He'd dreamed about her again, and woken up with his arm slung out as though he could keep her with him when he woke. He sighed, and pulled it back under the covers.

He'd tried to forget her, when he was younger, but it hadn't worked. There didn't seem to be much point these days; he needed the memory of her beside him.

He'd been to her grave a week or so before, taking her flowers and sitting there with her until dark. His hadn't been the only tribute, and he'd wondered – as he always had – who had brought her the spray of freesias. He'd recognised Sirius's handwriting on the bouquet of roses, and had felt a rush of warmth for his friend, who would have had to sneak out of Grimmauld Place just to get them and bring them here.

It was good to know that she wasn't forgotten.

He pressed his face into that the pillow that he always thought of as hers. The ghost of her smell still lingered there, even now; he breathed it in deeply, savouring every second of it.

There was an almighty crash from downstairs, followed by the sounds of Sirius trying to shout louder than the portrait of his mother, suggesting that he had slept in again; he pulled his head out his sanctuary and stared blearily at the alarm clock that James had given him when he was fifteen. He had never been a morning person.

It was nearly lunchtime.

He groaned and dragged himself out of bed and over to the adjoining bathroom, missing her scent intensely.

0o0o0o0

Ron dragged his trunk upstairs, trying not to make too much noise – they'd already set the vociferous Mrs Black off once when they had arrived, and he'd had enough screeching for one day. The twins Apparated on the floor above him and stuck their identical tongues out at him as he struggled with his trunk. He paused long enough to make a rude gesture at them and carried on, huffing and puffing his way to the second floor, where he and Harry would be sharing a room.

"Alright there, Ron?"

He looked up to see Remus Lupin coming down from the landing above.

"Yes thanks, Professor," he said, with a smile. After several months with Dolores Umbridge, it was really good to see their sole sane and non-evil Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"Remus, please," he said, and grabbed the other end of Ron's trunk.

"Thanks," said Ron, as they manhandled it into the bedroom behind him.

"Had a decent term?" Remus asked, as they deposited it on one of the beds.

"Apart from the torture, bad teaching, interrogations and piles of homework, it's not too bad," Ron said, shrugging. "Easter felt like a long time coming."

Remus's face darkened, and Ron filled him in on Umbridge's latest Educational Decrees.

"I think I'd like to meet this woman, one day," Remus said, with the barest hint of a growl. "Preferably on a full moon."

"I'd like to give her a good smack," Ron admitted. "But she's a teacher, and with the Ministry, so what can you do…"

"Well, the job's still cursed, so hopefully we won't have to worry about her for much longer," said Harry, as he dragged his trunk in. "Hi Remus – thanks for the books, by the way, they were great."

"You're welcome," the older wizard replied, with a grin. "I've heard nothing but bad things about you since," he said, "which I'm taking as a good sign."

Harry grinned, but it quickly faded.

"The D.A. was great, while it lasted," he said. "But I really didn't want to get anyone into trouble – particularly Dumbledore."

"That wasn't your fault," Remus assured him. "If you weren't teaching people how to defend themselves they'd have no chance in their O.W.L.s – or out in the real world, for that matter."

Harry gave him a half-smile that suggested that he didn't believe him.

"How've you been?" he asked.

"Not bad," Remus said, with a shrug. "I'm glad you're all back though, Sirius is beginning to go out of his mind with nothing to do all day – I even caught him reading last week, apparently on purpose, too."

Harry and Ron grimaced.

"He must hate being cooped up like this," said Ron, with sympathy, and Remus agreed.

"He's been talking about you lot getting here for weeks," he said, smiling. "Better see how he's getting on before his enthusiasm gets away from him again."

Ron followed Harry and Remus down the stairs, waving to Hermione and Ginny, who were sharing a room on the floor below.

Sure enough, Sirius was in high spirits, bouncing around the kitchen 'helping' his mum unpack several large bags of food and stock the under-used cupboards.

He was teasing her good-naturedly, being constantly under her feet and popping up in front of her every few minutes. Flustered as she was, she seemed to appreciate the attention.

It was probably distracting her from the continued lack of Percy, Ron decided, with a grimace. He hated to think about Percy, these days, partly because of how angry it made him, and partly because he missed his pompous presence. Not that he'd admit that to anyone.

"That's it," his mum cried, as Sirius stole a biscuit from under her very nose. "Out, the lot of you, and let me get on!"

His dad ushered them out, smiling.

"Best get out while the going's good," he said, scattering children everywhere.

Remus led the flood of humanity to the Black Library, which was the closest thing to a comfortable living room that Grimmauld Place had, since it served as a general dumping ground for ancient armchairs and (lately) board games abandoned by seriously bored Order members.

Hermione was excited to discover a couple of Muggle games in the pile, and she quickly set one of them up on the floor. Remus, happy to be free of the responsibility of entertaining anyone, drifted over to an armchair and produced a book from somewhere, content to enjoy the babble of voices around him. Sirius and the twins immediately colonised the table, from where the occasional guffaw escaped. Ron was pretty sure they were planning future mayhem, so he left them to it and watched Hermione, Harry, Ginny and his dad play something called 'Mouse Trap'. His dad was having a whale of a time, since Hermione was letting him build the strange contraption that seemed to be necessary to play and way taking shape around the edge of the board.

It appeared to be a game that depending largely on luck, so Ron quickly grew bored, and cast around for something else to do until the machine thing was built and whatever impending doom intended for the little plastic men actually occurred. From the components, it looked like that part could be quite interesting.

His eyes fell on an old black box that was tucked under the armchair by the fire. It looked innocent enough, and Sirius always insisted that they should treat Grimmauld Place as their own… the lid wasn't even on properly. He'd never been able to resist a puzzle, as four and a half years worth of getting into trouble at Hogwarts attested.

He glanced around: everyone else was thoroughly occupied, so he scooted closer under the pretence of getting closer to the fire.

A photograph was poking out of the top of the box, and he craned closer to look at it (on the basis that if he didn't actually touch it, he couldn't do much harm): someone was jumping up and down as if they were trying to get in the frame of the camera, grinning broadly… if he didn't know better, Ron would have assumed that the troublemaker in the picture was Harry, but this being very probably Sirius's mysterious box of pictures, he guessed that it was James Potter.

He smiled: James had the same devil-may-care look that Harry got when they were planning something – he could really see why everyone said how much he looked like his father. If they had stood next to one another with their eyes shut he probably wouldn't have been able to tell them apart – except for the scar.

He looked about the same age as Harry was now, and his Gryffindor uniform was messy – even his glasses were askew. Vaguely, Ron wondered what in Merlin's name they'd been up to that time; the crimson blur at the side of the picture resolved itself into bed hangings, and he realised that James was probably jumping on his bed in the dormitory.

He stifled a laugh. He'd tell Harry that evening and they could creep down and grab the box when everyone was sleeping. Harry would love to see his dad having fun – and there might be pictures of Lily Potter and Sirius and Remus in there too.

Still grinning, he looked over at the game of 'Mouse Trap' as the contraption began to rattle – a little steel ball had been released and was causing some very specific havoc centring around a boot and a hanging cage. He watched it fall with amusement.

"What were you looking at, Ron?" his mother asked. He had been so absorbed by the picture and the game that he hadn't even noticed her come in: she was holding a tray filled with mugs of tea and a promising looking plate of biscuits.

"Er –" he said, and glanced at the box. Well, why not? Harry would still get to see them, and he could ask Sirius and Remus about whatever the hell was going on. "I think there's a picture of Harry's dad down here."

Everyone turned to look at him – except Sirius, he noted, who had frozen in place.

"Really?" asked Remus, interested.

"Let's see," said Harry, excitedly.

Ron extracted the box and pushed it over to him.

Harry let out a snort of laughter at the picture of his dad jumping around the frame, and handed it up to Remus, who chuckled.

"Fifth year, if I'm not mistaken," he said. "He always did get a bit hyperactive the night before a Quidditch match."

Sirius nodded, but Ron couldn't help but notice that he still looked shifty – and worried. He kept shooting glances from the box to Remus, as if there was something in there that he didn't want his friend to see.

This puzzled Ron, given how close the two men were, and he looked at Remus. There was nothing in his demeanour other than pleasant surprise.

Sirius looked like he would very much like to snatch the box up and do some selective editing before the rooms' inhabitants got to see any more, but Harry was already pulling handfuls of pictures out, beaming happily and delightedly showing them to Hermione and Ginny, who were craning over his shoulder to see.

"Spread them out on the floor so we can all see," said George, and Harry agreed, moving the box out of the way and putting each picture down as he looked at them.

Ron snorted.

The one closest to him suggested that the Marauders had had a close encounter with the Giant Squid – all four of them were sopping wet and looking very pleased with themselves.

There were pictures of Sirius and James in their Quidditch robes, pictures of Remus trying and failing not to laugh at whatever everyone else was doing, pictures of Sirius with Peter (the bastard) in a headlock, pictures of James talking to a very harassed looking Lily, pictures of everyone in their dress robes…

He gave a start.

"Isn't that Neville's dad?" he asked, as Harry dropped a picture of a group of boys sprawled by the Lake: Remus and Frank Longbottom appeared to be engaged in a furious chess match in the foreground. They were largely being ignored by James, Sirius and Peter, who were poring over a scroll of parchment, their expressions suggesting that they were more than up to something.

"Yes," said Remus, sadly. "He was chess captain at Hogwarts… I only beat him a couple of times."

"Alice took that," said Sirius, quietly. "Neville's mum."

Remus chuckled.

"She said if we were going to be boring then she felt perfectly entitled to make off with my camera."

Everyone was quiet for a minute – they had met Neville's parents for the first time that Christmas, and none of the children could yet cope with the thought that they couldn't even recognise their own son

"Can we get copies of these?" Harry asked, suddenly. "I'd love to have them around – and I think Neville would appreciate seeing the ones of his mum and dad."

He looked up at his Godfather, who looked strangely reticent.

"Oh, go on, Sirius, it would mean the world to Neville."

And to you, thought Ron, but he knew Harry was unlikely to admit it.

"Of course you can," said Sirius, at last; Remus looked at him oddly.

"What a good idea," said his dad, beaming. "I'll take them down to Tucker's tomorrow – they should be done by the end of the Easter break."

"I wouldn't mind a few copies, too," said Remus. "I didn't know you still had these."

"Nor did I mate," said Sirius. "I found them a couple of months ago, but I…"

he trailed off, and everyone filled in the blank as 'was building myself up to looking at them'.

"Who's that?" Ginny asked, pulling another picture out of the box. Everybody craned to look.

It was a picture of Remus and a very pretty girl, lying on their backs in the grass… he'd never seen his old Professor look so happy. He glanced up at him: Remus had an extraordinary expression on his face – it was somewhere between shock and despair, and something else… something like hunger… It was quite a frightening look for someone who was usually so private.

He looked over at Sirius, who had gone quite pale, and was staring at his friend in alarm.

Remus took the picture out of Ginny's unresisting fingers.

"Jenny," said Sirius, who seemed to have found his voice – though it was a good deal gruffer than usual. Remus was still staring, unblinking, at the picture in his hands, so he continued, clearing his throat. "She was in our year – Hufflepuff. Nice girl…"

"I'd forgotten he'd taken this…" Remus said, in a strangled voice.

Every pair of eyes in the room were swivelling back and forth between the two old friends; the tension could have been cut with a knife.

"She drowned," said Sirius, quietly.

"She slipped," said Remus, his eyes never leaving the face of the laughing girl in front of him.

Sirius looked away.

"Yeah."

There was a tense silence as everyone tried to look at something that wouldn't look back. Ron felt his ears turning pink; if he'd known what the contents of the box might do to Remus, he would have stayed far away from it, pictures of his best friend's father or no. He picked at the hem of his jeans and tried not to catch Harry or Hermione's eyes.

Just when the atmosphere was getting too much for them all, the door bell rang, making everyone jump and Sirius's mother's portrait start screaming again.

Ron looked up in time to see his mother get to her feet and hurry out of the room; Sirius and his dad were both staring at Remus, who didn't appear to have noticed the commotion. Hermione and Ginny ran out of the room to close the dark velvet curtains over Mrs Black's portrait.

The burble of voices in the corridor suggested that a few of the Order members had arrived – he knew there was a meeting later, but it seemed that they'd come over early to see their young friends.

Tonks stuck her head around the door.

"Wotcher you lot!" she said.

There was a sort of rumble of hellos from around the room, from everyone except Remus.

"You ignoring me, Remus?" she asked, cheekily.

He looked up at her, startled, and frowned, as if her presence didn't quite fit into his head right now.

"You alright?" she asked, coming in and laying a hand on his arm.

Ron exchanged a look with Harry as Remus visibly flinched, pulled his arm away from Tonks and stalked out of the room, nearly knocking Hermione flat as she tried to come back in.

Fred and George both swore. Ron didn't blame them; he'd never seen any of the adults like this.

Sirius was on his feet and after his friend in an instant.

"Oof!" It sounded like his Mum had been knocked off her feet. "Remus, wha-?"

"Steady on, Sirius," said a deep, surprised voice.

"Oh, thank you Kingsley…"

"What's got into them?" asked Mad Eye Moody, gruffly, as he lumbered into the room.

"Er…" said Harry.

"We were looking through some old photographs," his dad said, uncomfortably. "And Remus found one that upset him…"

"Sirius went after him," said Fred, still looking stunned.

They could hear him calling up the stairs; somewhere high in the house a door slammed, and Sirius swore.

Everybody's eyes followed the sounds of Sirius banging his way back down two floors of stairs and slamming his own door shut.

The muffled sound of cursing in the hall suggested that Ginny had struck a pre-emptive attack on Mrs Black.

In the awkward silence that followed, Harry and Ron started clearing the photographs up and putting them back in the box.

"Well," said his mum brightly, "I'll get lunch started…"

"I'll help!" said Ginny, with far too much enthusiasm. There was a near stampede for the kitchen, where – even if people didn't feel like helping to cook – the atmosphere would be friendlier and they might get a cup of tea.

As he followed Harry out of the room he passed Tonks, who was staring up the stairs with a hurt and angry expression on her face. Her usually colourful hair was losing some of its vibrancy, and as he started to climb the stairs he heard the front door open and close.

"That was unexpected," said Harry, sitting down on his bed.

"Yeah…"

"I've never seen Remus like that…"

"Or Sirius," said Ron, thoughtfully. "Did you see the way he was looking at him?"

Harry nodded, slowly.

They looked at one another for a few moments, both coming to the conclusion that they probably shouldn't mention this 'Jenny' – at least in front of any of the adults.

"Are there any more of her in there?" he asked, suddenly curious.

They looked through the remaining pictures for nearly an hour, but there was no sign of the laughing girl that had so affected their older friends. It was as if after that first picture had been taken she'd simply vanished.

0o0o0o0

He didn't know how long he'd been sat there, his back against the bed, just staring at her. He'd forgotten her smile.

He still remembered how beautiful it was, of course – how could he forget when she was still with him? But he'd forgotten the shining, aching power of it.

He traced the curve of her cheek in the picture – they'd been reaching for the camera, he recalled – but now it looked like she was reaching out to him.

He tore his thoughts away from her as someone knocked gently on the door.

"Remus?"

Hermione. She always smelled of peppermint, probably because of her parents' dental practice. Peppermint and parchment.

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Er – Molly says that lunch is ready, if you want some – it's lasagne."

"I'll be right down," he said. "Thanks."

He listened to her hesitate outside the door, as if she didn't quite believe him, before setting off down the stairs.

He sighed.

He hoped that he hadn't reacted too strangely to seeing the photograph. He couldn't honestly remember much beyond the bittersweet anguish of seeing her again – the picture had taken him right back to that afternoon in the grounds when they'd stared up at the clouds and talked for hours about nothing whatsoever. It had been one of the brightest days of his life.

He stood and dusted off his long limbs before walking over to the mantelpiece over the small, ornate fireplace that had been installed a few centuries previously; after some thought, he propped the photograph up against a stack of books. He paused to look at it for a few minutes before heading downstairs.

The smell of lasagne hit him one landing down, and he was surprised to find his mouth watering. While he was used to hunger, having so little money most of the time, he'd almost forgotten about food in the past few weeks, and he suddenly found that he was ravenous.

Everyone looked up from their food when he came in, and the resulting silence suggested that he'd been more than a bit odd about the picture. He rubbed his neck, embarrassed, and the occupants of the dingy kitchen became abruptly and thoroughly interested in their dinners.

He sat down between Sirius and George Weasley, feeling rather uncomfortable. Molly set a plate piled high with lasagne in front of him; glancing around he noted that he had easily twice as much food than everyone else. Clearly, Molly was feeling sorry for him.

Still, food was food, and when it came to Molly's cooking there really was no parallel. He dug in, steadily and enthusiastically eating more than in one sitting than he had in months. It felt good to have an appetite again, and he ignored the puzzled looks his surrogate family was giving him.

He didn't hold back when it came to pudding, either, and earned an approving – albeit slightly worried – smile from Molly as she cleared away his unusually clean plate.

It wasn't long before the children were being ushered out of the kitchen in time for yet another interminable Order meeting, squabbling all the way. He suspected that they were listening in somehow, and had occasionally spotted some of Fred and George's inventions near the kitchen door. For all that certain members of the Order wanted to protect them from the rumblings of war, Remus knew enough about the kids – and enough about the war – to know that it was only a matter of time before they were right in the thick of it. Again.

He was rather proud of them for trying to keep abreast of the situation.

He looked up when Severus Snape came in; Tonks was just behind him. He noticed with some surprise that her usually bright hair was pale, and longer than before. He tried to catch her eye as she walked to her usual seat but today she kept going and sat almost with her back to him, right beside Severus, who looked decidedly nonplussed about this new development.

Perhaps she was ill…

0o0o0o0

Profoundly grateful that nobody had wanted to take him to task about his flight from the library, Remus waited patiently for the meeting to disband and Sirius come up to his room. With some amusement he pretended not to notice the mixture of scents that suggested that this was where the youngsters had been spying from, and then did a good impression of being both blind and deaf when Ginny was sent down from Harry and Ron's room (which seemed, for the time being, to be their base of operations) to collect a stray Extendable Ear. She gave him a conspiratorial grin as he whistled and did his best to stare at the ceiling.

Finally, after the house began to quiet down, Sirius came looking for him, as Remus had known he would.

He looked mildly surprised when he saw Remus waiting for him, but he felt he owed his friend this much. Sirius glanced upwards, where a crack in the bedroom door suggested that the meeting wasn't all the children were planning to eavesdrop on; they smiled ruefully at one another, impressed at their ingenuity and tenacity.

Sirius cocked his head towards his bedroom door and Remus followed him, shutting it behind him.

"So," said Sirius, sitting down heavily on his bed.

"So," Remus repeated, making himself comfortable on his friend's ancient blanket chest.

Sirius gave him a hard look.

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," said Remus, and shook his head slightly as Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, right," he said. "You ran out of the library like your trousers were on fire, and you just ate more than both Weasley twins combined at one sitting. Not that I blame you. About the trousers part."

"Thanks," said Remus, wincing at the analogy. "It was a bit of a shock."

Sirius deflated, all at once.

"I'm sorry, mate," he said earnestly. "I'd forgotten I'd left that box out –"

"It was good to see the pictures again," said Remus, shaking his head. "And great for Harry – Neville too if Arthur can get them copied."

"Well, no argument, but you know which picture I meant."

Remus looked at his knees.

"Yes, I know which one you meant."

"Right, so I'll ask you again: are you ok?"

"No," he admitted, quietly. "But to be fair, I haven't been since seventh year, I don't see why it should make a difference now."

Sirius sighed, heavily.

"It's not going to make a difference if I tell you it wasn't your fault, is it?"

"Once again, we'd have to agree to disagree."

"That's what I thought."

There was a pause as Remus continued to examine the fabric of his trousers – possibly to see if Sirius had been right about them being on fire – and Sirius simply watched him, feeling helpless.

"And I'm assuming you don't really want to talk about it," he said, eventually.

"Not really, no," said Remus, and he gave up.

"Right, well I should let you get some sleep then," Sirius said, standing up. "Molly's on a mission to keep us all occupied while the kids are here – thinks we'll get in trouble otherwise."

"I can't think why," Remus chuckled, relieved to have escaped relatively unscathed. He paused by Sirius's door, his hand on the handle.

"The roses were beautiful, by the way – she would have loved them," he said, working to keep his voice steady.

"Well, you know, it seemed the thing to do," Sirius said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. If truth were told he'd been worried that Remus might see it as an affront, but he'd wanted to do it, wanted to let her know that she hadn't been forgotten while he had the chance.

Remus nodded tersely and left Sirius to his thoughts.

He flung himself onto his voluminous bed and allowed himself to succumb to memories of brighter days.

0o0o0o0

Remus didn't bother to light the lamps in his room, there was light enough from the blazing fire and bedside candle that Kreacher had grudgingly lit for him.

He had known she'd be there, even before he reached his landing: he could already smell her.

She was stood by the mantelpiece, gazing at the liberated photograph where they laughed and grinned in the sunshine, the light of the fire blazing orange through her shimmering glassy legs.

"Where did you find this?" she asked, her voice echoing oddly in his cosy room.

"Sirius had it in an old box of pictures," he said, going to stand behind her. "There were some brilliant photographs," he continued, "Arthur's going to get them copied for Harry and Neville."

She smiled, and just for a moment her crystalline skin seemed to glow the way it used to in the sun. He ached to hold her then, to make her smile like that again, even for a moment.

"They'll treasure them," she said. "Memories that that are precious."

"I think I found the most precious," he said, and she nodded, a wistful expression on her face, and his heart broke again for the fiftieth time that week.

"Those were better days," he said, softly.

She looked at him then, and he saw a drop of silvery water fall from her hair and run across the marks on her lovely neck.

"The best," she said.