Lupercalia Fic
Title: Faith in the Face of Doubt
Fandom/Pairing: HP; Remus/Sirius
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing you might recognize. All belongs to JKR.
Summary: Remus Lupin; two girls; one Sirius Black: You've got to have faith.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Author's Notes/Warnings: 3,876 words. No real warnings. Bring Back Black fic. Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. *g* Post-HBP, and is HBP compliant. Quick beta, so all remaining mistakes are my own.
It is Luna who first utters the idea, the night of Bill and Fleur's wedding.
Remus is standing on the back porch of the Burrow. He's been standing and standing, for what feels like hours now, just remaining still and quiet underneath a blanket of shimmering stars. It feels like the first bit of peace he's had in weeks, maybe months, and so he drinks it in, the bits of his hair ruffled by the breeze the only part of him that's moving.
He's not overly surprised when someone joins him outside. The house has been full to the brim; people had overflowed into the garden all day, but it is a rather chilly night even for July, and the remaining guests are choosing the warmth of the fire over the summer breeze. Remus can barely hear the footsteps come up behind him, then beside him, and he is surprised to see the blonde hair and small frame of Luna Lovegood. She is wearing what Remus' mother would have affectionately called a garb: a lightweight sundress of a shockingly violet color; bright yellow rain boots with hot pink butterflies and rhinestones for decoration; a floppy brimmed straw hat adorned with four fabric red roses and five plastic irises. Her hair is down, and it spreads out in white-yellow waves from underneath her hat.
Remus smiles at her, a real, genuine smile at the sight of her, and says, "Hello, Miss Lovegood."
The smile Luna turns on him is as bright as the sun. "Good evening, Professor Lupin." She pauses. "Lovely night, isn't it?"
"Indeed," Remus answers.
There's a small silence as Luna tilts her head up toward the stars. "Good thing there aren't any Muffleqal in the sky tonight," Luna says.
Remus copies Luna's movement and looks up at the sky. "Indeed," he says again, seriously, even though he has no earthly idea what she's talking about. He doesn't really need to, he thinks.
"They're an awful portent," Luna continues. "I'd hate to see any flying by on Bill and Fleur's wedding night."
Remus murmurs a noise of assent, and Luna's brow unfurrows, as if he's assured her of something, though what it is he doesn't know.
There is more silence until Luna breaks it, saying, "The Dog Star is extremely bright tonight, don't you think so?"
Remus stiffens, and doesn't answer.
Luna doesn't wait for a reply. "It shines exceedingly bright; I think it must light up the entire universe." She stops for a brief moment. "I think he must be trying to tell us something, maybe that he's waiting."
"Who's waiting?" Remus manages, once again the very model of composure.
"Why, Sirius Black, of course!" Luna exclaims, turning to Remus in surprise. "I thought you would have known that, Professor Lupin!"
"Luna . . ." Remus starts, unsure of what he is exactly going to say, as he can't quite say the words Sirius Black is dead, though that's what he means.
Luna waves her right hand in a gesture of dismissal. "Oh, pollywogs," she says. "The Veil is in the Department of Mysteries, Professor. There's really very little known about it; I am quite sure Mr. Black is probably carrying on some very important bit of research even as we speak. There's to be an inquest next week, you know. Perhaps he'll share things with us then."
For all her eccentricity, Remus catches a glimpse again of why Luna was sorted into Ravenclaw: the inflection of her words "research" and "inquest" carry more excitement in them than Remus hears in anyone aside from Hermione Granger.
Remus starts to speak again, but Luna cuts him off. "I'm sorry, Professor. I don't mean to be impertinent. My father wouldn't like that; he brought me up with better manners than that."
"It's quite all right, Miss Lovegood."
"What I mean to say is that I feel certain Sirius Black will return one day. The star wouldn't shine as brightly, otherwise."
Remus can't even find it in himself to be sad; the numbness has taken over everything lately. All he can do is offer Luna a bit of resignation. "I appreciate that you think so, Luna, but I find it highly doubtful."
To Remus' surprise, Luna again smiles brightly. "Of course you do, Professor. Otherwise you wouldn't be you!"
Remus is saved from coming up with a suitable reply by Molly Weasley, who is calling throughout the Burrow that the bride and groom are about to take their leave.
***
Three days later, Remus goes back to the werewolf pack.
He doesn't have to, not really. Dumbledore is dead, and his requests and orders with him. The Order is in disarray, and in a state of limbo; no one knows for sure what their next move will be. Most of all, since that night at Hogwarts, Remus is known as a member of the Order to Greyback and the rest of the pack. That makes it not only unnecessary, but also dangerous, to return, and Remus knows this, though he is not surprised to notice that he doesn't much care what happens to his own life.
Still, there is something he has to do. So he goes up toward the shore during a time he knows Greyback will not be with the pack, knows most of the males will not be there, and finds the latest encampment. It is fourteen days until the next full moon, and everyone there is human, though Remus is cynical enough to wonder if that makes any real difference.
He skirts the perimeter of the camp, and it is not lost on him that his actions resemble those of a predator seeking prey. He hides when someone approaches, and he walks around quietly searching when no one is looking. The men are out, hunting for food, and if they are hunting for something else, Remus doesn't think about it too much because of the cold, heavy knot the idea forms in his stomach. There are few women in the camp; most of them are young, swayed by fury and fear toward Greyback's ideology.
There are, however, a great many children. Lost, abandoned, or thrown out by their own families because of their lycanthropy, they are easy prey for Greyback, who at least provides them with food and minimal shelter. How many of them Greyback turned himself, Remus does not know, nor does he care to know. Far too many, Remus is sure. Even worse, he doesn't want to know how many of their parents Greyback killed in the process.
During his time living with the pack, Remus had easily fallen into the role of the teacher. He had salvaged books wherever and whenever he could find them, and passed them out among the children. He had taught some to read, others basic math and still others simple spells. He knew his activities put him in a precarious position with Greyback, who depended on the children's ignorance in order to keep them with the pack and indoctrinate them with his politics. Remus simply didn't care; if they were ever to find a way out of the pack, they would need the meager skills Remus could provide them. He wishes he could save them all, but he knows that is impossible.
Today, he has come to try to save at least one.
Remus finds her by the small creek that runs through these woods. Small and pale, with long dark hair and big brown eyes, Portia is standing next to the creek, barefoot, attempting to wash both her feet and her shoes, which have become caked in the mud that encrusts the camp. Remus approaches her cautiously; he does not want to startle her, both to save her from the fright and to keep her from raising her voice and alerting others to his presence.
Remus is only slightly surprised when she turns around to face him. "Remus!" she says, loudly enough that Remus winces and puts a finger to his lips. Portia mimics the gesture, putting her own index finger to her lips. Remus can't help but smile, and walks toward her until he's sitting on a rock opposite her.
"You're not supposed to be here, Remus! They're saying terrible things about you!" Even though she's only nine, Remus can't help but question how much she really knows - probably quite a lot.
"I know. I know, Portia. But I wanted to see you," Remus says.
The girl ducks her head out of both pride and embarrassment. "Me?"
"Yes, you." Remus smiles. "I don't have much time, but I wanted to talk to you about something."
"Okay," Portia says cautiously.
"I've talked to my great-aunt, and she is willing to take you in if you'd like a home."
"To leave here?"
"Yes. We can leave right now. My aunt lives in Devonshire, and she's very, very nice. You can live with her, and she'll give you everything you need. In two years you'll be old enough to go to Hogwarts, and I'm sure you'll be allowed to attend."
Portia blinks, her eyes widening to the size of saucers. She appears to think this over for a minute, then asks: "Why can't I just come live with you?"
Remus, who is surprised by the question, feels his jaw drop. Portia must sense his surprise, because she quickly starts speaking. "You don't have to, you know. I just thought . . . I know you can't come live back here, not with what they're saying, and if you're not going to live here, you must be living somewhere else. If you want me to leave the pack, than why can't I just come live with you?"
Remus shakes his head through the lump in his throat. "You're right; I can't come back here to live, and I probably wouldn't even if I could. But . . . I. It wouldn't be fair for you to live with me. I live alone; I don't have a wife, or anyone to really take care of you. I don't have enough money for myself. I couldn't support you, make sure you had food, clothes. Books. But my aunt, she can do all of those things. And I'd come to visit you, often." Even as he says the words, he can hear the echo of the mantra he's been saying for months, to a girl quite older than this: too poor, too old, too dangerous.
Portia's face falls, and she looks down at the ground. "I don't want to go if it isn't with you," she says.
Remus stifles a sigh. "But my aunt, she can give you . . . " he pauses. "A life."
"I have a life here. People take care of me. I have friends."
Remus thinks, thinks of what Portia does have here: rags for clothes. Dirty shoes with holes in them. A fierce intellect that only has two books to read, ones she's already read three dozen times. Children her own age, who either mock her, or fear her, or have them take care of her. Already her young eyes are gathering lines around them from fatigue, and from needing glasses she will never get.
Remus thinks of the time they spent together. How she asked him questions about absolutely everything. How she slipped her hand into his when they went walking to explore the plants and flora in the woods; how it felt, warm and dry and small in his own. How he'd give her some of his own food when he could, because she never had enough. The sound of her laugh, because she actually found his jokes funny. The power that rippled from her when she performed even a simple spell, with a fallen stick as a wand.
His heart breaks, and he doesn't understand why he can't fulfill her request, only that he can't.
When he looks back up at her, he knows she already knows his answer. When he looks into her eyes, he knows also that she will not trade a life she knows for uncertainty, not when she had to do it once already, after Greyback turned her and her parents left her chained to a tree not far from the edge of Hogsmeade.
As he walks away from the camp, Remus is sure that if he were Portia, he wouldn't have been able to make the trade, either. He never has.
***
Four days after that, Remus Lupin is standing in the Department of Mysteries with Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, and several Ministry officials. Though the decision was made ages ago, the Ministry has just now gotten around to conducting an official inquest into the battle that occurred in the Department of Mysteries. Remus suspects that Scrimgeour has finally made the inquest official in an attempt to curry favor with Harry, whom he will desperately need on his side now that Dumbledore is gone.
Unfortunately for Scrimgeour, but probably fortunately for Harry, Harry is not here today. Nor are Hermione and Ron, or most of the rest of the Order. Remus was assigned the job of assisting the Ministry, though he finds this incredibly ironic considering his other forms of cooperation with the Ministry, like his Dark Creature registration. Luna and Neville both volunteered to assist him; Remus thinks this is mostly because both of them desperately want to help the Order and need an opportunity to do so. The others might not recognize their assistance with gratitude, but Remus does. He knows what it's like to want to help and not be able to do so.
Neville is calmly and patiently mapping out the positions of various Death Eaters and Order members in a tight huddle with three Ministry officials. Remus had been assisting them by cataloging the various spells, hexes and curses that had been exchanged, and by whom, but he has left the task to Neville, who is both accurate and efficient. The team working with Luna seems to have quickly lost their interest in her, and is now inspecting the walls, floor and ceiling for scorch marks and other signs of magic.
Remus himself, rather predictably, has wandered over to stand in front of the Veil. He considers it, detached, as if he is attempting to choose curtains for his kitchen. It's not even a very thick or heavy material . . . how something that flimsy could take someone away, he'll never know. He supposes it's magic.
Remus is not surprised this time when Luna, who has been circling the Veil, comes up next to him. She is dressed in her Hogwarts robes and uniform; she must think this an official occasion. As she settles next to him, she tilts her head to the left.
"I think someone should go in there and investigate," she says.
Remus glances at the Ministry officials, then shakes his head. "Miss Lovegood, I really don't think that's advisable."
"But don't you think it must be exciting? It could be an entirely different world! Maybe in that dimension, blue is green and green is yellow!" Luna, Merlin bless her, sounds excited.
"Luna, there's nothing there but . . ." Remus pauses.
"Death?" Luna finishes for him.
Remus nods.
But Luna shakes her head. "I really don't think so, Professor. Not when it glows like that. Can't you see the glow? It's orange. Well, more like a tangerine."
Remus really can not and says so.
"Well. If you can't see it, then you shouldn't be the one to go inside." Luna states this as matter-of-factly as if she were saying the sky is blue.
"I don't think anyone should go inside of it, Luna." Remus has put on his teacher voice, command and authority sounding out through each syllable.
Once again, to his surprise, Luna laughs. "That's because you don't believe," she says, and she is up the dais and in front of the Veil before Remus can open his mouth to speak, much less move.
When he can speak, Remus shouts, "Luna!" and the Ministry officials and Neville all turn to look. The closest Ministry official bounds up the stairs, but Luna has already placed a hand through the Veil. She does not disappear, but her hand does. Neville gasps.
Luna giggles.
And giggles some more. Finally she says, "Stop that! Your tongue is wet, and it tickles!" before reaching even further into the Veil, up to the elbow. She pauses for a moment, a look of concentration on her face, before it becomes clear that she is withdrawing her arm from the Veil, bit by bit. When her hand finally emerges, she is holding a big, black dog by the scruff of the neck.
Padfoot.
Remus' heart stops. It seems like ages before it starts beating again.
Luna turns around, and beams at Remus and the rest of the party. "Look what I found," she says.
***
An hour later, Remus is walking down a street in London with Padfoot firmly in hand with a collar and a leash. The Ministry had released the dog into his custody after Remus had volunteered. He had to agree to bring the dog back to the Ministry in two days for official testing, since one particularly eager Ministry official insisted they had a living specimen, and therefore proof, of The Grim. Remus, of course, is not planning on ever taking Padfoot back, but he had signed the paperwork anyway just so they could leave.
Finally, he can stand it no longer, and as they approach an alleyway between two buildings, Remus whispers, "Are you not changing because you're afraid of being caught, or because you can't?" He pulls the dog into the alleyway, and Padfoot looks up at him with large grey eyes.
Large grey eyes that are suddenly human instead of canine, and there is Sirius Black, fully human and looking exactly the same as he did on that night more than a year ago, down to his mismatched socks.
Remus doesn't, can't, speak for a long time. When he does, he says, "Luna was right. I don't believe."
Sirius quirks a smile. "Have you ever?"
Remus shakes his head. "No," he says simply.
***
It is late into the night when the distinctive crack of Apparition sounds in the living room of Remus' tiny flat. Remus is in the bedroom, on his back on the bed, staring at the ceiling after drinking what must have been his twenty sixth cup of tea since Sirius went to see Harry. His hands are shaking, and he doesn't think it's because of the tea. He looks up as Sirius walks into the bedroom carrying his own cup of tea. Sirius has done the same thing at least a thousand times before, but this time Remus' hand shakes, and he has to look away.
Finally he manages to ask how Harry is, and Sirius smiles ruefully.
"He seems to be doing okay. The boy is awfully resilient. And so much taller," Sirius adds thoughtfully.
"He's almost seventeen now."
"I know." Sirius considers. "He won't be as tall as James was, though."
"No."
Sirius sits down on the other side of the bed. "Frankly, it's not Harry I'm worried about at the moment."
"No?" This time, it's a question.
"No," Sirius says, taking a sip of tea.
"Well, it's not every day that a man comes back from the dead."
"Supposedly from the dead."
"You lost a year."
Sirius shrugs. "I'm not exactly happy about it. It's . . . disconcerting. A lot has happened . . . Dumbledore." Sirius stops, looks down.
Remus suddenly finds the pattern on his ceiling much more interesting than before.
There is silence for a few long minutes, before Sirius goes on. "But. Well. I lost twelve years once before. I'll get over one."
Remus looks up at Sirius, not sure if the other man is joking or being serious. From the look on his face, he's serious.
"It's not that simple."
"Of course not," Sirius answers. "Not in some ways. In some ways it is. I'll have Harry with me; I'll have my freedom." He pauses. "I'll have you." Remus nods.
Sirius sets his tea on the nightstand, and rolls onto his side on the bed, facing Remus. "Not simple for you, though," he says.
Remus shakes his head, unable, for the moment, to say anything.
"Tonks . . . Greyback . . ." Sirius says.
Remus looks at the ceiling, not at Sirius. "Tonks was . . . peer pressure," he finally decides. Sirius laughs, but Remus frowns. "I'm serious."
"I know," Sirius says softly, but keeps grinning anyway.
"Greyback was . . . " Remus can't decide between a nightmare or an assignment. He doesn't finish the sentence.
"Moony. Look at me," Sirius says.
Remus turns his head on the pillow. "I thought you were dead," he blurts out.
Sirius' eyes turn into the color of rain. "I know."
"I thought. You were gone. I'd finally found you again, and you were - " Sirius uses the pause to put his hand on Remus' hip and pull, asking Remus wordlessly to roll over and face him. Remus does, and they are practically nose to nose.
When Remus doesn't begin talking again, Sirius closes the gap between them, and kisses him. Remus responds eagerly, his lips tingling, as if the blood flow has finally returned. Sirius kisses him long and hard, mouth open but not demanding. Sirius tastes of tea, and Remus wonders if he does, too. When they finally break apart, Remus is breathing heavily, his hand cupping Sirius' neck; Sirius' hands are cupping his face.
"There was a girl," Remus says in a rush. Sirius raises his eyebrows, but keeps holding Remus' face in his hands. "Nine years old, a part of Greyback's pack. Merlin, did she look like you. I didn't even notice until now . . . her parents abandoned her after Greyback bit her, turned her. She was tied up for three days until Greyback found her. She was four years old. I taught her some things, reading, spells." Remus can feel Sirius' breath on his cheek, steady and soft. "After I left the pack, I asked her. I talked to. My great-aunt was willing to foster her. I asked her if she wanted to go live with my aunt, and she said no. She wanted to live with me. I said no."
"Remus - " Sirius starts to speak, but Remus cuts him off.
"I think she knew I would, but she asked anyway. She knew I'd say no . . . because we're . . . we're the same." Remus pauses, catches his breath, feels Sirius' thumbs stroking his cheekbones. "But she was still brave enough to ask. I'm not that brave anymore."
In answer, Sirius kisses him again. When he pulls away, Sirius places three kisses beside Remus' ear, and whispers, "Yes, you are. You just have to remember: You're a Gryffindor."
Remus laughs, and his legs and Sirius' twine as if of their own accord. Sirius pulls back long enough to say again, "You just have to remember," before they stop speaking entirely.
***
In the wee small hours of the new morning, as they are settling themselves into blankets and warmth and curves of bodies, Sirius whispers, as Remus is on the edge of sleep, "We'll find you again, and we'll find your girl. That I promise you."
Remus, for the first time in years, perhaps ever, believes.
Fandom/Pairing: HP; Remus/Sirius
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing you might recognize. All belongs to JKR.
Summary: Remus Lupin; two girls; one Sirius Black: You've got to have faith.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Author's Notes/Warnings: 3,876 words. No real warnings. Bring Back Black fic. Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. *g* Post-HBP, and is HBP compliant. Quick beta, so all remaining mistakes are my own.
It is Luna who first utters the idea, the night of Bill and Fleur's wedding.
Remus is standing on the back porch of the Burrow. He's been standing and standing, for what feels like hours now, just remaining still and quiet underneath a blanket of shimmering stars. It feels like the first bit of peace he's had in weeks, maybe months, and so he drinks it in, the bits of his hair ruffled by the breeze the only part of him that's moving.
He's not overly surprised when someone joins him outside. The house has been full to the brim; people had overflowed into the garden all day, but it is a rather chilly night even for July, and the remaining guests are choosing the warmth of the fire over the summer breeze. Remus can barely hear the footsteps come up behind him, then beside him, and he is surprised to see the blonde hair and small frame of Luna Lovegood. She is wearing what Remus' mother would have affectionately called a garb: a lightweight sundress of a shockingly violet color; bright yellow rain boots with hot pink butterflies and rhinestones for decoration; a floppy brimmed straw hat adorned with four fabric red roses and five plastic irises. Her hair is down, and it spreads out in white-yellow waves from underneath her hat.
Remus smiles at her, a real, genuine smile at the sight of her, and says, "Hello, Miss Lovegood."
The smile Luna turns on him is as bright as the sun. "Good evening, Professor Lupin." She pauses. "Lovely night, isn't it?"
"Indeed," Remus answers.
There's a small silence as Luna tilts her head up toward the stars. "Good thing there aren't any Muffleqal in the sky tonight," Luna says.
Remus copies Luna's movement and looks up at the sky. "Indeed," he says again, seriously, even though he has no earthly idea what she's talking about. He doesn't really need to, he thinks.
"They're an awful portent," Luna continues. "I'd hate to see any flying by on Bill and Fleur's wedding night."
Remus murmurs a noise of assent, and Luna's brow unfurrows, as if he's assured her of something, though what it is he doesn't know.
There is more silence until Luna breaks it, saying, "The Dog Star is extremely bright tonight, don't you think so?"
Remus stiffens, and doesn't answer.
Luna doesn't wait for a reply. "It shines exceedingly bright; I think it must light up the entire universe." She stops for a brief moment. "I think he must be trying to tell us something, maybe that he's waiting."
"Who's waiting?" Remus manages, once again the very model of composure.
"Why, Sirius Black, of course!" Luna exclaims, turning to Remus in surprise. "I thought you would have known that, Professor Lupin!"
"Luna . . ." Remus starts, unsure of what he is exactly going to say, as he can't quite say the words Sirius Black is dead, though that's what he means.
Luna waves her right hand in a gesture of dismissal. "Oh, pollywogs," she says. "The Veil is in the Department of Mysteries, Professor. There's really very little known about it; I am quite sure Mr. Black is probably carrying on some very important bit of research even as we speak. There's to be an inquest next week, you know. Perhaps he'll share things with us then."
For all her eccentricity, Remus catches a glimpse again of why Luna was sorted into Ravenclaw: the inflection of her words "research" and "inquest" carry more excitement in them than Remus hears in anyone aside from Hermione Granger.
Remus starts to speak again, but Luna cuts him off. "I'm sorry, Professor. I don't mean to be impertinent. My father wouldn't like that; he brought me up with better manners than that."
"It's quite all right, Miss Lovegood."
"What I mean to say is that I feel certain Sirius Black will return one day. The star wouldn't shine as brightly, otherwise."
Remus can't even find it in himself to be sad; the numbness has taken over everything lately. All he can do is offer Luna a bit of resignation. "I appreciate that you think so, Luna, but I find it highly doubtful."
To Remus' surprise, Luna again smiles brightly. "Of course you do, Professor. Otherwise you wouldn't be you!"
Remus is saved from coming up with a suitable reply by Molly Weasley, who is calling throughout the Burrow that the bride and groom are about to take their leave.
***
Three days later, Remus goes back to the werewolf pack.
He doesn't have to, not really. Dumbledore is dead, and his requests and orders with him. The Order is in disarray, and in a state of limbo; no one knows for sure what their next move will be. Most of all, since that night at Hogwarts, Remus is known as a member of the Order to Greyback and the rest of the pack. That makes it not only unnecessary, but also dangerous, to return, and Remus knows this, though he is not surprised to notice that he doesn't much care what happens to his own life.
Still, there is something he has to do. So he goes up toward the shore during a time he knows Greyback will not be with the pack, knows most of the males will not be there, and finds the latest encampment. It is fourteen days until the next full moon, and everyone there is human, though Remus is cynical enough to wonder if that makes any real difference.
He skirts the perimeter of the camp, and it is not lost on him that his actions resemble those of a predator seeking prey. He hides when someone approaches, and he walks around quietly searching when no one is looking. The men are out, hunting for food, and if they are hunting for something else, Remus doesn't think about it too much because of the cold, heavy knot the idea forms in his stomach. There are few women in the camp; most of them are young, swayed by fury and fear toward Greyback's ideology.
There are, however, a great many children. Lost, abandoned, or thrown out by their own families because of their lycanthropy, they are easy prey for Greyback, who at least provides them with food and minimal shelter. How many of them Greyback turned himself, Remus does not know, nor does he care to know. Far too many, Remus is sure. Even worse, he doesn't want to know how many of their parents Greyback killed in the process.
During his time living with the pack, Remus had easily fallen into the role of the teacher. He had salvaged books wherever and whenever he could find them, and passed them out among the children. He had taught some to read, others basic math and still others simple spells. He knew his activities put him in a precarious position with Greyback, who depended on the children's ignorance in order to keep them with the pack and indoctrinate them with his politics. Remus simply didn't care; if they were ever to find a way out of the pack, they would need the meager skills Remus could provide them. He wishes he could save them all, but he knows that is impossible.
Today, he has come to try to save at least one.
Remus finds her by the small creek that runs through these woods. Small and pale, with long dark hair and big brown eyes, Portia is standing next to the creek, barefoot, attempting to wash both her feet and her shoes, which have become caked in the mud that encrusts the camp. Remus approaches her cautiously; he does not want to startle her, both to save her from the fright and to keep her from raising her voice and alerting others to his presence.
Remus is only slightly surprised when she turns around to face him. "Remus!" she says, loudly enough that Remus winces and puts a finger to his lips. Portia mimics the gesture, putting her own index finger to her lips. Remus can't help but smile, and walks toward her until he's sitting on a rock opposite her.
"You're not supposed to be here, Remus! They're saying terrible things about you!" Even though she's only nine, Remus can't help but question how much she really knows - probably quite a lot.
"I know. I know, Portia. But I wanted to see you," Remus says.
The girl ducks her head out of both pride and embarrassment. "Me?"
"Yes, you." Remus smiles. "I don't have much time, but I wanted to talk to you about something."
"Okay," Portia says cautiously.
"I've talked to my great-aunt, and she is willing to take you in if you'd like a home."
"To leave here?"
"Yes. We can leave right now. My aunt lives in Devonshire, and she's very, very nice. You can live with her, and she'll give you everything you need. In two years you'll be old enough to go to Hogwarts, and I'm sure you'll be allowed to attend."
Portia blinks, her eyes widening to the size of saucers. She appears to think this over for a minute, then asks: "Why can't I just come live with you?"
Remus, who is surprised by the question, feels his jaw drop. Portia must sense his surprise, because she quickly starts speaking. "You don't have to, you know. I just thought . . . I know you can't come live back here, not with what they're saying, and if you're not going to live here, you must be living somewhere else. If you want me to leave the pack, than why can't I just come live with you?"
Remus shakes his head through the lump in his throat. "You're right; I can't come back here to live, and I probably wouldn't even if I could. But . . . I. It wouldn't be fair for you to live with me. I live alone; I don't have a wife, or anyone to really take care of you. I don't have enough money for myself. I couldn't support you, make sure you had food, clothes. Books. But my aunt, she can do all of those things. And I'd come to visit you, often." Even as he says the words, he can hear the echo of the mantra he's been saying for months, to a girl quite older than this: too poor, too old, too dangerous.
Portia's face falls, and she looks down at the ground. "I don't want to go if it isn't with you," she says.
Remus stifles a sigh. "But my aunt, she can give you . . . " he pauses. "A life."
"I have a life here. People take care of me. I have friends."
Remus thinks, thinks of what Portia does have here: rags for clothes. Dirty shoes with holes in them. A fierce intellect that only has two books to read, ones she's already read three dozen times. Children her own age, who either mock her, or fear her, or have them take care of her. Already her young eyes are gathering lines around them from fatigue, and from needing glasses she will never get.
Remus thinks of the time they spent together. How she asked him questions about absolutely everything. How she slipped her hand into his when they went walking to explore the plants and flora in the woods; how it felt, warm and dry and small in his own. How he'd give her some of his own food when he could, because she never had enough. The sound of her laugh, because she actually found his jokes funny. The power that rippled from her when she performed even a simple spell, with a fallen stick as a wand.
His heart breaks, and he doesn't understand why he can't fulfill her request, only that he can't.
When he looks back up at her, he knows she already knows his answer. When he looks into her eyes, he knows also that she will not trade a life she knows for uncertainty, not when she had to do it once already, after Greyback turned her and her parents left her chained to a tree not far from the edge of Hogsmeade.
As he walks away from the camp, Remus is sure that if he were Portia, he wouldn't have been able to make the trade, either. He never has.
***
Four days after that, Remus Lupin is standing in the Department of Mysteries with Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, and several Ministry officials. Though the decision was made ages ago, the Ministry has just now gotten around to conducting an official inquest into the battle that occurred in the Department of Mysteries. Remus suspects that Scrimgeour has finally made the inquest official in an attempt to curry favor with Harry, whom he will desperately need on his side now that Dumbledore is gone.
Unfortunately for Scrimgeour, but probably fortunately for Harry, Harry is not here today. Nor are Hermione and Ron, or most of the rest of the Order. Remus was assigned the job of assisting the Ministry, though he finds this incredibly ironic considering his other forms of cooperation with the Ministry, like his Dark Creature registration. Luna and Neville both volunteered to assist him; Remus thinks this is mostly because both of them desperately want to help the Order and need an opportunity to do so. The others might not recognize their assistance with gratitude, but Remus does. He knows what it's like to want to help and not be able to do so.
Neville is calmly and patiently mapping out the positions of various Death Eaters and Order members in a tight huddle with three Ministry officials. Remus had been assisting them by cataloging the various spells, hexes and curses that had been exchanged, and by whom, but he has left the task to Neville, who is both accurate and efficient. The team working with Luna seems to have quickly lost their interest in her, and is now inspecting the walls, floor and ceiling for scorch marks and other signs of magic.
Remus himself, rather predictably, has wandered over to stand in front of the Veil. He considers it, detached, as if he is attempting to choose curtains for his kitchen. It's not even a very thick or heavy material . . . how something that flimsy could take someone away, he'll never know. He supposes it's magic.
Remus is not surprised this time when Luna, who has been circling the Veil, comes up next to him. She is dressed in her Hogwarts robes and uniform; she must think this an official occasion. As she settles next to him, she tilts her head to the left.
"I think someone should go in there and investigate," she says.
Remus glances at the Ministry officials, then shakes his head. "Miss Lovegood, I really don't think that's advisable."
"But don't you think it must be exciting? It could be an entirely different world! Maybe in that dimension, blue is green and green is yellow!" Luna, Merlin bless her, sounds excited.
"Luna, there's nothing there but . . ." Remus pauses.
"Death?" Luna finishes for him.
Remus nods.
But Luna shakes her head. "I really don't think so, Professor. Not when it glows like that. Can't you see the glow? It's orange. Well, more like a tangerine."
Remus really can not and says so.
"Well. If you can't see it, then you shouldn't be the one to go inside." Luna states this as matter-of-factly as if she were saying the sky is blue.
"I don't think anyone should go inside of it, Luna." Remus has put on his teacher voice, command and authority sounding out through each syllable.
Once again, to his surprise, Luna laughs. "That's because you don't believe," she says, and she is up the dais and in front of the Veil before Remus can open his mouth to speak, much less move.
When he can speak, Remus shouts, "Luna!" and the Ministry officials and Neville all turn to look. The closest Ministry official bounds up the stairs, but Luna has already placed a hand through the Veil. She does not disappear, but her hand does. Neville gasps.
Luna giggles.
And giggles some more. Finally she says, "Stop that! Your tongue is wet, and it tickles!" before reaching even further into the Veil, up to the elbow. She pauses for a moment, a look of concentration on her face, before it becomes clear that she is withdrawing her arm from the Veil, bit by bit. When her hand finally emerges, she is holding a big, black dog by the scruff of the neck.
Padfoot.
Remus' heart stops. It seems like ages before it starts beating again.
Luna turns around, and beams at Remus and the rest of the party. "Look what I found," she says.
***
An hour later, Remus is walking down a street in London with Padfoot firmly in hand with a collar and a leash. The Ministry had released the dog into his custody after Remus had volunteered. He had to agree to bring the dog back to the Ministry in two days for official testing, since one particularly eager Ministry official insisted they had a living specimen, and therefore proof, of The Grim. Remus, of course, is not planning on ever taking Padfoot back, but he had signed the paperwork anyway just so they could leave.
Finally, he can stand it no longer, and as they approach an alleyway between two buildings, Remus whispers, "Are you not changing because you're afraid of being caught, or because you can't?" He pulls the dog into the alleyway, and Padfoot looks up at him with large grey eyes.
Large grey eyes that are suddenly human instead of canine, and there is Sirius Black, fully human and looking exactly the same as he did on that night more than a year ago, down to his mismatched socks.
Remus doesn't, can't, speak for a long time. When he does, he says, "Luna was right. I don't believe."
Sirius quirks a smile. "Have you ever?"
Remus shakes his head. "No," he says simply.
***
It is late into the night when the distinctive crack of Apparition sounds in the living room of Remus' tiny flat. Remus is in the bedroom, on his back on the bed, staring at the ceiling after drinking what must have been his twenty sixth cup of tea since Sirius went to see Harry. His hands are shaking, and he doesn't think it's because of the tea. He looks up as Sirius walks into the bedroom carrying his own cup of tea. Sirius has done the same thing at least a thousand times before, but this time Remus' hand shakes, and he has to look away.
Finally he manages to ask how Harry is, and Sirius smiles ruefully.
"He seems to be doing okay. The boy is awfully resilient. And so much taller," Sirius adds thoughtfully.
"He's almost seventeen now."
"I know." Sirius considers. "He won't be as tall as James was, though."
"No."
Sirius sits down on the other side of the bed. "Frankly, it's not Harry I'm worried about at the moment."
"No?" This time, it's a question.
"No," Sirius says, taking a sip of tea.
"Well, it's not every day that a man comes back from the dead."
"Supposedly from the dead."
"You lost a year."
Sirius shrugs. "I'm not exactly happy about it. It's . . . disconcerting. A lot has happened . . . Dumbledore." Sirius stops, looks down.
Remus suddenly finds the pattern on his ceiling much more interesting than before.
There is silence for a few long minutes, before Sirius goes on. "But. Well. I lost twelve years once before. I'll get over one."
Remus looks up at Sirius, not sure if the other man is joking or being serious. From the look on his face, he's serious.
"It's not that simple."
"Of course not," Sirius answers. "Not in some ways. In some ways it is. I'll have Harry with me; I'll have my freedom." He pauses. "I'll have you." Remus nods.
Sirius sets his tea on the nightstand, and rolls onto his side on the bed, facing Remus. "Not simple for you, though," he says.
Remus shakes his head, unable, for the moment, to say anything.
"Tonks . . . Greyback . . ." Sirius says.
Remus looks at the ceiling, not at Sirius. "Tonks was . . . peer pressure," he finally decides. Sirius laughs, but Remus frowns. "I'm serious."
"I know," Sirius says softly, but keeps grinning anyway.
"Greyback was . . . " Remus can't decide between a nightmare or an assignment. He doesn't finish the sentence.
"Moony. Look at me," Sirius says.
Remus turns his head on the pillow. "I thought you were dead," he blurts out.
Sirius' eyes turn into the color of rain. "I know."
"I thought. You were gone. I'd finally found you again, and you were - " Sirius uses the pause to put his hand on Remus' hip and pull, asking Remus wordlessly to roll over and face him. Remus does, and they are practically nose to nose.
When Remus doesn't begin talking again, Sirius closes the gap between them, and kisses him. Remus responds eagerly, his lips tingling, as if the blood flow has finally returned. Sirius kisses him long and hard, mouth open but not demanding. Sirius tastes of tea, and Remus wonders if he does, too. When they finally break apart, Remus is breathing heavily, his hand cupping Sirius' neck; Sirius' hands are cupping his face.
"There was a girl," Remus says in a rush. Sirius raises his eyebrows, but keeps holding Remus' face in his hands. "Nine years old, a part of Greyback's pack. Merlin, did she look like you. I didn't even notice until now . . . her parents abandoned her after Greyback bit her, turned her. She was tied up for three days until Greyback found her. She was four years old. I taught her some things, reading, spells." Remus can feel Sirius' breath on his cheek, steady and soft. "After I left the pack, I asked her. I talked to. My great-aunt was willing to foster her. I asked her if she wanted to go live with my aunt, and she said no. She wanted to live with me. I said no."
"Remus - " Sirius starts to speak, but Remus cuts him off.
"I think she knew I would, but she asked anyway. She knew I'd say no . . . because we're . . . we're the same." Remus pauses, catches his breath, feels Sirius' thumbs stroking his cheekbones. "But she was still brave enough to ask. I'm not that brave anymore."
In answer, Sirius kisses him again. When he pulls away, Sirius places three kisses beside Remus' ear, and whispers, "Yes, you are. You just have to remember: You're a Gryffindor."
Remus laughs, and his legs and Sirius' twine as if of their own accord. Sirius pulls back long enough to say again, "You just have to remember," before they stop speaking entirely.
***
In the wee small hours of the new morning, as they are settling themselves into blankets and warmth and curves of bodies, Sirius whispers, as Remus is on the edge of sleep, "We'll find you again, and we'll find your girl. That I promise you."
Remus, for the first time in years, perhaps ever, believes.