Chapter Five
The Reunion
"Next time someone's trying to hurl a mad death-spell at you, duck."
Remus lifted his gaze from his hands, staring in disbelief at the figure in the mirror, lingering in the restroom doorway. Oh, he looked like hell. Covered in all sorts of muck from the battle, as they all were. There was no way to be sure, at a glance, who that was, except for the voice. And the familiar, long-unseen hazel eyes locked on the reflection of his own.
"James?" the werewolf breathed the name, holding whatever his responding feelings were to the sight—to the possibility—at bay. They'd just defeated Voldemort. There was every chance this was some trick.
The wizard in the doorway held up his hands. "It's a long story. And I need your help to—"
James cut himself off as Remus whirled to face him, his wand out and his eyes flashing dangerously.
"I don't even want to think on how you got James Potter's hair, but whoever you are, you're about to be very, very sorry for crossing my path today of all days."
"Merlin's fucking beard, Moony, it's me!"
The use of the nickname gave Remus pause. James could see he was faltering already. He supposed, with everything that had gone on during this awful Second War, all surviving combatants were given to think anything was possible.
"Moony, it's me," James said again, his voice low and steady. "You know anyone else who'd knock your fool arse out of the way of his own death?"
Remus' features seemed to crumble a bit, his leaf-green eyes welling up. "But it can't be you."
"It is! I promise you, i's me." James lowered his hands as he shook his head. "And I did, of course, save your scraggly werewolf arse." He spoke more cautiously, more gently as he went on, "I'm sorry I couldn't save 'Dora, too. By the time I realized, she was already on the ground."
His entire, lanky frame sagged instantly, his wand arm lowering to his side with a tremor. "Maybe I deserved it."
James was utterly bewildered at his words. Maybe . . . maybe Moony thought he was seeing a ghost? Or that his mind had broken? "Deserved what?"
A sad smile curved Remus' lips. "To lose her?" One single, traitorous tear broke free to roll down his cheek. "I'd already lost you and Lily, lost Sirius. Peter was gone from the moment he even thought of turning sides. I dared to try to be happy after all that. I even fought against it. I pushed her away. If I hadn't, I might've had more time with her."
James closed his eyes, swallowing hard. Hadn't life shown them both, so long ago, that every moment counted?
"But I thought it was wrong." Remus was going on, whether he was speaking to himself or to James was no longer clear. "I thought after . . . after Sirius, it was too soon. And then, I thought it was always going to feel like too soon, so maybe I should just let go of my grief and try . . . and look what my selfish attempt to be happy wrought."
God. Over sixteen years and the werewolf still had such a knack for beating himself up.
"It wasn't your fault."
"Wasn't it?!" Remus' voice came out sharp, his eyes once more flashing dangerously. "She came here because of me. If not for me, she might've been anywhere else than the one the receiving end of Bellatrix's curse at that moment."
"Moony! 'Dora was always a fighter, even as a little girl! Even if not coming here because of you, she'd have still been here in the thick of it, and you well know that! Still an equal chance she'd have survived or fallen. The only person responsible for that is—was—Bellatrix Lestrange."
Remus stared back in silence for a few painfully stretched heartbeats. "It is you. How? I don't understand. Dumbledore said—"
"Dumbledore said my body was destroyed because he had no idea what had happened to me. And if he didn't know how that was possible, then clearly it must've been a magic that was beyond him, yeah?"
His sandy brows drawing upward, Remus drew in a steadying breath. Yes, this anger was familiar. James had always shown loyalty to Dumbledore, but then he was also always the first one to raise questions when a request or order that didn't seem on the up-and-up was given.
"But then, maybe, it was simpler than that, yeah? Maybe—" James stooped, reaching down and behind him, around the open doorway to drag a bound, currently Silencio'ed—and notably displeased looking—Corban Yaxley into the room—"some slimy, underhanded little shit of a Death Eater plucked me from the scene and held me prisoner ever since."
Remus looked from Corban to James and back. A frown tugging at his lips, he raised his wand, tagging Yaxley with a stinging hex. There was something deeply gratifying about watching the Dark wizard squirm in silence.
"I can't believe . . . ." He approached James on cautious footfalls. Only when he was close enough did he reach out, clamping a tentative hand over his long-lost friend's shoulder. "I can't believe you're here. I can't . . . . Does Harry know?"
"Not yet. You and Severus—"
"Severus?!"
"That's another story. Short version? He sort of owes me his life."
"But Severus was—"
"He was a spy for Dumbledore all along! Yaxley suspected and he was a very chatty captor. You Know Who tried to dispatch him, and I think that's why—something must've finally happened that confirmed it." James scowled—this was not the time for sidetracking. "But you two are the only ones who know. Well, you two and this idiot. And . . . I did sort of meet a witch, but we never exchanged names."
Remus pressed a hand to his face as he muttered, "Did sort of meet a witch, of course you did."
His shoulders drooping, James rolled his eyes. It wasn't like that . . . well, it sort of was a little, though it had been pointed out to him on more than one occasion that he was charming, and had he not been so taken with Lily he might've been just as flirtatious with everyone in his vicinity as Sirius. "Cut me a little slack, mate. Sixteen years is a long time to be alone."
Remus hated that he understood how true that rang. "You need my help revealing who you are to Harry, and well, everyone?"
"Exactly. I don't know that I need you to actually say anything, but yeah. I need you there with me. I need him to believe me, and since you believe me—"
"Still not entirely sold on that."
James smirked. "Okay, who's the one who caught you and Sirius on the sofa in the common room that Halloween when you were—"
"Oi!" Holding up his hands, Remus met James' gaze with wide eyes. "All right, all right! Only you were there, after all . . . and only you would play dirty enough to use that against me."
Unable to help himself, James shrugged. "Pretty sure that's what he said."
Remus shook his head, breathing deep. This was definitely James Potter before him. And laughter and lewd insinuations were exactly how Sirius would want to be remembered. Nearly before he realized he was moving, he threw his arms around his friend, hugging him tight.
James' eyes drifted closed for a moment as he returned the hug. He'd feared this meeting, feared that Moony, of all people, would doubt him.
"All right. But . . . ." Remus leaned back and gave James a head-to-toe once over. He looked like . . . well, hell. He looked like he'd been kept prisoner for sixteen years and then made to fight in the final, grueling battle of a war. "Come with me. Maybe let's get you cleaned up and into some fresh robes before we present you to your son—the savior of all Wizarding Britain—for the first time, hmm? We'll be quick about it. Ten minutes."
James frowned, even as he dragged Corban Yaxley along behind him to follow Remus. "Are you going to make me shave my beard?"
Remus couldn't help a chuckle at how disheartened he sounded. Clearly he'd grown accustomed to the beard. "We're at least giving it a trim. I mean, Lord. Just c'mon, will you?"
When Hermione, Harry, and Ron came back down the stairs from Harry deciding to return the Elder Wand to Dumbledore's grave, she was a little startled to realize she was scanning the crowd for her nameless wizard. Those gathered were celebrating their victory, even as they mourned their lost. It was a strange feeling, to be certain.
As she stepped back into the Great Hall, she was immediately swept aside by Fleur, Luna, and Ginny.
"What's going on?" she asked them with a hushed laugh.
The two younger witches looked to the Veela as they waited for her to explain. "It has been decided," she said, smiling even as tears over her lost brother-in-law still crowded her blue eyes, "we are going to have a party."
"A party?" Hermione echoed, arching a brow. "Are you sure that's really wise? I mean the timing—"
"Not just now. In a few days. Before the funerals for the fallen begin. It's in their honor. We want to do something to celebrate their lives."
Exhaling a short, shaky breath, Hermione felt her throat close for a moment. Yes. That made sense. Celebrate them before bidding them farewell. They needed this. They all needed this.
"Actually, I think that might be a good idea."
Ginny beamed, despite that she, too, had tears in her eyes. "Mum's idea, actually. She was talking about Fred and . . . ." She paused, sniffling. "And how he'd be so upset to see everyone crying . . . and then she rethought it, figured he'd be delighted everyone missed him so much, but after that, he'd want everyone laughing, everyone smiling and . . . ." Ginny swiped at her eyes and forced a gulp down her throat. "Remembering how much he loved a good laugh. Remembering him, not his death."
Hermione had to blink hard to keep her own tears from falling. How Ginny was managing to say all this without breaking down was beyond her.
"You need me to convince Ron and Harry this is a good idea, don't you?"
The three witches exchanged a glance and nodded. Hermione immediately pointed at Luna. "You're going to help me with that."
Luna blinked those large, dreamy blue eyes of hers. "Me? Why d'you need me?"
"Because we're opposites, and if I can't find a way to talk them into it, maybe you can."
"Oh." Luna just about chirped the sound before she nodded. "That makes sense."
"Okay, I'll go get them and them come back and find you."
With a nod, Hermione started off after Harry and Ron, but then a dark figure shuffling in through the entryway of the Great Hall caught her attention. Turning her head, she saw Severus Snape sagging against the inside of the doorjamb.
"Oh my God!" She didn't know precisely what Harry had glimpsed in Snape's memories, but she knew that he hadn't truly betrayed them—the bits of discussion they overheard before Nagini had been given the kill command were evidence of that, she thought—and he certainly would not be turning up here were that true.
"Harry!" she called behind her while she hurried to the doorway.
"Oh," her former professor said as she pulled his arm around her shoulders to steady him, seeming in a bit of a daze from his injuries . . . and likely from dragging himself all the way from the Shrieking Shack. "Miss Granger. Did we win?"
Hermione had never heard the usually stern man sound so loopy—as if the scene of incapacitated Death Eaters wasn't enough to confirm that. "We did. How are you not dead?"
"Timely intervention. Not sure I'm allowed to say by who, yet."
She turned her head, watching the man's face as she helped him toward one of the tables Professor McGonagall'd had brought back into the Great Hall. Harry had wasted no time, apparently explaining whatever Hermione had missed to Ron as they rushed over.
It seemed everything wanted to happen at once. Harry sat down on Snape's other side as he waved to get Madame Pomfrey's attention, Luna remembered then that she was supposed to assist Hermione, and when Hermione hadn't come to find her instead came running over to them. Luna, who stumbled in shock when she saw the once-headmaster—or, more specifically, when she saw Harry's open concern for the Slytherin wizard when last she knew he'd been a Death Eater—and bowled over poor Ron. Knocking the shocked ginger-haired wizard onto the bench, she fell square across his lap.
WhileLuna held out her hands, looking about wide-eyed and trying to get her bearings, which left Ron looking about as well, because clearly the barmy witch had forgotten she seemed to be using him as a chair, Remus had walked up to the group.
The werewolf nodded, smiling sadly as they all offered him their words of condolence.
"What're we all sorry for?" Severus asked, squinting as he attempted to make sense of what he was hearing.
Sooner than Remus could get agitated Hermione leaned over, murmuring in Snape's ear about poor, fallen Nymphodora Tonks.
As she sat back, Severus Snape only stared at her a moment, nearly as though he didn't recognize her, before he returned his attention to Remus. "You have my sympathies," he said softly, his voice shockingly sincere.
Remus simply stood there, in apparent shock at Severus Snape sharing a genuine emotion with anyone. Yes, James had wanted to come straight over on his own—especially now that he looked a bit more like himself—but Remus had thought it best he ease Harry into the notion of his dead father being, well, not quite as dead as they'd all thought.
Giving himself a shake, he moved directly in front of Harry and lowered himself to kneel. "Harry, I have something I have to tell you, and I need you to listen very carefully. I also need you not to overreact."
Harry and Hermione exchanged a wary glance around Severus' drooping dark head. "Go on."
Remus nodded. "Dumbledore . . . all those years ago, he made a mistake."
"If you're about to tell us the prophecy was never about me, I think we're all a bit late for that."
When Remus did not so much as crack a half-grin at the quip, Harry's expression sobered instantly.
"No. About the night your parents died. James . . . your father . . . he wasn't killed that night."
Everyone's breath seemed to catch in their throats at that moment. Everyone aside from Snape, who merely shrugged, pursing his lips as he wondered what the hell was taking Poppy so long.
Harry forced his vocal cords to work. "My father's alive? How?"
"Apparently Corban Yaxley slipped into the house after Snape, but before Dumbledore arrived, noticed You Know Who hadn't been quite so thorough as he thought in dispatching James and . . . took him prisoner." Remus clapped a hand around Harry's arm. "I know it seems like a lot to take in—"
"How long have you known about this?"
"I only just found out perhaps twenty minutes ago," Remus said, his eyes pleading for Harry's understanding.
Severus seemed far less aware of any need for comprehension as he shrugged again. "About two hours, me. Wait . . . how long ago'd you find me?"
"Harry's father?" Hermione said, staring at Snape's profile in astonishment. "He's the one with the timely intervention you talked about?"
"That's why you're 'the smart one,' Miss Granger."
"Anyway, Harry . . . ." Remus glanced back toward the Great Hall doors. "He's here. We just explained the entire mess to Kingsley and Minerva and turned over Yaxley."
Harry sat very straight for a heartbeat or two. He was acutely aware of his breath moving into his lungs and back out again as he let the news rattle around in his head. It didn't seem real.
"My father's alive," he said, repeating his realization from a moment ago in a dazed whisper. Collecting himself, he met Remus' gaze. "Bring—bring him in!"
Relief flooding his features, the werewolf pushed up to stand and returned out through the doors. A moment later, he reappeared with a dark-haired wizard in tow. They approached the table, James' gaze fixed unfalteringly on his son for a few heartbeats, he couldn't see anyone else sitting there.
"Harry," Remus said, his voice soft as the younger Potter got to his feet. "This is your father, James."
Harry seemed not to know what to do with himself at first. He stepped closer, staring up into the man's face. Noting the hazel eyes, the features he recalled from his photographs, though showing the passage of these last sixteen years a little. The neatly trimmed bit of facial hair threw him somewhat, as did that he wasn't wearing the glasses Harry saw in some of those images.
"It's really you."
James waited, nervous to be the one to act first. Part of him had dreaded that Harry would hate him, that he'd somehow blame him for the circumstances that had befallen him—that had kept them apart. But then Harry threw his arms around his father, dropping his head down against the man's shoulder as he let out a horribly mangled sound that was some pained blend of relief and joy.
Luna and Ron were observing the scene in utter, speechless surprise. Hermione was so happy for Harry it made her heart ache! And yet . . . as James Potter opened his eyes and looked about at them over the top of his son's head, she knew she recognized him. His beard was far shorter and neater, he was in clean robes, in fact he looked as though he'd just stepped fresh from a shower—she nearly had to slap herself to keep her mind from wandering off on that observation—but it was those eyes she recognized as they met hers.
It was the smile that curved those lips.
This man, her mystery wizard, was Harry's dad? Oh, Lord. And she'd kissed him! What on earth? How could she ever face any of them?
"Okay," Harry said, breathless with excitement as he turned to introduce his father to the two people who were so important to him. "Dad"—oh, he was beside himself he was so thrilled that he could actually say that— "these are my two best friends in the world, Ron Weasley and—"
Hermione tore her gaze from James' as she abruptly stood from the bench. "I'm sorry, Harry. I just—I just remembered there's something I have to do."
She stepped around them, giving them a wide berth, and ran full tilt out the doors.
"And Hermione Granger," Harry said, confusion in his face as his shoulders slumped.
Luna tipped her head around, looking toward the doors. "I wouldn't mind her. Seeing you with your father probably reminded her of her own parents."
"Of course," Harry said with a shake of his head, oblivious to the way his father's gaze stayed glued to the spot from which she'd vanished on the bench.
"Best friends," James echoed in a low, dull voice, nodding.
Ron cleared his throat, drawing Luna's attention to him.
"Hmm?"
"You're still sitting on me," he said wincing, as though reminding her was rude.
"Oh, sorry." She, however, made no move to get off of him. "You're actually quite comfortable."
Ron looked about as if for assistance, to which Harry could only shrug. "Oh, um, thanks then?"
"Harry," Remus said in a gentle voice. He didn't want to recognize the look on James' face anymore than he wanted to think he understood the reason for Hermione's hasty departure. "Can I borrow your dad just for a second?"
James desperately wanted Harry to say no, but another verbal acknowledgement that his father had miraculously returned to him had the young man beaming and nodding.
"Sure."
James and Remus shared an awkward laugh as Remus pulled his friend aside. Taking a few steps, just far enough away that he could whisper without being overhead, Remus asked, "Hermione's 'that one witch,' isn't she?"
"Uh-huh."
"Dammit, Prongs!"
James glanced back over his shoulder at his son before answering, his voice equally hushed. "I had no idea who she was! I just thought she was a member of the Order helping Harry."
"Well, yes, that's true, but there's so much more to it than that. You couldn't tell she's only eighteen years old?"
"I don't know what you're thinking, but I helped her. Got her out of Gringotts and then she helped me get to Hogsmeade."
Remus didn't buy it. That didn't seem like something that would send typically level-headed Hermione Granger fleeing a room. "And?"
"Merlin's arse, Moony!" James huffed with an irritated sigh. "Yeah, okay? We kissed once, but that was all. Point of fact, she kissed me. And I don't think I should have to mention the obvious, but she's hardly a child."
Much to his chagrin, Remus found himself nodding in agreement. "Hardly the point though, is it?" he said, covering his own, momentary, wayward thought.
"No, it's not. But . . . it won't happen again. We know each other's identities now, we can move past some little moment that was probably a mistake."
Remus narrowed his eyes. "Probably?" he echoed.
James' shoulders slumped. "She was the first person I'd met after being imprisoned alone all that time, and that witch is sort of amazing. She was like a breath of fresh air after starting to suffocate. I can't say it was right, but I also won't say I would've stopped her if I could go back and change things."
Scowling, Remus could only shake his head. He had no idea what any of this was like for James. But he also felt the need to protect Harry's feelings . . . and Hermione's. Also, though, he could hardly expect them not to cross paths, given how important they both were in Harry's life.
"Promise me you'll try not to let that get any further."
James nodded, frowning. "I promise." Even as he said it though, even as he went back to rejoin his son—Severus batted at Poppy Pomfrey's hands while she tried to examine him and Ron Weasley finally gave up on trying to convince the blonde witch on his lap to move—he felt that tingling across his lips as he recalled the kiss he'd shared with his son's best friend.
Oh, he was going to Hell.
