"What…?" stammered Remus, gazing at the all-too-familiar face in his house.

Questus looked the same as ever. He smelled the same as ever. His breathing was exactly the same as it ever had been. He was sitting on his own armchair, reading the Prophet and staring at Remus amusedly. He was even wearing the same dark brown robes that he usually wore, unless he was going out to the Muggle town or something, and his grey eyes were at scrutinizing as they ever had been. There was a dead man in Remus' house, and Remus could hardly believe his eyes.

"Everything all right, Lupin?" asked Questus.

It speaks, thought Remus in spite of himself, still staring, open-mouthed, at the apparition before him. "Fine," he said. "I mean, not fine. I mean… what?"

"Yes, I think you've already asked that."

"Professor Questus?"

"Don't call me Professor."

Remus might have been happy to see Questus under different circumstances, but now it was just unnerving. "So… is this what the vines do? Are they trying to make me stay by showing me something that I want to see?" he mused aloud. He glanced at the house: it looked the same, right down to odd mixture of Lupin-furniture and Questus-furniture. Remus had been reading a book, which he'd put face-down on the armchair when his friends had arrived, and even that was still there… although it was on a different armchair. Remus had recently taken to sitting in Professor Questus' old armchair when he was in the sitting room, but now the book was on Remus' father's armchair. The house was a little messier, and there were more books strewn on random surfaces… but other than those barely-noticeable differences, everything else was the same.

Except for the dead man sitting on Professor Questus' armchair.

The dead man in question looked confused and a bit concerned. "In what world do you want to see this?" he scoffed. "I thought this was the worst-case scenario. Are you and Pettigrew playing another practical joke on me? Because I didn't appreciate the one with the water and the newt."

"What?"

"I said that I didn't appreciate the one with the water and the newt."

"Oh. Er, I don't remember… that."

Remus shook his head. Of course he didn't remember it, because none of this was real.

He inspected the walls… the floor… the ceiling. Questus' shoes were in front of the door, and his cloak was hanging on the rack. His cane was propped beside him, leaning on the armchair. There was a large stack of books on the small table next to his chair, and colored notes hung from the pages. It was clear that, whoever this apparition was, he'd been living in this house for a long time.

With a wary glance at Questus, Remus wandered into the first bedroom, unsure of what he would find. He noticed half-emptied moving boxes immediately, just as there had been before... but there was also a bookshelf with all of Questus' books… and the bed seemed to have different sheets. Remus looked to his right. Questus' photo album was on top of the nightstand—the very same one, in fact, that Remus' father had Vanished.

"Are you ill?" called Questus. "Where's Pettigrew? Why are you in my room?"

"Your room?" said Remus.

"Yes. Why are you repeating so many things today? I didn't think we were playing Simon Says."

"That's not how you play Simon Says, I don't think. Do you… live here, then?"

Remus heard the familiar sounds of Questus trying to stand up with his injured leg. There was the familiar click of the cane against the hardwood floor, and then Questus was standing behind him. Questus cleared his throat. "What the hell, Lupin?" he said.

"What?"

"What the hell, I said."

"You tell me!"

"All right, you're beginning to worry me," Questus said, stepping in front of Remus and looking him directly in the eye—just enough eye contact to be awkward and uncomfortable, just like Questus had always done in the past. "If this is a joke of some sort, then you should call it off right now. I've been through enough recently. Tell Pettigrew to come indoors, and we'll do something quiet. We could make dinner. I'm getting much better at using the oven."

"What?" said Remus.

"Yes, you've said that already. Many times, in fact."

"I… I don't know what's going on! How do I get back?"

"Get back?"

"Yes! Out of the vines!" Remus looked Questus up and down, taking note of anything and everything. The deep bags under his eyes. The grey and brown in his beard. The confident expression, the way he was leaning on the cane... the way he was here, alive, not burned to a crisp on a random Sunday. "You're dead!" Remus said. "You're just the… the vine-vision or whatever. How do I get out? And I want to save James and Sirius, too, since they went into the vines as well. That's what I came here for in the first place."

Questus' eyebrows knit together now; he really did look genuinely concerned, which was not a look that Remus often saw on him. "Potter and Black are at the Potter Manor," he said. "Isn't that where you said they were spending the holidays?"

"So Peter's here, but James and Sirius aren't?"

"Those two have been taking the whole thing rather hard, remember? They didn't feel up to visiting."

"But… but what whole thing, if you're still alive? You're dead! You died…."

"Excuse me, did you just say that I'm dead?"

Remus nodded so vehemently that he felt his ears pop.

"I thought I misheard you the first time. You're not the brightest Galleon in Gringotts, but you're not stupid enough to think that I, a person who is standing directly in front of you, am dead."

"But you're not Professor Questus! You're just a… malevolent spirit of the vine!"

Professor Questus started laughing a little. "You're half right, at least. I'm not Professor Questus. I'm just Questus. Or John. I don't care what you call me, as long as it's not Professor, because I haven't been your professor in... wow, in about a year and a half now. I've been needling you about that for ages. And… 'malevolent spirit of the vine'? If I weren't so worried about you right now, I'd write that down or something. It's quite the insult. Might have to use it on Orion Black the next time I see him."

"No!' cried Remus. "I'll show you! Look." With that, he marched outside, followed by a very confused Professor Questus (who was trying to keep up with Remus' panicked strides despite the cane). They arrived at the location of the vines. Peter was still there, and so were the vines, but the shimmering green light was gone.

"See? There's Peter—the real one. And he doesn't even see us, because I'm stuck inside the magical vines, and you're not real."

Peter looked up. "What are you talking about, Remus? I can see you."

Remus stopped in his tracks. "Then… are you really Peter?"

"Yes."

"You went inside the vines, too?"

"No! I was too scared, remember? But you wanted to see what they did, so you went inside and came out all addled."

"What?" snapped Questus. "You went inside the vines, Lupin? Why would you do that? Look, I know you've been a bit out-of-sorts lately, but that was insanely stupid! Why didn't you come fetch me, Pettigrew?"

"He was only in there for a second!"

Questus sighed and inspected the vines encircling the house. He prodded them with his cane. "I've seen this before," he said. "Saw it when I was an Auror. It's a Memory Magnolia."

Remus took a step closer, but Questus pushed him away. "Memory… Magnolia?" repeated Remus. "But that's not a magnolia plant, is it?"

"What can I say?" Questus said. "Wizards are weird. They only care about alliteration. The point is: this plant modifies memories." Peter's mouth was a round 'O', and Questus groaned and buried his face in his hands. "That explains it, then. Pettigrew, you should probably go home. I've got some things to explain to Lupin. I'll owl your mother, all right?"

Remus and Peter followed Questus back into the house. Remus was horribly confused. He watched, dazed, as Questus sat down and composed a short letter to Mrs. Pettigrew. He watched, dazed, as Peter packed his things, casting worried glances towards Remus the whole time. He watched, dazed, as Questus handed him a glass of water. "Here, drink," ordered Questus, but Remus was reminded of the story of Persephone, who was trapped forever in the Underworld because she consumed a pomegranate. He did not drink it.

Peter's mother came to collect him a short while later, and then Remus was sitting in his father's armchair, and Questus was sitting in his own, and Remus was confused.

Questus had made tea (though Remus didn't know when) and now he sipped from his own mug. Remus refused to drink any. "This is not going to be fun, Lupin," said Questus as he put his tea down on the coffee table. "It's just one thing after another with you, isn't it?"

Remus blinked. "What's happening?"

"That plant that you so brilliantly walked into was a Memory Magnolia, remember? Your memories—though I don't know how many—have been altered, and I have the unfortunate job of filling you in to the bleak reality."

"No… I know what you're trying to do," said Remus. "You're trying to convince me that whatever I remember is wrong…"

"Precisely. Because it is."

"...and then I'll miss the next full moon and hurt someone…"

"Of course not. I'd never let that happen. We've been doing a very good job of keeping you restrained on full moons, remember?" Questus jerked his head in the vague direction of the cellar, and then he sighed. "Well, I suppose you don't. At least you remember you're a werewolf. That's a good thing. Didn't want to have to explain that. Now, why don't you fill me in on what else you remember?"

Remus was starting to feel more and more like he was a character in a horror novel (he'd only ever read one of those, though, because his parents were a bit overprotective). He didn't want to entertain Professor Questus: the Malevolent Vine Spirit, but he knew that Questus wouldn't settle for anything less… and besides, Remus was starting to get the sinking feeling that maybe, just maybe, this was real. He pushed the feeling down. "I went to Hogwarts when I was eleven," he started.

"Good."

"Dumbledore came to my house and convinced me and my parents that I could go without hurting anyone."

"Yes."

"And I made friends—Peter, James, Sirius—and you were my Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. And you visited me after full moons and gave me duelling lessons and asked me a bunch of uncomfortable questions about werewolves."

Questus snorted. "Sure. Skip ahead. I'll tell you when something doesn't sound right."

"Well... summer started, and you quit being a teacher to be an Auror again. About a month later, you were cursed on the job and moved next to my house."

"Yes, good."

"I went to Hogwarts again for my second year, my friends found out I was a werewolf and accepted me anyway, and then…" Remus trailed off.

"Yes?"

"Dumbledore pulled me aside one day after breakfast and told me that the town down the hill was some sort of witness protection thing, and the Death Eaters had found it They'd murdered fifty-eight people who lived in the town. And you were in the town, too, at the time… so you died. And then Mum and Dad and I moved here."

There was a brief pause, and then Questus sighed. "Well, at least it was only the past few months that were modified. Everything you told me is correct, except for the last part. Yes, the town was massacred. Sixty people died. But I, obviously, am still alive. And…" Questus trailed off, which was very uncharacteristic of him. Before Remus could say so, though, he started speaking again. "Well, it wasn't me who died, Lupin. It was your parents."

Remus' mouth fell open, and he made no effort to close it. "What?"

"Your parents are dead."

"No, they aren't."

"Yes, they are. Your parents are dead."

"No! This is a… a strange vine fever-dream…."

"So what do you remember about the vine, then?"

"My… my parents and I invited James, Sirius, and Peter over… and we were trying to find the secret passageway in my room… so we found the vine, and James said that it was a Visionvine… and I told him not to go in, but he did, and so did Sirius, so I went after them and ended up here!"

Questus snorted. "Visionvine? No, those don't exist. I do remember the secret passageway, though: you were convinced that there was one in your room, but I thought we already investigated that. It was only a very large mousehole, remember?"

"No! It isn't—it wasn't!"

"And it was only Pettigrew that came over. He's been visiting nearly every day. Keeps your spirits up."

"But… this was the first time that my friends came over all summer!"

"Lupin, I know that what you're remembering feels real, but it isn't."

Remus dragged his hands over his face, frustrated. "Why am I with you, then?"

"Well, who else were you going to live with? Your uncle? A stranger? No, I took you in after they died—there was really nobody else. It wasn't as if an orphanage could contain you, and no adoptive family would take in a werewolf. Instead, you came to my house directly after finding out about your parents. I mostly left you alone for a couple days—you were understandably shaken up to the point of barely functioning. You transformed in my cellar the following Friday."

"But..." Remus spluttered. He was finding speaking difficult at the moment.

"And then we moved here. You couldn't force yourself to go back into your parents' home, so Dumbledore and I moved as much furniture as we could on our own. And my own furniture, of course. You're lucky you're living with me, honestly. I doubt anyone else would be as forgiving of your strange and unhealthy grieving processes."

"I… what?"

"It's been very difficult to get you to eat, full moons have been terrible, and so on and so forth. Pomfrey's had to come to heal you every single time, seeing as I don't do magic. After the first one here, you were nearly completely bedridden all the way up to the second—though I think some of that may have just been depression. It's a good job I don't grieve like a normal person—I've been doing all the functioning for you at this point. I was surprised enough that you wanted to go outside with Pettigrew today instead of doing schoolwork quietly in your room with him. Not that any of your schoolwork has been up to its normal quality lately… I checked over an essay for you the other day and it was awful, no offense."

"I…."

"But, for the record, I'm very sorry that it was your parents and not me. That does seem like the better reality, doesn't it?"

Remus was horribly confused. "This isn't real," he whispered.

"I wish you were right." Questus sighed. "I'm not keen on helping you through the initial shock of losing your parents again. It was hard enough the first time. You were starting to do a bit better, too."

"I was?" Remus didn't think that he, in any universe, could ever get over losing both of his parents.

"Well, you started eating a little, at least. And you agreed to go to the funeral—you got my shirt all wet and we had to strategically avoid your father's relatives, but it seemed to help. And you met your grandparents on your mum's side, and a few of your maternal aunts and uncles—they were much better at comforting you than I could ever be. I'm sorry you don't remember any of that."

"I'm not," said Remus. "It sounds thoroughly unpleasant and embarrassing."

Questus laughed. "Well, it is nice to hear you crack a joke, at least. You haven't done that for months. You've been awfully depressed as of late."

Remus shook his head. "I'm not depressed."

"You were. You voluntarily asked Pomfrey for a Calming Draught, and we all know how you feel about mind-altering potions. I sincerely hope that some part of you, however small, remembers the experience—I don't want to start over, and I know that you don't either. Perhaps I can get Dumbledore over here so that he can modify your memory… he's good at things like that. He could remove the false memories that the Memory Magnolia put into your head. That would make it easier to move on, probably. Could probably put the right ones in, too. Dumbledore's talented like that."

"No!" said Remus loudly, accidentally knocking his mug onto the floor. It shattered, and Questus winced.

"That's the third mug of mine that you've broken since we came to live here, Lupin..."

"You are not modifying my memory," said Remus dangerously. "You're just a malevolent vine spirit. You're not going to…." He suddenly started crying a little, though he couldn't pinpoint the reason. It wasn't his parents, because he knew that they were still alive. It wasn't seeing Questus again, because Remus knew that it wasn't really Questus. It was… the awful, horrible feeling of helplessness that Remus only ever felt before full moons… but almost worse, because he had no idea what to expect in this particular scenario. They'd never learned about "being held captive by magical mind vines" in DAD… though maybe it had been on the curriculum for second year and Pensley just hadn't taught it properly. She'd been a pretty awful teacher.

"It's all right," said Questus, who looked as uncomfortable as Remus felt. "Look, Lupin, we're going to fix this. We'll figure it out."

"The real Professor Questus would never utter a phrase of such unrealistic optimism," said Remus.

"The real Not-Professor Questus has just spent a few months with a grieving, depressed thirteen-year-old. You've been emotional. It's been uncomfortable. We're figuring it out as we go, and some things have changed." He rolled his eyes. "But yeah, I'm still the same grumpy old man that hates crying children. I'd love it if you stopped, but I remember mourning my sister and I know that's not an option. I've been through this before, myself."

"This can't be real," said Remus, "because you can't cook. We'd be dead by now if it was just the two of us."

Questus chuckled. "Rude. I figured out how to cook. I'm not a brilliant cook, mind you, but it's not as if you've had the presence of mind to complain. We've eaten breakfast cereal for supper some days. But Dumbledore and Pomfrey are helping as best they can. Even McGonagall's come to… well, I don't want to say babysit, but she came to watch you when I had to go to the Ministry and work out the legal nonsense, since none of us trust you on your own. It's not just the two of us. Everything's working out."

Remus stopped crying after a while, and Questus waited patiently and handed him a handkerchief when he seemed to be finished, as if he'd done it a thousand times before (and this version of Professor Questus probably had). "There. Better?"

"No. This isn't real. I stepped into a tangle of vines that were supposed to give me some sort of vision. James said that there was once a man who stayed inside the vines for twenty years. You're trying to convince me that this is real, but I know it's not."

"Please think about this logically, Lupin," said Questus, sighing. "Realistically, there's a higher chance that this is reality. A plant that throws you into an alternate universe is far less likely than a plant that wipes and replaces your memories, since plants are often not capable of creating such complex realities."

"But, in your scenario, the plant just created a false and complex reality and put it in my head."

"Yes, but you didn't actually live it. You have a memory of it, but it never happened."

"It did!" cried Remus. "It did happen! I was there! Where are James and Sirius? What have you done to them?!"

"I haven't done anything to your friends."

"YES, YOU HAVE!"

"Merlin's beard. I'm really tempted to use magic to knock you out until I can get backup. Drink your tea; you've lost far too much weight and it'll help you feel better. Are you up to eating anything?"

"No… Persephone…"

"I don't know what you're on about."

"The real Professor Questus would know who Persephone is!"

"I assure you, Lupin: the real Not-Professor Questus may be extremely clever, but he is not all-knowing by any means. Like right now, for instance. Want honesty? I'll give you honesty. Lupin, I have no idea how to help you. I've been trying my best for the last couple of months, okay? But nothing I'm doing seems to help, and frankly, I'm frustrated. Talking to you every so often was one thing, but living with you is something completely different, especially when you're healing from multiple horrible events that thirteen-years-olds—or anyone, for that matter—shouldn't have to process."

Remus gritted his teeth, frustrated. "Stop talking! I can't bear it!"

"You're right, you can't. How could you? You've been through too much already, and losing the only two people that you ever knew for ninety percent of your life is pushing you to breaking point. And the Memory Magnolia is going to further complicate things. I…." Professor Questus stood up with some difficulty and walked to the other side of the room, where he leaned against the wall, put his face in his hands, and groaned. "Look, Lupin, we'll work on it. You'll get through it eventually, I know you will. I did. But you need to help me out here, okay? Eat."

"No," said Remus. "Not until I figure this out."

"What is there to figure out?! It's extraordinarily simple. Your parents died, I'm in over my head, I've been constantly stressed for the past few months, and now all the work that we've done to process an impossible event has been undone! I miss your parents, too, you know! And I… Merlin, Lupin, I'm worried about you! I hate emotions!"

Remus carefully observed him, a little afraid of this rare show of frustration—real, genuine frustration, not the type that Questus would let himself show in order to get someone to do something.

"Children aren't my thing," ranted Questus. "I didn't want to teach when Dumbledore asked me to, I didn't want to be your neighbor, and I most certainly did not want your parents to die! You're right; it doesn't feel real… but it is, and I need you to accept that or else I'll go mad."

"You went mad a long time ago," said Remus.

There was a pause, and then Questus laughed. "I missed that," he said. "You're lucky I like you, Lupin. I wouldn't do this for anyone else."

"I can't imagine any of this has been very pleasant for you," said Remus tentatively.

"Nope. Downright torture. You know how much I like action, and now I'm stuck in here with you. This is too much. I move on quickly from such things, and you… don't, and I've no idea how to help you move forward. We're similar in a lot of ways, but not in this way. You know I'm not very patient."

"I never once imagined this scenario."

"Nor did I. And the whole legal thing has been difficult, too. It wasn't as if I was named godparent, and I certainly wasn't in your parents' will—they didn't have one, in fact. Idiots. So I had to go through the Ministry, and most of them are very reluctant to let you into my care. Said it would be kinder to let you die."

Remus swallowed. "Right."

"Anyway. Guardianship isn't official yet, but Dumbledore's working on it. I wouldn't worry about the Ministry if I were you. They need parental consent to kill you, and, well, both your parents are dead."

Remus nodded somberly, and then immediately repented. What was he doing? None of this was even real! "I need to get back home," he said. "This isn't right. I need to get home."

"You are home. I know it doesn't feel like home without your parents, but this is where you live now. Now, I'd be glad to take you to your old house if you want to get the rest of your things and say goodbye one last time, but I definitely don't think you're ready for that."

"No, I mean… this is wrong! I must have been in here for an hour already. My parents are probably worried about me…"

"Lupin, your parents are not worried about you. Your parents are dead."

"No, they aren't! This isn't real!"

"It is real! And it's awful. I would much rather I have died than your parents, but that's not the way things happened. I know the memories feel real, but you have to understand that plants can't create working alternate universes! It seems like something else has happened, but you're here right now, so this must be the right one! Use your brain!"

"My brain is telling me that plants can create working alternate universes."

"Fine, then. Don't use your brain. Trust mine. When have I been wrong before?"

"When you got yourself killed."

"Which I never did!"

"When you tried to use the toaster."

"Ahh… touché." The tension was effectively broken (mostly); Questus laughed a bit and then sat back down in the armchair across from Remus. "I've been wrong a lot recently, to be honest. We've had some ups and downs that... well, I'm sort of glad you forgot those. Anyway, I'm definitely right about this. I may not know how to help you, Remus, but I know deadly plants like the back of my own hand, and..."

Remus blanched. "You're not real," he whispered. "You called me Remus."

"Pardon?"

"You called me Remus! You never call me by my first name. You're not real. This is so unnatural."

"Oh. I do that sometimes now. It gets your attention marvelously."

"That's not real," said Remus stubbornly. "Because, in my reality, I didn't act like this when you died. I was in shock for months. I didn't cry. I wasn't even sad."

Questus, who was taking a sip of tea, laughed so hard that he nearly spit it out. "That's nice of you. I died and you weren't sad at all? Did you dance on my grave or something?"

"That's not what I meant," said Remus, now smiling. "I was sad eventually. Just not for a long while. It didn't sink in immediately."

"I imagine that was the difference with your parents, then. I wasn't a big part of your life up till a year ago, and I was only your next-door neighbor. Your parents, though—I'm sure you felt their absence immediately, seeing as they'd been the only thing you'd known for eleven years. It would be interesting to try to unpack why your subconscious created those memories for you… if it weren't so annoying. I can't believe it. I failed to notice a stupid vine when we moved here, and now we have to start over. All the work we've done moving forward, gone—and now you're traumatized even more."

"I'm not traumatized."

Questus stood up with a small groan. "Very funny. It's time for bed, you know—that's my job as a quote-unquote 'guardian'. Unofficial, of course. Are you sure you won't eat anything?"

Remus shook his head. It had only been an hour or two, hadn't it? Why was it dark already?

"I guess that's all right. You ate lunch when Pettigrew was here, and that's more than you get some days. Are you sleeping on the armchair or in your bed?"

"Er… my bed, I suppose?"

"Figured I'd ask. Recently, you've taken to falling asleep in your father's armchair. You've been having nightmares recently, and the large window in your room isn't helping. I don't know why you picked that room in the first place. Idiotic masochist."

All right, that was it. Remus could not live in this horrible alternate universe any longer. He needed to escape. But how? Would Professor Questus stop him if he just walked out the door? It wasn't, after all, the real Professor Questus, so Remus had no idea what to expect. He hesitantly stood up and walked towards the door.

"Where are you going?" asked Questus.

"Outside. Taking a walk."

"No, you're not. Back in here, please. You've been sleeping very irregularly recently, and I've been trying to get you back onto a regular sleep schedule. I know it's been a long day, but it's ten o'clock. Sleep."

Remus kept walking. Questus didn't use magic, so there was no way that he could stop him… especially with the bad leg. Remus was in the clear, right?

"This is your final warning," said Questus sharply, but Remus didn't stop walking.

"I'm going home, Professor… good-bye."

Suddenly, Remus was sitting in the armchair again, and Questus was putting his wand back into his pocket. Remus fumed.

"You don't use magic!" he protested.

"You're right," said Questus. "But I once told you that I would use magic if it was for your own protection. I said that I wouldn't use it for my own, but I would use it, if absolutely necessary, for yours. And, seeing as I'm not feeling up to tackling you at the moment…"

"I was going to be safe!"

"You were going to go back to the Magnolia. You were going to get your memory modified again. Do you realize how dangerous it is to get your memory modified like that multiple times? I don't like it, but it's my job to protect you now that your parents are gone. Sleep."

Remus tried to move, but he was stuck to the armchair. "Professor! I'm not your prisoner!"

Questus took his spectacles off, sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You're making this so much harder. I'm trying my best. Please just relax."

"I don't want to be trapped here all night!"

"Your bed is out of the question now that I know you're going to try to run away. I need to keep an eye on you."

"I hate this!" Angry tears came to Remus' eyes; he tried to swipe them away, but his arms were trapped. "I want to go home! None of this is right!"

"I'm sorry, I really am. To say this isn't ideal would be a massive understatement. Stay there, all right? If you happen to be right and this really is some sort of alternate reality—which you are not and I hate to entertain the notion, but if you are—then you'll be able to think more clearly in the morning. Your parents didn't mind that other time you spent the night with me, remember? You do remember that, yes? The incident with Greyback and the tree branch? So if they are alive—which they're not—then I'm sure they wouldn't mind this time, either."

Remus nodded, even though he was pretty sure they would mind—after all, there was a pretty big difference between the real Professor Questus and a malevolent spirit of the vine. He tried to wiggle his fingers, but he couldn't. "I just want to go home," he whispered.

"Yeah, me too. We'll figure it out. You'll be back at Hogwarts in September, and then things will look much brighter. Sleep."

Remus was determined not to fall asleep. He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep, hoping that the charm would wear off when Questus fell asleep himself. Remus heard Questus mill about the house for a while, presumably putting things away and tidying up a bit. Imagining Questus doing household chores was odd. Remus wondered how much Questus had had to suffer through walking on his bad leg while Remus was trying to process his parents… No! This wasn't real.

Finally, Questus stopped moving about and walked towards the sitting room. Remus expected him to sit down in the opposite armchair, but he didn't. A minute or two passed, and Remus could feel Questus staring at him—he could hear his breathing, only a couple of feet away. And then, out of nowhere, Questus quietly cleared his throat. Remus jumped involuntarily at the sudden noise.

"You are awake, then," said Questus. "I thought you might be." Remus cracked one eye open, and then Questus really did sit in the opposite armchair. "I wish I didn't have to restrain you. You have to be restrained every full moon, and I know you must hate it. But I… I once lost another person to a Dark and dangerous plant, and I won't make that mistake again. You're free to make your own decisions, of course. I've always been an advocate for making mistakes and learning from them. But you have to understand that this is hard for me, too..." Questus was pleading a bit now, and the tone took Remus aback.

"It's hard, Remus, it really is," he continued. "I don't know how I'm going to do this, and I feel responsible for everything that's happened… which is stupid, because I didn't kill your parents, and I truly am doing my best. But I need it to be easier right now. I haven't gotten a break in months. I like you and all, but you're very high-maintenance, and—unlike your parents—I'm only one person, and an injured one at that. It feels so insensitive to be asking you this after you've just had the shock of your life… but when have I ever cared about insensitive? You need to help me out here. Please."

"But you're not real," Remus whispered. "None of this is."

"I am real. I swear it to you on your parents' graves, and you know I was close with them, too. Remus… please."

"Don't call me that," said Remus. "You've never talked like that in your life. This isn't real."

"Go to sleep," Questus pleaded, "and we'll talk in the morning. Good-night, Lupin."

With that, Questus leaned back in his armchair and closed his eyes. Remus tried to stay awake, but Questus' slow breathing and the hopelessness of the situation finally lulled him into a fitful and exhausted sleep.

AN: You should probably double-check your hats, just to make sure you're still holding on.