Never Truly Leave Us

Never Truly Leave Us

By: YayCoffee

Remus Lupin liked the way Firewhiskey looked when he held it up to the light of his bedroom fire. The amber liquid took on all its different golds and oranges, and when the flickering light passed through the etched bottom of his highball, those beautiful honeys mixed with bright white and a prism of rainbow colors, shining and dancing on his rug, wall, and clothes. If he held the glass at an angle away from him, the patterns licked his face, and if he held it at an angle just slightly to the left, the dance moved to the faded fabric on the empty chair next to him.

Remus Lupin also liked the way the Firewhiskey tasted. It was sweet and bitter and rich, and it burned from the moment it hit his tongue and left a blazing trail of heat all the way down his throat into his stomach. So, he took another sip.

It didn't seem to matter how many sips of Firewhiskey he took; he could still feel the fabric of Harry's tee shirt, the soft, frantic beating of his heart underneath, as he held him around the chest, keeping him from going through the Veil after Sirius. Harry didn't want to hear it. Remus hadn't wanted to say it, and there were parts of him that were grateful Harry wouldn't allow it at the time.

But now there was no escaping it. Sirius would not be coming home tonight. Remus would not hear that door open and the sound of heavy boots making their way toward the kitchen. He would not hear the opening of the cupboard and the unmistakable hiss and pop of the opening of a beer bottle. He would not hear that short bark of laughter Sirius had right before he started to tell a story.

Tonight it would have been, "Did you see? Did you see how Harry hexed the pants off those Death Eating bastards? I don't know what possessed that boy to go over there with only his schoolmates, but did you see?"

His eyes would be squinted in amusement, and Remus would remind him that fifteen-year-olds should not be fighting Death Eaters. Fifteen-year-olds should not just up and leave school like that, and Sirius would respond, "What, Moony? Like when we were fifteen? No, we never did anything of the sort!" And there would be that wonderful laugh, and Sirius would say, "cheers," right before he took a large swig of his beer, shaking his mane of shaggy black hair.

Sirius had left him. Again. This time, though. . .this time he wouldn't be coming back.

Remus Lupin threw his highball with all his might, where it hit the wall with a resounding crash, leaving a sizeable wet mark and amber liquid dripping down to the carpet and a million shards of broken glass glittering on the floor.

-***-

The first full moon came about a week after Sirius left. He'd spent most of the last fourteen years going through the change without anyone, but this first time in the past two since Sirius. . . .well, it was very much like the first time fourteen years ago. Of course, Severus had popped in briefly to give him his potion.

Remus looked at the steaming goblet for a long time after he left and thought very seriously about not taking it this time. He needed to be wild. He didn't want to simply curl up in his room and sleep. He wanted to bay at the moon. He wanted to feel the night air hitting his skin through his fur. He wanted to feel the damp earth pounding beneath his paws as he ran, sticking between the pads there and working its way into his claws. He wanted to chase something and kill it and feel its hot blood flooding his mouth and settling warm and comfortable in his belly.

As he changed that night, he had visions through his pain. He saw a giant stag, much larger than a stag ought to be. He saw a large black dog, and he saw a small gray rat. For a brief moment, excitement bubbled up inside his chest, and he looked forward to the adventure laid out before him.

But, after the change was complete, he simply curled up on his bed and fell asleep.

-***-

He'd gone with several Order members to Kings Cross this afternoon to see Harry off with his aunt and uncle. Petunia wouldn't meet his gaze. Harry had smiled and looked proud of them--his friends and protectors. They'd exchanged a brief look before Harry turned and walked away, leading Petunia and her husband and son out of the station.

He put on one of Moody's invisibility cloaks and followed them to the car park, where he watched Harry struggle to fit his school trunk into the car's boot without the help of magic or his relatives. From this distance, Harry's resemblance to James was unnerving.

He followed them, apperating every few yards and watching the car drive past, out of the city and into Surrey. When Harry managed to get his trunk inside number four Privet Drive, the door closed behind him, and Remus took his spot on the front lawn and watched. Tonks showed up three hours later to take his spot, and he'd apparated home, still not used to walking into an empty house.

He'd sent Kreacher to Tonks' house, unable to even stand the sight of him or the thought that he could be in this house. He climbed the stairs to the room where Buckbeak stayed, and felt a pang at the emptiness of the room when he opened the door. Sirius wasn't in here. Lupin bowed low, and Buckbeak returned the gesture almost instantly. Buckbeak looked at him with sad orange eyes and let out a soft cry. How does one explain to a Hippogriff that the one who has been taking care of him can't come home anymore? He gave Buckbeak three ferrets he'd taken from the cabinet where Hagrid had left his supply, charmed to perpetual freshness.

Harry's owl was waiting for him in his room when he got there. She had a letter addressed to the Order of the Phoenix attached to her leg. He unfurled the note and read Harry's short letter.

Order,

Back at the Dursleys'. No problems. Everything is fine.

Harry

The Weasleys and Hermione turned up the next morning with all of their things. Molly and Arthur reclaimed their room down the hall from his, and it was good to hear the sounds of something other than the padding of his own feet and the breath from his own chest.

-***-

Albus handed him a cup of tea after the remaining Order members left at the close of the meeting. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had disappeared to somewhere, Arthur had gone back to the Ministry, and Molly had left the room, muttering about dust and doxies.

"How are you, Remus?" said the Headmaster, concerned, intelligent eyes twinkling at him through those half-moon spectacles. Remus had never once doubted this man's intentions, questioned whether or not his judgment with regards to Harry was anything other than sound. But now. . .now, he'd lost everyone, everyone who had ever mattered to him except for Harry, and he didn't want Harry's ignorance to ever put him in this kind of danger again.

"Well, Albus, I have to say, I've been better," he snorted bitterly, looking down at his cup.

"Yes, I can imagine you have been." The old wizard took a sip of his tea and continued looking at Remus.

"Sirius was right," Remus said flatly, looking down into his tea.

"He often was," Dumbledore replied serenely, leaving the conversation open for Remus to continue talking, as he so often did.

Lupin followed Dumbledore's cue and continued. " He was right about Harry. We should have told him sooner."

"Yes, we should have," said Dumbledore. "I told him as much when I spoke with him in my office." He took a sip of his tea. "He knows now about the prophecy and the reason for being with his relatives." Dumbledore's sparkling gaze never left Remus' face, serving only to make Remus angry. How could he just sit there and be so calm?

"I can't lose him too, Albus," he said softly. He knew he sounded desperate. He'd hoped Dumbledore, of all people, would understand.

"None of us can," Dumbledore said, lifting his teacup to his mouth once more.

"What are you on about?" he spat, angry now. "Are you still thinking about this bloody war! Are you still so concerned about your precious agenda and your precious victory!"

Remus snorted bitterly again and set his own teacup down. He met the headmaster's gaze, matching his intensity.

"Well, Albus, I think I've given you far too much credit. There are more important things! I cannot . . .cannot . . ." Remus' voice trailed off into silence.

The thought of one more person he loved dying at the hands of Voldemort for this bloody cause, for this bloody war, made him feel like he was going mad. He would not be able to bear it. He swiped at his graying hair and pushed it back from his forehead, leaving his hand briefly at the top of his head, before bringing it down in a fist on top of the table.

"How can you even sit there with your smug self-righteousness?" Remus cried harshly. "Sirius is dead! James and Lily are dead! I have no one left but Harry! I'll not see him fall into another trap just because it doesn't fit into your Master Plan!"

Dumbledore kept his voice soft, but his manner was firm, and Remus recognized the posture from a thousand meetings in his office or around the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore was very serious and wanted Remus to really understand what he was going to say.

"Remus, I think you misunderstand me," he said gently. "I, in no way, intended for you to think that my concern for Harry is merely political. Harry is more important to me than you know. I've never had any children other than those whom I've taught and guided over my years at Hogwarts. I've loved every one of them that have come through those doors in my years as professor and headmaster. As much as I've wanted all of them to choose rightly and see themselves reach their full potentials, I've not loved any of them as much as I've loved Harry."

Albus' eyes shone with tears as he continued to speak. "James and Lily were some of the best friends I ever had. They were wonderful people and loving parents. When they were killed, I thought of little else other than keeping Harry safe and making sure that Voldemort his followers could not reach him. I knew I was sacrificing much of his happiness, and I knew that the weight of our world would one day be on his shoulders. I loved him, as I would imagine loving a grandchild. I don't think that I could personally handle the blow of losing him after the sacrifice his mother used to save him. She protected him with love and her very blood, and I could not let that sacrifice mean nothing. Lily's death--and James' death--could not be in vain."

Remus understood. He'd loved James and Lily and Sirius and even Peter more than he thought it was possible to love anyone. When James and Lily died, and he'd thought Peter dead and Sirius a traitor, he didn't think he would ever be able to love anyone ever again. Loving people only led to heartache. He never even said goodbye to Harry when Hagrid took him away. He could not look at that baby he'd loved before he was even born, who had James' face and Lily's eyes.

So, he spent the next eleven years wandering from job to job, mostly getting by on freelance research work for the Ministry or the Daily Prophet or even the occasional Muggle firm. He was underpaid, and he knew it, but what could a werewolf expect? He made no friends, spoke with people as little as possible, and hoped he could hold on for one more year. When Dumbledore approached him about working as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts, he reluctantly took the job, knowing he would have to teach Harry.

He'd climbed aboard the Hogwarts Express for the first time since it dropped him at Kings Cross the summer after his seventh year and found an empty compartment. It smelled the same: the musty smell of old luggage, the faint livestock smell coming from owl cages, the occasional waft of fresh tea and cauldron cakes from the snack trolley making its way up and down the cars. The sounds of the students boarding were no different than they were when he himself was one of them. When he fell asleep in the empty cabin, he dreamed of turrets and towers, a worn parchment map, of a full moon over an open wood, and of a dog and a stag and a rat.

He remembered when the dream changed and icy dread filled his lungs. He heard over and over again the news reports of James and Lily's murder, of Peter's murder, of Sirius' hand in the whole thing. He was drowning in the chill of horrible sounds and memories of things he'd worked twelve years to try and forget. The sounds of his own sobs were ringing so loudly in his ears that he opened his eyes and had to blink two or three times to realize that he couldn't be here . . .he was dead. . .had been for twelve years. That was not James Potter whose face was illuminated in the flickering blue light of his fire.

He felt, at the time, that the dream before it switched was the only reason he was even able to conjure his Patronus. He hadn't seen its corporeal form in thirteen years, but it was, thankfully, enough.

He'd spent the year getting to know Harry, and found that being with people wasn't as bad as he had feared. When he'd seen Peter's name on the map, and everything clicked into place for the first time, he didn't think he'd be able to get to the Whomping Willow fast enough. That first time seeing Sirius' face after twelve years of hating him was like chocolate after a Dementor attack. He felt the coldness leave his chest, and for the first time in so very long he could feel the ice that had permeated his heart melt completely away.

He moved in with Sirius at Grimmauld Place when Albus recalled the Order, and he felt truly happy for those months. He began to feel like he had allies, and with his best friend by his side, he would be able to do anything, to start his life anew.

All of that crumbled and crashed when Sirius went through that Veil. Harry was the only one left now, and he would do anything to keep him alive, safe, and happy.

"Remus?" Dumbledore's voice shocked him out of daydreams. He had let Remus think in silence, but he was now looking at him intently once more.

"Sorry, Albus," he replied. "I was just remembering. I do understand. I just don't know what I can do."

"Well, I would very much like it if you were to work with Harry this summer," said Dumbledore. "Extra defense lessons. I am meeting with him tomorrow at Arabella's house, and I am going to try and persuade him to do some extra work this summer. I also plan to give him a talisman."

"Thank you, Albus. I'd be delighted," said Remus with a smile. The expression felt strange on his face.

-***-

He stood in front of the door at Number Four, feeling oddly naked without the Invisibility Cloak. He held his breath as he knocked on the door.

He waited.

He knocked again.

A very large blonde haired boy answered the door. It was Harry's cousin; he'd seen him at the train station and a couple of times during his patrols.

"I'm looking for Harry Potter," Lupin said with as much cordiality he could muster. He knew what Harry went through when he was home here, and he hated the Dursleys for it.

"He's not here," was the short reply. Remus managed to wedge a foot at the door to prevent it from being closed in his face.

"Do you know where I might find him?" he asked, pushing back the corner of his jacket just enough to reveal the tip of his wand on the inside pocket.

Dudley's face went from sneering to frightened in an instant. "Er. . .He's probably at the play park on Magnolia Crescent. It's that way," he stammered, pointing a large, pink, sausage-like finger to the right before slamming back into the house.

"Thank you," Remus said to the closed door.

Remus found Harry sitting on a bench staring at a blank spot somewhere deep within the empty park. His black hair stuck out all over the place, and he looked milky and drawn, like he hadn't been eating. As Remus got closer, he could see the dark circles, blue as bruises, under his eyes, and he wondered how well Harry had been sleeping. He knew what seeing Sirius' falling face every night was like.

Despite the crunching sounds of gravel under his faded shoes, Harry didn't seem to notice him until he sat down next to him, and even then the only sign of recognition was a deep intake of breath and slightly straightened posture.

"Hello Harry," he said softly.

"Professor," Harry replied.

Somehow, Remus knew that he was sitting next to the one person that truly knew what he was going through. This boy knew and loved Sirius like he did, like family.

Remus looked at his hands, folded gently in his lap. "Dumbledore said he told you that he wants me to help you with some defense training this summer," he said. "When I arrived at your aunt and uncle's house, your cousin said you had gone out." He paused for a moment before he continued, "You really shouldn't be this far from the house, you know. Not without your aunt or your cousin."

Harry was silent, so Remus continued. "How are you? Your letters are brief. It's good to see you and be able to talk to you," he admitted. "I've been on guard duty a couple of times, but we can't talk to you when we do that. The Muggles would notice something was going on if they saw strange people constantly watching the house."

Harry didn't say anything for a long time, and Remus sat with him in quiet agreement. Harry's shoulders began to shake as he bent down, resting his elbows on his knees and covering his face with his hands. The sobs were harsh and violent. Remus could see the faint outline of his spine through the thin fabric of his tee shirt as the curve of his upper back and hunched shoulders moved up and down in deep, jerky movements. Remus knew what it was like to lose everyone, to feel like your heart was being ripped out of your chest. He put his arm around Harry, his last connection to James and Lily and Sirius, and simply said, "I know."

It was with those simple words that he noticed for the first time his own tears were falling down his face. He heard the same sobbing sound he heard in his dream on the train three years ago, only this time they were echoed by someone else who knew. And so they sat, together in grief, on that bench in the park holding on to each other, and Remus remembered times when he and Sirius had cried for James and Lily. He wondered how many more times he would have to hold on to someone he loved, grieving for someone else.

-***-