Chapter 109: Friday, August 23, 2002
"After all, if you do not resist the apparently inevitable, you will never know how inevitable the inevitable was."
-Terry Eagleton
Anger was not the right word for what Remus felt as he pulled his aching body from the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. He winced, reaching for his clothes, and began to dress before slumping back onto the bed.
He wanted to be furious. He wanted to let the rage that simmered beneath the carefully guarded surface spill over and consume him. He wanted to scream and kick something and hex anyone who stood in his way.
He wanted to be less understanding of the words Hermione had whispered to him through tears only hours ago.
But, how could he?
He knew coming here, his time was limited. He knew there would be consequences to traveling ahead in time and because they weren't able to pinpoint what those consequences would be, it was clear the time he had was limited.
He had sat, nestled between Hermione's legs with his head on her belly, staring up at her as she sobbed into her hands. He watched as she fell apart, swearing she wanted nothing more than to let him remain here with him. She apologized over and over that she hadn't had the conversation sooner, that she had waited until he was transformed. She had apologized for being too cowardly to properly face him and let him explain himself and say what he needed to say.
He wanted so badly to be angry. But, his leaving was inevitable. He'd known from the second he figured out how to use that blasted stone, he wouldn't be able to stay. Regardless of the conviction he had felt to tell anyone who told him that to fuck off. That he would find a way—Hermione would find a way. Because they had overcome so much, they had been through so fucking much together, how could they not?
He had at least thirty more days left here, maybe more, if he could prove to be indispensable.
The same leaden feeling sat low in his stomach—the feeling he had when he had found out she was from 2002 and not 1979. He laughed bitterly and laid on his side, facing the wall, counting the cracks in the paint. Of course, it would turn out like this. How could he think—even for the briefest of moments—it would be anything but another goodbye?
Of course, you would just lie there and give up. Fucking prat.
Stuff it, you great mutt.
Get over yourself. You useless sack of human flesh. If I had control—
You'd what—exactly? Change the laws of time? Because, that's not exactly something anyone is capable of doing. Least of all a foul mouthed bastard that doesn't even have opposable thumbs. Sod. Off.
Remus could feel Moony's irritation with him burning through his head when the trap door creaked open and fell shut with a loud thud. Remus didn't bother to roll over, instead he continued his counting of paint cracks and wallowing in an emotion he couldn't really describe.
He closed his eyes as her footsteps neared the camp bed. His body stiffened when she climbed in behind him, pressing her chest to his back and wrapping her arms around him. Her face nuzzled into the back of his neck and she squeezed his middle.
"I know you're awake," she whispered, her breath tickling the overgrown strands on the back of his neck. She took a slow breath and blew it out gently against him, creating a cascade of gooseflesh to pimple over his neck and face. "If you don't want to talk to me, I understand. But, Remus...I'm sorry."
Hermione's voice broke and he could feel her tears leaking into the collar of his shirt. He felt miserable. He wanted to roll over and pull her against his chest, to kiss her head and tell her it was okay. Because it was. But, it didn't stop it from being painful. The reality of the situation being what it was didn't stop the hurt from gripping his heart. From squeezing his lungs so tightly he thought they'd never expand properly again.
"I know," he murmured in reply.
It's not your fault he wanted to say.
Yes it is. The more bitter parts of him thought.
Had it not been for Hermione stumbling out of a fireplace in Dorcas' home, hiding behind Dumbledore as she surveyed them all.. If it hadn't been for Hermione trying everything she could to connect with them, to learn about them, to befriend them… If it hadn't been for Hermione loving him even when he tried to push her away, for forcing him to see her and accept the love she was showering him in…
If it hadn't been for Hermione, he wouldn't be here.
He'd be alone.
He'd be wandering alone through whatever hellscape life would happen when he got back. Never knowing someone had been carved from precious jewels just for him.
He'd be drinking himself into an early grave. Blaming himself for the death of his friends, never knowing that Sirius was innocent. Never knowing that Harry had grown to be a beautiful mix of James and Lily—despite never having known them. He'd be hollow again.
And even though it hurt—and fuck if it didn't hurt—he owed every bit of good in his life right now to her.
With a quiet sigh, he finally turned over, collecting her into his arms and pulling her tight against his chest. He buried his nose in the mass of curls and took in a deep breath, relishing in the scent of the coconut hair products she uses. Remus felt the deep intake of breath from her, could feel her shaking in his arms as she cried into the front of his shirt.
"You don't have to apologize," he whispered. "Hermione, please stop crying."
His chest ached as she sniffled and tried to quell the sobs in her throat. He couldn't think of a time where she'd been so upset. But then, it had been a really long few weeks. And Hermione wasn't exactly known for allowing herself a breakdown. He silently cursed himself for the bitter thoughts, for the anger and the frustration that lurked in his mind. He felt disgusted with himself for ever second guessing that she loved him as much as she said she did.
He pulled away slightly, to hold her tear stained face between his hands. He could count every freckle smattered over her nose, every teardrop clinging to her lashes. With the pads of his thumbs, he gently wiped them away and pressed his lips to her forehead.
"I knew this was coming eventually," he said, closing his eyes. "We both always knew this was inevitable. I couldn't let it be the last time, so this time I know I have to. You know, I think John, Paul, Ringo, and George lied to us all a little bit."
He smiled against her skin when he felt her chuckle. "Why's that?"
"Because, if love was all we needed, well—we'd be set for life. Because we've got that in droves, haven't we? We'll make the most of what time we have left. And it'll have to be enough."
Slowly, Hermione disentangled herself from his hold and sat up, her legs folded before her on the small bed. Remus followed suit, their knees touching.
"I don't want you to go."
He gave a watery smile and reached for her hand, "And I don't want to go. But, I know I have to. This was never meant to last forever, we knew that. I knew that. And, I tried to make it last anyway."
Saturday, August 31, 2002
Hermione pushed open the door to Justin's room, holding a tray laden with potions and food. Inside the room, Justin sat uptight, his back against the wall as he flipped through a stack of parchment.
"Oh, thanks Hermione," he chirped, looking up with a soft smile.
"You're welcome," she responded, using her foot to close the door behind her. "I think a few more days of the nutrients and strengthening potions might do the trick. Have you been up at all today?"
Justin nodded, "Walked around the Library with Pansy for a bit. Wouldn't mind exercising in other ways though."
Hermione chuckled at the cheeky grin that spread across his face. "Yes, I'm sure you wouldn't mind. As soon as your strength is back up, you can get exercise however you see fit, deal?"
He beamed, "Deal. She'll be glad of it, I'm sure."
Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes, the smile never leaving her face.
Justin was making good progress now. He was awake for longer spells of time and able to move and get out of bed for more than a few minutes at a time. The potions that he had been fed while captured had drastically changed his mobility, nearly regressing his muscle strength backwards to that of a toddler. Given he was at least five feet nine inches and well above the weight of the average three year old, walking had proven to be difficult for him.
When they began exploring the idea of the Metamorphmagus blood being used as the main conduit in the potions the Death Eaters had been using, Hermione could have never imagined that it would not only alter his blood but his very structure. He could morph a bit now—not as easily or as drastically as Tonks could—but he was able to change his hair colour on whim and had managed to get one eye to turn different colours from time to time.
His magic seemed to be still declining, but since the potion had been purged from his system, it slowed the rate of transformation drastically. While he still looked gaunt and his skin was nowhere near as supple as it had once been, Hermione was feeling cautiously optimistic that Justin had more time than she originally calculated.
"What are you looking over now?" Hermione asked, sitting on the bed opposite and measuring out the potions into the correct doses while Justin ate.
He tore off a chunk of bread, sopping up some of the onion soup and shrugged, "Some light research. Lupin and I were talking yesterday about the Fountain of Fair Fortune and he asked if I knew of any muggle myths that sounded similar. He gave me all his notes to look over."
Hermione sighed, "I really think the idea of finding this fountain is a pipe dream."
Justin shrugged, stuffing more bread into his mouth. "Could be. But then again, we all thought the Hallows were complete hippogriff shit too, and you lot proved us wrong there. So, who's to say it doesn't exist?"
"Even if it does, we have no way of knowing where it could be. It could be decades before anyone locates it. I just don't think it's a viable option."
Justin handed Hermione his empty bowl and slumped back against the headboard once more, taking in slow breath as he stared at somewhere just over her shoulder.
"I know you're trying," he murmured. "And you've done a bang up job of it so far. I don't exactly fancy the idea of dying and coming back to break the curse," he looked directly at her now and chuckled, "always an overachiever, you are."
Hermione pushed a weak laugh out, re-stoppering the phials of potion as she handed him a pewter goblet filled with the concoction. "Believe me, it wasn't exactly an ideal way to go about it."
"No, I don't imagine it was. The thing is...it's painful...turning into something I'm not meant to be. Every time my hair changes colours or my eye goes all wonky, it hurts. And then you take the slow decay of my magic...I imagine this is a lot of what muggles who are sick with cancer or something feel like. Like every cell in their body is revolting against them."
"Justin, I—"
He held up a hand and smiled weakly at her. "I don't want to live like a Dementor. I don't want to make people hollow inside—steal all their happiness away from them. I don't want…" he took in a slow breath, "I don't want Pansy to see me any worse off. I don't want anyone to see me like that. Barely sentient, following orders of Death Eaters because I've completely lost everything that I am. I won't let them take me like that, Hermione."
"What are you saying?" Hermione stared at him, her chest feeling heavy.
"They don't want people like us to be here, and yet they figure out a way to turn us into something they can use. I won't be used to hurt people I care about, to hurt people like us. I will die before I let them use me for their disgusting agenda. And, if at all possible, I'd like to do it comfortably."
Hermione inhaled sharply and shook her head, "I can't...Justin, I can't do what you're asking. I can't—"
"I know," he interrupted. "I know you can't. That's why I asked Draco to do it, when the time comes. He's not exactly keen on the idea either, mind you, but I think he understands. Just don't break your back looking for something to save me, okay? Stop wasting your time in here giving me these complex brews in hopes it will help. We both know they aren't going to reverse the damage done. It's only going—"
"To prolong the inevitable," Hermione finished his sentence, her eyes boring into him.
Justin nodded, "And we've done quite enough of that around here, don't you think?"
Hermione reached forward, squeezing Justin's hand as he gulped down the potions in the goblet.
They had to find a way around this and fast.
Monday, September 2, 2002
"I'll see who I can wrangle on the reserves," Charlie said, leaning back in his chair far enough that it balanced on only two legs. "I'm certain there's a few people that would get involved. Romania typically tries to stay out of it, given their position in the last war, but I think a few of the other handlers may have connections outside the country they could get us in touch with."
"And I've communicated with many in France," Fleur offered. "Bill and I have worked closely with many over the years. I am confident we can secure some alliances."
"This is great," Harry smiled. "We need all the help we can get. If they really have secured allies in Russia, we could be looking at total decimation within months. We can't afford to lose anyone else."
"Remus, have you had any luck with your connections in Prague?" Bill asked, throwing an arm around Fleur.
"No," Remus said. "I'm not sure if they're even still alive. I've contacted Penelope to see if she can pull recorded werewolf deaths in the last twenty years from the archives, but I think she's still a bit cross with me. If it turns out to be a dead end, I can go back to the—"
"No," Hermione interrupted, her heart racing as Remus' offer hung in the air between them.
"Hermione," Remus sighed. "If we need werewolf allies…"
"This is not the way to get them," she continued. "It wasn't successful last time and I'm not willing to risk your death to see if it will be this time."
Remus narrowed his eyes, his nostrils flaring slightly. "I think I can take care of myself, it's not like I've never done it before."
"And look at what happened! You were injured more than your fair share, nearly ripped limb from limb once. You came back with horrible infections that nearly killed you...Remus, it doesn't make sense for us to send you out!"
"If we need the allies—"
"Hermione's right," Harry interjected, his eyes turning to Hermione with a slight nod in her direction. "There's no reason to risk your life when the odds aren't there. If your contacts happen to connect via owl or another means of communication, then we can explore it further. But, for now, it doesn't make sense to send you into the dens."
Hermione sighed with relief, mouthing a quick 'thank you' to Harry. She knew Remus wanted to be of help, to do anything he could to make sure they ended it—really ended it—this time around. But, they simply couldn't risk sending him out on his own.
The last time she worried. Of course she worried; she wanted nothing more than for him to be safe in their bed, in their cottage, researching and listening to records together. But, she always knew that no matter how injured he got, he would survive. This time, however, she wasn't given that guarantee. And, as Ginny had reminded her, if Remus didn't make it back to his own time, everything could disintegrate before them.
"I won't just sit around and do nothing!" Remus insisted, "I want to be helpful while I'm here. I want to end this!"
Hermione rested her hand on his forearm, pulling his attention toward her instead of shouting his frustrations to the room at large. "You will and you already have been. But, we can't risk it. I won't risk it."
He stared at her for several long moments. His eyes flickered back and forth over her face before he gave a terse nod and relaxed his shoulders. "Okay."
"Well, now we have some sort of plan, I'm off," Charlie said through a groan as he stretched his arms above his head.
"I'll meet you outside the reservations later," Tonks said. "I'm going to do a round at the safe houses and visit Mum."
He smiled and kissed Tonks' cheek, "Send her my love?"
"Always. Thought, she might be cross that you didn't come see her."
As the meeting wound down and Bill and Fleur began talking with Harry to plan their trip to France and the possibility of securing a few goblin liaisons, Hermione's fingers lightly stroked over Remus' forearm.
"Alright?"
Remus nodded, "I just want to help."
"I know, but you don't have to walk to your death every time. What you're doing here is help enough."
"I'm reading children's books and walking the grounds," he deadpanned. "It doesn't feel like I'm doing anything."
"Not every moment of the fight has to be life or death, Remus. We've learned that the hard way, you know that's not the best way. We can be smart about this. We're going to have to outwit them to end this and we need your brain in one piece to help."
"I've got three weeks left before I need to do the ritual again."
Hermione worried her bottom lip, "I know."
He pushed a hand through his hair, "If I'm going to be of any use in that time, my efforts need to be more aggressive."
Hermione frowned at the closed off tone of his voice, but gave a slight bob of her head. It would be over her dead body that she allowed anyone to send him back to foreign dens filled with possibly hostile werewolves again. But, she understood more than anyone his need to feel useful.
.
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a/n: Hey everyone! Thanks for reading, I hope you liked this chapter! Let me know your thoughts, yeah?
xo
