Ch 56 - Slipping

Remus awoke covered in blood.

At first, he didn't know it was blood. He could feel that he was damp, but when he stirred and the liquid came into contact with his lips…when he tasted the iron…

His eyes flew open and his suspicion was confirmed. More than anything, he wished the blood belonged to him; but he had a dreadful hunch that it did not.

Scrambling from where he lay, Remus pushed himself up and scooted backwards, smacking his head on something behind him in the process. He turned to see what he'd collided with.

A church pew.

He was in a church.

He was in St. Jerome's.

The alarming cold of the sanctuary made his breath hang in the air. Still crouching in the center aisle, Remus looked down at himself. He was naked save for a few shreds of clothing that clung to him, and the entirety of his torso was covered in that mysterious blood. Outside, the dawn was beginning to break, banishing the full moon as it cast its wintry light into the church. He held a shaking hand up into the luster of the stained glass windows to be sure…it was gleaming red.

From the apse, he heard a spine-chilling wheeze.

His head whipped towards the altar. "H-Hello?" he stuttered, paralyzed with fear.

That's when he noticed that the blood was not only on his torso; A trail of crimson prints stretched from the altar all the way to where he sat now. From his position he could not see a corpse, but knew that the blood belonged to whoever awaited him at the foot of the cross. He swallowed hard.

Slowly, reluctantly, Remus arose and inched towards the altar. The closer he got, the larger and more paw-like the bloody handprints became. His entire body began to shake as he ascended the few steps up to the podium and realized that, whatever happened, had taken place on the altar table. The white tablecloth was soaked with the blood, and dappled with small tears from the victim's fingernails as they tried and failed to claw their way out. A sacrifice had taken place on this altar.

Remus' heart was pounding in his ears like a war drum as he crept around the edge of the table. Finally, the body came into view; it lay a few feet behind the table and was sprawled out in ways that it should not have been. With the dawn light beginning to trickle in through the rose window, it did not take him long to recognize who's mangled frame it was.

"EMMELINE?!" he screamed in horror, bolting to her side and dropping to his knees. Gently, he turned her over onto her back, crying out when he saw that her whole abdomen had been ripped into by claws. His claws. Her arms were covered in bites, and the skin of her face had been scratched so badly that she was almost unrecognizable. "Oh God, oh Merlin, what do I-"

She was trying to speak, but could only wheeze as her jaw moved up and down in vain. Remus began to hyperventilate. Even if he knew where his wand was, he didn't know of any healing spell powerful enough to repair this much damage in time. In his panic, he burst into tears. It was all he could do.

"Why did you come after me?!" he sobbed, choking as he felt himself forgetting how to breathe again. He reached a bloodied hand up to her forehead. "Why did you come?!"

Emmeline feebly reached out to touch his face, but her hand never made it all the way to his cheek. He began to roar when it fell limp at her side-

"Remus…Remus!"

When his eyes flew open, Emmeline was hovering over him on her knees, gently shaking his face. Remus shot up in bed, took her in his arms, and began to tear up as he whispered "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," over and over again. He probably hadn't embraced her so hard since the night they'd found out about Lily and James.

She stroked the back of his hair. "It was only a nightmare."

Pulling away, Remus grasped her face in his hands and looked her over. No gashes. No bites. Once he determined she was alright and that it was just a nightmare, he drew her back into his embrace, panting.

"I'm okay," she reassured him.

He didn't even want to attempt to recount what he'd just seen. Instead, he let go of Emmeline and layed back down, wiping the sweat from his forehead and the tears from his eyes. "Like you said, just a nightmare…"

"Did something happen to me?" she asked.

Remus hesitated, then nodded.

"...Was it Greyback again?"

"Yes," he lied, relieved she had guessed something else.

She laid back down and propped herself up on her elbow to get closer to him. "Want to talk about it?"

Sighing, then wiping his forehead once more, he shook his head. "Not really…" He gripped the sheets in his hands. Not a church. Not an altar table.

Emmeline could tell there was more to the nightmare than he cared to say, but didn't want to push her luck. She'd had to pry him open so many times recently to get him to admit what he was feeling or thinking. "It's been a long time since you had a dream about him."

"I suppose it has." There had been other things to have nightmares about in the meantime. He promptly changed the subject, desperate to forget the image of her mutilated body. "Any word on him? Greyback?"

"No," Emmeline grumbled, flopping onto her back too. "Mad Eye said he brought it up to Crouch, but he wasn't keen on sending aurors around the werewolf colonies to look for him."

"I can't say I blame him."

"I wish there was a way you could lend your expertise without incriminating yourself," she complained. "Not that I'd ever want you to go back there, but…"

Remus could feel a pit in his stomach, and didn't respond.

A few silent minutes passed, and he closed his eyes again; but Emmeline, guessing that his mind may have meandered to the last time he was with a werewolf clan, turned back to face him. "...I don't think it was your fault," she whispered, seemingly out of the blue. "I didn't want you to assume that just because I got upset after James and Lily's funeral that I blamed you for what happened..."

Holding his breath steady, he pretended to already be asleep. If he didn't, he might cry or scream or both. He didn't want this consolation from her right now - especially after the gruesome dream. While he appreciated the sentiment, what Emmeline thought about the situation, and what actually was, were two very different things. Eventually, she assumed her words had not reached him in his slumber, and rolled back over. Remus, however, remained frozen in the bed until dawn, his mind racing too fast for sleep to catch up.

…

Passing Frank and Alice's empty cubicles on the way to her own had not gotten any easier, even after yesterday's trial. The Longbottoms' absences left a gaping wound in the Auror Department, like a body trying to function without two of its most crucial parts. Emmeline was hellbent on becoming the person to stitch up the wound - she had to, for Frank and Alice; for everyone she lost. The empty cubicles motivated her to work harder and faster than ever.

Trainees were not supposed to get their own cubicles, but due to the sheer amount of vacancies after the war, there was no reason not to assign them to newcomers, even if they were still in training. Emmeline was not looking forward to the day they gave away the Longbottoms' cubicles. She rather thought those two should just stay empty.

With a stack of Stealth and Training papers in hand, she traipsed all the way to the back of the office where her cubicle was. She hadn't yet taken the time to organize her desk like a few of the others had, so it looked more like a locker rather than a workspace. She sat down and fished out her quill to get ahead on her assignments, but was finding it hard to focus. Remus had acted strangely this morning, and was even more detached than usual. Until today, he seemed like he was doing a bit better, though she suspected he was mostly faking it. She couldn't get his expression from the night before out of her head - he'd woken up and stared at her like the grim reaper was at her back.

"Vance!" A distinct brogue hollered from the large oak doors at the front of the room. She poked her head out of the cubicle.

"Sir?"

"My office. Now," Alastor ordered, marching back into the corridor. She tossed the papers aside haphazardly and trotted out after him, glancing once more at the two empty cubicles.

A select few Senior Aurors were awarded private offices along the corridor outside the Department Headquarters. Alastor had certainly earned his, as he had caught the most Dark Wizards of any of them. His office was furnished with a beautiful black walnut desk and chairs, and ochre velvet upholstery with curtains to match; but the disarray of papers and random magical objects strewn throughout the office sort of diminished its allure. Emmeline closed the doors behind her as Mad-Eye sat himself down at his desk and removed his prosthetic.

"Take a seat."

Emmeline eyed him perplexedly as she did so. "Have I…done something?"

It was then that Kingsley knocked and let himself in. "You wanted to see me?"

"Come in. I have news for both of you."

Kingsley shut the door and sat down next to Emmeline, flashing her a kind but inquisitive look.

A sly smile appeared on Alastor's face. "Malfoy's going to have his day in court at the beginning of February."

Emmeline jerked forward in her seat. "You're kidding."

"How'd you manage that?" Kingsley asked, looking impressed.

"After the success of the trial yesterday I went straight up to put more pressure on the Minister, and she agreed to bring him in front of the Council."

"That's fantastic!" Emmeline rejoiced.

Mad-Eye held a finger up. "This won't be an easy conviction, so I don't want you to get your hopes up. Malfoy has lots of friends in high places. The best chance we've got is witness testimony." His eyes landed on Emmeline.

"You're going to let me testify?" she marveled.

"You've been chompin' at the bit. Time to let you out the gate. You tell 'em everything you saw in Knockturn Alley that day."

She could hardly maintain her composure. First the Lestranges, now Malfoy? It really was a Christmas miracle.

"They can't bring him in any sooner?" Kingsley wondered.

"February tenth was the best I could do. Doesn't matter; gives us more time to prepare. And we'll need to be prepared. Shacklebolt - You're to spend the next month finding out everything you can about him. More than we've got in his file - I'm talking everything; from family history to what he ate for breakfast. Knowing Lucius, at the very least there will be a character witness to testify on his behalf, and we cannae have any holes in our arguments."

"Understood."

"Get to it."

"Yes sir," they said in unison, practically leaping from their seats.

"Not just yet, Vance," said Alastor, stopping her.

She nodded a "goodbye" to Kingsley, then sat back down.

Mad-Eye looked her up and down as if he was trying to gauge her response before he even told her the news.

"I have done something, haven't I?"

"That's one way of putting it."

"In my defense, that practice range already had another burn on the ceiling before I got in there."

"I wanted to-...beg your pardon?"

"Nothing. What were you going to say?"

Alastor rolled his eyes, then fastened his prosthetic on again and came around to lean on the other side of the desk. "The Magical Law Enforcement Squad has taken notice of your talents," he informed her, with much less delight in his voice.

Confusion flashed across her face. "The Hit Wizards?"

"Aye."

"...Why?"

"Well you've gone and gotten yourself a bit of a reputation, which is never good, 'specially this early."

Emmeline winced. "What sort of reputation?"

"That you're an attack dog. You leap into fights like there's dead chicken waiting for ye on the other end of it, even in the training rooms."

"That's absurd," she snorted.

"Absurd or not, it's what's being spread around, and it's what's gotten back to the Squad. Arnold Peasegood observed your dueling session last week and he's taken interest."

"What does this all mean, exactly?"

"It means now you have a choice," he explained. "You could truncate your training and get out much quicker to join the Squad. You'd be out in the field a bit more, you'd conduct more arrests, and you'd get to fight more. Less important targets, but more combat."

In muggle terms, the Magical Law Enforcement Squad acted more like a police force, while the aurors were the wizarding world's equivalent of detectives or intelligence agents.

Emmeline sat back in her seat, pondering.

"If that sparks your interest, Peasegood would be happy to have you."

Combat was a comfortable place for her. It felt good to fight. And wrapping up training sooner sounded enticing…

But she thought back on the Longbottoms' cubicles.

"You can take some time to think-"

"If you wouldn't mind, I'd really like to complete my Auror training," she interrupted. "If you'll still have me…I know I haven't made it easy…"

Alastor suppressed a grin.

"Get back to work then," he barked.

"Yes, sir. Thank you." She got up and made her way to the door.

"And Vance?"

"Yes?"

"Be ready for February. We're going snake hunting."

…

By the time Emmeline came home, Remus had been sitting in the dark at the little kitchen table for hours now, staring out the window. To his amazement, she arrived with a huge grin on her face.

"Lucius Malfoy is being put on trial next month," she announced as she stepped into the kitchen. "Alastor's finally going to let me testify about our patrol in Knockturn."

Remus raised his wand and flicked on the light switch. "That's wonderful news," he confirmed, summoning a fake smile but remaining at the table.

"I can't believe it," Emmeline continued, making her way to the fridge to scavenge for a late dinner. "I mean, Alastor said not to get our hopes up, but after yesterday I think maybe the tides are starting to turn." She fished out an apple and bit into it, then rummaged through the cheese drawer. "As frustrated as I've been with the Council, I understand that they haven't exactly had to see what the war was really like on the front lines first hand. I think something changed after what happened to Alice and Frank, I think they're starting to get it. I'm really-..."

She noticed that Remus had turned his attention back to the window, and was not really listening.

"...Remus?"

He snapped out of it. "Hm?"

She closed the fridge and came around the other side of the table to face him. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing, I'm fine," he responded distantly. "I'm glad they've finally come to their senses."

"...I can tell you're not fine," she pressed him, setting down the apple.

But Remus tried to brush her off. "Sorry, I'm just tired. I didn't sleep for much longer after I woke up last night." He got up and put the kettle on in order to escape her observant gaze.

"...Remus."

"Yes?" he inquired innocently from the stove.

"Please don't shut me out again," she pleaded quietly from behind him.

Giving up the act, he turned to face her, all traces of the fake smile now gone. She would find out eventually, one way or another. "...Sometimes I hate that you can read me like the paper," he prefaced.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me."

Remus squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled sharply. "I'm running out of Wolfsbane."

Oh, well that wasn't so bad, Emmeline thought. Perhaps the potioneer was just delayed. "When are you supposed to get another shipment?"

But Remus' expression was more grim than a late shipment would've warranted. "...There's not going to be another shipment, Emmeline."

"...What do you mean?"

"I can't afford it," he stated flatly.

They'd never really spoken much about finances. Obviously Emmeline knew that his condition prevented him from a consistent occupation, but getting his potion had never been an issue before.

"I'll buy it for you," she offered.

Her kindness stung him, and he let out a pained chuckle. "You can't."

"Honestly, I don't mind," she insisted. "I'm earning a decent wage at the Ministry."

Remus folded his arms. "You mean your yearly training salary of fifteen hundred galleons?"

"Sixteen hundred galleons. How much is-"

"That would only cover about a three-month supply."

Emmeline's eyes nearly bulged out of her head, and her lips parted in shock. "...Tell me you're joking."

"I wish I was."

She supposed she knew that Wolfsbane was expensive, since so many people with lycanthropy opted to live amongst the werewolf colonies rather than pay for the potion; but something in the realm of five hundred galleons a month for seven doses wasn't just expensive, it was robbery. "That's criminal!" she protested.

"I couldn't agree more."

"What's the point of inventing a potion to help people if the ones you're trying to help can't afford it?"

"Therein lies the problem," Remus echoed her sentiment.

"Well…could we just make it ourselves?"

He shook his head. "If you're not a career potioneer, the ingredients are nearly as expensive as the potion itself."

Emmeline's eyes softened as she took a step towards him. "Why didn't you tell me you were running out?"

"Well I've told you now, haven't I?" he snapped.

"Yes, but how long have you known you were going to run out?"

"I didn't want to burden you after the trial yesterday."

"I knew it," she said under her breath. She'd known since this morning that something was bothering him. "Remus, I'm your-..." Partner felt like an out-of-place word, and had for some time now. "We're supposed to talk about these things."

"You were gone all day at the Ministry, and I just thought that when you got home you didn't need another thing to worry about."

"Rubbish. This is important, and if you'd told me-"

"There's nothing you can do, so I didn't see any sense in bothering you," he interjected sternly.

"What if I ask for an advance?"

"A whole year's advance?" he exclaimed, pointing out how ridiculous this sounded.

"I'll talk to Alastor. I'll pick up extra administrative work, I'll-"

He threw up his hands. "Stop. Just stop trying to fix everything."

The kettle began to scream behind him. He spun around and practically ripped it off the stove.

Emmeline stood opposite him, beside herself with the injustice of it all, and furious that Remus had resigned himself to it. She was determined not to give up so easily. "...So that's it? You go back to life without the Wolfsbane?"

"What do you want me to say?" he countered. He knew that anger well, but after years of dealing with his disease, he was so tired of it. Too tired to find that fighting spirit.

"I don't understand, how could you afford it before? I assumed your dad-"

"My Dad makes due with his Ministry pension, but he doesn't have heaps of extra money laying around." Remus rubbed his face hard with his hands. "Look, could we just drop it?"

"I understand this is uncomfortable and you'd rather I didn't pry, but I don't know what else I'm supposed to do when you shut down!" She continued towards him, but he retreated to the sink. "You reach a conclusion and leave me out of it before you've even let me try to help!"

"That's because you can't help! Okay? I don't want to make you a slave to my problems for the rest of our lives!"

Emmeline tried to ignore what he likely meant by this.

She went back over it all in her mind. What had changed between then and now? They'd moved, yes; but up until now, the potion shipments had resumed at the new address without issue. The rent hadn't changed all that much from the condo in Godric's Hollow. He hadn't switched careers. Had Dumbledore been paying him to spy on the werewolves? No, that didn't make any sense either. He'd been taking the Wolfsbane long before he started those extra assignments. As far as Emmeline knew, nobody else in the Order had received any wages, certainly not Marlene or James-

And all of a sudden, there it was.

"Oh my God…" she breathed.

Remus turned away from her towards the window, bracing himself on the sink.

"…James, or Sirius?" she guessed.

He heaved a mirthless sigh. "James."

Once again, it is important to note that James Potter was a vital person in Remus' life for many, many reasons.

After the Wolfsbane potion's invention, James' father had helped him to secure a potioneer that would sell it to Remus directly and anonymously - no questions asked. Without James, Remus would've had no chance of acquiring the Wolfsbane potion in the first place.

Now, without James, no more money was going to come in. Not the kind of money that would make a difference, anyway.

Before he died, James had given Remus enough money to cover his expenses, including that of the Wolfsbane, for about six months. However, commissioning the statue had cost him a considerable sum. Remus hadn't hesitated to pay it; even now, he would have done it again in a heartbeat. But maths was not his strong suit, and at the time, Remus did not realize that the cost of the statue would expedite James' original timeline for his budget considerably…in fact, it had halved it.

"Now you understand," he uttered despondently.

A strange mixture of emotions flooded Emmeline all at once. This was another secret he'd kept from her, which made her tremendously angry. At the same time, she wanted to wrap him in her arms and hold him tightly. He hadn't just lost his friend; he'd lost his way of life.

"Why didn't you say anything?" She moved to hug him, but he dove out from under her grasp and retreated into the bedroom.

"Obviously because it's humiliating for me to admit that I needed to leech off my friend to survive."

"You're not a leech, you're sick," she called after him, following his path. "James understood that. He loved you, it's not-…" All of the sudden, she had another idea. It was a long shot, but: "Maybe I could talk to Petunia-"

"Godric- No. I forbid anything of the sort. That money belongs to Harry." Now that he was in the bedroom, he had nowhere else to go to get away from her, lest he lock himself in the bathroom.

"James would still want you to have your potion. If he were here-"

"Well, he isn't!" he shouted, swinging around to face her.

The silence between them was enough to make Remus notice his heartbeat thudding in his ears, but her stare was unrelenting. She would not shy away or back down.

She continued to interrogate him. "How much Wolfsbane is left?"

"Not a lot."

"How much, Remus?"

"...Next month will be my last on the potion," he finally admitted.

She nodded, looking around. "Okay," she muttered, thinking wildly. "Okay, after that, we'll just figure something else out."

Her optimism made him want to rip out his eyes. He leaned down and grabbed onto her shoulders. "You have got to stop trying to fix things for me, I mean it. You should just-..."

Her eyes widened. "I should just what?"

"...You should just forget about me, Emmeline."

He watched in silent devastation as his words wounded her. Masking the twinges of his own hurt, he just stared back at her coldly.

She shoved him off and took a step back. "How could you say that?"

"If you don't, I'll be the death of you-"

"How could you say that to me after everything?"

He returned her shout with a voice barely above a whisper. "I'm just trying to be realistic."

She didn't understand; she thought they were both getting better, but he'd just gone back to the same callousness that he'd found shelter in before.

Or had he?

"I see what you're doing…" Getting very close to his face, she looked him squarely in the eye. "You can't push me away. I'm not going anywhere."

Damn her, and damn her perception. He had no rebuttal.

For a moment he thought he saw that same gut-wrenching disappointment from the funeral in her eyes. "...Don't ever say anything like that to me again," she exhaled, turning her back and leaving the bedroom.