Children of the Eighth Day

The kettle started to whistle just as the floo roared to life.

"Remus?"

"Come on through, Bill." Remus marked his book and headed for the kitchen. He heard the woosh of the green flames, the stumble of enormous boots against the hearth, a muffled cough and the sounds of hands dusting ash from leather and denim. The clomp of Bill's footsteps followed him into the kitchen of his flat.

"Alright?" Remus asked, swirling hot water in the teapot before adding the leaves.

"Yeah." Bill dropped heavily into the nearest chair. "Just knackered."

Remus poured the hot water over the leaves, watching the brown trails they left as they spun, like droplets of blood in the water. He turned to face Bill, leaning against the counter as the tea steeped.

Bill rubbed a large, heavily freckled hand over his face. "Two fucking demons today," he grumbled. "And an entire moat of Grindylows. I hate those bastards." He glanced at Remus, a quirking smile playing at his broad mouth. "It's their fingers." He wiggled his hand at Remus. "Give me the creeps."

Remus snorted, reaching for two mugs to fill them with the warm brew.

"And the moon," Bill added. "Takes it out of me. Like I'm being pulled apart from the inside."

Remus turned and handed Bill a mug.

"Ta, mate." Bill reached into his jacket and pulled out a flask — by the engravings and stones set in it, probably a souvenir from one of his cursebreaking jobs — and doused his tea liberally. Remus said nothing.

"Heard Harry's back in town," Bill said after a long pull from his tea. "He find anything?"

Remus shook his head. "I think he may have finally decided to stop looking."

Bill looked up sharply. "I wasn't going to mention this until after the moon," he said, "but I may have a lead for him."

Remus felt his fingers tightening around the mug. The warmth soothed the aching in his joints, but it was a momentary comfort.

"I know you disapprove," Bill said archly.

"I don't disapprove," Remus replied. "I understand obsession all too well."

Bill flushed and took another long drink of his tea.

"We missed you at dinner the other night," Remus said, sipping his tea.

Bill hitched a shoulder without looking up, reminding Remus powerfully of a six-year-old boy at Order meetings, staring guiltily at the floor as his mother chastised him for making too much noise. "I'm sure you did fine without me."

Remus wondered how much of that Bill actually believed.

"Should we go?" Bill asked.

Remus nodded, finishing his tea, mentally preparing himself for the strain of the night to come. Suddenly, the woosh of the floo interrupted his thoughts.

"Hello? Lupin?"

Remus raised his eyebrows and started to stand. Bill scowled and turned to follow.

Floating amid the green flames of Remus' hearth, Draco Malfoy's head squinted into the room.

"Hello, Draco," Remus said, wincing as he dropped to his knees. "What can I do for you?"

"I'd like to speak with you," Draco said. "May I come through?"

Bill had planted himself just out of view, arms crossed, a scowl etched across his scarred face.

"This isn't the best time," Remus said diplomatically. "Moonrise is in less than an hour."

"That's what I wanted to speak to you about," Draco insisted. "It will only take a moment."

Curious, Remus shrugged his acquiescence and moved back from the fireplace.

With a familiar roar, Draco stepped through the floo, more graceful than Bill, his expensive leather shoes barely making a sound. He flicked a few flakes of ash from his jumper before he noticed Bill standing nearby.

"I didn't realize you had company." Draco returned Bill's glare blandly. "I'll be brief." Without ceremony, he held out a glass decanter filled with a foul-looking liquid.

Remus stared at it. He hadn't seen the potion in years, but he recognized it without a doubt. The twins had tried to brew it once, with disastrous results. He accepted the flask from Draco, watching the thick liquid inside swirl around hypnotically.

"What's that?" Bill asked.

Draco raised an eyebrow, his expression inscrutable. "It is the Wolfsbane potion." He looked back at Remus. "I didn't realize... There's only enough for one dose."

"Bill doesn't fully change," Remus said. "I don't know what effect—"

Bill crossed the space between them in two large steps. "I don't understand."

"This is my first attempt," Draco said, plainly speaking to Remus, ignoring Bill. "But I can work out any kinks between now and next month." He paused. "Assuming you choose to accept it, of course."

"Why should he?" Bill asked. "Why this sudden gesture of friendship when none of us has seen hide nor hair of your black hide since after..." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Why should we trust you?"

Draco raised his eyebrows. "I don't see how it's particularly any of your business," he said simply. "Why so concerned, Weasley? You can't even be bothered to be that concerned about your own family."

Anger flashed across Bill's features. "You don't know anything about my family," he growled.

"No?" Draco said. "Perhaps not." He turned back to Remus. "The choice, I think, is ultimately yours."

"You didn't answer his question," Remus said. Draco blinked at him. "Why?" Remus asked. Then he clarified: "Why now?"

Draco looked suddenly uncomfortable. "It occurred to me that I had never attempted this particular potion," he said. "I enjoy a challenge."

Remus looked at him, certain that wasn't the only reason, but unwilling to push the young man in front of him too far, afraid of scaring him away.

"And..." Draco glanced at Bill uneasily. "You showed me a kindness," he added reluctantly. "I would like to repay that debt."

"There's no debt," Remus assured him. "But I will gladly accept this. Thank you."

Draco nodded curtly. "Let me know how it goes. There are always some adjustments, attuning the amount of aconite to the individual." He looked over at Bill again, considering. "I might even be able to devise something to relieve your symptoms," he said. "If you were interested."

Bill didn't reply, crossing his arms again, and leaning against the wall. Draco shrugged.

"I should go." He turned back to the fireplace.

"Thank you, Draco," Remus said as Draco scattered a pinch of floo powder onto the flames and stepped into the fire.

"You're welcome," Draco replied with a note of surprise in his voice, before disappearing in a rush of green flame.

"Want to tell me what the bloody fuck that was all about?" Bill asked.

"Not particularly." Remus unstoppered the vial, tilting his head back as he swallowed the contents in two enormous gulps, grimacing at the foul taste that time had done nothing to improve.

"Don't worry," Bill said dryly. "I'll avenge you."

Remus wiped his mouth on his sleeve indelicately feeling the potion roiling in his belly, fighting down nausea. "He switched sides, if you recall," Remus said.

"That doesn't make him trustworthy," Bill countered. "I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him. Which might be fairly far, actually. He's duplicitous and a Death Eater."

"Harry trusts him."

"Harry hates him."

"You might be surprised." Remus grabbed for his jacket, slipping it on.

"We're still going?" Bill asked. Remus nodded. "You don't trust his motives, either."

"Bill," Remus said patiently. "The potion is always a bit iffy the first time. I'm just being cautious."

Bill planted himself, clearly indicating that he was going nowhere without some answers.

Remus sighed to himself. After Fleur was killed, Remus had watched his young friend turn away, become a monster far worse than the one he helped to contain every month. Since then he'd watched the grief and guilt, the anguish and lingering anger eating Bill from within, driving him away from his friends and family.

"There is such a thing as forgiveness, Bill," Remus said wearily.

Bill's posture softened slightly. "How do you know who deserves it?"

Remus smiled at him. "They ask."