did you? Saint Remus made a mistake?" Bill snapped. He was tired of this.

The look in Remus eyes would have silenced any other. Never had the mild mannered werewolf shown his temper, but he was on the brink. His voice was low, but it held a sharp edge to it. "You don't have a clue. Let me tell you something: When I was younger, I pushed everyone away from me because I thought that they would inevitably let me down. I was every bit as narrow minded as the people I feared. Never did I imagine that I would find friends like James and Sirius, and yet when it came time to stand up for my best friend... for my lover I cowered in the corner. I believed the worst of him, and I will NEVER forgive myself for that. I didn't fight for Siri. I didn't even try. Tell me: Did you try for Fleur? Did you stop pitying yourself long enough to see that you were hurting her?"

Bill's knuckles were white with rage. "Shut up!"

"Why? Because you fear that I might be right? You didn't really even try. It's time to admit your mistakes."

"So that I can take the moral high ground and tout it over the rest of the world the way you do?" Bill laughed bitterly.

"So that you can move on with your life and stop being such a pathetic waste of potential," Remus corrected. His amber eyes were as hard as steel. There was no way he was backing down.

"Fuck," Bill swore. "You don't give up do you?"

"Never."

Bill ran a hand through his hair. "I think I'm going to head home."

Remus nodded. "Will you be back?"

Bill only shrugged. "I might be busy."

He left the store feeling sick. God, this was not what he wanted. Bill never wanted to come back again. Remus was showing him an image even more clear and even more ugly than his mirror did every morning. Perhaps, it was time he took a good look.