Survivor's Guilt: Moony's Tale

He awoke, disoriented and sweating, at once trying to recall the dream and cursing himself for having it at all. Damn him! He could still feel the bastard's touch on his skin -- hear his voice echoing in the darkness.

It was hot and stuffy in the small, bare room and he went to open the window. The cool air of the late summer night felt good against his skin and the moon was a reassuring sliver, low in the sky. He breathed in deeply, willing his heart to slow. Dawn would be breaking soon and he knew that with it, the memories would recede to manageable proportions once again.

But in the darkness he was still very much at the mercy of his past. The dreams came less frequently than they once had but they were still unsettling when they came, and left him feeling guilty and uneasy until he slept again.

Twelve years it had been. Twelve years since that dreadful day. Betrayal, murder, loss. He had often reflected that they had all died that day; not just Lily, James and Peter. The bonds of their friendship shattered by an act as shocking as it was brutal. Sirius in Azkaban for life -- not that he doesn't deserve it, he thought savagely -- and he himself exiled to this living death. Remus Lupin shook his head as the memory of Sirius Black prowled the room.

He was the only one left of that great friendship, and that loneliness had held him captive for a dozen years. He had drifted, living hand to mouth, living for nothing and no one. He had learnt to hide his condition well enough but he never managed to keep a job for long; his immense sadness made people uneasy.

Then, just last week, there had been a letter. Albus Dumbledore had written inviting him to take the vacant Defence Against the Dark Arts post at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Headmaster Dumbledore had also mentioned that Harry Potter was now a student at the school. It had been a cordial if formal letter but Remus had seen between the lines. Dumbledore knew the broken life he lived and was offering him a chance at something else -- to have something and perhaps someone to live for again.

Harry. The one bit of goodness that remained of his tainted memory of the Marauders. Dumbledore had chosen him to help guide Harry, who also came from a place of loneliness, without family and perhaps even without friends to care for him.

But the timing for the offer .... It had been the reason for the dream as well, he knew. The appearance of the story and the picture in the Daily Prophet had coincided with the arrival of Dumbledore's letter. Remus shivered. He had almost turned past the story when it had first appeared, not recognising the wizard in the picture. But then a word had jumped out at him from the stark bold of the headline -- a name that still haunted his dreams and conflicted his soul: Sirius Black.

A dozen years in Azkaban had changed the man he had once loved. The face he had known better than his own was gaunt and pale with shadowed eyes, the hair a long, greasy tangle. He certainly looked the part of the mad, vicious killer now, even as he had not before. He seemed barely human.

And now he had escaped. How? It had never been done before. Remus had an inkling about how it might have been done. But why now? Why come for Harry after all this time?

He sighed, rubbing his hand through his disheveled, graying hair. Whatever the reason, he now had a job to do and he would do it. He must protect Harry from this madman who had destroyed all that was wonderful in both their lives. And if that meant destroying the man he had loved or dying himself? Well, he would do what he must.