Falling Leaves
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That afternoon, Remus buried everything underneath his fastidiousness. Every single item of his meagre wardrobe was retrieved, folded, and meticulously packed inside his battered trunk, the worn softness of his clothes as he ran his hands over them a small comfort. Every other belonging that was either too heavy or too bulky was dismantled, shrunk, and set aside for future delivery.
If he could follow each and every step with as much care and attention to detail as he could dedicate to the task, mayhap it would distract him from his upcoming departure.
The Marauder's Map lay splayed open on top of his desk. Word of his leaving had gotten around, it seemed, as a visitor popped by his office. He had tracked Harry's footsteps from the grounds, leaving Hermione and Ronald behind. In a way, Remus was thankful only Harry came to say goodbye. It made things somewhat easier—kept most, but not all, of his shame out of the equation.
It also meant living with the knowledge that the previous night was the last he would set eyes on Hermione for a long while. He blamed the wistfulness of it tugging at his chest for the tears that threatened to well up in his eyes. Though it played a large part, it wasn't all.
He left Harry the Map and returned his Invisibility Cloak, knowing how crucial the items would prove in dodging Umbridge in two years' time, and finished packing up.
Having run out of tasks to perform, Remus stood still at last, casting a glance at his surroundings.
Where his office and classroom had always been lively, filled with trinkets and oddities and music, joy and curiosity, they now echoed of empty, lifeless chambers—a blank canvas that no longer told stories his students would care to hear. His presence had been a brush stroke in their lives… and he'd be lucky if any trace of his colours remained.
With his affairs all settled, Remus said his farewells to the members of the staff who cared to listen, but the only one to follow him to Hogsmeade was Dumbledore. The burn of their pity and sympathy was a brand almost as searing as the looks of hatred he'd endured. Almost. Different, kinder, certainly, but no less thick. Suffocating.
The little town on the outskirts of Hogwarts was dipped in tranquillity outside student-visiting days, something Remus found himself grateful for. He lacked the energy to be social, the last dregs of his congeniality utterly drained.
Before he made his way toward the Apparition point outside The Three Broomsticks, the Headmaster indulged him in one last, long look at the castle from a distance, his hand a heavy weight on Remus' shoulder.
"I would say I fear there's much more to come," Dumbledore said. "Were it not for the fact that we both know that beyond any doubt."
Remus could taste the wryness of the smile contorting his lips. "Would that the power of knowledge was more than merely an illusion."
Warming weather welcomed him as he arrived at his destination, making his tweed jacket just this side of stifling. There was a bittersweet quality to returning here. He held the words in his mind— The Garden is located at Number 2 Hawthorne Road, Dorchester —and watched as the house built itself from the ground up in a manner he could not fathom doing himself. While he had thought it apt to name the house thus over a decade ago, Remus now wished he could be entering another garden, a more literal but equally secretive one, hidden beneath the school he had just left behind.
Yet another door closed behind him, its thud resonating across the living room over the sound of his footsteps as he crossed it. Dull daylight filtered in from the windows, muting the pale green colour of the walls. Remus set down his old leather briefcase at the foot of the large kitchen table, the tag Lily had attached to it now a lie.
He was no longer a Professor, only ever R. J. Lupin.
Remus could have attributed the weariness that set along his bones to last night's transformation, but that also would be half-lie, and he found himself much too tired to keep track of the multitude of them for the evening. So he pulled up a chair and let himself sag on it for a minute, leaning on the splat even though—or perhaps because—the cross rail dug at his back and his weight was set against the hard, unforgiving seat. His elbows dropped onto the table's wooden surface and he rested his head on his hands.
At this point, Remus had become quite acquainted with two expressions: It was over.
And…
It was only just beginning.
"Remus?" When it reached him from its origin at the bottom of the stairs, Lily's voice held a high note, betraying her surprise, and though he would always be glad to hear it, always be thankful she was there, alive to use it, a part of him couldn't help but crave silence. "You're back early. We weren't expecting you until—"
He needn't face her for her to pick up on his frame of mind, but he did so regardless, moving for the first time in a while. Lily cut herself short, reaching for the cupboard that held their medi-aid kit, her auburn hair falling over her face as she darted about in search of it. Then she asked, voice now hushed, "What happened?"
In lieu of responding, Remus motioned for her to pull a chair for herself. The scrapes and gashes peppering his face and neck were the least of his worries, so he gently stopped her from tending to them. "Is James in?"
A wrinkle formed between her brows. "Yes, why?"
"I'd like to speak with both of you." It would be painstaking enough, Remus knew, for him to have to do this once. He didn't wish to repeat it.
A flick of Lily's wand sent a wisp of light across the kitchen and up the stairs, and it wasn't long before James climbed them down. "Love? You do know dinner isn't—Moony! What are you doing back? Have the kiddies' antics proven to be as bad as ours already?"
The easy grin on his best friend's face only made the weight on his shoulders all the more taxing, so Remus drew in a steadying breath and rose from his seat, giving the pair a full view of his pained expression.
"As parents…" Remus started, the lump in his throat growing thicker to swallow around. He forced himself to continue, "And as my friends, I would like to apologize. I put your son at risk last night."
"Remus—" Lily said, raising her hand to reach him.
"No, Lily, please hear me out," Remus begged. Her hand fell to her lap. James had stepped closer, and Remus turned to meet his blue eyes instead—although he deserved no reprieve, he couldn't handle staring at Lily's green-eyed gaze. Yet there was so much of Harry in James, too. "I forgot to take my potion yesterday. I've endangered four people, Harry and Hermione amongst them. I didn't know it would happen or else I would have stopped it, I—Pettigrew was there."
"Peter?" Lily asked.
James no longer smiled. In fact, he hardly seemed to breathe, fury coiled down his corded arm muscles to where he gripped the back of Lily's chair, the wood groaning underneath his fingers.
"Yes, I suppose that's why Hermione never made any mention of it. I allowed myself to get distracted. Ran to them as soon as I spotted his name on our old map. Still, it is no excuse for my oversight. Things only went downhill from there, not that Pads was doing much of a great job of things when I arrived. He decided to reveal himself, you see. In the worst way possible, as usual." Remus allowed the fond humour to coat his words for a moment, and James' mouth twitched. "Then Severus came along—"
As if on cue, James' nostrils flared. "Snape was there?"
"James," Lily chided, throwing her husband a look.
"He is the Potions Master at Hogwarts, as you well know. You also know how much bad blood there is between us, he wanted to be the one to catch Sirius."
James puffed out a breath, his lips curled. "Shocker."
Remus had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. "He also tried to keep Harry safe, James. Stepped between my werewolf form and the children despite Sirius' little stunt when we were young. There's no love lost between him and Harry, either, and Severus' reasoning might be all Lily, but it's protection all the same.
"In a universe where you were long gone, your son wasn't standing alone, James. Even when the danger he faced was me."
James winced—and though guilt swirled in Remus' insides and tears once again pricked his eyes, he stood his ground. This petty rivalry needed to end. It took a moment longer of tense silence, but James' shoulders slumped and he nodded.
"None of them were badly hurt. And I saw Harry before leaving." Remus allowed himself a smile, his gaze flicking between Lily and James. "You should be so very proud of him. He wouldn't let us kill him, you know. Said Wormtail's capture would acquit Sirius and allow him his freedom."
His words permeated the air for a moment, as they savoured a what-if that never could be.
James dragged a hand through his jet-black hair. "But it fell apart, didn't it?"
Remus lowered his gaze to the ground. "Yes, well…Harry and Hermione ensured Sirius' escape at the very least."
As Prongs made the three of them a cuppa, Remus finished a summarized recounting of this morning's events.
Once the tale was over, Lily rested a hand on Remus' arm, her eyes gentle. "So…she knows, now. About your lycanthropy."
Though she refrained from saying it, who Lily meant by she was clear. Remus let out a short laugh. "Oh, she does. Knew it from my very first transformation at the castle, it seems."
"Oh?"
Remus hummed. "I believed I called her the brightest witch of her age."
Lily shook her head and shot him a beaming smile. "Well, she'll fall for you, so she must be the smartest."
At that, James turned away from the stove, a raised brow over his rounded glasses. "Something I should know about, Lily love? Feeling a little left out here."
The redhead leaned back on her chair and crossed her arms. "Please, Potter. We all know it was my daft side that made me fall in love with you."
"Well, Evans," James said with a smirk, leaning in to set two steaming mugs on the table. "I thank that side of you every day."
Lily rolled her eyes but pressed a kiss to James' cheek. "We've subjected poor Remus to our relationship enough to last a lifetime even before we were married. Now be quiet and let me hear about his."
"There is no relationship, Lily," Remus warned, picking up his mug. The heat of the ceramic settled against his hands, the citrusy tang of bergamots swirling up with the steam. Despite the summer weather, this was the warmest he'd felt all day.
Lily cocked her head for a bit, gaze cast to the side. She acquiesced with a nod. "Very well. But you can't tell me you're not feeling anything right now without lying, and I'm here to hear it, Remus. To hear you. "
He let out a breath and took a sip of his tea to counter the dryness in his mouth. Still, his voice wavered despite it. "I'll miss her, even though I shouldn't."
"It's okay to do so, you know?"
"No, it's not." The thing is, Remus had grown accustomed to seeing Hermione daily, to be able to ensure her well-being from afar, like a self-proclaimed protector of sorts, when, in reality, his proximity turned out to be the thing she had needed protection from. "I failed her. Failed them."
James shook his head, settling down with his own mug—a gag one depicting a stag that read 'Oh, deer!'—of Earl Grey. "She and Harry are smart, you've got to give them more credit than that. If they were in direct danger from you, I'm sure they would've found a way to fend you off."
"I'm not protesting that. Rather, the fact that they shouldn't have been exposed to me in the first place. They did fend me off, as a matter of fact." Remus said. He huffed. "Well, a hypogriff did."
Lily frowned, but neither she nor James commented on that.
In the end, it was James who spoke. "I can't speak for her, but… There's a giant list of things Harry shouldn't have had to do, Remus. From what I gathered, it was your teachings that allowed him to defend himself from the Dementors. That's not third-year knowledge. You protected him—them—as best as you could."
While his friend's words gave him some solace, Remus knew he was as far from an Arthurian knight as one could be. No matter how noble his intentions, he had always been bound to fail.
He knew that now, and the closer Hermione's fourth year came, he knew his failings would only get worse.
He made his excuses, his trunk floating obediently behind him as he climbed the stairs and made his way over the long hallway, his door the very last. As Remus started to unpack, repeating the process from earlier in the day except in reverse, he reached into his suitcase and removed his most prized possession: a bundle of yellowed parchment, folds distressed from time and frequent handling.
Although they hadn't seen each other today, Remus still found the date—June 7th, 1994—jotted down on one of its pages. Beside it, Hermione's handwriting read:
You were the very best, you know?
A/N: Hi guys!
Sorry about the delay, I veered off a little from my outline to add more adult Remus POV through the events of canon. So now my immediate plans for the story look like this: two more chapters covering Fourth Year as experienced by Remus then a time jump to get them caught up and finally on the same page! Please try to bear with me a little longer :)
A lot of stuff had to happen in a crazily specific order for me to pull out this chapter (including having my muse kidnapped by another fandom!), so I hope you enjoyed it!
Cheering Cherry Tarts to everyone who read, left kudos, and bookmarked the story, and a special thanks to River-Mel.O.D and xXMizz Alec VolturiXx for the reviews!
Love y'all, you amazing human beings! :)