Hi, guys! Happy New Year to all of you!
Soooo... yes, the title has changed. It was pointed out to me that "I Hold the Moon" suggested a first person POV and it might deter some people, so I decided to change it.
Also, in the last chapter I wrote that Nora's "father" had been the one to search for Riddle's diary and give it to Lucius Malfoy, but someone told me it was either implied or mentioned in the books that Voldemort himself had done that. I apologise for the mistake, let's just pretend like Voldemort didn't give Lucius the diary but instead Maximus did. It isn't really relevant to the plot in any case, more of a way to show how Maximus was involved with the Death Eaters.
Yet another thing, Nora's friend, Julia, is an active player on the Quidditch Team, I switched her for Alicia Spinet, who at this time is on the bench. After Nora and her friends graduate, Alicia will have the same spot as in the books.
One last sidenote, but regarding this chapter, it didn't make sense that Remus would be sick due to a full moon on December 25th, because according to the timeline we know for sure there was a full moon on November 5th, the next one would have fallen around December 5th/6th, which in my story is when Nora realised he's a werewolf. For the sake of a cohesive timeline, there will be no full moon on December 25th, instead it'll happen sometime during the first week of January.
Thank you so much, I hope you enjoy and let me know your thoughts!
Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban Timeline
"He Holds the Moon"
ooo
"How beautiful it is to find a heart that loves you, without asking you for anything, but to be okay."
- Khalil Gibran
MEMORIES LIKE WHISPS OF SMOKE - PART 1
Remus lay in bed staring at the ceiling of his chambers, not really knowing what do. He had expected loneliness, sadness, gut-wrenching worry. But the longing, this deep, crushing yearning for her company, her presence in his life, desolated him. It was like she had taken all the light in the world with her and left him stranded in the dark, waiting for the moon to rise.
God, he missed her. It was an ache that went all the way to his bones.
Curled up on the pillow beside his head, Ophelia put a tiny paw over his cheek like she could sense his heavy heart and wanted to comfort him. Nora must have been missing her companion terribly. He had told her she didn't need to leave Ophelia, but she insisted, not wanting him alone on Christmas. He didn't have the heart to tell her he didn't really care for holidays, not since his mother passed.
Remus looked at his watch. It was past lunchtime already. He had to get up and do something productive, or at least actively try to. Hiding in his room wallowing in depression until Nora returned wasn't a viable option for an adult man.
Not hungry, he dove straight into work. Essays, exams and homework had piled up in the last two weeks. He had a lot of catching up to do. Classes for the next term also needed to be planned, in particular for his seventh years, who were severely behind and unprepared for their NEWT's at the end of the year. Letters for creature suppliers were written and sent. And he took the time to place an order for items missing from his inventory.
Late evening, McGonagall knocked on his door and exhausted herself trying to convince him to attend the feast. Just for a bit, she said; it'll be fun. Remus, thinking of Nora, her pretty, sea-goddess eyes so big and worried because he would be all alone in his room for Christmas, decided to give it a shot. How bad could it be?
The castle was quiet and deserted for a change. A shame as teachers and elves had gone to great lengths to decorate. Garlands of holly and ivy, interwoven with pretty lights, hung in the windows and archways, above doors and along bannisters. Enchanted suits of armour would break into song whenever someone walked past them, snapping their helms left, right, left, right, in tune.
In the Great Hall, tables had been pushed to the side so that one single table stood in the middle of the room. Only a handful of people remained in the castle, mostly professors and five other students, including Harry, Hermione and Ron. Remus took the empty seat in front of them, the furthest possible from the other end of the table where Snape was sitting next to Albus and drilling holes into the side of his face. No need to be a mind reader to interpret the message, Snape was dying to tell everyone whatever suspicions he had in regards to his and Nora's relationship, just as he had been dying to let out his furry little secret from day one.
"How're the holidays treating you three?" Remus asked Harry and his friends. "Must be nice having the castle all to yourselves. No classes, no homework, no teachers to nag you about doing your homework."
Ron grinned, "It's pretty grand."
"I expect so." Remus noticed the thick book beside Hermione. "Bit of light reading?"
"Oh no, not at all! It's an almanac of old laws and cases about magical beasts that I found in the library. I want to get as much information as I can before I have to turn it in."
"We're helping Hagrid with Buckbeak's case," Harry explained. "Ministry's decided to follow up Malfoy's complaint and set a hearing with the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures."
Remus made a vague, noncommittal noise. He didn't want to be the one telling the kids they were fighting a lost battle. He felt bad for Hagrid, but Lucius Malfoy had a lot of sway with the Minister. If he wanted the hippogriff gone, Buckbeak was as good as dead.
"Have you heard back from Tris?" Ron asked Hermione.
"Not since he left," Hermione frowned down at her plate, pushing her food around. "I owled him our gifts yesterday. He usually replies right away... maybe he hasn't got them yet. Have you heard from them, Professor?"
"Hum?" Surprised, Remus halted with his goblet halfway to his mouth. Three pairs of expectant eyes were intensely focused on him. He chortled a short, awkward laugh, "I'm afraid I haven't, no. Don't worry, I'm sure they're just busy with the festivities at home."
The three of them looked about as convinced as he probably sounded.
"Harry, I was thinking we might start your Patronus lessons after the holidays," he said to change the subject.
Harry perked up. "Brilliant! Are we going out on the grounds or getting a dementor inside?"
"Don't be silly, Harry! Professor Lupin wouldn't use an actual dementor," Hermione admonished.
"Hermione's right, it'd be a terrible idea. I'll have to think of a solution…"
After a various, luxurious assortment of desserts, Remus was approached by Professor Trelawney, a twiggy, gauzy-eyed woman who tended to gawk at him for long periods of time. She offered to crystal-gaze his future because she claimed to have had a vision of eminent danger in his path. He took that as his cue to slip away. He didn't believe in Divination, or in the woman's supposed prophetic gifts, but best not to tempt fate.
Remus tossed and turned the whole night, haunted by harrowing dreams, reflections of his own subconscious fears, images of Nora hurt somewhere he couldn't reach her, bleeding on the floor. Only by morning, when the timid sun had chased away the darkness, did he manage to fall asleep.
The next time he woke was around lunchtime, with his father's owl tapping on the window. Tired and heavy-eyed, he summoned a cup of coffee from the kitchens and sat on the couch reading his father's complaints about his own son refusing to come home for Christmas and leaving him alone with his sister, her droll husband and their spoiled children. Cousin Maura, the eldest of five, had just had her second child, Lyall wrote. Aunt Agnes was over the moon. Translation: "When will you find a nice woman and give me grandchildren? You're not getting any younger!"
Remus rolled his eyes. Telling his father children were not in the picture and he had no intention of having them flew in one ear and right out the other.
He was about to pick up a quill to answer the letter when there was another rapping on the window. As he let the bird in, he immediately recognised the seal of urgent delivery, and his stomach plummeted out of him.
Tristan was in the throes of panic when he wrote to Professor Lupin. His sister had disappeared sometime during last night's party and next thing he knew his grandmother was saying he wasn't allowed to go in her room. He'd taken his eyes off Nora for one moment—one! What the hell had they done to her? Why was she locked up, unable to come out, not even have her meals?
He had pleaded, bargained, threatened to call the Ministry, shouted and banged on the door. All he received was his father's hand across the face to shut him up.
His owl returned late in the afternoon. Poor thing was knackered after two long trips in the same day, but Tristan was mighty glad to see her. Relief washed over him, a powerful wave of emotion, as he tore the parchment open.
Lupin would come. He would be there that evening, waiting in the woods outback, and he would send a signal when it was time to come. There only was one problem they needed to figure out—how to get to Nora. She had spoken about the people who worked at the manor, Lupin said in his letter. Could they be trusted, he asked. Might they be able to help sneak her out?
Tristan ran downstairs, nearly crashing into his grandmother who was on her way up.
"Where are you in such a hurry to get to, Tristan Alexander?"
"I'm hungry." He raised his chin with snark and attitude. "Am I not allowed to eat as well as not seeing my sister?"
Lady Doireann narrowed her eyes in warning. "Mind your tongue, child. You don't want to share the same fate."
Bring it on, old hag, Tristan thought, and the only reason he didn't say it out loud was so he wouldn't jeopardise his escape plan. He had to pass under the radar, or at the very least not draw any unwanted attention to himself.
Turning his back on the old woman, he jumped the last four steps and went into the kitchen. Imogene and Charles were sitting at the table, the first peeling potatoes into a bowl, the second reading the Daily Prophet. They stopped talking the minute he walked in.
"Help me," Tristan urged.
They looked at each other.
"Of course, Master Tristan." Imogene set aside the knife, motioning for the other free chair. He sat down obediently. "What do you need us to help you with?"
"Nora and I met someone at school… a friend." No need to tell them Lupin was a teacher, Tristan decided. "He says he can take us somewhere safe, somewhere they won't be able to find us. He can meet us tonight."
"Lady Doireann has the young miss sealed in with magic," Charles pointed out.
"But you could break the spell, couldn't you? You could sneak in, grab Nora and get her outside. I mean, you fought in the war."
Charles laughed incredulously, "Son, that was eighty years ago. I'm not a spry young man anymore. Not to mention, Lady Doireann is well-versed in the Dark Arts, she might have used an obscure spell. It could sound an alert if breeched."
Tristan's despair expanded, threatening to swallow him. He needed to get Nora one way or another. He had this crippling feeling they had done something horrible to her.
"There might be a way," Imogene offered, squeezing Tristan's hand. "I've been brewing Sleeping Draught for Lady Doireann and adding it to her nighttime tee at her request. I could add a few extra drops, she'd sleep like the dead 'til morning."
"And when she wakes and finds the girl gone? What will you tell her then? She'll realise you meddled with the dosage."
"I'll just say I wasn't feeling too well, perhaps I added more by mistake."
"What about Lord Maximus?"
"That cretin is halfway through his liquor cabinet already," Imogene scoffed. "Took a tray up with some bread and soup and the stench of alcohol could've singed my eyebrows. Bet you he'll pass out before sundown."
Charles shook his head, mouth tightly pursed. "I don't like it, Imogene. These people are unhinged and unpredictable. We'd be gambling more than our lives, they could hurt our sons."
"I get it," Tristan intervened desperately. "But we don't have anyone to turn to. Please help us. Nora and I will leave and never burden you again."
"You're no burden, my sweet boy!" Imogene snatched him in her chubby arms, pressing his face into her ample bosom. She was a heavyset woman, motherly but with a strong grip. "Charles and I care about you and your sister so much! We think of you as our grandchildren, don't we, Charles?"
"Well—yes, I suppose we do," the older man mumbled, scratching awkwardly at his silver moustache. He gave Tristan a serious look, "Who is this friend of yours who's coming to pick you and the young miss up? How did you meet him? Is he a schoolmate?"
"No, he's…" Tristan wiggled out of Imogene's squishy embrace, hoping to regain some of his dignity. "He's just someone who understands."
"And how can you be sure this man will protect you? Where is he going to take you? What if changes his mind? What if—"
"He loves Nora!" Tristan cut in in one fast breath. Imogene and Charles stared at him, stunned. He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "I can't talk to you about this, okay? She made me promise no to tell anyone. All you need to know is he's a good man. We trust him—Nora trusts him."
The fact that Nora trusted Lupin and that he loved her ended up becoming deciding factors for Charles, and for the next hour and half, as the afternoon faded to evening, they smoothed the edges of their plan over tea.
A storm swooped in out of nowhere at nightfall. Loud, booming thunder in the distance, wind and cold rain. Tristan watched the weather enfold from his bedroom window, wondering if Professor Lupin would be able to find his way though the heavy downpour.
He looked at the watch on the wall; quarter to eleven. His grandmother should be getting ready for bed.
Anticipation was killing him. He had long ran out of things to do to keep his mind busy. His bag was packed. He had his toothbrush, his jacket, the Christmas gifts his friends had sent him. He turned the room inside out, twice, just in case he was forgetting something important. Now all he had to do was wait, but the waiting was driving him a bit mad. Patience was a virtue he unfortunately didn't possess. He was having trouble silencing the dark thoughts floating around inside his brain.
Bright light flickered in the woods. Tristan barely saw it before darkness swooped in again. He rubbed his eyes, leaning forward until his nose was plastered against the window as something stepped out of the trees—a huge, glowing, silver dog. No, not a dog—a wolf.
Tristan thought of Lupin's letter.
When it's time, look for the wolf.
That's it, he realised. The signal!
The thought barely formed in his brain and the bedroom door flew open, Imogene's voluptuous figure filling in the archway.
"Get your things and let's go."
Tristan grabbed his bag. "What about Nora?"
"Charles needs a bit more time to deal with the charms on the door, it's best we leave now."
"What, no! No way! I'm not leaving without Nora—"
"They'll meet us outside." Imogene put her hand on his shoulder, guiding him firmly toward the stairs. "Don't worry, Master Tristan. There's yet to exist a spell my Charles can't counter…"
Heart pounding, stomach all twisted up in knots, Tristan followed Imogene along endless corridors. The manor was always quiet, like a mausoleum lavishly decorated, but now the silence was so deep, so heavy, even their swift footsteps against the carpet sounded deafening.
It was still raining outside, a continuous, petty drizzle. His boots sunk into the muddy ground, staining and drenching his jeans. Imogene's brusque pace faltered at the sight of the silver wolf, and Tristan smacked his nose on her back before she realised it was actually a Patronus and started dragging him again, this time after the wolf and into the woods. Its shimmering bright glow illuminated the pitch darkness, and not a moment later Tristan saw Lupin's familiar silhouette pacing back and forth up ahead.
"Professor!"
He let go of Imogene's hand, taking off toward Lupin, who did the same, meeting him halfway. He hovered his hand above Tristan's shoulder as if wanting to show affection yet uncertain wether it would be welcome. Tristan himself had to battle a powerful urge to throw his arms around the man.
"Are you alright?" Lupin asked, lifting his wand to pour light over his face.
Tristan managed a shaky smile. "I'm fine. Thanks for coming."
Lupin shook his head, like there wasn't anything to thank for. His eyes moved past Tristan, found the large woman standing back.
"Where's Nora?" His voice sounded harsher than Tristan had ever heard it before.
"My husband needed more time," Imogene explained, taking an uncertain step closer. "They shouldn't be long now, I'm sure."
Lupin's jaw visibly clenched. He shot the wolf a silent, commanding look and the beast left the small clearing.
"You're their teacher?" Imogene asked. Lupin nodded, running his fingers through his sopping hair. "But—" Confused, she looked down at Tristan, who could feel his whole face beginning to heat up, then back at Lupin. "How old are you?"
"Old enough to know this is a horrible idea and likely to get me in prison," he said drily.
"Prison's your best option. They might kill you, might kill all of us."
"I have to risk it."
Imogene liked the answer. Some of the wariness melted from her posture, and she came to join them, standing behind Tristan with her meaty hands on his shoulders. She was so warm, the heat of her body cocooned around him.
"Why are you working for those people?" Lupin asked to fill the silence.
"It's not easy to find a job in the wizarding community when you can't do magic."
Understanding flashed over Lupin's tired face. "You're a Squib."
"Lady Elyse contracted me as a governess when she became lady of the house. Lord Maximus wasn't happy, but he allowed it to please her." Imogene smiled down warmly at Tristan, "After she died, Charles and I stayed for them. I promised her I would take care of her children. Besides, we couldn't leave knowing what we know, they'd never let us..."
Frantic rustling cut Inogene off. Tristan's heart leaped to his throat as the giant wolf burst out of the bushes, growling wildly, fangs bared in a feral snarl. Something was wrong, somehow Tristan just knew.
Charles stumbled from behind the wolf, half-carrying Nora, her arm limp over his shoulders, her head lolling sideways as though she lacked the strength to hold it upright. Tristan made a horrified, choking sound from the back of his throat, darting to them even as Lupin took Nora in his arms, cradling her against him, brushing his hand over the side of her face and whispering words Tristan didn't understand but sounded like Old Welsh to him. Her eyes fluttered, barely opening before closing again.
"What's wrong with her?" Tristan demanded.
"I don't know." Charles took off his hat, scratching at his hair. "She was unresponsive when I found her, had to cast a spell to get her to move. It's possible they drugged her…"
"She wasn't drugged, she was cursed," Lupin spat, hooking an arm behind Nora's knees and picking her up. He turned to the wolf again, "Get Lydia."
The beast snapped its teeth and took off into the air, vanishing into the night.
"Tristan, let's go."
Tristan grabbed his bag off the ground, hurrying after Lupin.
Charles went after them. "Now wait a second! Where are you taking them?"
"Somewhere safe," Lupin replied without stopping.
"Yeah? How safe? Hey—I'm talking to you, young man!" When Lupin didn't answer, Charles grabbed him by the elbow and whipped him around so they were face to face. "Those people back there are going come after you, do you understand that? There is a lot you don't know. Secrets they don't want to come to light and that girl's at the centre of it. They won't stop until they get her."
Secrets? Tristan's eyebrows slammed together. What did Charles mean? What secrets was he talking about?
Lupin gripped Nora tighter to him. "She's of legal age, after she graduates they won't have a hold on her anymore. They won't dare reach her at school either, it would draw too much attention. If they're hiding something, that's last thing they want."
Charles shook his head, no faith whatsoever in Professor Lupin's certainty. Imogene came up to his side and stroked his arm. He looked at her and sighed, patting her hand. It was a whole silent conversation between them.
"Have a care, is all I'm saying."
"We will. Thanks for bringing them to me," Lupin said, sounding genuine. "Grab my arm, Tristan. Don't let go no matter what."
Mouth going dry, Tristan held on to Lupin's arm for dear life. He had a good guess how they were going to get to where they needed to go. Splinting wasn't an experience he wanted to have.
The world suddenly imploded around him. He felt as though he were being squeezed through a narrow, invisible tube, every bone in his body compressing, flattening, then narrowing. It was a disorienting, horrible sensation that hauled his stomach to his throat and made him want to throw up everything in it.
It was all over within seconds, and instead of the woods behind Cavanaugh Manor, they now stood in front of an old, cobblestone cottage with moss and ivy creeping up one side of the thatched rooftop and weaving through the mortar. They went down the muddy path leading to the short wall encircling an overgrown, neglected garden, and Tristan opened the rusty iron gate for Lupin. Then, as instructed, he used the key under the mat to jingle the door open.
Smelled of damp wood, dust and books inside. To the right, the foyer opened into the living room through a narrow archway. Dark wooden beams crisscrossed the low ceiling and the walls were lined with bookshelves. The space was small and a little cramped, even with few pieces of furniture. The kitchen was to the left.
Across the front entrance, wooden stairs led up to the second floor. That's where Lupin took Nora, into the bedroom tucked away at the end of the hallway.
He laid her down in a large four-post bed and gently brushed the hair from her face. Now that there was light, they could see her injuries. One side of her face was swollen and yellowing, and her upper lip had an ugly cut. But the thing that horrified Tristan the most was the handprint around her neck, each finger imprinted clearly, sickening purple blots over pale skin.
Tristan clenched his shaking hands into fists. "He did that to her and I didn't even know it…"
Lupin's hard expression morphed to shocked. "Tristan, this isn't your fault. None of this is. You can't blame yourself, you're a child."
"I'm not, though, am I? I shouldn't have wandered off at the party. If I hadn't, maybe I could have done something to stop him from hurting her."
"That is not on you." Lupin clutched both Tristan's shoulders, lowering himself to his height so he could look in his eyes. "Can't you see how brave you are? You're the one who got your sister out."
"I didn't do that, you and Charles did…" Tristan muttered, feeling ashamed and powerless and miserable all at once.
"You're wrong. You reached out to us. If you hadn't, neither of you would be here. It's not a weakness to ask for help, Tristan."
Tristan sniffed, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand as he stared at his sister. "She's going to wake up, isn't she?"
"Of course she will," Lupin declared without an ounce of doubt. "Don't worry, I've called an old friend of mine. She's the best Healer I know. In the meantime why don't you take a shower and change into something warm? Bathroom's down the hall, towels under the sink. Call me if you need anything."
The sound of running water resonated throughout the silent house.
In the bedroom, as he sat on the edge of his bed, Remus dropped his head in his trembling hands. How was he going to explain kidnapping two students and bringing them to his house? Claiming abuse and neglect wouldn't hold, it was his word against Maximus Cavanaugh and the man worked for the International Magical Office of Law. No one would believe him. He would be thrown in Azkaban. Or worse, put down like an animal.
Every detail of his personal life would be scrutinised. Everyone would know he's a werewolf. Not only would he lose his dignity and his life, he would ruin Nora's. Who would hire her after associating herself publicly with a cursed beast? And who would look out for her after he was dead and gone?
Remus heard a loud pop, like the cork of a champagne bottle, followed by snarling and a woman's voice outside.
"All right, I got it—oi, let go of me! I just got this coat, you dreadful creature!"
He flew downstairs and yanked the front door open. A little down the path his Patronus wolf was tugging at the coat of a tall, curvy, dark-skinned woman, dragging her toward the house. Would have been funny if the situation wasn't so serious, Remus thought, flickering his wand and making the wolf disappear in a puff of silver smoke.
"Thank, Merlin." Lydia brushed off her bright scarlet coat and tousled her voluminous mane of hair. "You know, Remus, I don't remember your Patronus being this cheeky."
Neither did he, but they didn't have time to dissect that change.
"Get in here!"
"I don't hear from you in six months and this is the welcome I get, shepherded around like cattle? Not so much as a 'hello how do you do'?" She eyed him disdainfully as he continued to usher her up the stairs. "The nerve of you!"
"Can you pick this bone with me later?" Remus shoved her into the bedroom. "I need your help."
Seeing the unconscious, injured girl, Lydia cursed. Her gears switched and she immediately set to work. Coat flew off, unruly hair was tied up. A myriad of flasks, boxes and cloths sprouted from her bag.
"What happened?" Lydia demanded as she hovered her wand up and down over Nora's body.
Remus walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down. "Cruciatus would be my guess."
"And you would guess correctly. Not one or two hits either, she was cursed repeatedly. Back off a second—"
Lydia waved her wand in circular motions, producing small shimmering halos that seeped into Nora, absorbing into her skin until it seemed like she was glowing from inside. When the glow faded, her entire body pitched forward.
Remus caught Nora in his arms, taking her face in his hands as she started moaning in pain. "Nora," he murmured sweetly, stroking her cheek. "Pease wake up, my love, you're safe now…"
To his utmost relief, she slowly fluttered her eyes open. "Remus? What… what are you doing here?" She blinked a few times, growing more clear-eyed and focused. "Where am I? Where's Tris?"
"Tristan's fine, darling. You're in my house in Wales."
Nora looked overwhelmed and confused, glancing around her new, strange environment. She touched her throat, then her face, then her head, like she wanted to confirm it was all real. When Lydia made a move to approach her and see to the injuries, she shrunk away, her wariness palpable.
"It's all right," Remus crooned, trying to reassure and calm her down. "Lydia's an old friend of mine, she's a Healer."
"I don't need a Healer," Nora argued hotly, shrinking further away.
"You're hurt, I can help—"
"Don't touch me!"
Alarm built rapidly inside him. He shot Lydia a pleading look, silently begging her to give them a moment. Lydia nodded reluctantly and stepped out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.
Nora's face was turned away from him, her arms wrapped around herself. He could see that she was shaking. Traumatised, exhausted, starving—she must have been feeling all these things, more even. And he could only imagine the agony her body must still be in after being subjected to the Torture Curse time and time again.
"Darling, can you remember anything?"
She squeezed her eyes shut. "I remember everything."
"Nora…" Remus grazed his fingers softly over her hand, but she flinched from his touch. It broke his heart. Clenching his jaw, he drew his hand back, closed it in a fist on his lap. "Tell me what to do. Please just tell me and I'll do it."
"There's nothing you can do."
"I can kill him," he said desperately. "I can go back there and kill him. I don't care what happens to me, I'll make him disappear off the face of the earth."
"That's not going to fix anything."
"Then what will?" Frustrated, Remus put his head in his hands. He had never felt so completely useless in his life. "At least you and Tristan would be able to live in peace. You wouldn't have to always be looking over your shoulder, afraid your father might come for you."
"He's not my father," Nora murmured so quietly he almost didn't catch it. Remus looked at her in shock. "I overheard a conversation with Lucius Malfoy. I sneaked in his study to confirm it." Her eyes were flooded with tears as she finally turned to him. "They killed my real father."
"My god, Nora..." He didn't know what to say. He wanted to hold her, comfort her in whatever way she needed, however small, but she didn't want to be touched. "What about Tristan?"
She shrugged weakly, "I don't know."
He knew what that meant and felt sick to his stomach. "They tampered with your memory just as you suspected."
"I always assumed it was my mind protecting me, trying to spare me the trauma, that's why I couldn't remember, why it was all so foggy up to a certain point." Her trembling hands reached into the neckline of her dress, taking out a folded piece of paper, which she handed out to him. "That's all I have of him."
Gingerly, Remus unfolded the paper. It was an old newspaper article about a small town in Ireland celebrating its anniversary. He recognised the place immediately because he had been there at the time, dealing with Order of the Phoenix business. Only afterwards he noticed the people in the picture—the woman he had come to know as Nora's mother, the child who was unmistakably Nora, and the man beside them.
He brought a hand to his mouth. It was like a locked door opened somewhere in the back of his head and he suddenly realised why Nora had seemed so familiar when he saw her for the first time. He wouldn't have been able to see it simply by looking at the picture in her locket, but he did now. He saw it clear as day.
"He has a kind face, doesn't he?"
The knot in his throat tightened at the utter vulnerability in her small voice. Remus let his gaze trail over her injuries before meeting her beautiful, wounded eyes. Would it do her any good to know? He couldn't tell her much in any case. He hadn't asked the man's name, hadn't seen him or been to his little bookshop since that day. Wouldn't it add to Nora's loss if he were to tell her he had met the father she so desperately wanted and would never get to have?
"He does, he looks very kind," Remus said a with sad smile, giving her back the paper. "Do you want me to ask Lydia to heal your memory?"
Hope flickered in the darkness of Nora's expression. "She can do that?"
"I believe so, but she must take care of you first. Ah ah—" He stopped her firmly when she opened her mouth to argue. "Not another word. You're hurt, Nora, and I can see you're in pain, so you either cooperate or I can put you to sleep. Up to you."
Nora struggled visibly with his ultimatum. He didn't enjoy doing it, pushing her against the wall and a hard place, but her injuries needed tending to or they might get worse.
"Fine," Nora relented, running her fingers through her tangled hair and pulling it over one shoulder, gripping at the tips the way she did when she felt uncomfortable. Her gaze dropped down to her lap. "Could you, uh… could you leave while she heals me?"
A perfectly reasonable, even understandable, request. Then why did it hurt so much?
"Of course. I'll go get her."
Once he was out of the room, Remus held himself against the door, clutching at his chest. He could feel it coming, he recognised the signs. Blood thundering in his ears. Blurry vision. Hands shaking. Feet tingling. He took a deep breath to try and push it down. He hadn't had a panic attack since he was fifteen, he wasn't going to now.
"Remus?" Lydia called worriedly. She was standing in front of him. He hadn't even heard her. "Do you need anything?"
"No, not for me." He sighed, stepping away from the door. "You have experience with Memory Charms, don't you?"
"I worked five years at the Janus Thickey Ward so yes, I'd say I have some experience."
"After you see to her health, I need you to counteract the charm that was cast on her as a child. She's been remembering things all along and some new information has come to light that confirms it. I would do it myself, but I'm no good with healing magic, never mind the kind that messes with the brain."
"The spell was cast when she was only a child and she still managed to hold on to some of her memories?" Lydia sounded marvelled. "Extraordinary. I'll see what I can do. Her name's Nora, isn't it?"
"Evanora," he corrected with a faint smile.
Lydia eyed him knowingly as she sashayed around him and into the bedroom. He heard the calming sound of her Healer-voice, as he had come to identify it, and at once felt better knowing Nora was in excellent hands.
Giving them privacy, Remus moved down the hall and knocked on the bathroom. The water had stopped running a while ago.
"Tristan? Is everything all right?"
There was a timid "yeah!" before Tristan opened the door, letting out all the hot steam. Eyes swollen and red, skin ashen, the boy was an exhausted mess.
Remus forced a smile. "Nora's awake, Lydia's taking care of her. Why don't we head down and I'll make you something to eat?"
"I can't see her?" Tristan asked as Remus steered him toward the stairs.
"Healing requires a calm and private environment. I'm sure Nora will want to see you afterwards, don't worry." The boy looked so crestfallen, Remus felt a surge of affection. "How about some hot chocolate? And we can watch a film while we wait. You can pick out whichever you want."
Tristan cheered up a little.
While Remus went about preparing a pot of hot chocolate, Tristan rummaged through his small collection of VHS. Raiders of the Lost Ark got him very excited. Seemed Liam and Emma were avid fans of the "handy professor with the whip" and Tristan always wanted to watch it.
His awed exclamations worked sort of like a soothing balm for Remus, and he was able to keep his mind nice and quiet by answering the boy's curious questions. But just as Indiana Jones and the beautiful Marion arrived in Cairo, Tristan, curled up under a blanket and lulled by the fire crackling in the fireplace, nodded off and Remus was left alone with only the sound of the television.
The images on the screen began to blur, shapeless, colourless. He stopped recognising the characters, the sets, the story, receding deep into himself, then seemingly out of his body as his thoughts transported him back in time fourteen years ago…
Doolin was precisely as he had envisioned: a charming, vibrant town oozing rustic charm, nestled on the rugged Atlantic coast of Ireland. Although on mission for Dumbledore to investigate Desmond O'Hare, Lead Liaison Minister for the Ministry of Magic, who was in town visiting his mother, Remus couldn't deny it was one of the loveliest places he had been stationed in. Winding roads lined with quaint cottages with whitewashed walls and colourful flower boxes, cozy pubs pouring drinks all day, all night, dramatic cliffs and the roaring sea in the distance.
Locals were warm and welcoming, always ready with a friendly smile and a tale or two. At the inn where he was staying, the innkeeper was more than obliged to point him in the right direction to wherever he needed to go. That day it was the bookshop.
Tucked away in one of Doolin's charming side streets, like a secret magical world, the shop stopped him dead in his tracks, and for a moment he simply stood, staring at the wide bay window and the inviting display of books. It tugged at him, pulling, beckoning, as if he was always meant to find such a place.
A bell above the door tinkled prettily as he walked in, the scent of aged paper and polished wood welcoming him in its embrace. Shelves crammed with books lined the walls, their contents spilling onto mismatched tables scattered throughout the shop. A battered leather armchair sat by the fireplace, perfect for a quiet afternoon of reading. And at an old upright piano behind the counter, there was a little girl playing with the keys.
"I'll be right there!" called a male voice from somewhere in the back.
Remus ventured further inside, smiling at the little girl peering up curiously at him. "Hullo there. Is this your store?" She giggled, shaking her head. "No? Oh well, I suppose you wouldn't happen to know anything about books, now would you?"
"Yes, I do!" the little girl rebutted, sounding almost offended.
He chuckled, walking over to kneel next to her by the piano. She had the biggest, bluest eyes he quite possibly had ever seen.
"Maybe you could tell me your favourite book, then."
"I like Ferdinand! Daddy reads it to me every night, sometimes he even lets me read some of the big words," she said proudly.
"Aren't you a clever little darling? You know, I like Ferdinand too," Remus pretend-whispered, getting another giggle from her. He pointed to the stuffed dog beside her on the bench, "Who's this?"
"His name is Fuzzy." She hugged the plush toy to her chest. "He's a wolf!"
He booped her nose with a smile. "Is he now?"
A tall, broad-shouldered man appeared around the bookstand carrying a stack of books.
"Careful with that one, mate, she'll have you wrapped around her finger before you know it." He set the stack on the counter, eyeing Remus with evident amusement. "My beautiful daughter is a heartbreaker."
"She certainly is," Remus replied good-naturedly, pushing to his feet.
The light caught in the man's auburn hair, waves pulled into a ponytail at the base of his neck. He had a jagged scar tracing the line of his jaw and a nose that looked like it might have been broken one to many times, maybe in a bar brawl. Despite those, he had a friendly, easy way about him.
"Tourist, are you? Shouldn't you be off doing some touristing, then? Handsome, young lad like you ought to be going round looking for adventure, charming off the lasses."
"I'm not much for either," Remus chuckled, embarrassed. "I was actually hoping to get a book for my mother, who, might I add, has probably read every book you can think of."
"A challenge and a noble cause," the man said cheerfully. "I love it. Classic or recently published?"
"Definitely classic."
"Ah, a woman after my own heart, your mother. Tell me more and we'll see if we can find her a bit of excitement…"
Remus remembered purchasing a pristine edition of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Brontë for his mother, and then ended up spending his whole afternoon in that magical corner of the world, enjoying witty banter with the friendly bookseller while the shop was empty, and when it wasn't, when customers rolled in to escape the rain, he sat in that armchair by the fireplace with the little girl on his lap. The next day he left Doolin and went back home. The memory became buried under the avalanche of grief that followed that simple yet peaceful moment. He and Sirius grew more and more suspicious of each other, until doubt had permeated into every aspect of their friendship. Peter avoided him like the plague. Lily and James were forced to hide in order to protect their son and he never saw them again. Next thing Remus knew, two of his best friends were dead and the other incarcerated. Topping it all off, his mother became ill and spent her last four months in agony, bedridden, stuck in a gloomy hospital room, which only seemed to kill her faster.
Like dominoes, each piece of his life had toppled in quick succession. He went right down with them, drinking and wandering around all night, wallowing in self-pity, full on in self-destruct mode, arguing with his father over every little thing. Remus felt ashamed of himself simply thinking about those dark years. It wasn't easy dragging himself out of the pit, but somehow he managed to. He found odd jobs here and there, made peace with his father, found a place isolated from the world and all the noise where he could simply exist in peace, with his books and vinyls, and a wide expanse of forest for the beast in him to cover without endangering anyone.
The stairs creaked, an obnoxious little squeak, followed by several other louder squeaks. A moment later Lydia appeared in the doorway, hair loose and in disarray, sleeves bunched up to her elbows.
"That her brother?" She jerked with her chin toward Tristan's snoring figure. "Does he need to be checked?"
"No, I don't think so," Remus answered, adjusting the blanket around the boy, snuggling him. "How's Nora?"
Lydia breathed out loudly, shifting her weight. Her eyes zeroed in on the empty mugs on the coffee table. "Got anything stronger than chocolate?"
Suddenly craving something with a bit more punch as well, Remus grabbed the remote, shut off the television, and followed her to the kitchen. He had a bottle of firewhiskey stashed in the back of the pantry he had been saving for his father's next visit. He took it out and poured two glasses. Lydia snatched hers, tipped it back. He poured her another, then they stepped out into the porch.
A serene pale blanket stretched out across the woods, softening the harsh lines of the trees and bushes. Snowflakes continued to drift lazily from the sky, adding to the powdery layer that glistened in the dim silver light of the waxing moon. The world was hushed, as if all of nature held its breath, allowing only the sound of the wind whispering through the branches.
Remus breathed in the crisp scent of pine, the faint hint of smoke wafting from the chimney.
"That girl is remarkable," said Lydia. "Common charms bounce right off her. I had to use an archaic spell to penetrate her mind and recover the memories." She got a pack of cigarettes out of her coat's pocket, put one to her lips, lit it up with a small flame. "It's like there's a shield protecting her. I've never seen anything like it."
"I have." Remus stared at the amber liquid in his glass. "Were you able to recover all the memories?"
"I won't lie, it was difficult, for both of us, but yes, I think so."
"Did you see them?
"Like I said, it was difficult."
"What about her injuries?"
Lydia hesitated, taking a long drag and puffing the smoke out through her nostrils. "Her throat will take a couple days to fully heal. I gave her a salve to speed up the process. The rest is fine."
"The rest?" Remus echoed demandingly.
"There were other bruises... I think that's why she didn't want you in the room."
"Please tell me he didn't—she wasn't—" He couldn't get the words out, couldn't give shape to that horrifying thought.
"No, she wasn't," Lydia said, leaning into the porch railing, her back to the shrouded woods. "But I can tell you for sure he tried and it wasn't the first time."
It was like someone gutted Remus open and spilled all there was inside of him on the snow. How could he have not seen the signs? How could he have been so blind? He suspected Nora hadn't given him the whole story about the abuse, but he couldn't have imagined such a twisted possibility. He had grossly underestimated the seriousness of the situation.
His hand shook as he raised his glass. He tried to convince himself that he couldn't just go barging in and make Nora tell him everything that monster did to her, each and every place he had dared touch her.
"Who is she, Remus?"
Lydia's voice reached him as if he were standing at the bottom of a long tunnel.
"My student," Remus answered truthfully. "They both are. I took a position this fall as a Hogwarts teacher."
"Wow." Lydia shook her head, a sort of shocked disbelief etched all over her face. "Well, I hope you're planning to hand in your resignation letter because you're breaking about every school rule in the book. And don't get me started on how unethical it is for a teacher to bring two students into his home, one of them underage."
He bristled, "You think I don't know that? I'm fully aware of my actions, I will face the consequences when the time comes. I won't apologise for helping them."
"I'm not asking you to apologise, but why wouldn't you take them to school?"
"Hogwarts is the first place they'll look," Remus explained through his gritted his teeth. "I knew she might be hurt, I only wanted to keep her safe until she recovered and was strong enough to go back. I never should've let her go home in the first place. What if I hadn't gotten there tonight? What would have happened to her? I can't bear the thought of that man hurting her again. I should kill him for what he did. She's suffered enough, doesn't she deserve a little peace?"
"Remus, you're in love with her."
He froze, wide-eyed, the strangest, most overwhelming combination of emotions overcoming him. Of course he knew he loved Nora; he just hadn't put it into words, worried that naming this terrifyingly wonderful feeling would make it all the more real.
Taking his silence as affirmation, Lydia made a disparaging noise. "Guess I finally know why you wouldn't commit. Too old for you, aren't I?"
Heat exploded in his face. "Her age has nothing to do with it!"
"Doesn't it?" She raised her eyebrows. "I can see the appeal, Nora is very beautiful, in a fragile, poignant way which I imagine makes you desperate to protect her. You've always been soft-hearted, Remus. You've always wanted to save everyone to compensate for the fact you can't save yourself."
"Don't psychoanalyse me, Lydia," Remus snapped, growing incensed. "I never lied to you about what to expect of me, you knew from the start I couldn't give you what you wanted. I didn't hold it against you when you decided to break things off and marry the first man who offered you safety, so don't stand there berating me for something I already know is wrong. What I feel for Nora is unrelated to my wanting to protect her."
At first he had been curious, intrigued by this clever young woman with wounded eyes who always came early to class so she could talk to him. But the more he got to know of her, the more he experienced her kindness toward him, her promptness to listen to his thoughts, the deeper he tumbled down the rabbit hole. He realised he loved her when she knocked on his door after the full moon knowing he was a werewolf. There was never a speck of fear in her eyes, never an ounce of mistrust or disgust. She looked at him just as she had before, and only James, Sirius and Lily had ever done that. Even Lydia had backed away from him when he told her, flinching, as imperceptibly as it might have been, whenever he touched her in those few weeks afterwards.
Maybe it stemmed from a profound desire to be loved and accepted, but how could he not fall in love with a soul so gentle and loving as Nora?
Lydia thought sadly for a moment and then spoke as if thinking out loud, "You're right about Ivan, I did marry him because he was safe. And I think I resented you for letting me go through with it, for not even fighting for me. I see now that you never actually opened your heart enough to let me in, you kept the door locked at all times... But it's wide open for her, isn't it? Like there were never any locks in the first place."
"I have been running away from love since I can remember." Remus shook his head ruefully. His inner turmoil was in full display for her to see and for once, he didn't try to hide it. "When I look at her, something in my chest pulls so tight, I can't breathe. It goes beyond my skin and my bones. It's like she has become part of me and I don't know how to remove her without breaking myself apart…"
"I won't pretend to understand what you're saying, I haven't felt love like that," Lydia said softly, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It sounds dangerous and very painful. Be careful, Remus. Nora's young and fragile, and you're not as strong as you make yourself out to be. Don't let the love you have for her destroy you both."
Too late for him. He was already destroyed, but he would try his best to protect Nora. Whatever that entailed.
Remus touched Lydia's hand with a half-smile. "I'm sorry you felt like my heart was closed. You have always been a dear friend to me, Lydia."
"Oh shut up," she scoffed, bumping him playfully. "I'm not jealous or anything, just caught off guard. We would've never worked, and it's as much my fault as it is yours. I'm happy we're friends. Who would patch you up after the full moon if we weren't?"
"Nobody, I'd bleed to death."
"You know, I actually believe that..."
So, about Lydia... I introduced her because I don't think Remus would've known exactly how to deal with healing magic. I'd imagine some witches and wizards become Healers because they have had specialised training and as such are much more capable to help people. Also, I already wrote in a past chapter that Remus doesn't really have a talent for Memory Charms, it only makes sense that he would have someone else take care of that for Nora.
I also wanted to give Remus a friend since with James and Peter, supposedly, dead, and Sirius in prison, the poor fellow wouldn't have had anyone to turn to. It's also a way to emphasise that Remus has been with other women before but never actually opened himself up to any of them.