Author's note: A second chapter happened! I would absolutely adore feedback 3

His letter to Albus goes unanswered for so long that by the time he hears back, Remus has settled into something of a routine. After an uneventful full moon spent in his apartment in Manchester, warded and charmed to ensure there is no way he is getting out or for anyone to hear, he returns to work at Esther's workshop. She keeps him busy most days, lists of ingredients alongside increasingly specific requirements.

After the first few times, he starts to believe there is a reason beyond pity that he was suggested for the post. Magically potent ingredients tend to attract creatures of various persuasions who will resist the taking of their treasures. His past dealings with Grindylows and Doxies prove useful, although even with that experience, he doesn't come away without a fair few fresh scratches, but it's nothing the first aid supplies in the kit can't solve.

Realistically, this is the second-best job he's ever had. That he doesn't have to take meticulous care to hide his condition is more of a boon than he would have thought. Esther doesn't make much mention of it, not explicitly, but the way she told him she would see him the next week when he headed out the day before the full moon meant he never even had to consider whether he might be able to glamour and pepper-up potion his way through a day of work. It's nice.

His employer - a strange thought to have about the woman whom he mostly remembers as a prickly and occasionally eccentric girl rolling her eyes at his friends when they crossed paths - is surprisingly easy to work with. She has her quirks - the workshop is never silent, always abuzz with either the wireless or a tune from an enchanted music box, and more than once he has caught her scolding her plants in a manner faintly reminiscent of Pomona Sprout. Still, she seems to have lost most of the prickliness since their school days. When she does criticise any of his finds, it is sharp and to the point, but not cutting. He knows what to expect with her.

One afternoon in October, he returns to the workshop with several phials of Blackthorn sap. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a deceptively warm glow through the window even as Remus knows the wind is bitingly cold outside.

Esther is perched on a stool by one of the workbenches, scribbling notes on a loose sheet of parchment. Her hair is pinned up haphazardly and he notes the clearly forgotten cup of tea next to her. Not wanting to scare her, he clears his throat from by the door.

"Oh good, you're back," she says without looking up, patting the end of the workbench. "Just put things down there. Everything go smoothly?"

"As smoothly as these things can go," Remus replies, opening the case to take out the phials. "Cursed trees have something of a signature after all."

She chuckles, finally putting down the quill and taking a cursory look at the sap he's managed to harvest. "Looks good. Anyhow, there was something else I wanted to talk about."

It is perhaps a testament to how predictable his life has become in the past two months that this only sends a sliver of dread through Remus.

"What's that?"

"I've been requested to give a second opinion on a potion. In Scotland."

"In Scotland - at Hogwarts?"

If he isn't very much mistaken, she looks uncomfortable, but she nods nonetheless.

"The Triwizard Tournament people have been dithering over something and apparently, Beauxbatons' Headmistress wants someone not on Dumbledore's payroll to take a look at it."

"Someone neutral, hmm?" he finds himself saying, realising too late the smirk on his face.

Luckily, Esther just rolls her eyes, looking equally amused at the thought. "To be fair, I have never in fact worked for him. So that's something. Anyhow - I was thinking if I'm heading up north anyway, we might as well make a trip of it. Close up the shop for a week, gather up what ingredients and samples we can, fill up the stores before winter. The magical field around Hogwarts has some fascinating implications for the local flora and fauna, and no one but Severus uses it."

"You aren't worried he'll be territorial over it?" The words are out of his mouth before he can worry how a joke like that will land with Esther, who by all accounts respects Snape as a talented fellow potioneer.

She shrugs. "He doesn't have a claim over it, and I've always found him to be generous with his stores if prompted. At any rate - would you be willing to join me? Double the productivity if you will?"

Ah. That's why she's been twisting her quill between her fingers.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"I thought you might say that." She moves to stand next to him, then, after a moment of craning her neck to look up at him, hops up to sit on the workbench. "It isn't a Hogsmeade weekend. We could get rooms at the Hog's Head. Get away from things a bit."

"Get away from things," he echoes. He isn't sure if that really applies for him, but a separate thought pops up in his mind. "You know what, why not?" The Hog's Head has one of the safest sources into the seedier parts of the British wizarding world, after all.

"Fantastic!" She props her hand on his shoulder to slide off the table, smiling widely. For a moment, her face is so close to his that he can see the little speckles of ink that have sprayed onto her chin. "I'll schedule things."

Maybe the fact it makes her smile like that isn't a terrible reason to do it either.

A few weeks later, they find themselves standing in a rain-soaked street near Remus' flat in Manchester, waiting for the Knight Bus. Esther's bag, suspiciously bulky even with how much she has shrunk the storage boxes, sits on the bench next to them. The few unruly curls poking out from under her hood are dripping water onto her face, but it seems not to have impacted her mood at all as she chatters lightly about the prospect of ingredients they might be able to harvest.

Her optimism is strangely infectious, almost drowning out the dread he has been feeling about returning to the area. Aberforth Dumbledore at least is likely to look past his lycanthropy just as he would with the unsavoury backgrounds and associations of his general clientele.

At their third attempt to summon it, the Knight Bus finally careens into the street, just barely skidding past a streetlight. The front entrance swings open, revealing Stan Shunpike - unchanged from how Remus remembers him.

"Travel for two, to Hogsmeade," Esther chirps as Remus moves to pick up his suitcase. "And two beds, please. We brought toothbrushes."

"Blimey, you look like you've been through it. Had a rough day, have ya?" Stan steps aside to let them board, apparently content to handle their fare once they're all out of the rain. "Twenty-eight sickles for the both of you, and the beds. Got exact, or should I be getting the change?"

Two galleons already in hand, Esther chuckles. "Keep the change and make sure we arrive without missing a limb."

"Can't make promises, miss, Ernie's been in a mood." Still shaking his head, Stan points them to the beds toward the back, shrugging back the sleeves on his uniform. "There you are then. Hold on to your hats!"

The bus is entirely empty aside from them, which Remus supposes must not be unusual for a weeknight. Perhaps that's why Esther tipped so generously. As the bus lurches forward, he grips the bedpost and shrugs off his raincoat. Esther seems to already be making herself comfortable, pushing the pillow on her bed up against the headboard to sit, boots tied by the lacing to the foot of her bed. He is suddenly uncomfortably aware of himself, feeling out of place with her in this decidedly non-workshop setting.

"You didn't have to pay for me, you know," he says quietly, sitting down and unlacing his own well-worn shoes.

"Make you pay for yourself on a work trip?" When he looks back up at her, she is shaking her head as though what he said was absurd. "Next you'll be telling me you want to pay me for the Hog's Head rooms. Don't be silly, Remus, I'll get far more than my money's worth out of having someone competent around for this."

He knows she's trying to reassure him by making light of it, but what she says touches on something he has been wondering about. Once he has managed to make himself somewhat comfortable on the bed and is able to look straight ahead rather than into her disconcertingly sharp eyes, he decides there is no harm in asking:

"Were you actually looking for someone to handle… well, to do my job? Before Slughorn reached out to you, I mean."

The moment of silence really says it all, but she answers anyway:

"Not actively, no. Uncle Garrick suggested it once or twice, but I didn't think it was really necessary." She sighs, then continues: "No, that's not quite it. Usually, for things like this, you'd get an apprentice. Not to do the gathering, but to free up time for it."

"And you didn't want to do that?"

A chuckle. "Can you imagine? I'd be terrible at it. There's a reason Horace has never suggested I take on one of his protegés."

Would she really, Remus wonders. Surely, apprentices could handle some eccentricities and brusqueness. "Why do you say that?"

He hears her shuffle and turns, finding her fiddling with the cuff of her button-down, avoiding his eyes. "I've never been very good at working with people. Part of why I didn't stay at St Mungo's."

That's… interesting. And rather sad. He wonders who first told her that.

A determined smile appears on her face as she meets his eyes once more. "I don't mind, really. And for what it's worth, I am very glad this worked out. You were an excellent find."

"Was I?" he says with a rather undignified snort. "For what you're paying me, you could have gotten someone without monthly time-off and the need for expensive potions."

Her smile slips and for a moment, she looks horrified. "Are you joking, Remus?"

"I - " wasn't expecting this reaction. He isn't quite sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't that.

"Do you have any idea how nice it is to work with someone who can handle himself around Grindylows? Hippogriffs? Who actually understands substitution, and theory, and what is essential versus what is nice-to-have? Not to mention, you have a good eye for detail. That's rare."

Is it? He knows better than to ask; it's not like he wants to convince her to look for a different employee, but he still struggles to reconcile how this can really be in her interest.

And then she reaches out across the gap between their beds, placing her hand on his forearm for a moment.

"Get some rest, if you can. I'd love to head out to the Forbidden Forest in the morning."

Rest on the Knight Bus is always a challenging thing to come by, but this evening, it isn't the adventurous driving or sudden stops that keep Remus awake. No, this evening it is the witch curled up under her blanket on the bed next to his, sleeping like she hasn't a care in the world. The ghost of her touch on his arm, warm even through his jumper. The way she smiled and waved excitedly when she found him at their meeting point.

Remus isn't an idiot. He knows he's been painfully lonely for most of his adult life. The brief respite teaching at Hogwarts cannot paper over more than a decade spent never forming any relationships closer than being a pleasant neighbour, short-term colleague, or the occasional drink-fuelled one-night-stand. It's only natural that this feels more significant to him than it is. Last year, his fellow professors were for the most part friendly enough, but they kept their distance, busy with their classes as he was busy with his own. Esther is friendly in a casual, almost thoughtless way that has snuck its way past his guards over the course of their collaboration, and he has let it. It's nice, to have someone who knows what he is and still cares to ask how he would like his tea and check on whether he has gotten enough sleep.

That's all it is. He's allowed to enjoy it, to take part in the companionship she seems to value. To accept the trust she puts in him so easily, falling asleep in the presence of someone every children's tale of their world would call a danger.

And he still can't sleep, instead taking the rare opportunity to actually look at her. She looks younger in her sleep, a little more like the girl he vaguely remembers from their Hogwarts years, and the sharp, birdlike quality to her features is softened by mussed eyebrows and soft curls allowed to fall into her face in a way she never permits when awake.

His inability to find rest takes its toll when they arrive and Esther, bright-eyed and cheery, leads the way to the Hog's Head to drop off what they won't need for their first exhibition and pick up the meagre breakfast offerings available. He feels the faint ache of sleeplessness behind his eyes and in his limbs, the discomfort of being in bright morning light. It's a beautiful day, really, clear and only a little chilly, with a light breeze.

After a brief chat with Aberforth, whose gruffness has only increased since Remus' last encounter with him, they begin the trek to the Forbidden Forest. Although still evidently enthusiastic, Esther's face takes on a sober quality as the tall trees come into view.

"You've been there more recently than I. What should we expect?"

"In terms of magical creatures?"

"Mhm. And terrain, I suppose."

He considers for a moment. "I know of hippogriffs, centaurs, and thestrals. Acromantulas, possibly, although we should be able to avoid their territory." At her raised eyebrow and the glint in her eyes, he shakes his head. "We should avoid it. At least today - we're unprepared. Besides that, mainly the usual forest fauna. There were unicorns, but they haven't been seen for some time."

"That sounds manageable. Can you see thestrals?"

It would be an invasive question if not for the practical, almost academic, quality of her tone.

"I can."

"Good. I can as well. So we're safe there."

It's near noon by the time they make it into the forest proper, the sunlight barely filtering through the dense canopy. Esther pauses every so often to inspect the undergrowth, brushing weeds aside with sturdily-gloved hands. Remus keeps watch, ears pricked for any sound of movement that doesn't belong to them.

As they venture deeper, the air grows thick with both magic and humidity. They naturally fall into a careful silence, both watching out for any fellow creatures venturing into this part of the forest. At some point, Esther holds up a hand and they stop. She kneels on the forest floor, setting her gathering kit down carefully beside her and reaching into it for a delicate set of tongs.

"Venomous tentacula seedlings," she whispers, eyes shining with excitement as she plucks three samples from among the thorny undergrowth and drops them into a container. "They're non-tradable; this is brilliant."

Remus nods, but his attention is on the faint sound of something moving - not towards them, exactly, but not far either. Wand out, he crouches down next to her.

"Centaurs, I think," he murmurs, careful not to jostle her. "We should be alright just to let them pass."

She carefully pushes the kit shut, pulling the carrying strap across her body and onto her shoulder.

They wait, silent and wary, and then the sound stops. For a moment, Remus is relieved; then, he realises. It stopped without fading. Whatever it is has paused nearby, and they're sitting ducks. Just as he is about to tell her to count their blessings and make a break for it, he hears the noise again, closer now, accompanied by a bone-chilling whine. Esther shivers, but Remus is relieved. Thestrals, he can handle. Motioning for her to follow, he stands, taking a few steps in the direction the noise came from. Just past the next yew tree, there it is. A single thestral, ghostlike in the shifting light, bat-wings folded along its back.

It stares unblinkingly, silvery eyes glowing. Lowering his wand slowly, he inclines his head in the creature's direction. After a long moment, it mirrors the gesture, then approaches, hooves moving soundlessly over the leafy ground. From the corner of his eye, he can see Esther off to the side, frozen to the spot with her eyes fixed on the thestral as it moves. To his relief, her wand is stowed and she seems intent on simply watching.

When the thestral stops about a step's length away from him, Remus stretches out his arm carefully, forcing down the shiver that wants to run through him at the glimpse he catches of its teeth. It feels like time stretches as the creature considers his hand curiously, sniffing the air before raising its muzzle to brush against his skin. The texture is as unsettling as he remembers, thick reptilian skin where one would expect a horse's lips, but not unpleasant. A faint, haunting whisper emits from the animal before it lowers its head once more and turns away, disappearing silently among the trees.

"Impressive," Esther breathes, and when he turns to face her, her eyes are wide, fixed on his hand.

"They're really quite gentle creatures," he says, pushing his hand into his pockets. "If one knows how to handle them."

"Then I'm glad you do." She gives him another smile. "Do you think we're good to stick around for a moment? Thestral presence indicates Witchbane Fern, and I would like to get my hands on some. And possibly Dreamsnapper, if we're lucky."

He chuckles. "Yes, I wouldn't worry. If a herd is nearby, I doubt any other creatures are likely to disturb us for the moment."

They stay in that clearing for the remainder of the day, Remus posted on guard duty while Esther gathers, explaining as she goes. While she keeps her voice down, it is obvious the day is a success in her eyes, and by the time the light fades and they head back out, she is exhausted, covered in mud and grass stains, and as happy as he remembers seeing her.

"Oh, this has made this whole nonsense worth it. I can't believe Severus is working with all this at his fingertips, no wonder his Dark Ward is so potent."

"He's well known among potioneers, then?" Remus asks before he can stop himself, only just keeping the bitterness out of his voice.

"I would say so," Esther answers with a shrug, shifting her kit's strap on her shoulder. "Not as well as someone of his talent might be, I suppose, but that comes with the territory of teaching. There's only so much time one can spend on brewing while handling so many students. I keep up with his work, of course. Same generation and all that. We write on occasion."

Unease prickles at the back of Remus' neck at this news, even as he tells himself he is being paranoid. If Snape was poisoning her against him, she wouldn't have taken him on. Still, it brings back his wariness at being back here, so near the sight of where his fragile life in the wizarding community came crashing down. Already he can see her returning from her appointment at the school with fresh suspicions in her eyes, informed by some well-meaning witch or wizard of just what damage she is doing to her business by employing someone like him.

His discomfort must show, because she stops. The fading sun catches in her hair, and for a moment, he is disoriented as she looks at him with that sharp, inquisitive expression he is used to seeing pointed at a particularly stubborn brew.

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing." Seeing her raised eyebrow, he shrugs. "Hogwarts is complicated. It's strange to be around here again."

The answer doesn't seem to quite satisfy her, but she doesn't pry, pressing her lips together for a moment before answering:

"Alright. But I hope - well, if there is something troubling you, you can tell me. I know this trip was a lot to ask, and I wouldn't want it to be unpleasant for you."

He swallows. Considers it.

He can't. Not yet. Maybe, someday soon.

"Thank you."

She nods, something strangely gentle dancing in her eyes. "You're welcome. Now, shall we get the forest washed off and have some dinner?"