From the playlist:

All These Things That I've Done - The Killers

Homeward Bound - Simon and Garfunkel

Rabbit Hole - Mindy Gledhill

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Ch. 12 - More Than The Distance

Fortunately, the alarm clock had worked. Except in regards to the migraine. In that case, it was just about the worst plan he could've come up with.

Remus's sheer will to not have that sound pulverizing his very brain dragged him up to his hands and knees. Reaching out blindly in front of him, he felt around the rock until his grasp slipped into the little hollow spot he'd hidden the clock in and patted it wildly until the noise finally ceased.

He rolled over and collapsed onto his back, heaving just from that small exertion, and took fistfuls of rotting leaves and pine needles under his palms for anything sensory he could cling to as a distraction from the all-consuming pain. These days, it was so debilitating the morning after that he couldn't move for hours.

But adrenaline was in his favor today, and since he'd already moved, he figured he might be able to do it again. Shifting himself onto his side with a whimper, he took a moment to assess the damage. There wasn't much additional stinging on top of the usual stabbing soreness, so he couldn't have beat himself up too badly; however, the shivering likely meant that the fever had already taken hold. He'd hoped he could at least make it home before that set in.

He would've liked to have passed out right there for a few hours, but he couldn't be late. Feebly, he rose again and reached further into the hollow until his fingers found his wand.

Last time. Last time I have to do this.

He was used to disapparating after the full moon, but usually not this soon after he came to. Given that he really wasn't supposed to when the inflammation was so fresh, it did always make him a bit anxious. He held his wand in a frail grasp and counted down for himself.

Three…two…one-

The first thing he noticed when he flopped onto the mattress was the blinding light streaming in through the window. He hadn't possessed the foresight to draw the curtains yesterday.

The migraine raged.

"Urgh-"

The second was, as soon as he lurched up to address the curtains, he noticed something trickling down his forearm.

"Oh, shit…"

He'd been overly confident. It wasn't the first time he'd splinched himself, but it had been a fair few years since he'd been so careless - an unfortunate necessity today. Grunting and sitting all the way up, he pried his eyes open, rotated his arm, and squinted down at the damage. A twisting chunk about the width of a snitch had been carved out of him just below his elbow.

Almost as soon as he saw it, he started to feel the sting of it. He grunted again, reaching for the dittany which he had the good sense to leave out of his packing. He hardly flinched when the drops hit open flesh, sizzling as they summoned wisps of green smoke and sealed the wound with new skin. That would have to do for now.

Of course, everything else still hurt.

Next to where the silver and dittany had been sitting were no less than three phials of Pepperup potion, which he uncorked with shaking hands knocked back with abandon, one after the other. At last, his bleary focus began to sharpen in exchange for the fever beginning to dull, if only a little. The shivering and profuse sweating subsided.

And so the race to get out the door before his lupine metabolism rendered the potion ineffective commenced. All his joints, still readjusting to their human size, felt simultaneously too liquid and too rigid as he rose to his feet to dress himself. Gravity was merciles s, and he grit his teeth as his legs made their full extension . He tried to shoot the middle between efficiency, and not straining his throbbing muscles. One leg in the trousers at a time. One button on the shirt at a time. Don't get ahead of yourself.

When he tugged the robes on, he took a moment to examine his sewing work. The patches were…shabby, to be sure. But a step above the holes, at least. They would have to do for now.

With the new (to him) cane, he inched to the door where his case was waiting for him - tied up with strings like Julie Andrews had instructed him on how to secure it, and lightened with a magical extension charm. It would have to do for now.

He leaned his back against the door, panting as he looked around. Admittedly, he didn't feel very sentimental about the cottage becoming a part-time residence. It wasn't as if he would miss it, and he certainly wasn't devastated to be seeing less of the landlady. But he glanced around nonetheless, making sure the buckets were in the right spots. It didn't really feel like leaving home. The opposite, actually.

Using the cane to steady himself, he straightened back up and remembered he would have to disapparate. Again.

It's going to be quite the introduction if the students show up and you're bleeding out on the platform. There was no avoiding it. Not if it meant he couldn't take the train.

He didn't count down this time. It hadn't done him any favors earlier. He just said a little prayer to whomever might've been listening.

And when he landed, wincing as he stumbled gracelessly but catching himself with the cane, he dropped the case to check his body, patting his robes. No stinging. No blood seeping through his clothes.

This was already going much better. Nearly there.

The muggles he passed in Pancras Square saw nothing more than a sickly, sluggish man hobbling out of a defunct looking shop towards the station. It had become somewhat of a "checkpoint" for wizarding families on their way to King's Cross, one he'd used as a student. He had this down to a science.

It seemed the hard part was over; until his legs began to wobble underneath him as he traipsed through the station, even more so when the barrier between platforms 9 and 10 came into view. He tried to hold off getting too sentimental and nostalgic until he was safely on board, but after crossing reverently through the barrier, he could not help but stop and marvel at the candy-apple red steam engine. Oh you beauty, how I've missed you.

The platform was completely empty, but this time, his arrival ahead of schedule had been intentional. The last thing he wanted to do in his state was try to compete with two hundred or so students for a seat, especially when he was so keen on being in a particular seat. He walked down the platform a bit, then approached the Hogwarts Express as if approaching a queen on her throne, inhaling deeply as he stepped onto the train. Carriage F - "for fuck," as Prongs would've touted immaturely. The last compartment to the right. Just to be sure, he checked for the small etching in the windowsill.

MWPPwouldn't have meant anything to anyone but them.

His last bit of strength was spent hurling the case and the cane up into the luggage rack, and he flopped contentedly (though perhaps not comfortably) into the seat to the right of the window. The vivid recollections he'd been keeping at bay ran rampant now, just like they had in the common room.

James would've sat beside him with his back to the hallway and his feet up on the seat so he could stare out the window at the passing scenery and day-dream of the Quidditch pitch. Peter usually took the opposite corner of the compartment and sprawled out a bit, but would peek into the hallway periodically to check if the trolley was coming. Sirius would drape himself over the corner across from Remus, but had little interest in the window. He'd stare into the other compartments and people-watch.

With the promise of waking up at home like a child falling asleep on the way back from a holiday, his eyelids began to droop. He drifted off staring guiltily at that corner, the adrenaline and the Pepperup potion waning like the moon.

…

"Cutting it down to the wire here-"

"I'm aware, Max!" Emmeline huffed, speed-walking with Orpheus's crate in one hand and Lucy in the other.

"Look, we haven't missed the train!" Lucy rejoiced at her side as the Express came into view.

"Told you we wouldn't." Orpheus squawked disapprovingly at the pace, so Emmeline shot him a warning look. "Don't start with me. You made us late."

The owl merely stretched his wings haughtily. Little git-

There wasn't time to look around and try to dolefully reminisce - not when the conductor was ushering students into the cars. Emmeline glanced at her watch. 10:57. "Max, can you-?"

"Yep, I've got it," he grunted dutifully as he wheeled the trunk towards the nearest carriage.

Emmeline knelt down before Lucy and handed off Orpheus like a rite of passage. "Now, when you get to school, let him out, and leave his crate with your luggage. He knows where to go."

"Is that when I should give him the parcel?"

"Yes, please."

Lucy peered affectionately down at Orpheus, but her expression withered as she glanced around at the students scurrying past her onto the crowded carriage. "...Where do I sit?" she asked softly.

"Anywhere you like."

"I really wish Yunah could come…" Lucy conveyed for the hundredth time. She'd cried when they said goodbye, and Hyeon had not-so-subtly implied that leaving your parents for prep school this young wasn't healthy for a child's development. Emmeline had bitten back her response, but staring into the fearful eyes of her baby, a vicious pinball greased with the admonitions started bouncing off the corners of her skull.

"You and Yunah will keep in touch," she heartened Lucy, knowing full well she hadn't kept up with a single friend of hers from muggle primary.

"I don't like not knowing anyone."

"I know; but you'll meet new people."

Lucy didn't look the least bit pleased about the suggestion. She'd always been shy, but Emmeline was beginning to worry that this was more than introversion.

"...I thought you were excited?" she questioned.

Lucy rubbed her eyes. "I was, but now I don't know…"

Sod the trunk; you could turn around and take her home right now.

"I'm trying to be brave, but I'm scared…" Lucy sniffled.

"Bravery hasn't got anything to do with not feeling scared, trust me."

You could write to Dumbledore and ask if she can start next year. She's so young, maybe she's not ready.

Emmeline caught Max's eye with a wary look as he stepped back onto the platform, and he crouched next to her, squeezing Lucy's arm.

"What's the matter, Lu?"

"I don't know if I want to go," she whispered guiltily.

"Look." Max turned her and pointed towards another boy that appeared to be having a similar conversation with his parents. "Maybe you two can sit together. Keep each other company."

If I keep her home, she could try pointe like she wanted.

"Right, Em?" he prompted, hoping for her to back him up.

Getting a grip, Emmeline brought her hands to Lucy's cheek, turning her back towards them. "Love, listen to me. So many of my favorite memories are from Hogwarts. All of the ones that haven't got you in them, anyway. You're going to have an amazing adventure, I know it."

"Your mum's right," Max returned the favor. Bless him.

Lucy looked between her eyes, and seemed to be warming up to the idea. "...Do you really think so?"

"I know so," Emmeline doubled down.

But the strident blare of the whistle squeezed her heart unpleasantly. You're running out of time.

"You have to write to us like you promised," Emmeline instructed hurriedly, tucking Lucy's jumper tighter around her and kissing her forehead. " We mustn't get so busy that we stop keeping up with one another, alright? It's very important to me."

"I'll write you both every weekend," she vowed, feeling more sure of herself as she watched the other boy board the train.

Emmeline mustered her best fake smile. "That's my girl. Come here." As soon as Lucy set down Orpheus's cage, Emmeline enveloped her in her arms.

Guards were already shutting the doors. You're losing her.

The embrace became a bit desperate.

"I love you."

"How much?" Lucy asked, beginning their little ritual.

Emmeline was fighting to still her quivering lip. "More than the sun loves the moon."

Next, it was Lucy's turn. "I love you."

"How much?"

"More than the distance between them," Lucy replied, squeezing her tighter.

I can't let her go.

And yet somehow she did, nicking her head towards Max as she stood and picked up Orpheus's cage.

"Love you, bug," Max murmured, kissing Lucy's cheek as she flung herself into his arms.

"Love you, daddy."

"Work hard and have fun."

Emmeline looked pleadingly at the owl as if he could offer reassurance. I don't know how to do this, I haven't had enough practice saying goodbye.

But Lucy took Orpheus's crate from her hands and scampered towards the train all the same, waving behind her as she boarded.

"Bye!"

"Two letters every weekend!" Emmeline shouted after her.

"And one for Yunah!"

"Don't eat too many trolley sweets-!"

"I won't!"

Emmeline was having to resist the urge to dash into the carriage and drag her home. Had she said the right thing? Had she done the right thing?

As the train began inching away, she wiped tears, groaning.

"I said I wouldn't do this."

"She'll be alright." Max eyed her. "…Are you going to be alright?"

"Yeah," she muttered with no semblance of conviction.

"Christmas isn't really all that far away." he said, giving her an encouraging tug on the shoulder.

"I know. It doesn't make it any-…"

"…Em?"

Her focus had landed on a passing compartment.

Remus, sound asleep against the window.

And behind him,

James.

Emmeline blinked.

No, not James.

She cursed herself for being so focused on her own insecurities that she hadn't remembered he'd be here, too.

Moving out from under Max's arm, Emmeline began following after the train.

"Em, what are you-?"

The engine was picking up speed. Emmeline weaved through the throng or waving parents as fast as she could, desperate for a closer look. When the path was clear enough, she started jogging; then running; always alternating glances between what was ahead of her and the compartment, trying to take in everything she could about the boy with the scar on his forehead.

"Harry!"

No; he wouldn't remember Auntie Emmie. Even if he did look up, all he'd see was a madwoman he didn't recognize anymore.

She must've looked mental, chasing after the Hogwarts Express and crying like this. If Lucy saw, she'd be mortified; but Emmeline couldn't stop. She needed to see him.

Eventually she couldn't keep pace with the Express, and the compartment passed out of view. Still, she pushed herself, sprinting all the way to the end of the platform as the train chugged mercilessly north.

As she stood at the ledge heaving, she didn't bother to wipe her cheeks.

He had Lily's eyes.