Chapter 36
Harry was finding himself getting into more and more trouble throughout the year. Detentions were nothing new to him, but he usually had a vaguely valiant excuse for them. This year, however, they were fed by nothing but anger. He cast his mind back over his list of misdemeanors, ranging from rudeness to staff, failure to bother with homework, and most recently - attacking another student. Of course, the staff in question was Snape, and the student was Malfoy, but recent events weren’t exactly sitting well with him. If only he could have spoken to Remus about it, maybe it would have been easier. But it felt like Remus had retreated somewhere Harry could not follow.
He hadn’t even congratulated Harry on his OWLs - not that they were important, really, with everything else going on, but still. Tarun and Kitty had been thrilled, even with his ‘D’ in History of Magic, which according to Kitty meant that he had told the truth. Harry knew, too, that Remus wasn’t allowed on the grounds to watch any of the Quidditch games he captained, but an acknowledgement would have been nice. It felt like Quidditch was the only place he felt normal. He liked the pure, physical pressure of it. And he liked that Ginny was there, too, although he wasn’t too sure what to do with that feeling. It wasn’t like he could talk to Ron about it.
It wasn’t until a week before Christmas break that Remus reappeared in his life. Professor McGonagall called him into her office, for what he assumed would be questioning for his continued lack of transfiguration progress, but it turned out to be an early dismissal for the term.
I think it would do you good.” She said, surveying him through the spectacles. Harry’s stomach still swooped whenever Mcgonagall was disappointed in him, and his mind instantly reached out towards his Hogsmeade trip last week, where he’d encountered and subsequently threatened Mundungus Fletcher, who was trying to sell Sirius’ possessions. The threats felt justified to Harry at the time - if anything, not enough - but his conviction faltered somewhat under McGonagall’s direct gaze.
“You can collect your things and meet me in the hall. I will take you to the boundary, where Remus will be waiting.” She looked at him again, not unkindly. “I will see you again in the New Year Potter. Mind you have a think over your break.”
*
Harry and Remus sat silently in the flat.
“They’re my last connection to him.”
Remus, who had watched Mundungus inspect the Black kitchenware frequently, was not surprised.
“The things in that house… they’re not his things, really.” He had an idea of something that might help. “Come here, look at these things. This is the jacket he wore, he got it in his last year of school in a muggle shop - thought it was the coolest thing ever. So did I!”
Remus smiled, thinking of how Sirius had practically lived in that thing, to the point of almost melting inside of it in the Summer. Harry touched the sleeve uncertainly; it felt cold to him. Remus moved on, jumping from place to place in the flat erratically. .
“This is our chess board - it’s enchanted so it connects with any board we play on when we were apart. And this… this is where he put his head through the plaster one night when we came home drunk”
“And you didn’t fix it?” Harry was interested now.
“No, I wanted him to remember he was an idiot. So I framed it instead. These are his favourite books, these stains on the table are from his coffee mugs, because he never used a coaster and neither of us bothered much with many cleaning spells… And here is his bundle of every letter you ever wrote to him while he was on the run.”
Harry sat down with the letters on the right side of the couch. Remus took his place in the good armchair that supported his back. The left side of the couch remained glaringly empty.
“This should have been our home,” said Remus. “The three of us.”
With that, the mood was sobered again, and they sat silently, each lost in their own thoughts.
Molly had invited both of them over for Christmas. Neither really wanted to go, but thought it would be ‘good’ for the other, so they forced smiles and wrapped presents and set off. And really, it was good for them.
Christmas with Molly was an event beyond either of their wildest imaginations.
On Christmas Eve, Harry approached Mr. Weasley nervously. Here, he thought, was an adult he could trust.
“I don’t trust Snape.”
Mr. Weasley started, and turned towards Harry with a serious expression. Harry waited it out. After a moment, Mr. Weasley nodded.
“Well, Harry - that’s a rather serious accusation. I know you don’t see eye to eye, but blimey -”
Remus walked into the room. Desperate in the face of dismissal from his most probable ally, Harry reached out.
“You know, Remus! What Snape was like at school - the pranks he’d pull, what he called my mother!” Harry’s stomach swooped a little thinking of his own recent interactions with Malfoy. “Everyone’s trusting him, I - I think it’s a mistake.”
Remus cut him off.
“Dumbledore trusts him, Harry.” He hated himself for saying it, but he’d made a promise. “And if Dumbledore trusts him, that’s good enough for me.”
Harry stood, his mouth hanging open.
Remus coughed awkwardly, and left the room. He waited until he was safely hidden behind the wall before banging angrily on it. He hung his head. It was a betrayal, and they both knew it.
If they’d parted on better terms that holiday, maybe everything would have turned out differently. Perhaps Harry would have notified Remus when he left the school, or explained what he’d learnt about Malfoy, and the plot would have been uncovered. But Harry was left, once again, feeling totally alone.
Remus dropped Harry back on the Hogwarts express, and returned to an empty home.
Empty… except for a rustling coming from the kitchen. Cautiously, he raised his wand, and stepped, swiftly and silently, straight into Tonks, who was rumaging through his liquor cabinet.
“Christ, Tonks, I nearly hexed you.”
“Sweet that you think you could have managed.” She replied without even looking up. Remus detected a certain haziness about her. He sighed.
“What do you want?”
“Nothing.” Finally, she stopped rummaging, and looked at Remus. Her shoulders dropped.. “I don’t know. I just - I’ve tried everything. Nothing makes it better. Have you got any suggestions?”
“Rum?”
“Ok.”
So that’s how they spent the next few weeks.
And then there was one particularly hazy night, when they were both lonely and tired of being lonely, and Tonks asked Remus;
“Do you think I look like him?”
“Yes.” Said Remus.
She came closer. “Do I - feel like him?”
She put his hand on her shoulder. He was too drunk, or too desperate, to move it away. “I -”
“Shh.”
She didn’t want to hear the answer. And Remus didn’t want to give it. He put his other hand on her cheek, opened his mouth to say something - to protest, maybe, but his thought was interrupted by her kissing him, and he didn’t think much after that.
The morning after, Remus was woken up by a heavy banging.
“Whaa-?”
A voice, next to him, in his bed. Tonks. Sharing his bed. She bolted upright, her open mouth, presumably, a mirror of his own
“What did we-”
But the banging was becoming more and more urgent.
“Remus? Let me in! Now!” Rowan’s voice rang out.
Shit, though Remus, who did not need to be caught like this.
He shoved a jumper on and hopped across the room, wiggling into his trousers before opening the door. Rowan briefly glanced down at him, but there wasn’t time for questions. “It’s Hogwarts.” He says. “It’s under attack.”