Chapter Six
Chapter One by underlucius
Chapter Two by gehayi
Chapter Three
Chapter Four by underlucius
Chapter Five by baleheadbabe
Chapter Six
“Remus.”
Remus looked up from the glass of whisky he had poured himself upon returning home from Grimmauld Place to see Harry standing in the doorway of his study, hat in hand.
“Hello, Harry.” He waved his wand at the decanter, which tipped and poured a glass of whisky for Harry. “Join me?”
Harry nodded; he looked as though he needed the drink. “I’ve just come from Grimmauld Place.”
“Ah.” Remus finished the whisky in his glass and poured another. The silence stretched, only the sound of two men drinking to be heard for long moments.
“I don’t, I don’t understand!” Harry finally said. “He’s so very different now. As if--"
“As if he were actually the proper heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black for whom his mother had devoutly wished?” Remus said dryly, lips curving into a moue of distaste.
“Yes.”
“Magic carries with it a large cost, Harry. You know this. And the price of coming back from beyond the veil is-- Well, we cannot even conceive of what Sirius has been through. I--”
Harry flung himself from the chair in which he’d slouched, and began to pace, one hand pushing through his already wild hair. Remus thought wistfully of James and Lily, who would have been so proud of their son; he was so much like them both. “Don’t you dare defend him, Remus! Not to me.”
Remus smiled. “I shan’t, Harry. Not at all. But I think we need to face facts. The man we lo-- knew is gone. He has not returned. The man calling himself Sirius Black is a reasonable facsimile -- Sirius as he might have been had he not had your father’s family to guide him as a boy.” Remus took a sip of whisky to fortify himself for the next topic he wished to discuss. “I am far more concerned with the growing number of indiscretions you have allegedly been committing with Ginny Weasley.”
Harry made a disgusted sound and waved his hand dismissively, but Remus was not about to let this go. And it was easier to discuss than anything having to do with Sirius, about whom he found himself thinking far too frequently, most often when he really oughtn’t. It was almost like being a teenager again, those heady days when he’d first fallen in love-- And he was allowing himself to become distracted.
“Yes, Harry. You know what our society is now. You know how such attentions are perceived. You do neither yourself nor Ginny any favors by flirting with scandalous behavior. You will be forgiven; she will be slandered. Either pursue her or let her down gently, but do not continue playing games. It cannot end well.”
Harry slumped down into the chair again and picked up his glass of whisky, knocking it back in one long gulp. He pushed his glasses up on his nose, and gave Remus a smile that wanted to be cocky, but only looked sad.
“We know what we’re doing.”
Remus made a few mental adjustments at that. “Ginny is aware that your feelings are --"
“My feelings are not involved, no. Ginny is a lovely girl. I did nurse an infatuation for her during sixth year, as she did for me. But we have since discovered--" He stood again, poured himself another whisky, and leaned one hip against Remus’s desk, so Remus could see only his profile in the flickering firelight. “My feelings are engaged elsewhere. As are hers. But for the nonce, it seems wisest to continue to allow our society,” and the venom with which he pronounced these last words would have done Sirius -- in any incarnation -- proud, "to believe we are recklessly engaging in a flirtation.” He turned, his face grave. “There are complications. I believe you, of all people, must understand.”
Remus’s skin prickled, instincts warning him to tread carefully. “I?” he asked, no sign of wariness in his voice.
Harry smiled again, and this time it was knowing, dangerous. “Yes, Remus. You.” He tapped his glass, and was silent while its round, bell-like tone filled the air. “How is Nymphadora these days?” he asked when the chime had dissipated.
“I left her well,” Remus replied. It was the truth.
“At Bill and Fleur’s wedding, we all thought you would be next down the aisle, you know. Or, I should say, Ron and I did. Hermione knew better, though. And Ginny, of course. But I expect you know that.”
Remus shifted uncomfortably, his starched collar feeling as if it had suddenly shrunk two sizes, unsure of how he’d lost control of the conversation. “I’m not aware of what Ginny Weasley has to do with my arrangement with Nymphadora.”
“So you admit it is an arrangement, then?” Harry said, pouncing on his poor choice of words like a constable in a penny dreadful. “No finer feelings are involved?”
“Nymphadora is a lovely young woman and I esteem her highly.”
“You esteem her highly,” Harry repeated scornfully. “Those are not the words of a man in love.”
“Not every man is allowed the freedom to express his deepest emotions,” Remus chided, thankful that long years of keeping secrets, of hiding his true self, enabled him to keep his face pleasantly blank. “A man of my condition--"
“Yes, yes, I understand,” Harry said, waving his hand dismissively. “But we both know that being a werewolf isn’t the true furry little problem in your... arrangement, is it?”
“The past is over and done,” Remus answered, voice sharper than he intended, “and has no place in this discussion. In any case, my personal life is certainly none of your business.”
But Harry was relentless. “Have you ever wondered who it is that Nymphadora truly pines for? Have you ever asked her who she sees when she disappears to the ladies’ retiring room, and returns glowing and sated, with the look of a woman who has been lovingly ravished?”
Remus knew when to concede defeat. “I have not. After we decided we shouldn’t truly suit, she asked if I would continue to court her, to protect her from prying eyes and vicious gossips. So we have danced our courtship dance, appearing together often enough to keep unwanted or undedicated suitors away, but not enough to raise Andromeda’s hopes for grandchildren any time soon. I admit, it has been advantageous for me, as well, though lately.…” He turned his glass around in his hands, staring into the amber liquid pooled at the bottom. “If you wish me to step out of the way, Harry, so you may press your suit--"
Harry laughed, then. “Oh, no! It is not I, Remus, nor any man at all, who has won dear Nymphadora’s heart.”
The pieces clicked into place then, and Remus laughed as well. “I see. Young Ginny is unconventional in more ways than one.”
“She’s not the only one.”
They were both startled to see Hermione standing in the doorway, charming the soot from her blue satin cloak.
“Hermione. This is an unexpected, yet charming, surprise.” Remus rose and went to her, bending gracefully over her gloved hand, then moved out of the way so Harry could do the same. He noticed Harry actually pressed his lips to her wrist, left bare by the white kidskin, and he kept hold of her hand after he’d straightened up. She didn’t seem to find this alarming, but curled her fingers round his without thought.
“Good evening, Remus. So sorry to intrude. Ron and I were waiting for you at the theatre, Harry. He said you’d probably broached a bottle of brandy with Sirius and were caught up in reminiscing,” she reached up to cup his cheek in her other hand, “but I was worried.”
“Blast,” Harry said. “I’d forgotten about the damned theatre.” He turned his face to place a kiss on the palm of Hermione’s hand, and it was as if they were in their own little world for a moment, and Remus was looking in through a window. Then Harry seemed to recall he and Hermione were not alone, and abruptly removed himself from Hermione’s hold.
He offered a hand to Remus. “What I’ve told you tonight, I’ve told you in confidence, Remus. I know you’re not a man to bear tales or encourage the gossips,” Hermione glanced from Harry to him, startled, but Harry continued as if he hadn’t noticed, “and I believe you understand the ramifications of the situation far more clearly than anyone else, being as you are, after all, in a similar situation.” That won him another surprised look from Hermione, but Remus had no chance to pursue the matter, as they Disapparated without so much as a ‘good evening.’
Remus sank back down in his chair and stared into the fire, fresh glass of whisky in hand, trying to process everything Harry had told -- and shown -- him tonight.
He thought he might feel very sorry indeed for Ronald Weasley.
***
Ron was slouched in his seat, clearly not enjoying the performance at all and not trying to hide it, when Harry and Hermione arrived with soft pops, within seconds of each other.
“Sorry,” Harry whispered, sitting down on Ron’s left, while Hermione took the seat to his right. They had the box to themselves, but Hermione cast a privacy charm anyway. “Remus and I were having a most interesting conversation.”
“About Sirius?”
“In a way.”
”Did you tell him about us?” Hermione asked. “I really wish you would. I’m sure he’d be supportive. After all, he must understand--"
“I did not,” Harry said, cutting her off. He took Ron’s hand. “I did reveal Ginny’s situation, though. Hermione, you were right." She sniffed, as if to say, “Of course.” “He’s not nursing a tendré for Tonks, so no feelings will be hurt on that score, no matter what happens now. He’s trying to hide it, but I believe he’s still wearing the willow for Sirius.”
”The poor dear, of course he is,” Hermione said, taking Ron’s other hand. “Anyone could see it, really. We must figure out what happened to Sirius to change him so utterly.”
Harry nodded, determined. “Yes. Yes, we must. And not just for Remus’s sake.” He knew that with Hermione and Ron helping him, he could do anything. And to get his godfather back, he decided he would.
***
Thanks to hiddendaze for the speedy beta! All errors are mine.
*
Chapter Two by gehayi
Chapter Three
Chapter Four by underlucius
Chapter Five by baleheadbabe
Chapter Six
“Remus.”
Remus looked up from the glass of whisky he had poured himself upon returning home from Grimmauld Place to see Harry standing in the doorway of his study, hat in hand.
“Hello, Harry.” He waved his wand at the decanter, which tipped and poured a glass of whisky for Harry. “Join me?”
Harry nodded; he looked as though he needed the drink. “I’ve just come from Grimmauld Place.”
“Ah.” Remus finished the whisky in his glass and poured another. The silence stretched, only the sound of two men drinking to be heard for long moments.
“I don’t, I don’t understand!” Harry finally said. “He’s so very different now. As if--"
“As if he were actually the proper heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black for whom his mother had devoutly wished?” Remus said dryly, lips curving into a moue of distaste.
“Yes.”
“Magic carries with it a large cost, Harry. You know this. And the price of coming back from beyond the veil is-- Well, we cannot even conceive of what Sirius has been through. I--”
Harry flung himself from the chair in which he’d slouched, and began to pace, one hand pushing through his already wild hair. Remus thought wistfully of James and Lily, who would have been so proud of their son; he was so much like them both. “Don’t you dare defend him, Remus! Not to me.”
Remus smiled. “I shan’t, Harry. Not at all. But I think we need to face facts. The man we lo-- knew is gone. He has not returned. The man calling himself Sirius Black is a reasonable facsimile -- Sirius as he might have been had he not had your father’s family to guide him as a boy.” Remus took a sip of whisky to fortify himself for the next topic he wished to discuss. “I am far more concerned with the growing number of indiscretions you have allegedly been committing with Ginny Weasley.”
Harry made a disgusted sound and waved his hand dismissively, but Remus was not about to let this go. And it was easier to discuss than anything having to do with Sirius, about whom he found himself thinking far too frequently, most often when he really oughtn’t. It was almost like being a teenager again, those heady days when he’d first fallen in love-- And he was allowing himself to become distracted.
“Yes, Harry. You know what our society is now. You know how such attentions are perceived. You do neither yourself nor Ginny any favors by flirting with scandalous behavior. You will be forgiven; she will be slandered. Either pursue her or let her down gently, but do not continue playing games. It cannot end well.”
Harry slumped down into the chair again and picked up his glass of whisky, knocking it back in one long gulp. He pushed his glasses up on his nose, and gave Remus a smile that wanted to be cocky, but only looked sad.
“We know what we’re doing.”
Remus made a few mental adjustments at that. “Ginny is aware that your feelings are --"
“My feelings are not involved, no. Ginny is a lovely girl. I did nurse an infatuation for her during sixth year, as she did for me. But we have since discovered--" He stood again, poured himself another whisky, and leaned one hip against Remus’s desk, so Remus could see only his profile in the flickering firelight. “My feelings are engaged elsewhere. As are hers. But for the nonce, it seems wisest to continue to allow our society,” and the venom with which he pronounced these last words would have done Sirius -- in any incarnation -- proud, "to believe we are recklessly engaging in a flirtation.” He turned, his face grave. “There are complications. I believe you, of all people, must understand.”
Remus’s skin prickled, instincts warning him to tread carefully. “I?” he asked, no sign of wariness in his voice.
Harry smiled again, and this time it was knowing, dangerous. “Yes, Remus. You.” He tapped his glass, and was silent while its round, bell-like tone filled the air. “How is Nymphadora these days?” he asked when the chime had dissipated.
“I left her well,” Remus replied. It was the truth.
“At Bill and Fleur’s wedding, we all thought you would be next down the aisle, you know. Or, I should say, Ron and I did. Hermione knew better, though. And Ginny, of course. But I expect you know that.”
Remus shifted uncomfortably, his starched collar feeling as if it had suddenly shrunk two sizes, unsure of how he’d lost control of the conversation. “I’m not aware of what Ginny Weasley has to do with my arrangement with Nymphadora.”
“So you admit it is an arrangement, then?” Harry said, pouncing on his poor choice of words like a constable in a penny dreadful. “No finer feelings are involved?”
“Nymphadora is a lovely young woman and I esteem her highly.”
“You esteem her highly,” Harry repeated scornfully. “Those are not the words of a man in love.”
“Not every man is allowed the freedom to express his deepest emotions,” Remus chided, thankful that long years of keeping secrets, of hiding his true self, enabled him to keep his face pleasantly blank. “A man of my condition--"
“Yes, yes, I understand,” Harry said, waving his hand dismissively. “But we both know that being a werewolf isn’t the true furry little problem in your... arrangement, is it?”
“The past is over and done,” Remus answered, voice sharper than he intended, “and has no place in this discussion. In any case, my personal life is certainly none of your business.”
But Harry was relentless. “Have you ever wondered who it is that Nymphadora truly pines for? Have you ever asked her who she sees when she disappears to the ladies’ retiring room, and returns glowing and sated, with the look of a woman who has been lovingly ravished?”
Remus knew when to concede defeat. “I have not. After we decided we shouldn’t truly suit, she asked if I would continue to court her, to protect her from prying eyes and vicious gossips. So we have danced our courtship dance, appearing together often enough to keep unwanted or undedicated suitors away, but not enough to raise Andromeda’s hopes for grandchildren any time soon. I admit, it has been advantageous for me, as well, though lately.…” He turned his glass around in his hands, staring into the amber liquid pooled at the bottom. “If you wish me to step out of the way, Harry, so you may press your suit--"
Harry laughed, then. “Oh, no! It is not I, Remus, nor any man at all, who has won dear Nymphadora’s heart.”
The pieces clicked into place then, and Remus laughed as well. “I see. Young Ginny is unconventional in more ways than one.”
“She’s not the only one.”
They were both startled to see Hermione standing in the doorway, charming the soot from her blue satin cloak.
“Hermione. This is an unexpected, yet charming, surprise.” Remus rose and went to her, bending gracefully over her gloved hand, then moved out of the way so Harry could do the same. He noticed Harry actually pressed his lips to her wrist, left bare by the white kidskin, and he kept hold of her hand after he’d straightened up. She didn’t seem to find this alarming, but curled her fingers round his without thought.
“Good evening, Remus. So sorry to intrude. Ron and I were waiting for you at the theatre, Harry. He said you’d probably broached a bottle of brandy with Sirius and were caught up in reminiscing,” she reached up to cup his cheek in her other hand, “but I was worried.”
“Blast,” Harry said. “I’d forgotten about the damned theatre.” He turned his face to place a kiss on the palm of Hermione’s hand, and it was as if they were in their own little world for a moment, and Remus was looking in through a window. Then Harry seemed to recall he and Hermione were not alone, and abruptly removed himself from Hermione’s hold.
He offered a hand to Remus. “What I’ve told you tonight, I’ve told you in confidence, Remus. I know you’re not a man to bear tales or encourage the gossips,” Hermione glanced from Harry to him, startled, but Harry continued as if he hadn’t noticed, “and I believe you understand the ramifications of the situation far more clearly than anyone else, being as you are, after all, in a similar situation.” That won him another surprised look from Hermione, but Remus had no chance to pursue the matter, as they Disapparated without so much as a ‘good evening.’
Remus sank back down in his chair and stared into the fire, fresh glass of whisky in hand, trying to process everything Harry had told -- and shown -- him tonight.
He thought he might feel very sorry indeed for Ronald Weasley.
***
Ron was slouched in his seat, clearly not enjoying the performance at all and not trying to hide it, when Harry and Hermione arrived with soft pops, within seconds of each other.
“Sorry,” Harry whispered, sitting down on Ron’s left, while Hermione took the seat to his right. They had the box to themselves, but Hermione cast a privacy charm anyway. “Remus and I were having a most interesting conversation.”
“About Sirius?”
“In a way.”
”Did you tell him about us?” Hermione asked. “I really wish you would. I’m sure he’d be supportive. After all, he must understand--"
“I did not,” Harry said, cutting her off. He took Ron’s hand. “I did reveal Ginny’s situation, though. Hermione, you were right." She sniffed, as if to say, “Of course.” “He’s not nursing a tendré for Tonks, so no feelings will be hurt on that score, no matter what happens now. He’s trying to hide it, but I believe he’s still wearing the willow for Sirius.”
”The poor dear, of course he is,” Hermione said, taking Ron’s other hand. “Anyone could see it, really. We must figure out what happened to Sirius to change him so utterly.”
Harry nodded, determined. “Yes. Yes, we must. And not just for Remus’s sake.” He knew that with Hermione and Ron helping him, he could do anything. And to get his godfather back, he decided he would.
***
Thanks to hiddendaze for the speedy beta! All errors are mine.
*