NOTE

Warning for mentions of cannibalism, anxiety, vomit, and a corpse.

104. Eve

I spent the next day caring for him. Helping him back into his clothes, back through the floo network and up the stairs to my childhood bedroom where I watched over his aching body until Poppy arrived with her potions. He slept the rest of the day and I sat with him, listening to his breathing. I was there with Remus, but in the moments when I became untethered from the earth, staring into space, my soul was thinking of Severus.

By evening Remus had woken from the fog of potion-induced sleep, and had a surprising amount of energy. He was able to walk without much pain (without showing much, at least), and descended to the sitting room to spend a couple of hours with Teddy. I watched the boy climb into his father's lap, Remus's hand (still pale and weak) stroking Teddy's tiny shoulder.

After a quiet while, he spoke. "I think I'll go to Ollivander's tomorrow, for a new wand. If you'd like to join me."

And so on Christmas Eve morning we went by floo to Diagon Alley.

It seemed an entirely different place from when Severus and I had come to take the Unicorn horn from Gringotts. Rather than a sense of doom and danger, there was joyfulness. Lamps shone proudly through the bulging shop windows, the scene like a painting as the warm light caught the pale, cold snowflakes. Witches and wizards were there to do their Christmas shopping, and life surged over the cobblestones. Our hats and long, heavy cloaks were enough to disguise us as we made our way towards the less populous foot of the street, where Ollivander's shop was.

Remus's limp was pronounced, even beneath the cloak Gabriel had lent him. I'd heard Andromeda saying he would need new clothes. Practically everything he'd owned was gone. Not that he'd ever owned very much. I held his arm as he walked, some part of me afraid he would buckle and fall. But he kept upright.

At Ollivander's we put our faces to the window glass and, seeing there were no customers, we went inside.

The door opened with a soft jingle. The shop was lit by candles and the flames guttered when the cold air flowed in before us. The tall shelves of wands reached back, deep into the shadows. I couldn't smell the dust, but I could feel it.

A quiet muttering sounded and Ollivander appeared, his thin white hair standing up around his head, his hands in his cardigan pockets. His eyes brightened behind his spectacles when he saw us, a smile twisting his thin lips. It struck me for the first time just how old he had become.

"My first customers. Good morning, Mr Lupin, Miss Weasley. Congratulations to you both. And how are you feeling, Mr Lupin?"

Remus cleared his throat, just as amazed as I was by the man's complete lack of judgement. "Well. Very well. Thank you."

"Good, good. Now, which of you is my customer today, or is it both? Not another broken wand, I hope, Miss Weasley."

I shook my head.

"I'm in need of a new wand," Remus said.

"Ah," Ollivander answered, his eyebrows knitted together by concern.

"It was burned," Remus explained quietly.

Ollivander's face paled and his hand lifted to his forehead. His eyes looked as though he'd just heard of the murder of a loved one.

"Tragic, tragic," he murmured. "I remember it well… Ten and a quarter inches, Cypress, Unicorn hair… Am I correct?"

"As ever."

Ollivander nodded, recovering as he wandered into the shelves. He returned with two narrow boxes, both coated with dust.

"Ash, dragon heartstring, ten and a half inches… quite bendy," Ollivander said, presenting the first wand.

Remus took it and held it for a moment, touching the pale, greyish wood. Then he tried it, directing it at one of the candles. I wondered for a moment if anything would happen, if he would be stuck, like me, after all his months of torment. But after a breath the flame of the candle began to shrink and grow again, the swelling slow and controlled, beautiful magic. Then the flame wavered, and the wand gave up three or four weak blue sparks of protest.

Ollivander hummed. "Not quite right."

I looked at the floor, ashamed of the envy in my heart after seeing Remus reclaim his magic so easily. Why was mine so sensitive?

Ollivander handed Remus the second wand. "English Oak with a core of Unicorn hair, ten inches, pliable."

Remus took it, his long thin fingers curling around the handle, which was engraved with vines. I could tell instantly from the shift in his body, the slight relaxation and the quiet surge of power, that this would be the one.

This time he seemed more confident, and wordlessly transfigured the quill on Ollivander's counting desk into a small bouquet of fresh wildflowers.

Ollivander laughed and applauded. "Still possessed of your full powers, I see, professor."

Remus humbly shrugged his shoulders, but I saw the little smile on his face when I looked up at him. He prepared to restore the quill, but Ollivander stopped him. "Oh, it was an old quill."

He picked the flowers up with his ageing fingers, and handed them to me. "I think these suit the young lady," he said, his eyes full of a kindness that surpassed the majority of humanity.

I took the flowers with half-numb hands, the hollow tubes that formed my heart tied up in knots. It was clear he knew everything that had happened to the both of us. Everything the public knew, at least. His kindness was not quite out of pity, but its root was still too painful. I held the flowers, staring at their fragile petals with a deep sadness, ashamed that I couldn't make myself feel grateful.

"How much?" Remus asked, tracing the Oak wand with growing fondness.

"Oh, don't worry about the price, Mr Lupin. I made this one myself, and it's only right that it should replace the one you so unjustly lost."

Remus's eyes widened. "I can't possibly accept this, Ollivander…"

"I refuse to hear of it! As I remember, Miss Weasley payed a healthy sum for her wand last January! Consider yours purchased by her galleons if you must, Mr Lupin, but I say, you will not pay a single knut this morning."

I pressed my fingertips against the handle of my wand, hidden in the pocket of my cloak. "Mr Ollivander?" I said quietly, saving Remus from further argument.

"Yes, my dear?"

"Will you… look at mine? My wand?"

"Of course, has it been giving you trouble?"

I withdrew it and presented it to him, touching the slender stems of the flowers with both hands while I watched him handle it.

He made a thoughtful sound, seeming to weigh it against his palms. "It seems to be asleep. But it will wake up again. No telling how long. I assure you, Phoenix wands are always challenging." He handed the wand back to me and I quickly returned it to the darkness of my pocket. Ollivander gave a sigh. "Well, I like to say you know a wand's changed its mind about its owner when it goes missing! And it hasn't gone missing, now has it?"

I shook my head and he gave me a smile, but there was a deep sadness underneath it.

Remus tried again to pay with no success, and after saying our goodbyes and happy Christmases we went out into the snow.

I stared down at the wildflowers in one hand, gripping my sleeping wand in the other.

I remembered, standing there in the street, the evening I'd first held the wand, before I'd gone to Malfoy Manor. It seemed so long ago now. Such an obviously idiotic decision. I thought of all the things that had happened to me, and realised it was no wonder that the wand didn't want to work now. I was surprised it hadn't gone missing and found its way into the hands of a more responsible owner.

"Remus?"

His dry, warm hand curled around mine and he listened silently, seeming to share the heaviness I felt now that we were away from Ollivander's painful kindness.

Tears entered my eyes. "Do you think a person can abuse a wand?"

His eyes darkened slightly with understanding. I tried to look away but he gently cradled the back of my head with his other hand, and when we'd stared at each other for another moment he brought me into his chest. My cheek pressed against the scratchy wool of his cloak.

His voice was soft, his head bent towards my ear. "Everything that happened to you. None of it is your fault. Your wand knows that. And everyone who loves you knows it."

He felt so warm, so whole, and I wondered if all men were supposed to be like him, or if he was just an impossible outlier. We stayed there for a minute, maybe two, until someone walked by and we separated.

Neither of us had any desire to visit other shops or to venture back into the chaos further up the street. So Remus, holding me to his side, apparated us back to the Burrow.

We put the wildflowers in a tiny glass vase in the centre of the table. Such beautiful flowers to have in midwinter.

The family began to arrive just after noon, coming by floo or apparating into the snowy meadow and stomping the snow off their shoes on the edge of the doorstep. Ginny and Harry, Ron and Hermioine, Bill and Fleur and Victoire.

Soon the house was full of people, and there was a sense of togetherness despite all that lay in the darkness of our hearts.

Percy had been on my mind since his vote in my favour at the trial. He hadn't come to George's burial, and it seemed he wouldn't be coming for Christmas either. I realised he must have been a father by now. He'd told us his wife was pregnant at the twins' birthday last April.

It seemed impossible how much had fallen apart in those nine months.

Ginny and Bill played the piano together, old duets I remembered from childhood, bringing out old music books with pages covered in stickers and pencil markings. Fleur played too, some of the Chopin I remembered so well from the safe house in Belgium, and the sound forced me into the kitchen, seeking out some task to forget the shadow of Severus that was constantly haunting me.

Andromeda gave me the task of making the apple pie. I lost my thoughts and worries for a time, focusing only on slicing the apples, kneading the dough.

Ms Figg arrived an hour before the feast, stating with a good-natured growl and a smile that the bus had been worse than ever. Harry gave her a tight embrace, and she was led to a free armchair in the sitting room. I soon realised that her visit had been planned by Andromeda as a surprise to Harry, but known to Phoebe and my parents.

"Arabella has offered to bring Phoebe to her home," Andromeda told me, in a private moment in the kitchen. "It's impossible for Molly now, and Arabella's been quite lonely."

It turned out to be a perfect match. Phoebe was thrilled at the idea of Ms Figg's many cats, and when she brought down her collected works of Shakespeare, Ms Figg said "Ah, the Bard…" and recited from memory some speech or sonnet I couldn't make heads or tails of, but which made Phoebe's eyes sparkle. Something eased in my heart at the thought of the girl receiving the love and attention she deserved, from such an independent and witty woman. We didn't have enough to go around, here.

As promised, Hagrid sent a package of mince pies, which arrived by owl a few minutes before we sat down to the feast. They were hard as rocks and not from their passage through the cold sky. Andromeda had grace enough to put them in a basket on the worktop, but they went untouched except by Ron, who chewed on one, bored of waiting for dinner. Nobody spoke of them, but Hagrid's kindness was felt and until we were all distracted by the feast, there was a bit of guilt in the air that they weren't being appreciated properly.

There was enough food to feed twice our number to fullness. After the months of conflict, so much food felt wrong. I could understand why Andromeda took to her meal with such fervour, but I just felt nauseous. I tried to take a bite or two but it was tasteless, and I gave up, leaving my fork and knife on my plate.

Remus didn't eat much either. His stomach must have shrunken after months of starvation and as I stared down at his hand, trying to use the sight of his knuckles to centre myself, I realised again just how skinny he was.

My nausea grew as the minutes ticked by. Even the sight of Pouncer eating turkey from a small plate on the rug made my stomach turn. I couldn't escape the feeling that something was wrong. Something was bad. Couldn't stop thinking about Severus being alone. And at the thought of him my Grimmauld Place nightmare returned to me, the sight of Severus's hand, drained pale, dripping blood over the edge of Greyback's table. The wolf's bloody teeth exposed as he prepared to eat the small black kitten I had pulled from my own body.

I stared blindly at the tablecloth. I had to leave the table. I was going to throw up. But my heart felt too weak, my limbs all clammy and limp. I was squeezing the long sleeve of my jumper with my hand, trying to summon the power to stand, when Ms Figg's eyes lit up with amusement and she pointed to the space above my head, saying, "Mistletoe."

I didn't even have to look up. Delicate green tendrils were already growing gracefully down between Remus and me.

His blue eyes looked back at me, a pale and embarrassed look on his face.

A surge of bile, hot in my stomach, pushed me from my chair. Without a word I fled the room and ran around the corner to the loo, collapsing to my knees and vomiting into the toilet.

It hurt, my clenching stomach, the burning in my throat. My ribs constricted and I couldn't breathe, organs pushing up into my lungs. It finally stopped, leaving my head heavy, and my shivering moan echoed inside the toilet bowl.

Remus's warm hand touched my shoulder and a sharp, cold shudder went through me, my body flinching away.

"Sorry," I whispered, voice trembling with shame.

"It's alright," he soothed. "Do you think there's more?"

"No," I groaned.

He slowly made his way onto the floor, panting quietly as his hip made a popping sound. "Is it alright if I touch you?" he asked this time. "Do you want me to?"

I felt so cold, so alone and small, and I nodded.

His hand softly touched my shoulder again, fingers curling over the weak muscle, his thumb brushing up and down against the back of my neck. "You're alright," he said, and I could feel the warmth radiating into my back from his body behind me. "It's alright."

I laid my head on the edge of the toilet seat, bones trembling with tension and exhaustion. Ginny stepped into the doorway and crouched down, holding a glass of water. "Here…"

"Thank you Ginny," Remus said, and he gently touched my clammy forehead, helping me to sit up a bit. I wanted to hide, mortified by the thought of them hearing my sickness at the table.

I lifted my shaking hands to the glass and Remus helped me guide it to my lips. I rinsed the bile from my mouth and spat into the toilet, and shivered again, viscerally reminded of the Cairngorms, after Rookwood. How Severus gently held his wand to my mouth, letting me guide his wrist with my quivering fingers.

Remus reached around me and flushed the toilet, sending the evidence away with a roaring sound.

He stood and helped me to my feet, Ginny stepping aside as he led me into the hallway. "You don't have to go back to the table," he said, his hand closing around mine in quiet assurance. "Let's just sit down for a bit."

I shook my head. My body was hot and full of a desperate energy, needing escape. I disengaged myself from him, slipping to the front door and pulling on my heavy cloak, finding my old wellingtons and stepping into them.

"What are you doing?" Remus said. "It's so cold."

"Just let me be alone," I pleaded, my voice hoarse.

I hid my face with the dark hood and he didn't stop me as I pushed open the door and stepped out into the snow.

Moonlight shone on the whiteness, an eerie pale light, almost blue, sharpening the air into complete coldness and turning the sun, the day, into an unlikely story.

The world was quiet, peaceful even within the sense of creeping darkness. Old magic.

I entered the woods, shadows of branches forming a tangled pattern on the carpet of snow. An owl hooted somewhere.

I walked in the direction of the river.

The sound and sight of my breath surrounded me, making me inescapably aware of my weak body. The snow crunched under my boots.

Soon the cold sound of the river trickled in my ears and I found my old spot, folding myself into the snug nook between two large tree roots at the water's edge. I stayed there, shivering and looking at the moonlight on the ice and the dark water for a long time.

Then there was the soft crunch of snow nearby, and I knew Remus had followed me.

He didn't speak, just stood near the tree I hid against, also studying the water. He'd found me here once before, the day we'd signed our marriage contract.

I thought the moment would last forever, the subdued sound of the slow-moving water sharpening the silence between us.

"It's awfully cold," Remus said. His voice was so painfully soft, as though he were aware how easily he could hurt me with a harsh tone or word. "Please, let's go back inside. Or if you don't want to… If I sit with you I can cast a warming charm…"

"We won't both fit." My voice was rough from the cold and from my inability to express my emotions, to even comprehend them. A small voice in my mind said that I wasn't required to comprehend them, that it might be good to let them come out, as tormented and terrifying as they were. But my body was of a different opinion, holding on so tight it hurt.

The silence reigned a minute longer. Eventually I understood that he wasn't going to leave me, and that it was indeed dangerously cold–my hands were stinging. So I pushed myself up, shook the snow from my cloak, and stood there staring at the ground.

He slowly started walking, and paused until I joined him. We went back through the woods, following our own tracks, keeping some distance between us. My heart beat unsteadily in my chest, and my mind was now possessed by the memory of the mistletoe.

We were within sight of the meadow and the warm windows of the Burrow when I stepped strangely and stumbled. Remus grabbed my shoulders and helped me recover. I looked down at the ground and brushed the snow away with my boot.

A small figure was revealed, and I recognised it as one of the creatures. Small and grey, with the appearance of an eyeless child. Perfectly preserved by the cold.

Remus stepped back with a gasp of fear. "What is that?"

"It's one of them," I said, looking down at its small grey head. Its stillness was haunting. "It's what they look like, underneath."

This must have been the same one that had attacked Amos Diggory on Halloween. It must have stayed in the area.

A shiver went through me. It had died right here, dropped dead at the very moment the stone was destroyed by my scream. Guilt pervaded my blood, and I felt sad for it, this being, created to be feared and hated.

I crouched down closer to it, staring at the crown of its small head. I reached out to touch it.

"Wilma–" Remus warned.

"It's fine. It's dead."

My fingertips graced its skin. It felt like stone, yet very soft, despite the tiny flecks of ice. I didn't care about the redness of my hands as I cleared the snow away from its small body and eased it up into my arms, stiff bony limbs dragging through the snow.

Remus gave a shaky exhale. "Wilma, I don't think this is–"

My eyes snapped up to his and he fell quiet. "I want to bury it."

"I think if we find one we're meant to turn it in to the Ministry."

"Fuck the Ministry."

"Okay," he said quietly. "Okay."

I carried the clay child to the foot of a strong oak tree and Remus used his wand to dig a deep grave in the frozen earth. Then the small grey corpse hovered out of my arms and descended slowly into the darkness. Remus stood quite still until I gave a short nod, and the grave was filled in with earth again, the snow replaced on top of it, smooth and uninterrupted.

Remus murmured a Focillo charm, his wand travelling down from my shoulders, sending a soft wave of warmth over me. Anger sprung up inside my heart and I hugged my arms around my chest. "How are you so… so…"

"What?" he said, his eyes suddenly sad.

"Healed!" I gritted out, my fingers clenching into claws of exasperation. "Your magic! And you, you're just so normal and good as if nothing happened!"

I immediately felt a pang of remorse as his eyes became misty. "Well," he said quietly, struggling to keep his voice even. "I don't feel that way."

I stared at the snow, ashamed. "That was cruel. I know… I'm sorry."

"Please don't be. I understand."

"You're just so… and I'm…"

Once more my heart tightened with pain. He was so kind and I was so bitter, so ruined.

But I didn't speak out about the feelings that were devouring me inside. I didn't know how.

"Let's go back," Remus said. "It's cold."

I nodded, and followed by his side.

When we emerged from the woods, we stopped again. A family of deer were walking across the far side of the snowy meadow, like ghosts in the moonlight. They formed a silent and regal procession, and I thought of Severus's patronus. Lily. And all the years he'd been lonely and loveless.

The source of the tortured feelings that had gripped me all evening revealed itself, and I couldn't allow it. I needed to go to him the way I needed air. I needed to see him. To know he was not alone. To prove to him somehow that he didn't deserve to be.

"I wonder what Teddy will think of the train."

Remus's voice broke me out of the silence and when I looked up at him, in the strange pale light, I almost couldn't recognise him.

I gave no answer. Tears clung to my eyelashes.

Remus sighed, a heartbroken sound. "Is there nothing I can do to make you feel happier?"

I didn't move as his hand lifted, and he tenderly touched my cheek with the backs of his fingers. The tingling feeling was just as intimate as a kiss, and I trembled and looked away.

He withdrew his hand, his eyes filled with remorse.

I stared across the meadow as the deer disappeared into the woods on the other side.

"I have thought about it," he said at length, a quiet confession in the cold. "So I suppose I should apologise for the mistletoe. It tends to know, they say." He gave an inexplicable murmur of laughter. "That rhymed."

I stared at him, uncomprehending.

"Mistletoe? Know?"

"Oh."

And then I gave a weak laugh, because that had rhymed too, but it was a choked sound, all coiled up and tied in my throat, and the hot tears I'd been holding inside slipped down my face with no warning.

"Oh, Wilma…"

He reached out for me again but I flinched and stepped away. "Stop. Just… I can't."

He nodded, and stepped back, making it clear he wouldn't touch me again. "I'm sorry." My breath clouded out and I angrily brushed away my tears. Remus spoke softly. "I wish holding you would make things better… but here I am, a sick old man who can only think of the things that are worst for you…"

"You're not sick or old," I said. But my voice was so weak, so entirely spent of energy, that the words held no conviction. I shook my head, sniffling as the tears slowed. "This isn't right," I whispered. "I'm sorry… I have to go."

There was an agonising pause, like the cold air being twisted and pulled through my belly.

"To see him?" Remus said, knowing.

I nodded.

Doubt and distrust poured across his face, but he only said, softly, "Alright."

I turned and left him before I could crumble into his arms, making my passage through the deep snow to the house. My heart pounded with fearful anticipation, but there was no stopping myself from going through with my mission. Every tether that tied me to Severus was screaming with yearning, and if I did not go I was sure I would never be free of the pain. I walked around to the front door and hurried to the fireplace before I could be intercepted, gathering a handful of floo powder from the jar on the mantle and stepping into the flames.