Disclaimer: See Prologue

A/N: Yes, poor Remus. I do not paint a very pretty picture here. Though finally things start to look up.
A/N: This one is also up early because Chapter 49 will be a little late. I haven't made a start on it and it's going to be a lot longer than these little epilogues so sometime after the weekend, I'll update again.

August 1993

"Good Lord!"

Lupin peered into the bottom of his empty glass and ignored the surprised exclamation. No-one ever bothered with him any more. He had gone mad. Or, at least, everyone said that he had and news travels fast in little villages. Eventually his mother had forced him out of his back bedroom, away from his photographs.

"If it isn't Mr. Lupin."

Lupin sighed and looked up. He met bright blue eyes and forced a smile. "Do I know you?"

Her laugh was light, like bells. "I should hope so. You taught me for a year."

Lupin narrowed his eyes and peered at her, leaning closer. "I'm sorry. I don't remember." He wasn't sure whether this was because she was now clearly an adult, or because he had spent three hours drowning his sorrows in vodka cocktails.

"Sarah?" She beamed at him. "Sarah Gilmour?"

Lupin shook his head. "Sorry."

She was not willing to give up on him and prompted him further. "I went to St. Braithwaite's. I was in your Nativity. I played the Virgin Mary."

At last Lupin smiled at her. "Sarah!" He kissed her cheek, unsure whether this was an appropriate manner in which to greet a former student. "Good grief. I didn't recognise you."

She grinned. "Probably because I finally grew. I don't look like a Hobbit child any more."

Lupin laughed. "And now you're a giant."

She was almost as tall as he was, but Sarah removed one of her shoes and dropped a considerable number of inches.

"How on earth have you managed to walk?"

"Practice." She winked at him. "So," she said, tossing her long blonde hair behind her shoulder, "are you going to buy me a drink or not?"

Thankful that his mother had chosen not to wait up for him, Lupin shushed a giggling Sarah.

"Where's your room?"

Lupin laughed breathily. "You don't want to see that. It's filled with photos from school."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body into his. "I bet you were just the sweetest little thing."

Lupin laughed bitterly. "Not exactly, no."

"Well, why don't you take me upstairs and I'll judge for myself?"

Somewhere, deep in the recesses of his mind, Lupin was aware that kissing her was immoral and a very bad idea. Yet, as her lips met his, he forgot completely about the fact that not only was she a former student, but she was also a Muggle and allowing her to see his room would probably result in a full scale operation to wipe her memory and restore the terms of the Secrecy Act.

Someone rapped the front door. It was quick and clean, but evidently urgent as when Lupin chose to ignore it, the knocker continued relentlessly.

"Sorry."

He threw open the door and found a smiling Albus Dumbledore who gentlemanly ignored Lupin's semi-drunken state, and the ruffled hair of the barely dressed blonde behind him.

"Remus. Lovely to see you. May I come in?"

He didn't wait to be told that it was a bad time and stepped inside, hanging his cloak up on the provided peg.

If Sarah was at all perturbed by an elderly man who sported a beard that reached his waist and a tall, pointed purple hat, she hid it well.

"Perhaps," said Lupin, "you'd better go."

She sighed irritably, threw Dumbledore a filthy glare and stormed out.

"My apologies," said Dumbledore. "I seem to have come at a bad time." His blue eyes twinkled over his spectacles and Lupin could not help but smile back at him despite his disappointment. "I was merely wondering how you were baring up after the recent news."

Lupin shrugged. "He hasn't come for me yet."

Dumbledore's smile disappeared. "On the contrary, he was just in your dear mother's hydrangeas."

Lupin froze. "Is he there now?"

"I doubt it very much indeed," said Dumbledore softly. "I was perfectly visible to him."

"He killed fifteen people, Albus," Lupin needlessly reminded him. "I highly doubt he will actually give a shit about waltzing in here and murdering three." His eyes widened. "Four. Sarah."

Dumbledore shook his head. "She is perfectly safe. He is not a serial killer, Remus."

Lupin frowned. "I don't care. I brought her here and if-"

"He is not there, Remus. He has long gone."

Irritable, Lupin flung open the kitchen curtains and scanned the garden, his impeccable eyesight sure to catch a sign of movement. He turned, leaning against the sink. "Have a seat," he said, gesturing to the long table. "Would you like a cup of tea or something stronger?"

Dumbledore hummed. "I think perhaps something stronger."

To his immense surprise, Lupin unfolded a cardboard box and began to fill it with two bottles of Firewhiskey, three bottles of red wine, several bottles of cheap vodka, all at various fill levels, a bottle of homemade sloe gin, and two litres of Scrumpy.

"Take these," he said, pushing the box across the table. "They're not doing me any good."

Dumbledore nodded once. Lupin was left at a loss as to whether this was a means of thanks or agreement.

"I wonder if you might do me a favour."

Lupin's eyes shot up. "What might that be?" He seemed on edge, wary of the sort of thing that Dumbledore's requests entailed.

"I need a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"I don't know anyone. I didn't stay in touch with anyone really…except Mrs. Figg."

Dumbledore laughed lightly. "I'm not asking you to interview one, Remus. I am asking you if you would teach the subject this year."

Lupin was shocked into silence. Eventually he managed to stammer, "B-but I work in a um…a b-b-bookshop and Mr. Bryant will need n-n-notice." He had reverted to the young boy Dumbledore remembered from his last visit to this cottage. At ten years old, Remus Lupin had stuttered terribly and been unable to look him in the eyes. Sirius Black had been the first to change that and it was only too plain to see the effect his lack of influence had had on Lupin.

"I'm sure we can think of something."

"Well I can't tell him the truth," said Lupin, addressing the tabletop. "Sorry, Mr. Bryant, I won't be able to work again until July because I'm teaching underage wizards how to block hexes. People already think I've lost my mind."

"Well," said Dumbledore, smiling fondly, "if you're going to be called a lunatic, you might as well get the full benefit of it."

Lupin said nothing.

"Remus, with Sirius Black on the loose, it is a very dangerous world."

"I don't need your protection," Lupin shouted, almost leaping to his feet and slamming his hands on the table. "I am more than a match for Sirius sodding Black!"

Dumbledore merely blinked. "I know. That's why Hogwarts is the best place for you. Do you know what he's been whispering in his sleep? 'He's at Hogwarts'."

Lupin frowned. "He's clearly not talking about me then, is he?"

"No indeed. He's talking," said Dumbledore, leaving a pause for what he hoped was dramatic effect, "about Harry Potter."

Lupin froze. "What does he want with Harry?"

"What indeed?" Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Could it be perhaps that he wants to redress the balance somewhat?" He smiled oddly. "It's like a chess set, Remus."

"I refuse to be anyone's pawn."

Dumbledore smiled at him. "No, Remus. You would be the Queen. You know his style, you know what he knows about the castle, and most importantly, you know how he thinks."

"Clearly," said Lupin, in a manner that reminded Dumbledore eerily of Snape, "I do not or Harry and James would be messing around with broomsticks and mercilessly bullying me for not joining in."

"But you suspected him, Remus. You suspected him when no-one else did. You read people exceptionally well."

Lupin sighed. "It was always my ambition, but I don't think you're asking me because I make a pretty good teacher. I think you're asking me because you're afraid of him. You're afraid of him because you don't know him as well as you thought you did. You're afraid because he's unpredictable, and I know this because those are exactly the same reasons I am afraid of him. I am of no use to you whatsoever." He smirked. "Or do you want my presence to draw him in?"

"On the contrary," said Dumbledore, "I want your presence to deter him."

"Well, it doesn't, does it?" Lupin's voice was so loud that both he and Dumbledore heard the sound of the floorboards creaking above them and the sounds of Mrs. Lupin on the stairs. "If he's standing in my garden trying to get a good look inside my kitchen, my presence hardly scares him."

"Remus?"

"Mother, please go back to bed."

"What's going on?"

Dumbledore smiled in a self-satisfactory manner. "Remus has just accepted my offer of a job."

Mrs. Lupin's eyes lit up. "But that's wonderful! Remus, you really must stop calling me 'Mother', darling. It makes you sound like Norman Bates." She kissed his cheek. "I'll make tea, shall I?"

"No need," said Dumbledore, gesturing to the large box of alcoholic beverages that had been thrust upon him.

"I'm going out," said Lupin, throwing on a coat that was at least two sizes too large.

"Where?" asked Mrs. Lupin. "Sweetheart, it's half past midnight."

"I have people I need to talk things over with."

"I'm not sure they'll want to be disturbed," she said, hovering in the doorway that led to the little porch. She wrung her delicate hands and bit her lip. "Maybe you should wait until the morning."

"I doubt they'll give a flying fuck, Mum, because thanks to me, they're dead."

He slammed the door behind him and Mrs. Lupin turned back to Dumbledore. "He's not always like this. He's just in a bad mood; the same bad mood he's been in the for the last twelve years, really."

Dumbledore nodded and took his cloak from the peg. "Oh, I think we can fix that."