Chapter 132: September 1998
"The longing was for what I wouldn't find: the past and all the people and places there that were lost to me."
-Alice Steinbach
Nikolai sat on the edge of the bed with a dumbfounded look on his face. He listened to Remus with rapt attention, never interrupting, never so much as making a grunt of acknowledgement. Remus revealed as much to Nikolai as he could without giving away all of his many secrets. He explained he knew his mate and it was complicated. He explained he had been rather instrumental in The Order during the first war and how he'd led them through many battles during the second. He explained the complicated history of his allegiances with the Wizarding World and his complete rejection of Greyback, Dolohov, Voldemort, and everything they stood for.
Halfway through the long, complicated speech, Mika banged in with some questionable food from a small cafe and six new wallets—three of which held credit cards—and shoved the containers into their hands. Remus picked at a limp salad as Mika ate an order of fish and chips with vigour. Nikolai left his container next to him on the bed, watching it go cold as Remus continued talking through mouthfuls of browned lettuce and wet tomatoes.
The longer he spoke, the more uneasy Remus felt about the situation.
In reality, he knew next to nothing about Nikolai. Really, he didn't know all that much about Mika, either. And, he'd been burned so deeply by people he truly thought he knew. Well, by one person, anyway, if you could call Peter a person after living as a rat for twelve years.
Remus knew the chances of him getting cataclysmically fucked over by trusting a young werewolf that willingly left the safety of his pack with Fenrir Greyback was high. But, there was something niggling in the back of his head (that he presumed to be Moony) that told him if it panned out, the reward to the risk was astronomical.
He'd get to see Hermione again—his Hermione. He'd get to hold her close to him and bury his face in that wild mane of hair and breathe her in. He'd get to cup her beautiful face between his palms and kiss her again, let her breathe life back into his empty soul. He'd feel his heartbeat again. His magic sizzle and strengthen and wrap around him in a warm embrace.
He set aside the container and stood from the bed, looking at Mika. "I need some air," he said.
She pulled her brows together asking him a silent 'are you okay?' before nodding, "I'll stay here with Nik. We have some catching up to do, anyway." Her smile was forced, but her voice was kind.
"Thanks," Remus said, grabbing his jacket off the hook near the mirror. "Just think about it Nikolai. Talk it over with Mika, if you need to. I'll be back."
Nikolai gave a long, calculating look before tilting his head a bit, finally scooping up his container and diffing into the cold fish. As Remus left the room he heard his low, accented voice ask "Does he do this a lot, your friend?"
"Eh, it depends on the day. Usually he just has a bit of a fit and goes to bed, but I think he needs to take a walk."
"He is strange," Nikolai commented.
"You have no idea," Mika laughed.
When the heavy door fell shut, Remus walked through the hall of the motel toward the stairwell. The air in the building smelt of old cigarettes and dust, it was clear the carpets hadn't been hoovered in quite some time. He jogged down the stairs, dutifully ignoring the annoying click in his hip on every downstep, and pushed his way out the lobby door and into the alley.
It was dark out now, the mid-September sunlight fading faster with every passing day. Soon the days would be cut incredibly short, a time of year Remus had always dreaded. He walked a ways down before running across a small off-licence that boasted plenty of booze and wine by way of a blinding, neon sign. He hadn't drank in years, but his lungs ached for the burn of a cigarette—something he'd rarely ever given into, even when he was young.
Hermione had hated it. He remembered clearly how irate she would become with Sirius insisted on smoking down almost an entire pack after a scuffle.
"Why do I even bother saving your life if you're just going to kill yourself with those things anyway?"
Remus suppressed a smile as he entered the shop, weaving his way through tight rows of liquor bottles, ignoring the itch he felt in his throat at the thought of downing a bottle of whisky. He could certainly use it tonight.
He dug around in his pocket for a few crumpled notes and tossed them on the counter when the pimple-faced twenty-something handed him a small box of filtered cigarettes.
"I'll take a lighter too, please," Remus said, nodding to the display of plastic, throw-away lighters behind the counter.
The worker seemed put out for a moment as he sighed in annoyance, "Colour preference?"
"Any will do," Remus answered, tapping his fingers on the counter.
The man huffed and grabbed one at random, tossing it to Remus and adding it into the total. Remus thanked him, pocketed the change, and left the shop in a rush.
He ambled down the dimly lit street a ways before spotting an old, iron bench rusting away on the footpath across the road. He beelined toward it and sat, the metal cold and uncomfortable against his thighs, fumbling with the packet to get it open.
The first drag burned the back of his throat more than he remembered. His eyes filled as he coughed, the harsh smoke singeing his nose and chest. By his fourth puff, it felt like it used to. Like his nerves were finally calming and his head was pleasantly fuzzy from the rush of nicotine.
He leaned back against the bench and pulled his ankle up to his knee, staring out over the empty street.
He felt terrible for what he was asking of Nikolai. He knew it was dangerous, he knew that if he got caught, Nikolai would be skinned. But, it was important. It would help them put an end to all this. It would help Remus find a direction that made sense, allow him to help in a way he knew how. Mika had been on the nose when she said he never stopped living like he was at war. Even during the years he spent isolated, he fought against everything he could.
He wanted to stop. He was so tired of fighting. But, he couldn't go and give up on everything now, could he? Not when he was so close to ending it for good. So close to being able to just be with Hermione and actually live a peaceful life.
He blew a lazy stream of smoke through pursed lips and let his mind wander to the reason he was doing this. The real reason Moony had even bothered to save his sorry arse in the first place.
Because it was always for Hermione. Everything he had ever done and would ever do would be for Hermione Jean Granger.
By the time he finished his third cigarette, he'd come to the conclusion that it was time to go home. Not back to the shitty pay-by-hour motel that smelled of rot and filth, not back to the caves, or the wilderness that Mika seemed to favour. But, home. A small cottage on Church Lane in Godric's Hollow with terrible puce shudders and far too much shag carpeting.
Mika deserved to see the cottage, to sleep in a clean bed and stretch out on a sofa, if she wanted. Remus had been thinking of going back to look through the massive collection of books they'd had, anyway. Perhaps there'd be something of use there, something to steer him in the right direction since he seemed to be going in circles at the Library.
He crushed the filter under the toe of his shoe and made his way back to the motel. When Nikolai left in the morning, he would introduce Mika to life he once had and the one he prayed he'd get to see again soon.
"Well, this place is a bit of a dump, innit?" Mika said, staring at the front of 24 Church Lane.
Remus frowned, feeling offended not only on his behalf but also on Hermione, James, Lily and Sirius. They'd all put so much work into the place to get it to an inhabitable level, it stung a bit that Mika wasn't in love with the little cottage instantly.
"It's old," Remus reasoned. "And it's been empty for a long time. It's better on the inside."
She squinted at him, shaking her head a bit with an amused smirk pasted on her lips. "You're upset that I didn't fall over myself for it."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
Remus crossed his arms over his chest, "No, I'm not. I know it's not much, but it's mine. It was ours and I think it's got some books that might be helpful. Plus it'll be nice to be in a room that doesn't reek of stale vomit for once."
"That motel offered breakfast, Remus. It can smell of whatever it likes with free porridge and pastries."
"If you could call them that," Remus grumbled, under his breath as they moved toward the front door.
Mika let out a loud laugh and shook her head, pushing past Remus to grab the handle. When her fingers wrapped around the brass, she let out a pained shriek, immediately yanking her hand back and cradling her arm to her chest.
"That bloody door just bit me!"
Remus blinked, "It…bit you?"
She held out her hand to show him the angry welts that were rapidly swelling on her palm. Remus winced, "Sorry. She must've put a stinking hex on the door to keep anyone from entering. Clever little witch."
"Clever? That's psychotic, if you ask me. Just lock the damn door like a normal person!"
Remus shook his head and reached out to grasp the handle, feeling the shudder of magic as the wards accepted him. "You forget who she was—or is, rather. She's an integral part of The Order. She's always had a target on her back, from the moment she befriended Harry. But, especially while she was with me."
Mika snorted and walked in behind him, using her foot to nudge the door closed. "Just as important as Harry Potter, are you?"
"I didn't say that," Remus clarified, slipping his shoes off. "She was fearless when she was here, and a bloody good healer to boot. She found herself in the center of battles more often than not. There were plenty of people who wanted her dead and would gladly use the opportunity to raid her home and pick apart her brain."
Mika wrinkled up her nose, following Remus into the small living room. "You lot were mental then and you're still mental now. Why would you go looking for the baddies? You know they wanted you all dead and they did a bang up job of it from what it looks like."
Remus sighed, breathing in the faint scent of Hermione that lingered in the fibres of the carpet and the threads of the drapes. It was a miracle the smell hadn't completely faded after all this time, but he was forever grateful it hadn't.
"So, we need to be better this time. We can't let them kill everyone off again. They had advantage in numbers the first go around and The Order can't afford that this time. We couldn't afford it last time, either."
"I need to tell you something," Mika started, taking a peek around the short wall to the kitchen before tracing her steps back into the living room and falling onto the sofa. Remus sat across from her in the large, squashy armchair Hermione always preferred. Memories of several nights spent curled together on its lumpy cushions swirled in his mind. The taste of her skin heavy on his tongue as he swallowed, trying to push them away to pay attention to Mika.
He cleared his throat and crossed his leg at the knee, taking in a few slow breaths and willing the guilty flush to stop crawling its way up his neck.
"Go on," he prompted.
Mika's knees began bouncing and she twisted her hands together, looking rather nervous. Remus' stomach plummeted. Had she said something to Nikolai? Had she given him more information than Remus had thought was appropriate. Did he know more about Hermione and Remus' relationship than Remus had divulged?
"While you were talking with Nik the other night," she took in a rattled breath, "I ran into Harry Potter at the cafe I got our dinner from."
Remus stared at her for several seconds, "You..ran into him?"
"I…might've well, tracked him…?"
Remus pinched the bridge of his nose, "You tracked down Harry. For what reason?"
"Okay, just listen to me and let me explain," she rushed out. Mika stood and began pacing, speaking a mile a minute, "We have Nikolai now, so we have an advantage, but that doesn't really matter if we can't do anything with the information we're being given and the memories that you already have. We can better prepare them if we're able to relay the information somehow and I thought well, why not just go straight to the source and tell the boy who lived himself? Surely, he'd want to know that the group of extremists that were trying to kill him for his entire life are still actively plotting against him, right? So I just used my sniffer and tracked him down."
"You followed his scent? How would you even—"
"It doesn't matter."
"No, no, I really think it does."
Mika let out a growl of frustration and threw her arms into the air, "I stole a jumper from him ages ago and I caught the scent again while we were in London the first day, okay?"
Remus narrowed his eyes and sat forward, leaning toward her. "You stole a jumper…how? When? When could you have possibly—"
"It was in March," she said, flopping back down onto the sofa. She shoved her long hair from her face and sighed. "I was roaming with a few people from the pack in early spring. We had heard that Greyback and his lot were snatchin' people and turnin' them into the Ministry so we kept on the move. We found a campsite that had been abandoned. Big tent, a couple of camp beds—there was clean water and a little food so, we stopped."
"A tent?" Remus bit down on the inside of his cheek. Harry, Ron and Hermione had been hopping around the countryside in the Weasley's family tent for months. He supposed it wasn't too far-fetched that werewolves would cross paths with them eventually. Remus knew that many packs had taken to not staying in one place for long for fear of being caught.
"Yeah. A bloody nice one, too. I could tell there had been some sort of…scuffle. Somethin' that made the people that owned it abandon it quickly. But, we were exhausted and it was still freezing at night. One of the older wolves was sick and we had to stop and rest for a few days. It seemed as good a place as any."
"And you took a jumper."
"I just told you it was freezin', didn't I?" she snapped, settling her back against the cushions and drawing her legs up. "I only took a jumper. There was nothin' else worth takin' in there, really. Some papers and books but nothin' that I could do anythin' with. I wasn't with anyone magical, so they didn't know what to do with it, either."
Remus bobbed his head a few times and waited for her to continue. He knew the kind of life she'd lived. He knew she'd spent most of her free time stealing what she could to survive—he wouldn't fault her for that. Regardless of the poverty he'd experienced, he'd at least always had a place to go.
"I swear, I didn't realise it was his at first, Remus. It was this knitted monstrosity with a big H on the front and it was so warm. When we were getting ready to leave the tent, I went through it again to look for anything of value—something we could sell to get a few quid for food—I flipped through some books to see if maybe someone had stuffed some cash in them, and I saw 'Property of H. Potter' written in one. I left the jumper there, after. It felt wrong to take it knowing it was his, you know?"
Remus hummed his agreement. Regardless of Mika's propensity for petty theft and lying when she needed to, Mika was a good person. She had a good heart. He knew she'd probably been feeling guilty about it, knowing that Remus had been close with Harry. He couldn't fault her for any of it. He couldn't say with certainty that had he been in the same position, he'd do anything differently. Starving and cold had the ability to turn even the most honourable of men into criminals.
"So how did you corner Harry in the cafe?" Remus asked, keeping his voice even and calm.
Mika shot him a small, thankful smile and continued on, "Well, I wasn't sure it was him, to be honest. There were loads of scents on that jumper, it could have been anyone. But, I caught it again. And again. And just about every time we were in that part of town, I would pick up on it. So, I thought it was a fair assumption that it would be someone from The Order that would need the information we had. The first time I trailed it, you were stuffed up in the library and I fancied a walk, do you remember?"
Remus nodded. He could recall there being several occasions that Mika would wander off while his nose was pressed into an encyclopaedia for hours at a time. He'd figured she was just bored.
"Well, I followed him to that cafe and saw that it was him—that scar across his forehead really makes it hard to deny, you know?"
Remus chuckled, "Yeah, I know. And his hair. I would recognise that head of hair as a Potter's from anywhere."
Mika laughed, "Right! Poor bloke does have a terrible cut job. You'd think he'd be able to figure out something with magic to get it to lie down."
"James never could either. That's how the Potters got their fortune, did you know that? James' dad, Monty, created Sleekeazy's hair potion to try and tame his own. Never worked for him either, but loads of people swore by the stuff."
"Shit trait to inherit," Mika commented. "So, while you were talkin' with Nik, I thought I'd take my chances and see if he'd be at that cafe again. And, he was."
"I get why you did it," Remus assured her, "but what did you tell him? We can't go telling him everything, Mika. It could—"
"Ruin the timeline. Yeah, yeah I know. Have a bit more faith in me, yeah? I just told him that there was more comin' and that it wasn't over. I told him he needed to get his ducks in a row and gather some people."
"That's it?" Remus asked, surprised.
She nodded, "Pretty much. Left him with a few vague words of wisdom. Told him that not everyone he thought was bad is evil and he needs to trust a few that come to him for help."
"That was smart," Remus said, rather impressed that Mika would have thought to tell him that.
"I've been tryin' to tell you for months now that I'm not a complete idiot. I know you're an intelligent, old git, but I got some smarts of my own every now and then."
Remus sat back in the chair, feeling the familiar comfort cradle him. "You did a good thing, I think. Harry is more intuitive than anyone will ever give him credit for, but I'm not sure he'd see another round of war coming his way if it wasn't pointed out."
Mika shook her head, "That's where you're wrong. He knew. Before I even told him, I could tell that he knew."
Mika took Remus' silence as an opportunity to stretch out on the sofa and make herself comfortable. He didn't mind, really. He'd been nervous to bring her to the cottage, but he should have known she'd take it for what it was: comfort and safety. Two things that she'd been robbed of so frequently in her life. Remus propped his ankle up on his knee and steepled his fingers, pressing them gently against his mouth as he thought about everything Mika had told him. His heart ached for Harry. The boy had been through so much in his young life, it wasn't fair that a seemingly unending war be dumped back onto his shoulders.
He couldn't wait for the day that it would truly be over. When he could finally come home with Hermione and know that they were all safe for good.
There's work to be done.
A lot of it, yes.
Don't fuck it up this time. They're counting on you, for some stupid reason.
Well aware, thank you Moony.
I can help.
By calling me a fuck up and insulting my intelligence? I'll pass, thank you.
No, you tit. By giving you stronger magic to work with. If you'd quit fighting me every chance you have, you'd see I want to help.
Remus sighed. I know.
"Just because you're finally home, doesn't make it any less weird that you keep arguing with your own head, mate," Mika muttered from under the pillows she'd shoved her into.
"I'll work on it," Remus promised.
And he meant it. Because he didn't know how, but Moony had more magic—more strength—than Remus could even fathom. He would need that in the coming months. They all would.
.
.
a/n: Hey friends! Sorry it's been so long...life-amirite? Anyway, I'm pleased to say that things will start moving along here soon and we'll even see some familiar faces soon. *side eyes*
Also, thank you so much to everyone who comments. They really do make my day and it's been rough lately, so I appreciate them so much! I love you guys! 3
xoxo
mimi
