Everything in bold is from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, chapter 16: A Very Frosty Christmas
Chapter 10: A Weasley Christmas
It was hard for Remus to even remember being cold as he sat beside the fire at the Burrow. Still, at the back of his mind was a picture of Sara huddled beside a bonfire that couldn't keep the cold from seeping into her bones. The goodbye had been hurried and now that Remus was warm, he regretted not bringing her with him. He was thinner than ever, according to Molly, and Sara was certainly in a worse condition. If anyone needed a home cooked, Molly Weasley Christmas dinner, it was her. It was much less painful to think of Tonks, who was probably spending the night with her parents. He wished she were here with him despite his desire to keep her safe. But at least in her parents' home, she would be far from London and out of Annabeth's reach.
He couldn't help but think of her as Celestina Warbeck's voice filled the room. It brought back too many memories of the previous Christmas, and Sirius, who had had one too many egg nogs, had waltzed and sung with an empty glass to the same song while Remus and Tonks laughed. He had turned to her and muttered, "I think it's a cauldron full of black coffee or ice water ne needs, not hot, strong love."
Tonks had winked at him and said with a flirtatious smile, "You can stir my cauldron any time," causing Remus to blush as she left the room.
The song changed and Remus looked up from the fire as Arthur said, "I went and searched the Malfoys' house. There was nothing, either broken or whole, that shouldn't have been there."
"Yeah, I know," Harry replied. "I saw in the Prophet that you'd looked…but this is something different…Well, something more…" He hesitated. "When I went to Slughorn's party, I left for a few minutes and I saw Snape talking to Malfoy about an Unbreakable Vow he'd made and trying to get Draco to tell him about his assignment from Voldemort, but Malfoy refused to tell him. And Snape offered to help with whatever it was, though Malfoy refused that as well."
Remus watched Harry, feeling slightly amused. The boy was so like James in his feelings toward Snape it was almost unnerving. Harry had finished telling his story, leaving an uncomfortable sildence to be filled with Celestina's voice.
"Oh, my poor heart, where has it gone? It's left me for a spell."
Mr. Weasley shook his head and smiled faintly. "Has it occurred to you, Harry that Snape was simply pretending—?"
"Pretending to offer help," Harry cut in, "so that he could find out what Malfoy's up to? Yeah, I thought you'd say that. But how do we know?"
Remus had turned his chair around and took Arthur's silence as an invitation to answer himself. "It isn't our business to know. It's Dumbledore's business. Dumbledore trusts Snape and that ought to be good enough for all of us."
"But just say—just say Dumbledore's wrong about Snape—"
Remus smiled slightly. "People have said it many times. It comes down to whether or not you trust Dumbledore's judgment. I do; therefore, I trust Severus."
"But Dumbledore can make mistakes. He said it himself. And you—" Harry's green eyes bored into Remus with a strength reminiscent of Dumbledore's blue gaze "—do you honestly like Snape?"
Remus thought carefully before answering. He sighed then began, "I neither like nor dislike Severus." Harry's expression turned skeptical, forcing him to continue, "No, Harry, I am speaking the truth. We shall never be bosom friends, perhaps; after all that happened between James and Sirius and Severus, there is too much bitterness there. But I do not forget that during the year I taught at Hogwarts, Severus made the Wolfsbane potion for me every month, made it perfectly, so that I did not have to suffer as I usually do at the full moon."
Harry frowned and replied angrily, "But he 'accidentally' let slip that you're a werewolf, so you had to leave!"
"The news would have leaked out anyway," Remus said with a shrug. "We both knew he wanted my job, but he could have wreaked much worse damage on me by tampering with the potion. He kept me healthy. I must be grateful."
"Maybe he didn't dare mess with the potion with Dumbledore watching him!" Harry suggested.
Remus smiled slightly. He no longer blamed Sirius for treating Harry as if he were his father returned from the grave. "You are determined to hate him, Harry. And I understand; with James as your father, with Sirius as your godfather, you have inherited an old prejudice. By all means, tell Dumbledore what you have told Arthur and me, but do not expect him to share your view of the matter; do not even expect him to be surprised by what you tell him. It might have been on Dumbledore's orders Severus questioned Draco."
"…and now that you've torn it quite apart, I'll thank you to give back my heart."
As Celestina warbled out her final note, applause came over the radio, with Molly Weasley accompanying it in her enthusiasm.
Over
"Eez eet over?" Fleur asked dramatically over the continuing applause. "Thank goodness, what an 'orrible—"
"Shall we have a nightcap, then?" Arthur interrupted, standing up abruptly. "Who wants egg nog?"
Harry sat down beside Remus. "What have you been up to lately?"
"Oh, I've been underground," Remus replied, thinking of the caves to which the werewolves had moved for the winter only a week before he had left for the Burrow. "Almost literally. That's why I haven't been able to write, Harry; sending letters to yu would have been something of a giveaway." Sara had offered to write to Harry for him—she wanted a pen pal of her own age—but Remus had asked her not to. Writing to Harry was more dangerous than writing to Tonks, which he had decided not to do again unless it was urgent.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked curiously.
"I've been living among my fellows, my equals." Harry gave him a blank stare and he added. "Werewolves. Nearly all of them are on Voldemort's side. Dumbledore wanted a spy and here I was…ready made." His voice was bitter and frustrated since, by most, he meant all but himself and Sara. He smiled, though, as he continued. "I am not complaining; it is necessary work and who can do it better than I? However, it has been difficult gaining their trust." At least in the case of Annabeth and her friends, he added mentally. "I bear the signs of having tried to live among wizards, you see, whereas they have shunned normal society and live on the margins, stealing—and sometimes killing—to eat."
"How come they like Voldemort?" Harry sounded surprised and Remus didn't blame him. He had wondered the same thing before living with them.
"They think that, under his rule, they will have a better life. And it is hard to argue with Greyback out there…" Breathing down my neck all the time, he thought. The caves made it harder. There was no forest to hide in and sound carried too well underground for him to speak without being overheard.
"Who's Greyback?" asked Harry.
"You haven't heard of him?" Remus felt his hands clench up involuntarily. "Fenrir Greyback is, perhaps, the most savage werewolf alive today." Though Annabeth might just take over that spot with a little effort. "He regards it as his mission in life to bite and contaminate as many people as possible; he wants to create enough werewolves to overcome the wizards. Voldemort has promised him prey in return for his services. Greyback specializes in children. Bite them young, he says, and raise them away from their parents, raise them to hate normal wizards." He realized all over again how lucky it was that Sara's mother had raised her to hate her father. If she hadn't, Remus wouldn't have one ally among the werewolves. "Voldemort," he continued, "has threatened to unleash him upon people's sons and daughters; it is a treat that usually produces good results." He paused before adding, "It was Greyback who bit me."
"What?" Harry exclaimed in surprise. "When—when you were a kid, you mean?"
"Yes. My father had offended him. I did not know, for a very long time, the identity of the werewolf who had attacked me; I even felt pity for him, knowing by then how it felt to transform. But Greyback is not like that. At the full moon, he positions himself close to victims, ensuring that he is near enough to strike. He plans it all. And this is the man Voldemort is using to marshal the werewolves. I cannot pretend that my particular brand of reasoned argument is making much headway against Greyback's insistence that we werewolves deserve blood, that we ought to revenge ourselves on normal people."
"But you are normal!" Harry protested. "You've just got a—a problem—"
Remus laughed. "Sometimes you remind me a lot of James. He called it my 'furry little problem' in company. Many people were under the impression that I owned a badly behaved rabbit." He smiled slightly at the memory of Sirius telling his Ravenclaw girlfriend that his non-existent rabbit was named Mr. Tibbles.
Arthur broke into his thoughts with a glass of eggnog. "Thanks," he said, his smile broader now.
"Have you ever heard of someone called the Half-Blood Prince?" Harry asked, sounding excited.
Remus was taken aback by the question. "The Half-Blood what?"
"Prince," Harry repeated, gazing intently at Remus.
"There are no Wizarding princes. Is this a title you're thinking of adopting? I should have thought being 'the Chosen One' would be enough," he added with a smile.
"It's nothing to do with me!" Harry sounded offended. "The Half-Blood Prince is someone who used to go to Hogwarts. I've got his old Potions book. He wrote spells all over it, spells he invented. One of them was Levicorpus—"
"Oh, that one had a great vogue during my time at Hogwarts. There were a few months in my fifth year when you couldn't move for being hoisted into the air by your ankle." He grinned, remembering a few of his own experiences with the jinx.
"My dad used it. I saw him in the Pensieve, he used it on Snape."
Remus gave Harry an understanding smile. He still remembered the urgency in Harry's tone when he had appeared in the Grimmauld Place fire. "Yes, but he wasn't the only one. As I say, it was very popular…You know how these spells come and go…"
"But it sounds as if it was invented while you were at school."
"Not necessarily. Jinxes go in and out of fashion like everything else." He paused and quickly glanced around before adding in a whisper, "James was a Pureblood, Harry, and I promise you, he never asked us to call him Prince."
"And it wasn't Sirius or you?"
"Definitely not," Remus said firmly, though he allowed himself an inward chuckle at the thought of being the Half-Blood Prince.
"Oh, I just thought—well, he's helped me out a lot in Potions classes, the Prince has."
That alone should have convinced Harry that he wasn't the Half-Blood Prince. Remus was dreadful at Potions. "How old is this book, Harry?"
"I dunno, I've never checked."
"Well, perhaps that will give you some clue as to when the Prince was at Hogwarts."
In the silence that followed, Fleur began sing a rather off-key and derisive imitation of "Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love." Molly was glaring daggers at hand Remus knew it would be wise to leave the room before an argument erupted. He climbed the stairs and went into the dark bedroom he was staying in. He shut the door behind him, changed into his pajamas, and lay in bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts with Sara, sleeping on the cold, rocky floor of a cave…
When he woke the next morning, he didn't even remember falling asleep. At the foot of his bed was a lumpy parcel containing a navy blue sweater and several bars of chocolate. He dressed and pulled the sweater on before going downstairs where the Weasleys, Fleur, and Harry were already gathered around the table. Remus took a seat beside George.
Molly's hat and necklace, apparently, were new, for she said of them, "Fred and George gave them to me! Aren't they beautiful?"
"Well," George said, "we find we appreciate you more and more, Mum, now that we're washing or own socks. Parsnips, Remus?" he added, offering Remus a serving platter. Remus scooped a few onto his plate, looking up when he saw Ginny leaning across the table toward Harry, who was sitting on Remus's other side.
"Harry, you've got a maggot in your hair."
Fleur shuddered, looking disgusted. "'Ow 'orrible."
"Yes, isn't it? Gravy, Fleur?" Ron offered. He reached out hastily to help her, but instead ended up knocking the gravy boat over.
Bill quickly restored it with a flick of his wand. Fleur kissed him, then turned to Ron. "You are as bad as zat Tonks." Remus stiffened, forcing himself to remain quiet and not jump to her defense. "She is always knocking—"
"I invited dear Tonks to come along today," Molly cut her off, "but she wouldn't come. Have you spoken to her lately, Remus?"
"No, I haven't been in contact with anybody very much. But Tonks has her own family to go to, hasn't she?"
"Hmmm. Maybe. I got the impression she was planning to spend Christmas alone, actually." She glared at Remus from across the table and his guilt soared. He knew Molly protected Tonks like her own daughter; he knew she had hoped Tonks would Marry Bill and that her plans had been thwarted when she fell for Remus instead and now she was getting stuck-up Fleur for a daughter-in-law. But most of Remus's guilt was in finding out that Tonks was eating Christmas lunch by herself in her apartment. If he had known, he might have risked going to London to be with her. No one should be alone on Christmas, least of all the woman he lved.
"Tonks' Patronus has changed its form," Harry said to Remus. "Snape said so, anyway. I didn't know that could happen. Why would your Patronus change?"
Remus had to think for a moment to decide how to answer without admitting his fault in the matter. Fortunately, he had just taken a bite of turkey, so he chewed it slowly. When he swallowed, he spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Sometimes…a great shock…an emotional upheaval." Silently, he commended himself for not saying "falling in love with a werewolf," which he might have on less sleep and without that saving bite of turkey.
"It looked big and had four legs," Harry muttered, likely to himself. "Hey…it couldn't be—?" Remus froze, praying Harry didn't realize it was him.
He was spared the anxiety when Molly cried, "Arthur!" Both Remus and Harry turned to follow her gaze out the kitchen window. "Arthur—it's Percy!"
"What?" Arthur asked, startled.
"Arthur," Molly said again, her voice more frantic than before, "he's—he's with the Minister!"
The Weasley parents exchanged a glance and Percy stepped into the kitchen through the back door. There was an awkward silence before Percy said, with an air of over-the-top formality, "Merry Christmas, Mother."
"Oh, Percy!" Molly hugged her prodigal son and Remus saw Scrimgeour in the doorway, watching the reunion and smiling.
When Molly looked in the Minister's direction, he spoke, "You must forgive this intrusion. Percy and I were in the vicinity—working, you know—and he couldn't resist dropping in and seeing you all." Remus snorted. Anyone who could see Percy's face would know Scrimgeour was lying, and Remus would've seen through the lie anyway. He knew from Tonks that the Minister, when he had been head of the Auror department, never complied with the requests of his inferiors unless there was something in it for him. Tonks had often complained about this to Remus, especially since his sense of personal gain usually involved gaining some sort of information. He remembered how worried she and Kingsley were whenever they found out Scrimgeour wanted to talk to them. From the sound of things, after Voldemort and Fudge, he had been the biggest danger to the Order the year before.
Molly straightened her hat nervously. "Please come in, sit down, Minister. Have a little purkey, or some tooding…I mean—"
"No, no, my dear Molly. I don't want to intrude, wouldn't be here at all if Percy hadn't wanted to see you all so badly."
"Oh, Perce!" she kissed her son.
Remus was even more disgusted. He wondered if Tonks had ever been the scapegoat for one of Scrimgeour's ulterior motives.
"We've only looked in for five minutes, so I'll have a stroll around the yard while you catch up with Percy. No, no, I assure you I don't want to butt in! Well, if anybody cared to show me your charming garden…Ah, that young man's finished, why doesn't he take a stroll with me?" he said, motioning to Harry.
The mood suddenly became somber. Remus finally realized what it was Scrimgeour wanted and he wanted to make sure he didn't get it.
"Yeah, all right," Harry said, standing. Remus started to stand as well, to keep Harry from passing him, to push him back into his chair. "It's fine," Harry muttered. "Fine," he repeated, for Arthur had opened his mouth, likely to aid Remus in protesting.
"Wonderful!" Scrimgeour held the door for Harry. "We'll just take a turn around the garden, and then Percy and I'll be off. Carry on, everyone."
After he shut the door, the Weasleys and Remus exchanged awkward glances. "I'll give you some privacy," Remus said, leaving the room. He thought about going back to the werewolves. He deserved to spend Christmas alone. He thought of Tonks in her small London flat and his throat caught. It was all his fault. She was wasting away, pining for him. There was no decision, really. He knew what he had to do. Risking everything, he scrawled out a note for Molly, gathered his belongings, and Disapparated.