The Marathon Man

"We need Lupin. If they're right and the old moron isn't, we'll have something to bargain for with Potter and Moody. If they're right and the old moron is too, I can keep my promise to save the brat. If the brat doesn't win, the werewolf goes to the Lord. Either way, he'll be our trump card."

"We'll have to capture him first."

"Do give me a little credit. Everybody's fussing over the boy. Anyone else, I can kidnap."

"But what if..."

"One - Potter is well looked after. Two - he must stand and fight. And three - you do converse about him an inordinately great deal. I dislike it. So will your father."

"I talk as much as I feel I should. I agree, Professor."

"Then stay here and wait for me."

"I'd like to come along."

"You'll get in the way should anything go wrong."

"No, I won't!"

"I don't intend to discuss my actions with an unbalanced, unseasoned, unthinking youth. You are staying put and waiting for me at the portal. Do I make myself clear?"

"Professor..."

"Enough." Professor Snape walked over to the fireplace without so much as turning his head towards the disappointed and furious young Malfoy.

***

The wedding was to take place at The Leaky Cauldron. Number 12, Grimmauld Place, was out of the question due to its utmost secrecy, the Burrow has just been through Bill and Fleur's festivities, and nothing else even remotely suitable could be found. Remus felt awful. His pleas, his requests to postpone the wedding, to wait until the war was over, smashed against a reasonable answer: what if there isn't anyone to marry after the final battle? What if this time - who knows, a week, two, or a month - is their last shot at happiness? At last, he gave in. He even thought, relieved: a month is nothing to fret about. He won't have to reveal his age or his sickness to his young spouse. He can banish the grim suspicion that Tonks' decision was based on her wish to match Fleur's generosity, not the feeling she had for him. He won't have to think what might happen once his lovely bride became aware of his inexperience, his modesty, his probable insolvency. He can simply bask in their happiness. Their love. Remus wiped his sweaty forehead. A truly terrible day, one's wedding day. Or is he just too old and tired for all this?

He must be ill.

Remus rummaged blindly through the bedside table, then stole a glance at the alarm-clock and felt his spirits falter. He was to come down in half an hour to meet his bride and guests, and had no strength even to change into Arthur Weasley's dress robes. Destitute, Remus didn't have a set of his own. Why wasn't he feeling better? All night long, he swam in his own sweat, his head feeling cottony, a wet toad pressing on his lungs, making him sick and rousing dull aches beneath his ribs. Moreover, while taking a shower, the werewolf noticed red spots all over his stomach. Remus removed the spots with a charm, planning to research the cause of this allergy later, but his general state didn't improve one bit. The last of his energy was spent on shrugging into a shirt and trousers. Languid thoughts about bucking up and pulling himself together shattered to smithereens in his buzzing skull. Just then, someone knocked on the door and walked in without waiting for an answer.

"Enough dawdling, Remus, you ought to be downstairs already!"

"Hello, Arthur."

You look so pale. Nervous?" Arthur Weasley merrily clapped the werewolf on the back. "Take it easy! I was jittery, too, getting married, but everything worked out splendidly! I'm sure you'll be just as happy! Remus, look alive, man!

"This is no surprise. He's too old. Have you any idea what to do with a woman on your wedding night - eh, Lupin?" Mad-Eye Moody surfaced from under Remus' bed and continued tapping walls and peeking into nooks and crannies, searching for likely enemy hideouts. "Need to talk to a specialist?"

"Thanks, if I have to, I'll turn to Arthur," Remus snapped, blushing.

"Don't wait till it's too late, you'll disgrace the Order and your colleagues... Why are you green as a mandrake sprout? Let's have a drink and go downstairs." Moody ceased his search of the hotel suite and held out his flask to Remus. "To the bride!" The werewolf took a sip. His head was spinning. He wavered, but caught his balance and even obliged the old man's brisk offer to head downstairs. Arthur, careful and concerned, grabbed Remus' elbow and thanks to his support, at half past eleven Greenwich Time Remus Lupin stood before his brimming bride and a few guests, bravely smiling at his inevitable happiness.

"Congratulations."

"Professor Lupin, I'm so happy for you!"

"You see, Remus, it's about bloody time you did this!"

"Nymphadora, dear, what a courageous step -"

"We admire your determination, girl! Many happy returns!"

"Remus, you lucky chap, take good care of her!"

"Come along to the table!" A radiant Molly Weasley showed everyone to the parlor. Tonks, looking lovely with her hair a festive scarlet, placed her slender hand wrapped in a long white glove onto the coarse sleeve of his robe and gave her husband-to-be a soft smile.

"Yes, quite. Arthur, a word, please," Remus gently pried loose and took a step to the stairs. All the guests and a somewhat anxious bride walked through the doors decorated with oleander and mistletoe. Turning around, Moody gestured expressively, implying this wasn't a proper time for consultation, and the wizards were left alone.

"I think I'm going to be sick. My head is spinning. Help me to the loo, I'm afraid I might fall... What awful timing," muttered Remus, leaning heavily on Mr. Weasley's shoulder.

"Are you unwell, Remus? Too much to drink last night? Careful, another step."

"No - I don't know - wait for me. Don't go, I won't make it downstairs on my own."

"Come on, Poppy'll give you a potion."

"You think she brings them to parties?" Lupin waved vaguely and entered a dingy water closet of the Leaky Cauldron. The cabin doors hung crookedly, a ceiling bulb was broken, the mirror hanging above the sinks was cracked... Remus leaned against one of them, unexpectedly sensing a foreign presence. An attempt to focus failed, drowned out by the ringing in his ears, the stench of the place stifled all other smells even in a werewolf's sensitive nose and so he didn't even get properly frightened. Suddenly, there was a dark figure before him.

"Congratulations, Lupin," a moist cloth with a light scent of ether laid across his face. "I never imagined it would be this easy..." how that phrase concluded, Remus Lupin was not to hear.