Tainted Love

Hadn't he been a good soldier? Hadn't he sacrificed everything, his friends, his love, his very soul, all for the cause? Hadn't he suffered enough?

Without a doubt Remus Lupin had suffered more than his fair share, more than anyone's fair share. So why, why, was this old man, this war time general, who lost nothing and no one, standing in his way? How dare he say no to such a simple request?

“Mr Lupin the usage of a time turner, in this case, would not only be illegal but extremely ill advised. It would be prudent, I think, for you to return home and rethink this request when you've consumed something other than Firewhisky.”

“Fuck you.”

The condescending smile deepened the crinkles by the old man's eyes in a really punchable way.

“In any case, I must urge you not to dwell on the past. For now, Voldemort is gone. The war is over. Harry lived. There is light in all the dark.”

Albus Dumbledore was a cruel man. This was something Remus had decided long before 1981, long before he joined the Order, back when Si- he had come back to school after their Christmas break, fourth year, a shaking mess with his mother's silencing charm still in effect two whole weeks after it was cast. Remus and James had begged, actually begged, Dumbledore to step in and help, to do anything to help their friend, and he'd callously refused. Sure, yes, he gave a sad smile and nodded understandingly but ultimately it was a refusal. He didn't even bother coming up with an excuse, it just wasn't his problem, he'd said.

So, absolutely it should not have been a shock when his words pierced deep but still Remus flinched. As it always did, the anger bubbled up first, almost to boiling point, a hot rage that had his fingers curling round his wand. Had they been having this conversation five drinks earlier in the night at least one of them would have undoubtedly been leaving hexed. As it was, all that left him was a pained sob.

“Will you at least tell me where he is? Just t’see him, I won't talk to him. Please, Dumbledore. I just want to see them again.”

“Harry is with his family, Remus.” Dumbledore said softly. Again, Remus flinched. There was venom hidden in that softness.

“I was his family.”

God he hated the feeble shake in his voice, the pathetic quiver in his fingers, maybe even more than he hated the silent pity that filled the very air around them. There would be no bend in the professor’s resolve, that much was clear. Maybe Dumbledore spoke again, maybe he didn't, there was no real way for Remus to know as the world lurched and squeezed.

Not for the first time, he was violently sick the second he apparated. Truly, it was a miracle his gin soaked brain had managed to get him within 5 miles of his flat, unsplinched. So really, he couldn't complain about the bile burned throat or the pounding headache. After all, he was still alive, wasn't he? He almost could've laughed at that. There was no need to scourgify the pavement, the rain would wash away any of his mess.

Stumbling a little, he headed off in the direction he was pretty sure would lead to his flat eventually. Even if it didn't, there were worse fates than dying alone and cold, lost on the streets of Leeds. He could have ended up like Marlene. Screaming and bleeding and then, dead. Or Peter. Poor, blown into smithereens Peter. Or Frank or Alice or Dorcas or Emmeline or Gid or Fab or James or Lily. James and Lily. He had to take a deep breath, then. Just to get past the pain of it. Not Mary though. She was alive, wasn't she? Stupid, selfish Mary. Just had to go and obliviate herself, didn't she. Just had to leave him. Entirely and completely alone. That betrayal had hurt, almost as much as his. He'd let her know, of course, with the not so subtle way he'd screamed at her, thrown furniture, cried, sobbed, begged her not to leave him. Not that she'd cared.

“I loved you Remus, I loved all of you. I just can't love you enough to keep remembering.”

She'd kissed his cheek then, still smiling even when he pushed her away.

A week later, he bumped into her. She was in a rush, obviously on her way to work if the bright green, ill fitting polo shirt hadn't been a dead giveaway. Remus had judged her then. How could she go from the world of magic, being a powerful witch with unending rivers of knowledge to this? A Muggle. Working a shitty supermarket job surrounded by other muggles, all living the same relentless, shitty life. There was still a friendly smile, Mary was rarely without a smile for a stranger, but her eyes were glazed, blank. She didn't know him. She didn't remember how they'd cheered together at quidditch matches, or how they'd roared with laughter when a nervous third year Lily was forced to kiss James in a raucous game of spin the bottle. Definitely she didn't remember how everyone they'd ever loved was dead and gone. Or as good as.

“Sorry, darl! I'm late for the bus!” She'd shouted over her shoulder with a grin and Remus thought he might have understood it then, for a second. How nice it must be to be worried about missing a bus.

He didn't understand it now. Now he wished he'd grabbed her wand and taken her to St Mungos or Hogwarts, just anywhere. Somewhere he could've kept at least her safe. He did love Mary. Though now he sort of hated her. Sort of hated everyone, actually. Especially Dumbledore. Fucking Dumbledore. Who was he to stop Remus? It's not like he wanted a lot. Maybe one last conversation with Peter, a practical joke with James, just one more hug from Lily. Nothing from him. That wasn't asking a lot, he knew it wasn't. So maybe if Dumbledore wouldn't help, he'd have to find his own way back. Time turner or not. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done a tricky bit of magic, he designed the map didn't he? Not alone but still, he'd contributed a fair amount. James would've said the bulk of it, actually. And he'd spent hours, he and Lily, poring over textbooks in their sixth year, half a bottle of Witches Brew between them as they tried to pin down a spell that would let them go back to watch the Beatles first ever show in the Cavern Club. They hadn't been successful, of course, Lily's declaration of love for George Harrison and James’ jealous confusion left them all in stomach clenching fits of laughter. Naturally, the books were tossed to one side and forgotten. But somewhere a tiny, niggling memory lingered because Remus was sure he'd seen something, not a full spell but an asterisked note in the margin of one of the books, something he'd barely noticed at the time but now, significantly drunker than he had been that first time, he was sure was the key. The key back to them.