Black Dog

Black Dog

Chapter Nine

Remus awoke with a start, eyes wide in the darkness. Own room, own bed, sadly alone, all quiet. So why was he awake? He sat up and glanced at the bedside timepiece that glanced back at him and muttered crossly "It's two a.m. Go back to sleep."

Remus scowled at it and flexed his shoulders, reflecting as he did so that he was too old to be ordered about by a clock.

"No," he said and threw back the covers.

Quietly, he padded across the room to the window that stood open, curtains billowing slightly in the night breeze, and poured himself a glass of water from the jug that stood on the sill. It was a balmy night with a sky full of stars and he drank then stood, breathing the warm air deeply, arms spread and hands braced on the sides of the casement, enjoying the touch of the summer air on his skin.

Waking so early had been something to be dreaded, once. Even minor problems could seem memory of time spent staring at the ceiling, grinding his teeth in frustration over little posers like the location of the Death Eater Headquarters, the latest casualty lists, Harry's increasing coldness and detachment and the likelihood of Sirius dying an ugly death in the prosecution of some piece of gallant foolishness. A shudder shook him as he recalled the hopeless despair of those days, mercifully over. Then he yawned, arching his back pleasurably.

Voldemort was dead as were most of his senior officers and those minions who had survived him were either on the run or locked safely away. Muggle casualties had been kept to a minimum by the subterfuge of tricking Voldemort to give battle at a time and place of their choosing. The wizarding community was more or less back to normal, though mourning continued for there were voids that could never be filled. Werewolves were at last being treated as valid members of the community, though how long that would last was anyone's guess, with rights and responsibilities and representation in the governing bodies. True, Hermione and Harry were at loggerheads over something but he was sure he could negotiate a truce.

Which really left only one problem outstanding - Sirius Black.

Remus smiled as he thought how often in the past that name had been spoken in tones of outrage, disbelief, fury and contempt and had just begun to laugh, thinking back to one particularly apt prank that they had played on who was it now? Good grief, Walden Macnair, when a bar of light appeared across the bumpy turf of the lawn.

Remus flinched back out of sight, then realised that the light came from the kitchen window. He had turned towards the door before considering that roaming the house nude was not the best idea. Hastily he slipped into the bathrobe Molly Weasley had given him the previous Christmas and left his room, bare feet silent on the carpet of the landing and stairs.

He paused at the kitchen door, knowing who he would find and unwilling to intrude unless sure he would be welcomed. Hermione had leaned on him very heavily during the first months after her release from hospital but was now inclined to push him away in a show of independence. So he paused, and listened, and heard a stifled sniff.

Hermione was already looking at the door when he stepped inside. Her honey-brown eyes were strained and red and she was just lowering a wad of tissue from her nose.

"Hello," she said weakly.

"Hi there," Remus moved around to the other side of the table. Three months ago he would have gone straight to her side, taken her in his arms and given her his shoulder to cry on but now he felt that perhaps a less physical form of comfort might be more appropriate.

"Hot night, isn't it?" he added, looking for an excuse to remain. "Want some pumpkin juice?"

"No," Hermione replied listlessly, then straightened in her seat. "No, thank you, Remus."

He went to the cold box and withdrew a flask of juice and brought it back to the table, pulling out a chair close enough to Hermione to pat her hand if she looked like she needed it. He drank a little of the juice, set the flask down and gave her an encouraging smile.

Hermione, pretty in the pale blue bathrobe Molly had bought her for Christmas and with her fleecy hair loose on her shoulders, rested her cheek on her hand and turned a woebegone face towards him.

"Remus," she whispered. "Do you ever think that it's possible to be too clever for your own good?"

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand," he lied, hoping that she might elaborate.

Hermione sighed and reached for the flask of juice and took a sip.

"I mean," she continued, "did you and - and James and the others ever have an idea that was just so blindingly brilliant that you went ahead with it even though, in retrospect, there were also some blindingly obvious flaws?"

Remus hesitated before he replied, grimacing and wrapping his arms around his chest.

"Yes," he replied, shamefacedly. "Hogwarts authorities still think it was an accident so, please, can this be our secret? Making the Slytherin stand collapse during the award ceremony after their arses had been kicked in the Quidditch Cup final seemed like a brilliant idea at the time but we had completely forgotten that the Minister would be sitting with his old house. Nobody else was hurt, but he was out of the loop for six weeks and that's a long time in politics. By the time he was back in charge Junior Minister Fudge had made himself pretty much indispensable and later, when the old man retired , Fudge was the people's choice and look where that got us!" He sighed and reached for the juice. "Sometimes an idea just cries out to be tried and - well - you just have to go with it and accept the consequences. The turbo-woodworm have proved useful a time or two since, though."

Hermione sighed as well, but with relief.

"I knew you'd understand," she said and reached for his hand. "Ideas are powerful things." She turned away for a moment or two, one palm over her eyes, her other hand locked in his on the table.

"Oh, Remus," she said, after a moment or two. "I've been so stupid."

"Hermione," he started to protest. But she cut him off with an impatient gesture.

"No, listen. Remus, I've loved being here with you and - and Harry but I think I have to leave." She paused and squeezed his hand. "I want to thank you for everything. I don't know how I would have coped if it hadn't been for you. Harry's a dear, though his bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired but you - oh, Remus. I'll miss you so much."

Remus ran his other hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face.

"But why?" he asked, suppressing his pain at the thought that his little family might be on the verge of breaking up. "And what on earth has this got to do with you being too clever for your own good?"

Hermione sniffed and mopped her eyes and nose again before replying and when she did he thought at first that she was changing the subject.

"You spent a lot of time with Zelda, didn't you, you know, organising the provision of Wolfsbane potion, the manning of the safe houses. Did you get to see much of Dumbledore?"

Remus smiled sadly at the thought of their old mentor.

"Not nearly enough," he replied. "He was back and forth like a - how did he put it - a fiddler's elbow those last few months. We exchanged news when we could."

"So," Hermione paused, biting her lips, "what did you think when he told you what we had planned?"

"I was terrified," Remus said frankly. "Absolutely, brown-trouseredly terrified. Then I talked it over with Zelda and she agreed with you that it would probably work if the division between Harry and Sirius could be made to seem complete and total and irrevocable. We knew Lucius Malfoy wouldn't be able to resist bringing him in and that they'd expect me to try to retrieve him. It was only the method of establishing the division that gave me pause...that and the possibility that Harry might kill him in a duel before we caught up with them. As it turned out, there was no need to worry. It was a down and dirty street-fight and Sirius was always the master at that. Harry was lucky. But it did the trick and Malfoy did the rest."

"So," she said again, turning to face him properly, "you were prepared to go through with it even though you knew what was likely to happen to you?"

Remus frowned, unwilling to answer, but desperate to keep her talking now that she had finally, unexpectedly, started to touch upon topics that had previously been taboo.

"I knew it would be bad," he said after a moment. "But I also knew that, though mad as a hatter in many ways, Voldemort was a good tactician. He couldn't kill me; not and keep control of the werewolves."

"You have nightmares, don't you," she said. "Don't bother to lie to me. My room's next to yours and I've heard you. When you're very tired you don't always remember your Conticescere charm."

"How very embarrassing," Remus commented, mildly.

"I don't know how you bear it," Hermione said suddenly, fiercely. "How do you bear those memories?"

"Because I have to," he replied, simply. "And some of the memories are ones to be cherished ...when Draco came to us with tears on his cheeks and we knew he had decided not to follow his father's path - oh Hermione, you wouldn't believe how that felt ..... of Severus and Sirius standing shoulder to shoulder looking at each other and grinning like maniacs.... and the last time I saw Sirius ... I never want to forget that."

"I wish I could forget," Hermione said dully. "But I can't, Remus, I don't think I ever will."

Remus leaned forward. "Hermione?" he asked with concern.

"It seemed so obvious," Hermione continued. "We already knew that Severus was hopelessly compromised; Voldemort had been toying with him for months, as a spy he was no longer viable. So we needed another man on the inside." She drew a breath but Remus didn't speak. He already knew this, he'd been present at many of the strategy and long-term planning meetings where Albus and Hermione had brainstormed for hours, each outdoing the other in far-fetched flights of fancy which were slowly and inevitably reduced to an icy core of possibility. After a moment she continued.

"We had a choice - we could suborn an existing member of the circle or try to get a new man on the inside. Voldemort's minions were utterly loyal or totally terrified so a new man was the only option. Anyone would be suspect so Albus suggested that we render the most unlikely person possible vulnerable to corruption. An unlikely person... but one with the skills and the strength of will to - do the things he would have to do. The choice was obvious. But for Harry to break with - with him completely he had to do something outrageous yet not overtly Dark. He was going off the rails in a big way, drinking, fighting, those parties ..."

"Exoneration on a capital charge is a cause for celebration, Hermione," Remus said quietly then bit his lip but she continued as though he hadn't spoken, her voice soft and hoarse.

"When the Headmaster brought Madam Pomfrey and - him to my flat that night he was as sober as I've ever seen him, pale and grim. We sat together while Dumbledore prepared to administer the charms and he held my hand and I could feel him trembling. Then he smiled, a little shaky smile, and said "Be brave, Hermione". He... he kissed my hand and left, making sure my neighbour would see him while Madam Pomfrey - made the other arrangements. I know this happened, Remus, because as soon as it was safe for me to know Dumbledore told me it happened and - and, since then, Harry showed me. Remus, he showed me in Dumbledore's Pensieve...but it's not what I remember."

"Hermione," Remus said again, keeping his voice steady with an effort, "Harry did take the memory charms off again, didn't he?"

"It's not what I remember," Hermione's breath hitched as she stifled a sob. "I remember his hands tearing at my robes, the taste of blood where his teeth gashed my lip, the weight of his body and the pain ... the pain of it. And then Harry's face...the utter shock when he realised what had been done and who had done it." She bowed her head until her forehead was resting on their clasped hands. "Remus, I loved him, like he was a father or a brother. I loved the way he made us laugh, that grin, the sheepish look when he had to confess something to Harry. Now... I wish he was dead."

She raised her head, her honey-brown eyes swimming with tears, and gazed into his stricken face.

"Remus, please forgive me, but I can't stay. I can't bear the thought of seeing him again."

Remus reached out and gathered her up, lifting her onto his lap.

"You shan't have to, Hermione," he promised. "You shan't have to."

He held her until she stopped crying then carried her back up to her room, put her to bed and sat holding her hand until she slept, then he left, shutting her door quietly, his heart like a stone in his breast.

Somehow he was not surprised to sense eyes upon him and turned to see Harry standing against the wall, his skin very pale above the dark material of his pyjama trousers.

"She told you," he whispered.

"Yes," Remus replied, his voice aching in his throat.

"I'm sorry," Harry murmured. "I tried but I couldn't do it. Dumbledore intended to lift the charm as soon as he could but ...it wasn't to be." His voice broke on a sob of frustrated rage. "I couldn't do it, Remus. I don't know exactly what Dumbledore did, what combination of charms he used. Maybe it's because they were together...? I tried and tried and I just wasn't good enough."

"So where does that leave us?" Remus asked.

"I don't know," Harry replied, sounding so very young and so very lost that Remus extended his arms to him as well.

"Poor Hermione," Remus breathed, patting Harry's back comfortingly. "Poor Harry."

Harry's shaggy head against his shoulder shook gently.

"Poor Hermione," he said, "and... oh, Remus...poor Sirius."