He disapparated the moment he slammed the door shut. He wasn't entirely sure where he was going, and realized so in mid-journey. It would be excellent, he thought, if the way that Harry was taken by the Ministry was if the same Ministry had to piece his splinched body back together. But he arrived on Tottenham Court Road without a problem.
Well, not entirely without a problem. He was furious. Utterly furious, and he was sure that the muggles walking briskly down the street, should they chance a glance at his face, would see it there. The same it that he had let slip through to Harry when Harry had dared—when Harry had….
So, Harry thought he wanted to fill Sirius' shoes, eh? Thought that he was betraying his family, eh?
Coward.
The word rang through ears and rattled around somewhere just below his jaw, circling its way up to the tip of his skull. There was no escaping it. It had been said, and now it was going to fester.
Coward.
What was cowardly about trying to protect those you loved? What was cowardly about doing your best to stop the man who was making all your efforts not only useless, but scorned, who made your presence in this world hated. Surely there wasn't anything cowardly in that?
And it's not as though he didn't love her. Oh, he loved her, more than anyone could possibly understand. He loved her more than he had ever loved anyone, or anything, she was all that was great and good in his life, all that made him not want to curl up in the fetal position under his bed and whimper at the idea that Dumbledore was gone and Voldemort was out there, slowly killing off people who meant something to him—and many people who didn't.
He wondered for half a moment where his feet were taking him. He wondered if it were safe for him to just be wandering around London like this, with Death Eaters on the loose and the Ministry fallen. But he felt reckless tonight. Indeed, trying to fill Sirius' shoes. He laughed bitterly to himself. No…he was being more reckless than Sirius ever had been right now.
He wondered if he had explained himself fully, but didn't want to go back and try again. Surely Harry must understand what it would be like to put loved ones in danger simply by continuing to associate with them. Surely that was why Harry was not staying with the Order, why Harry, Ron and Hermione had severed ties as much as possible with their families. How could Harry not see that this was exactly the same thing, that he couldn't put Dora and the—his—child in danger like that.
Coward.
He stopped at the Thames.
Yes.
Harry was right.
He was a coward.
A coward with good intentions, though. Surely, being cowardly out of love was better than being cowardly to protect oneself, and oneself alone. But there he was, doing it again. Could he not just face the fact that he was, and maybe always had been, a coward?
He thought of Sirius, wanting desperately to hear him say you aren't that bad, Remus. You never betrayed your friends… but Sirius was oddly quiet, and he knew why. Leaving his family behind was as bad as betraying his friends.
In your case, it is, said Sirius.
Thanks, Sirius, he replied. He couldn't tell if his tone was dry, or sarcastic, or…cowardly.
You are only a coward if you choose to be, Remus, said James. We agree with Harry. You've heard the opposing side. Now decide what to do.
He hated that he had to choose. He hated that the decision was no longer an obvious one. He hated that he was forced to reflect inwardly now, to see what he was doing and to hate himself for it.
He hated that he saw clearly.
But summoning up the courage to act, to go back was something different.
He pounded up and down streets, as if the streets of London offered some strange wisdom that could rise up through his feet and offer him some piece of advice. He didn't know how long he walked. He breathed in the night air, and looked up at the crescent moon, the waxing moon.
How to go about it. And how to define "it" for that matter. Was it penitence? Redemption?
Grovel. He could grovel. No…not manly enough—or perhaps just what is necessary. He'd come back to that choice later.
Apologize. Apt, does the trick, but won't quite cover what he felt.
He could lie. No. Too cowardly.
Tell the truth, accompanied by a long discussion of his feelings. Bad idea. She was in a delicate state. He wouldn't want to upset her.
But before he could decide, before he could even revisit the options he had come up with, he found himself standing in front of his—their—flat. He remembered vividly their first meeting at the Leaky Cauldron, he remembered hearing her in the morning with her beaux, he remembered her smile and her laugh and what it felt like to come home to someone. He took a deep breath and opened the door, wondering what it would be like to come home to no one again.
The Quibbler, for all it was a very strange medium, was rather interesting. Articles about how to protect oneself from Death Eaters sitting right next to articles about how to tend to the Brace Mites that live in cabbages, or how to ward of Nargles. It was, for lack of a better description, a very colorful magazine.
It was also serving its purpose quite well. She didn't know when he would get there, she just knew that he would, at some point, make his way home.
Sure, she had promised him that she would stay with her parents until he got back. But he had also promised that he would be back soon—something that she doubted very much after what had happened at Bill and Fleur's wedding.
She had seen how on edge he had been during their interrogation. She had seen how ashamed he had been when the "ministry" worker had asked about their relationship.
"He's my husband," she had said defiantly, holding Remus' hand very tightly.
"A werewolf?" he had demanded.
"Yes."
"Oh."
And that was it. That tiny little moment had been all that was needed to drive an already nervous, scared, self-isolating Remus over the edge of reason and into full-on panic mode. She had seen what she had been scared to see since she married him in his eyes. He was going to leave again.
She sighed.
Well, two could play at that game.
He would leave. And he would come here. Where else could he go? He wouldn't go back underground unless it was asked of him, and so she would know. The Order would tell her.
She flipped a page and began to fill out a circular crossword puzzle.
The door opened and she looked up.
There he was. He looked stunned to see her there.
"Well, it's about bloody time. I was starting to get really worried about you," she said, folding up the magazine.
"But…but…" he stammered, still staring.
"There's some soup on the stove, if you like."
He stood, frozen in the doorframe.
When the shock slowly began to dissipate, it was replaced by anger.
"What are you doing here?"
"I live here, Remus."
"It isn't safe. You said you were going to stay with your parents."
"It's about as safe here as it is wandering about London without telling anyone your location."
"That's completely different?"
"Why?"
"I'm not pregnant."
"No, you are not. But honestly, I am a big girl, Remus, who knows some big girl hexes. I got Jugson and Wilson who were watching our front stoop, which is why you didn't see them. Bat Bogey Hex and a Confundus Charm. Not too bad, if I do say so myself."
He looked like he wanted to keep arguing for a moment, but couldn't find it in himself.
"You are an ass, you know," she said.
"Yes, I know."
"You were just going to leave me there."
He nodded.
"You're an ass. I love you, but you are an ass."
He sagged against the door and looked away. "I was just trying to do what was best. I was trying to—"
"Oh, do be quiet. I get it, you know. I'm not a complete idiot. I know it is hard for you. I know you haven't had anyone you've ever had to worry about this much. I get it, all right? It's not as if I don't know you very, very well by now. But if you do it again, I may just throttle you."
He nodded.
"Now, will you come over here and kiss me already?"
"Yes ma'am."
He closed the door at last, and went over to her chair. He leaned down and kissed her very tenderly.
It really was coming home.