Amid My Solitude

What was he, when we came to sift
His meaning, and to note the drift
Of incommunicable ways
That make us ponder while we praise?
-- Edwin Arlington Robinson

Something was pressing on his head, something relentless and uneven. He couldn't move...so cold...must have kicked the blankets off in the middle of the night. Where was Tonks --

Cold water washed across his face, and he snorted, coughing. The spasm sent wracking pains through his body, and his eyes snapped open.

For a moment he couldn't figure out what he was seeing, until the shapes resolved themselves into a starry sky. He tried to lift an arm, and something warm gushed over it; he turned his head, and water rushed into his face again.

He was lying in the river, he thought, panicked. He tried to roll, and another stab of pain, another gush of warm --

Blood.

Blood pouring out of his left arm, aided by the water. He lifted it up, moaning, and managed to get his head and body away from the current.

The river. They'd left him facedown, drowning in the river, and gone. Something must have pushed him over. The current was weak, but he wasn't exactly a heavy man.

His thoughts came thick and slow, and the now-constant pain was making movement difficult. He writhed his way fully onto the bank, retching, teeth chattering.

Full night. He was going to freeze --

And his wand was across the river.

He couldn't cry for help, and there was no way he was ever, ever going to get to the pack grounds.

He pushed himself to his knees and wavered, unsteadily, staring across the water.

His left arm was torn nearly to the bone, and bled when he moved it, but his fingers were too numb and weak to rip enough fabric from his tattered clothes to bind it.

The thought was slow in coming, but when it finally arrived, he winced.

He had to get across the river. If he didn't, he was going to die. Werewolves healed fast, but not from werewolf bites...

The cold he could conquer and the feeling that his lungs were full of water would pass, but if he stayed here tonight he would bleed to death. He could feel wounds in his calves and thighs, could feel smaller cuts and scratches from claws on his chest.

He tried to push himself to his feet, and his skin burned.

I cannot crawl through a river using only one hand, I can't, I can't.

He rested his right hand on the ground, and managed to get his legs curled under him. With a supreme effort, he pushed himself upwards, standing unsteadily. The world tilted and spun, but the pain helped with that; he pitched forward, retching again, but his right leg steadied and he managed to stay on his feet.

The other bank was too far away. He'd never make it.

So do you want to bleed slowly to death in the territory of a bunch of Death Eater werewolves, or do you want to die quick and hypothermic while at least trying to get home?

He looked down at the chunk missing from his arm.

Bleeding slowly had its appeal.

Still, he moved forward, into the freezing water, silver and black in the starlight. On the other bank was his wand, and he could...could...

What exact good was his wand going to do him?

Can't think, can't walk...

He tripped on a root, and fell with a tooth-jarring thud to his knees. The cold seeped into his left leg, the worse of the two, and he let a keen of pain pass his lips. The current caught and eddied in the shredded remains of his clothes, nearly pulling him under.

He let himself go down for just a second, and the sharp shock of cold water in his nose and ears helped again. A quarter of the way there...

He braced against a rock and pushed himself up with his right hand. One step...two steps. Three, four, five, halfway there --

He stepped out of the lee of a big rock, and the sudden rush of water swept him under a second time. He fetched up against a tree trunk, lungs burning, and heard the sharp crack of ribs breaking. A second later he could feel them move as they mended. Some small mercy, anyhow.

He clung to the rotting wood, realising that he was fast going numb. Even his werewolf blood, what was left of it, couldn't handle this.

He pushed away, crawling now, hands slowly finding grips on the stones jutting from the riverbed. Still so far to go.

Tonks was going to be so angry if he died. And Harry...

He laughed through the pain. Harry was getting to be quite the expert at surviving people.

Tonks and Harry.

Their picture was in his wallet in the bag, under the shrub, which was now upriver slightly.

Tonks and Harry...like a family...

He felt the chill seeping into his wounds. The scratches on his chest stung, and the water's spray blinded him. He felt his right arm give, and rolled to avoid going face-down again.

Shallow water.

He coughed, looking up.

On the bank.

Oh god he was on the bank.

He writhed up onto the soil, resting his forehead on it, breathing heavily.

Tonks and Harry were waiting. Waiting by the bush. That was all that mattered. Prongs and Padfoot were dead but Tonks and Harry were still waiting for him. His family was waiting for him. Harry was going to be upset if he didn't show. He'd made a promise.

He crawled away from the water, eyes never leaving the leather bag that was not much more than a shadow under the shrub. He collapsed when he reached it, and rolled until he was on his back, pulling the bag over, spreading its contents onto the wet grass. His wallet tumbled open, and he picked it up.

Blood ran down his wrist, over his fingers, smearing on the photograph. He laughed, bitterly.

His wand fell on his chest, and he gripped it with trembling, numb fingers.

Could he send up sparks...?

Nobody would see...

Nobody? Nobody would see what?

Oh, that was his wand.

Sparks?

How did it go now...

What?

Harry and Tonks. How had blood got on their picture?

Oh, he hurt. So badly. Worse than when he'd been a child.

His wand.

He could...

How would it help?

It was a wand. Wands helped. That was what they were there for.

Remus helped too. Helpful werewolf. Never did anything but help.

Somebody please help me.

For god's sake, Tonks, stop stealing the blankets, I'm freezing.

What about my wand?

Something warm on his chest. Tonks. Heavy and warm on his chest. Stay here. If you stay I can sleep.

I love you too.

No, what about my wand?

Oh yes.

It's no good.

Yes, Harry, that's the Wingardium spell. I think that's how he did it. Your dad can tell you.

Oh he's dead. Yes. Well, that's all right, I'm here.

That's quite a complex charm. No, here, I'll show you. Just like with the Patronus.

Mine? Mine's a...well it's a Thestral...don't laugh. Here...

Expecto patronum...yes, good. You're doing very well.

***

"Tonks, you've at least got to eat," Kingsley Shacklebolt said. "Or stop pacing. One of the two. If you don't pace you can keep not eating. If you eat you can keep pacing. But you've got to make up your mind or I swear I'm going to tie you to a chair."

Tonks looked up at him, stopping in her pacing of the floor. "It's been four days. He can't have gone so far in four days that Hedwig can't find him. We could have Aurors looking for him, we could BE Aurors looking for him -- "

"We've been over this," Kingsley said tiredly. "The Order can work faster and better than the Ministry could. Especially him...being what he is."

Tonks' eyes blazed. "It shouldn't matter!"

"But it does."

"Not to me!"

"And you are one among many, but the Ministry isn't going to work any harder than it has to, finding a wayward werewolf. Besides, he may have his reasons. He may be in negotiation with the pack."

"For all we know he's with the pack and they've killed and eaten Hedwig," Tonks muttered. "And Pig and Alcyone and Nona too."

"Stringy birds, owls," Kingsley rumbled. "Doubt they'd make much of a meal."

"Werewolves'll eat anything," Tonks said, with a slightly bitter look. "Molly told me. Remus eats chicken bones."

"Roughage."

"It's not funny, Kingsley."

Kingsley leaned back in his chair, slightly, to look up at her. "You won't eat, you hardly sleep, the only reason you're not wandering the countryside right now is that Dumbledore won't let you."

"And if he didn't threaten to fire me from the Order," she said crossly. She started pacing again.

"It's not healthy."

"Thank you, mum."

"You know he'd say the same thing."

"He also said he'd be safe and he'd take care of himself!"

There was the thunk of a door hitting a wall, and Arthur skidded through the foyer, into the kitchen. He was disheveled, white as a sheet, and panting.

"Found him," he gasped, clutching his chest. "...hospital."

"Found him?" Kingsley asked. "Which hospital? St. Mungo's?"

"Bloody...Muggle hospital..."

"He's in a Muggle hospital?" Tonks demanded. "Daft bastard!"

Arthur looked insulted.

"HIM NOT YOU!" Tonks shouted. "Which one?"

"Came...to take you there...oh bloody hell." Arthur drew in lungfuls of air. "Had to run down the block to get somewhere I could Apparate. Got to take you back -- too far away if you don't know where you're going."

"Breathe, Arthur," Kingsley insisted.

"Is he all right?"

Arthur wheezed. "I dunno. Came straight back here. Snape's there now. He found 'im."

"Snape found him?" Kingsley asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Thought he ought to check Muggle hospitals," Arthur said, his breathing slowing. "You know Severus, always thinking strange things."

"Is he okay?"

Arthur straightened. "We don't know," he rasped. "Follow me."

Tonks and Kingsley nodded, following when he Disapparated. They appeared, unsteadily, in a dark brick-lined niche. Arthur took Tonks' arm, pulling her towards a gap between buildings.

"This way," he said urgently, leading them down a nearly-deserted street. As soon as they came in range of the hospital, Kingsley groaned, and pointed.

Perched on a tree outside the hospital entrance, Pig, Hedwig, Nona, and Alcyone were all sleeping, heads under their wings.

"Waiting to deliver their letters," Arthur sighed. "Come on, this way."

Snape was waiting for them inside, and he led them down the hallway, ignoring the questioning looks of nurses and orderlies.

"He's been here at least three days," he said, as they walked, moving as if he'd memorised the way to the room. "Apparently someone saw something from the road and found him. Barbaric Muggles," he added, as they passed a woman being wheeled down the hall, a clear plastic bag attached to her arm by a tube. "They gave him one of those infernal bag things as well."

"Have you seen him?" Arthur asked. Tonks' fingernails dug into his arm.

"Briefly. They said he hasn't woken at all. They were going to cut into him, you know. Surgery, they call it."

"Muggle Medicine," Kingsley said, with a shake of his head. "Did you stop them?"

"I wouldn't submit my worst enemy to Muggle surgery," Snape replied. "And if they tried it on a werewolf they'd get a nasty surprise."

He pushed open a door, and stalked inside. A nurse, holding a large roll of gauze in her hands, looked up in surprise.

"You're not supposed to -- "

"Stupefy," Tonks said, and the woman's eyes glazed over. Kingsley eased the nurse into a chair as Arthur, Tonks, and Snape gathered around the bed.

"Merlin, what have they done to him," Tonks said softly. Arthur reached out to hover his hand over the tangled, shredded remains of Remus' left arm. His head was swathed in bandages, and his chest rose and fell slowly.

"Muggle stitching," he said finally. "This is how it's supposed to be done. But they can't think this is going to be enough..."

"She was changing the bandages," Tonks said, turning to glance at the nurse. She peeled back the blanket, and tugged down the collar of his hospital gown. His chest was covered in lacerations, most of them stitched, the ends visible at the edges of bandages taped onto his skin. "He's been like this for three days?"

"We need to take him out of here," Kingsley said decidedly. "Arthur -- "

"I'll take care of the doctors," Arthur said, ducking out the door. Kingsley examined the bag of clear liquid which seemed to be leaking into Remus by a rubber tube. After a moment, he ripped the tape off of his arm, and pulled the tube out. There was a small sucking noise as the puncture wound healed over.

Tonks investigated the rest of the machines, carefully following each wire before removing the attachment. Snape watched, detached, keeping an eye on the door. Finally, Kingsley pressed the blanket against Remus' side and lifted him, wrapped in the bedclothes. His head lolled, and Tonks thought she heard a quiet exhalation of pain.

"Careful with him," she said worriedly.

"No fear, Tonks," Kingsley replied. "I'll Apparate to St. Mungo's. You get Arthur and follow. Snape -- "

"I'll call off the search," Snape said, sullenly, and Disapparated abruptly. Kingsley vanished shortly after, and Tonks ran to the door.

"Didn't take long," Arthur announced, reappearing by her side as she walked out. "Had to do this sort of thing once before -- vampire in a car accident, very touchy. Just let me take care of the nurse...Go on then, Tonks."

She caught his shoulder as he passed her.

"What can do that to a werewolf?" she asked softly. He looked at her carefully.

"Other werewolves," he replied. "Go to St. Mungo's, Tonks. That's an order."

She gave him a rebellious look, and Disapparated with a loud crack.

***

The admitting area of the Wizarding hospital, St. Mungo's, was nearly empty when she walked in -- no sign of Kingsley or Remus. She stopped at the desk, and the woman looked up at her, nodding.

"Fourth floor. Under 'Spell Damage'. Our little joke," she said, turning back to her paper. Tonks blinked.

"No, I'm not...sick..." she trailed off. "I'm looking for Remus Lupin. He was just brought in by an Auror, Kingsley Shacklebolt -- "

"The one the Muggles got hold of? First floor, Dai Llewellyn ward," the woman said, pointing to the sign, which read 'Creature-Induced Injuries'. Tonks swore, under her breath, and started for the ward.

When she reached it -- Arthur Weasley had spent time here, and it wasn't hard to remember the way -- she found Kingsley waiting for her. He caught her arm, steadying her.

"He's all right," he said urgently. "The Healers are working on him. You know Augustus Pye has experience with stitches -- "

"Kingsley!" someone shouted, and they turned to see Arthur, the twins on his heels, running down the hallway.

"How is he?" Arthur asked, skidding to a halt. Fred slammed into him, knocking him forward, and Tonks caught his shoulders, pushing him back.

"Sorry, Dad," Fred muttered. Arthur ran a hand through his thinning red hair.

"The Healers are working on him. It's all right, Arthur," Kingsley said. Fred and George began canvassing the hallways, peering through windows. "Did you take care of the -- "

"Yes, yes, if I can't cast a simple obliviate by now..." Arthur waved a hand, irritated.

"A crack team of Ministry representatives," drawled a voice, and Arthur turned to see Snape stalking down the hallway. "One would hope the end result is worth the effort," he added, robes swirling around his ankles as he halted. "All this to-do over a couple of wolf bites on a man who, frankly -- "

"Thank you, Severus," Tonks said suddenly. The others looked at her. There was a tense pause.

"Thank you for finding him," she repeated, no trace of irony in her voice. "If you hadn't thought to look in Muggle hospitals he might have died there or been surgeryised or something. Thank you."

Snape looked at her, utterly stunned. He hadn't even been this surprised when she'd slapped him.

"You're welcome," he said, finally.

Another long pause. Snape shifted uncomfortably under their gaze.

"Someone's got to fetch those bloody owls," he growled. "Too stupid to know they ought to come find us..."

He walked away, muttering under his breath, and Disapparated when he reached the end of the hallway.

"Who knew," Arthur said, looking at Tonks wonderingly. "Civility baffles him."

"Nobody ever says thank you to him," she muttered. "Not when they really mean it. I just thought it might shut him up."

***

There was little the Healers could do for him, in the end, other than cut the awful Muggle stitches out; they gave him blood replenishing potion, and put a healing charm on the worst of the wounds, but nobody had ever seen a werewolf ripped apart like this. Not one that was still alive.

Kingsley, citing Auror authority and the need to protect a possible witness to a crime, got him moved to a private room. Harry and Hermione arrived soon after, with most of the rest of the Weasleys close behind. When Moody and Dumbledore appeared, trailed by Snape, Kingsley called an official Order meeting, presided over by Dumbledore in a chaotic jumble of stolen hospital chairs.

"Must've been werewolves," Moody said, his magic eye keeping a constant watch on the figure in the hospital bed. "Nothing else could do it."

"Nothing good can come of trying to reason with ferals," Kingsley added.

"We do not know," Dumbledore said slowly, "that the pack is responsible. From what I've heard of feral werewolves, they don't like to cause trouble."

"Well, obviously they sometimes get their kicks that way!" Tonks said angrily. "Otherwise my -- otherwise Remus wouldn't be lying in a hospital bed!"

"We do have the option," Arthur said slowly, "of making a formal complaint to the Aurors. I know it's what..." he glanced at Molly. "It's what Rufus Lupin did when Remus was a boy."

"Rufus had to," Moody grunted. "Handled that myself. Very hush-hush. Man had no choice though. He'd already shot one of them. If he didn't make formal complaint, he'd go up for unauthorised hunting. And then word'd be out about his boy."

The rest of the Order turned to him.

"Unauthorised hunting?" Tonks asked slowly.

"Well, it was a different time," Moody rumbled. "I'm sure he'd stand for murder now."

"But there's still recourse," Arthur continued. "If the pack did this to him, and we file complaint on his behalf -- does he have anyone listed as next of kin?"

"I am," Harry volunteered. He was sitting on the floor, head resting against Tonks' thigh, her hand smoothing his hair. Arthur stared at him, open-mouthed. "He's my godfather. He said so. It's in Sirius' will."

"If Harry registers a complaint with the Aurors, they're authorised to destroy the pack. It's in the Ministry statutes. If they attack a wizard or a human they lose standing as protected magical creatures," Arthur continued. "And if they did attack one of their own, it's probably because the Death Eaters got to them first. In which case -- "

"You're talking about destroying a family of people," Dumbledore said quietly. "Living, thinking people."

"They tried to kill him!" Tonks said.

"No," said a faint, hoarse voice.

The whole room fell silent. Moody turned in his seat to regard Remus with both eyes. His head was turned, eyes open and glitteringly bright as he regarded them. None of them moved.

His left hand crept across his body, clinging to the edge of the bed. The bloody wounds were clearly visible, dusted with the blue-green healing powder.

"Ey...di'n't..." he slurred. "No," he tried again.

Tonks stood, so quickly that her chair fell over. Harry caught the leg before it could fall the whole way. Dumbledore and Arthur were also rising.

" 'No' what?" Arthur asked, moving forward. Remus' eyes, unfocused, nevertheless followed his movements.

"Domt...baame..." Remus made a small noise of frustration. "Hurts..."

"What do you want us to do?" Arthur asked. Tonks came forward to stand behind his shoulder, and Remus' eyes rolled upward.

"Ora," he said. Arthur looked at Tonks, who shook her head.

"What do you want, Remus?" she asked.

"O...onee." He closed his eyes. "Onape. Ii...cy."

"He's asking for me," Snape said quietly. Tonks turned to him. "Legilimency."

He stood, rubbing the back of his neck. "Move aside please, Weasley," he said, approaching the bed. Remus let out a soft, relieved sigh. "This is...rather private," he continued. "The fewer here, the easier it will be. On either of us," he added, when Tonks opened her mouth to protest. "Out. All of you. Harry will stay."

Harry turned to regard him.

"A good practical lesson for you," Snape continued.

Bill started forward. "Now see here, Harry doesn't need lessons right now, he needs -- "

"I don't believe I asked for your opinion on what my student does or does not need," Snape said icily. Arthur put a hand on his oldest son's shoulder, guiding the angry young man out of the room. Slowly, the others followed, until it was just the pair of them and Remus, in the dim shadows of the room.

"Onape," Remus said again.

"Yes, I'm sure there'll be time for us to shout at each other later," Snape said briskly. "Hold still. Potter, on the other side of the bed, if you please."

"I don't know how to do Legilimency," Harry whispered. "You didn't teach me that."

"I'm aware of that, boy." Snape placed his hands on either side of Remus' head, thumbs touching over the bridge of his nose. "Your job is to protect your precious Godfather's privacy. He's in no state to do it himself. When we begin, you will block out unnecessary memories. The better you are, the faster we know what happened."

Harry swallowed, and nodded.

"Do you remember your training?"

"Yes."

"Good. You'll need it."

"I'm ready," Harry said, unnecessarily.

"You will need to touch him," Snape sneered. Harry hesitantly put his hands out, unsure of where exactly he was supposed to touch. Snape, after an impatient moment, took Harry's hands and positioned them firmly on Remus' temples. He replaced his own in their position across the man's face, and scowled.

"And we begin," he announced, gravely.

***