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fox_confessorTitle: The Old Lie, part 3/4
Username:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
escribo
Genre: action/adventure, romance
Rating: NC-17
WARNINGS: Violence, language, sex
Word Count 27,500 (this part roughly 6500)
Summary Magical AU. Seven years after the end of the war, Harry's new tutor turns out to have a secret and a crush on Sirius Black. When the past catches up to him, will it destroy the family he's finally found?
Author's Notes Originally written for the 2011![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
rsbigbang. Thank you to kiltsandlollies for the beta work. The title is a reference to the Wilifred Owen poem "Dolce Et Decorum Est".
***
It was noon, and the London Museum of Wizardry was filled shoulder to shoulder with tourists and students. The thief had come here often over the last few years, wandering the halls and exhibits, losing himself in the artifacts of Wizards past. It had been a favorite place of his father's and sometimes, on the rare occasion when it was quiet, he could almost feel his father walking with him. Today, however, he had a mission.
In the early days after the war, the museum had become a repository to rival the Ministry of Magic's stores of what hadn't been hoarded or stolen during the dark times. The labyrinthine rooms in the basement held the overflow of the collection under protection as scholars attempted to make order of the chaos of the war, returning items to the survivors when they could but otherwise keeping the items safe. The thief had long suspected that one of the scrolls he sought could be found there. Once he had this last one, then they could all be destroyed, though he dreaded that particular task, knowing it was his father's life's work.
He walked carefully through the maze of hallways, his shoes echoing off the mosaic floors. There was no sneaking around this time--he'd been invited to visit, to be guided--but it didn't make him feel easier. In fact, it was worse knowing he was abusing the trust that had been placed in him. It couldn't be avoided. The mistake at Grimmauld Place had cost him time and disturbed the veil of secrecy that he had long relied upon. Those who remained loyal to Lord Voldemort knew he existed now--they knew what he sought. He could only hope that they remained in the dark about the purpose and power contained in the scrolls. He had no doubt that if they possessed them, it wouldn't take them long to learn how to use them. In hiding them away, they certainly had known they were valuable. It wasn't a chance he could take, so he was forced to take others instead.
The tour took nearly three hours, and the thief followed along, pleased that he at least didn't have to feign interest. The work the museum had undertaken was interesting and vital to the preservation of the history of Wizards and Witches. The middle-aged Witch in crepe-soled shoes who served as their guide was a methodical soul, who began with their scant collection from the time of Merlin and the druids, saving the materials from the last war until last. To the very end, she was conscious of her audience, and the thief appreciated her thoroughness as she showed him some of the more mysterious relics, his father's scroll amongst them. He suffered another pang of guilt at knowing that if it hadn't been for their acquaintance, she would have never allowed him so much access or time. That he'd been lucky. Still, he eased himself with the knowledge that this was his last scroll to find, the last one to take and then it would be over.
His luck held out for a bit longer, though it wasn't easy to distract her. He managed it with a whispered spell and a discrete flick of his wand that sent a teetering stack of archival boxes spilling from their shelf. In the chaos, the thief pocketed the scroll and then rushed to help her, though she managed the mess easily with a wave of her own wand. It was then that she realized how much time she'd spent and they laughed together before each made their own excuses and good-byes. She never noticed his small theft, and the collections from the war were in such chaos that he was confident it would likely go unnoticed for months, too long to connect it with his visit.
He didn't linger now through the great hall of the museum but walked quickly toward the doors, eager to be home--to be safe again, to have the chance to plan his next move. He blamed that for his distraction.
"Professor Lupin?"
"Yes, Harry."
"Do you know those men?"
***
Sirius was in his office at the Quidditch pitch when the message came. James' patronus had shimmered to life in front of him, the hasty message faint, begging him to come. It had reminded him of the war, of the attacks, of that last night when Sirius thought he'd lost James and his family forever. Just like then, he'd apparated away immediately, but this time he landed in the alley nearest the museum in Hogsmeade, wand drawn. He found James there, firing off hexes and jinxes in quick succession at two Wizards in white robes opposite the street. Sirius was shocked to see the hoods of the Death Eaters, there in the middle of the day. For a moment, he stood stock still, too surprised to act until a hex whizzed past his ear, missing him by a hairsbreadth as it exploded in a shower of green sparks behind him. He saw then that it wasn't James who was their quarry but a man in a familiar old traveling cloak--Remus--and with him, Harry. Sirius was spurred on to action then, running to James' side as he wove his magic wordlessly.
The battle seemed to rage for hours but Sirius knew it could have only been seconds. It was hard to see through the haze of Remus' magic as he tried to protect Harry from the volley of malevolent curses. They fought bitterly until the Death Eaters evaporated with the pop of apparition as Aurors, answering James’ calls for help, arrived one by one. Sirius' last spell hit the wall above Remus and Harry, raining shards of brick around them and then all was quiet. Sirius could hear James as he breathed heavily, his wand arm still outstretched.
"Harry!" James called and Sirius realized he'd been saying it all along, crying out to his son, only Sirius hadn't heard through the buzz of his own adrenaline. Remus' protective shield shimmered then faltered, fading to nothing like a morning mist when the sun's finally come up. Harry stood and ran to his father, his face streaked with tears and blood, his t-shirt torn at the shoulder, and James caught him up into his arms. He was on his knees then, checking Harry over, finding him unharmed though scared.
Sirius knelt with James, his hand on Harry's head, listening as Harry stumbled over his words as he tried to explain to his dad what had happened. It was then that Sirius looked up, expecting to see Remus--expecting his calm presence--but found he still lay where he had fallen when he'd dropped his shields.
"Remus?" Sirius called but there was no answer from Remus. Sirius stood on shaky legs, his stomach roiling with fear. There had been too many lost in the war--lost to the Death Eaters--and Sirius couldn't bear the thought of Remus being their next victim. James had been right about Remus, of course he had been, Sirius thought irritably. James had always been the better judge of character, and now Remus had become a kind of friend to Sirius as well. Next to him, James caught Harry up into his arms again and Moody began to yell at his Aurors, rounding up the witnesses, while Sirius ran to Remus' side and knelt next to him. Feeling for a pulse and nearly collapsing in relief when he found the weak thrum in Remus' veins though his hand came away sticky with blood. He was already gathering Remus up when Moody barked at Sirius to take Remus to St. Mungo's, and that, too, was so horribly familiar from the dark days that they were gone before Moody could finish his sentence.
Hours later, Sirius was still at Remus' side in the hospital. Remus was unconscious but healing, a nurse with a thin face and a sharp nose had said. Sirius had answered her brusquely, still thrumming with anger at the way Remus had been treated when they had first arrived. Sirius had levied the full weight of his family's name, barking orders at any staff members who happened to be nearby and threatening to cut off generous funding if Remus wasn't seen to immediately. Sirius had no idea what sort of support his mother likely provided, having never had interest in the Black family legacy, but he imagined it must be vast by the private room they'd found themselves in and the nurse who hovered nearby though she clearly expected Remus to rise up at any moment and attack. When James had stopped by, he'd whistled low as he’d come into the room and told Sirius it was a good thing that Remus was still out, as he'd likely be embarrassed by the attention. James had offered to stay, but Sirius had turned him down and sent him home to be with Lily and Harry, recognizing what it had cost James to leave them at all that night. The fear that it was starting again--that his family was once again in danger--weighed heavily on them both.
Instead Sirius sat quietly and alone in the metal chair at Remus' bedside, the smell of antiseptic burning his nose. He tried to take shallow breaths through his open mouth and force his thoughts to something other than how much he hated hospitals. The last time he'd been inside St. Mungo’s had been when a man barely out of Hogwarts told him that there was nothing they could do for Regulus, that he had died within seconds of being struck in the chest by the curse his own cousin had conjured. That it was too late. If he thought on it for too long, he could remember how his mother had wailed and beat her hands on Sirius' chest, asking why Sirius hadn't protected his younger brother--why it hadn't been him instead. Sirius had stayed silent, asking himself the same questions.
Sirius stood and walked to the window, his hands buried deep inside his pockets. Far below him was Muggle London, and Sirius watched the lights from their cars and buses, tiny constVitions of their own, as he pushed aside thoughts of his brother. Instead, he thought of how angry his mother would be when she discovered that when he had finally used the leverage of his name it was only to help a werewolf. He could practically hear her ragings already.
Sirius turned to look at where Remus slept still and pale, the color only just beginning to return to his cheeks from the blood replenisher potions he had been given. James was right; if Remus had been conscious through any of this, he would have been embarrassed, insisting he was fine even as he lay bleeding to death. They had only met a few times since that night at the Weasleys’--at James and Lily's Sunday dinners and again, only once, at a pub in London, where Remus had discussed some new bit of obscure Muggle relations legislation with James as easily as he had talked about Pudimore's chances of beating Sirius' team at Quidditch in their next match. Sirius found he liked Remus quite a lot, despite his own misgivings, especially as it was so very apparent that Remus had a knack for finding mischief. That Remus was quite fit, as James had promised, only added to his appeal, though Sirius really did try to keep his distance out of respect for James. He couldn’t help being fascinated by the man, though.
The nurse bustled in again, leaning over Remus' bedside to take his temperature and monitor his progress. She had barely raised her eyes to Sirius, clearly nervous, though whether it was because of Remus or Sirius himself, Sirius couldn’t say with more certainty than he would have earlier. He left her to her tasks, looking out the window again and then moving to straighten the room a bit--rearranging his cloak over the back of a chair and resettling Remus' cane. When he reached for Remus' cloak, a roll of old parchment fell from it and Sirius bent to pick it up, puzzling over it a bit when he recognized the runes for "life" and "the moon.” He unrolled it some more, frowning at the Greek letters he hadn't bothered to study since leaving school but remembering enough to know that this was part of a ritual of some sort. He stumbled through a little more of it before he realized the nurse was standing at his elbow, waiting quietly, and he rolled the parchment back up tightly.
"Has there been a change?" Sirius asked as he tapped the scroll against his open palm.
"He's much improved, Mr. Black. Only just sleeping now," the nurse said. "He should be waking soon."
"Will he be able to leave tonight, do you think?"
"That'll be for the doctor to say, sir, but I wouldn't be surprised if I were you if he had to stay until morning. If you don't mind my saying, sir, his kind generally--"
"I do mind, actually," Sirius said stiffly, cutting her off.
"As you please, sir." The nurse stood straight and tucked her wand back into her sleeve but said nothing more as she left the room.
"I suppose you're used to that," Sirius said out loud though Remus only just slept on. "Wretched thing to get used to." Sirius sat again, turning the parchment over in his hands. There was something familiar about it, some memory that tugged at a corner of his mind. He could almost hear Regulus laughing at him, you don't have to know everything, Sirius. We already know how terribly clever you are.. Toward the end, they hadn't argued nearly as often as when they'd been boys, and Sirius had been proud of him. Losing him to the war had been awful.
Sirius twisted the page of parchment again, picking out the words he knew--or thought he knew: potion, return, death. The rune for life repeated itself again and again across the page, even to the edges, as if it wanted to carry on. He knew the writing wasn't Remus' clear, even hand and wondered what it meant--why Remus had it. What it was that danced at the edge of memory like the missing lyric to a song he'd heard a thousand times.
"Sirius?"
Sirius gave a start at the sound of Remus' voice and quickly shoved the parchment scroll back into a pocket of Remus' cloak. "You gave us a scare."
"Harry--"
Sirius leaned forward to press Remus back against his pillows when he would sit up. "He's fine, thanks to you."
"I just--there was something so familiar about the smaller of the two."
"Do you know who it was?"
"I don't know." Sirius watched as Remus squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the palms of his hands over his face. "I need to speak to Professor Dumbledore."
"James has sent him a message. I imagine he'll be here soon. Do you remember anything? About your attacker, I mean."
"I couldn't see him well enough. We had just come out of the museum and they were on us. I barely had time to send a patronus." Remus let his hands drop to his sides on the bleached sheets. "Did James call you?"
"Yeah, and Moody, too. He thinks you might have injured one of them. There was blood there that wasn't yours."
"Was anyone else hurt?"
"No, it was over nearly as soon as I got there. James took Harry home to Lily. They're all fine."
"Are they very angry with me?"
"What? Of course not."
"I shouldn't have taken Harry with me. I just thought he would enjoy seeing the museum." Remus' voice trailed off and he looked away from Sirius, to the square patch of night sky they could see through the window. His eyes were weary, strained, as they had been the night the boggart took the shape of Rabastan, and Sirius wondered again about his role during the war. He was sure that Remus wouldn't do anything to hurt Harry--he could have done so at any moment over the past few months. It wasn't that, Sirius knew. Like James, he was positive now that Remus couldn't have fought on any other side but their own, if he'd fought at all.
"Don't be ridiculous," Sirius said, reaching out to put his hand on Remus' shoulder. "It wasn't your fault."
"If something should have happened to him… I should--"
"You should lie here and rest, yeah? He's safe for tonight, and the doctor said you needed to rest."
Remus nodded, suddenly docile beneath Siruis' hand, and they were quiet for a long time, long enough that Sirius' thoughts strayed again to the parchment scroll in Remus' cloak. He was startled when Remus spoke again.
"Thank you, Sirius."
"For what?"
"You must have said something or done something. I wouldn't have been treated otherwise."
"I suppose people haven't always been kind."
"No."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't."
"I am. I doubted you at first, too, you know, though I'm ashamed of it now. James and Lily don't--no worries there. They both adore you."
"I--They've become like a family to me. I haven't had that in a long time. I wouldn't want to do anything to hurt them. Or you." Remus closed his eyes and swallowed, and Sirius watched the bob of his adam's apple. He hadn't moved his hand from Remus' shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
"Rest now," he whispered, and in a few moments when Remus' breaths had evened out and when Sirius thought that maybe he'd fallen asleep again, he stroked his hand over Remus' hair.
***
Remus couldn't help but think back to the first time he'd been in the Potters’ kitchen and had expected at any moment to be expelled for who--or rather what, he thought wryly--he was. Instead, he'd found a home and friends, the family he'd been so envious of and feared losing now. He leaned against the sink, the smell of the flowering athelas plant easing his mind, and he distracted himself by recounting its properties, a schoolboy's exercise that only partially blocked out the louder, angry voices of the men and women who had crowded into the kitchen as well.
It was only the evening after the attack at the museum and Remus' body still ached, though he fought not to show it. Dumbledore sat at the table between James and Arthur, and Remus wished they had had more time to talk before the meeting had started. The Longbottoms were there, as well as Moody, Sturgis Podmore, and several others who had been members of the Order of the Phoenix. Molly had ushered the children outside to play when she discovered Harry and Ron attempting to listen in, and it was good that she had, as what had begun as a civil discussion had quickly devolved.
They were afraid, and right so. After the attack on Remus and Harry, several people in the room had received messages, portents, Moody had called them. They certainly all felt the threat.
"But why now?" James asked the room again. "And why Harry?"
"I'm not convinced Harry was the target, James," Professor Dumbledore said, and Remus tried to ignore the way that Professor Dumbledore looked at him over the rims of his half-moon glasses.
"But what about these pictures of the Order members? Don't you think they're related, Albus?" Arthur picked up the picture that had been left in his own kitchen before tossing it back onto the pile with the others--one from the Longbottoms’ wedding, another from a Christmas party at their first headquarters--all defaced in some way and all with the imprint of the snake on the back.
"They're not all Order members," Sturgis said from where he sat next to the fire. He crossed the room to pick up one of the pictures from the center of the pile. In it, a very young, very reluctant Remus skulked in the corner of the frame, his long hair falling into his eyes. It was the official Ministry of Magic photo taken from his file with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and over which his registration number had been scrawled. "His was the last to come, wasn't it. And he was there when Potter's boy was attacked."
"Just what, exactly, are you implying, Podmore?" James said, with a dangerous edge to his voice.
"How can we be sure of him?" Sturgis thumbed over his shoulder to where Remus stood, and Remus forced himself not to look away when James and the others looked over at him. "We all remember how it was during the war. Couldn't trust no one, could you? Now here comes a complete stranger--"
"That's not fair," Lily said, interrupting Sturgis and leaning forward with her elbow on the table so that she could point at him. "Remus and I were prefects together at school. He's not a stranger to me."
"But where was he during the war? And now he shows up here right when things start happening. Who's to say he didn't leave this to make himself look innocent?"
Remus bit his lip, still not sure how to respond, but was saved from having to as Dumbledore shook his head slightly to keep him quiet. Sirius caught the action as well, and looked from Dumbledore to Remus and back again before he rose from James' side to cross the room to join Remus at the sink. Remus was grateful to him. The mistrust was familiar but he could still feel his face heat up as some of the others in the room looked at him and he fought the urge to tug his sleeve more firmly down to hide the registration number on his wrist.
"I trust Remus," James said so firmly as if that alone would put paid to any further argument. "The wards on the cottage aren't as strong as they are here, though that will change. Perhaps whoever left it was trying to get at us here at the house."
"By leaving this?" Podmore tossed the photo back down onto the pile and the Remus in the picture crossed his arms over his chest as he again tried to leave the frame though it was charmed to prevent his escape. "And what of the attack?"
"We only just assumed Harry was the target," Sirius said, haltingly, his voice low, as if he only wanted James to hear. "Perhaps it was Remus they were after."
"Him?" Podmore jeered, but more quietly now, and Remus thought he sounded a bit unsure of himself.
The room was silent for a moment, only the sound of the fireplace as it crackled and popped with its merry flame, and Remus stared into it. James, he knew, was watching him--regarding him--until Sirius broke the silence again. "You were an Order member, weren't you, Remus? That's why no one can find out what you were doing then and that’s why Dumbledore is so concerned now. No one was supposed to know."
Remus gave a start and jerked his head about to look sharply to where Sirius stood at his side. He couldn't deny it--didn't want to--but Sirius was right. No one was ever supposed to know. Remus didn't say anything, only just looked again to Professor Dumbledore when he cleared his throat.
"I think it's time for the truth, Remus," Dumbledore said. "No more secrets. They've served none of us well."
"Then it's true?" James asked.
"Yes," Remus finally said. "I did some work in the north for--for the Order, trying to prevent Voldemort from gaining a stronghold amongst the werewolves and vampires. I'm afraid I didn't have much success. They didn't trust me because I was a Wizard. Because I'd been educated at Hogwarts."
"You proved extremely valuable and did more good that you believe, Remus," Dumbledore said fondly. "Because of the prejudice Remus has suffered as a werewolf, Lord Voldemort assumed his loyalty. He was able to infiltrate quite deeply into their ranks and fed us information that led to many of our successes on the battlefield. He was also able to stumble across a rather large plot that may have marked our defeat have Voldemort succeeded."
"The spy," James said.
"Yes, there was one of our own, we knew, who was passing along information that nearly destroyed our chances of defeating Voldemort and caused the death of so many of our friends. The other side knew how valuable a weapon they had and kept it secret for well over a year, at least until Remus discovered his identity and conveyed that information to the Order, at great risk to himself," Dumbledore said, looking carefully at Remus. "So, in the end, there was one other person who knew Remus served the Order besides Minerva and myself. One former Order member who found out at the end of October in 1981. One who is likely posing this new threat to us now."
"Who?" James asked, but Remus thought by the sound of the tremor in his voice that maybe James already knew the answer.
"Peter," Sirius said, his eyes flashing as he looked at James.
"Peter's dead." Remus watched James reach for Lily's hand, the blood draining from his face, and he felt tremendously sorry for them both.
"He disappeared, yes, but I do not believe he's dead," Professor Dumbledore said.
"So you think it's Peter doing this?" Lily asked.
No one answered her. Professor Dumbledore only just sat back into his chair, his eyes on James as James fought back another wave of emotion.
"I'm so sorry, Lily," Remus said after a while, when it felt as the silence would consume him. "James."
"Don't be sorry," Sirius bit out. "This isn't your fault. It makes sense now. Everything makes more sense. He was to be the secret keeper, we thought it was safer, and then Voldemort found James and Lily, and nearly killed them. It was only chance that--" Sirius stopped, pushed his hand through his hair and glanced down at Remus. "Of course, it wasn't chance, was it. That's when you--"
"Yeah."
"But then when Peter never came back. When we thought he died, I don't know. We thought he'd been captured and tortured. We did look. It never occurred to us that he could have been the spy "
"I can't believe this." James pushed up from his chair and walked to the fireplace and back. Frank drew Alice nearer him and Arthur folded his arms over his chest. They'd been quiet all evening and Remus couldn't help but wonder what they thought as well. Frank and Alice must have known Peter during school, too, he supposed. Even Sturgis was quiet now, his hands flat upon the table as his jaw worked hard. Peter had been an affable sort, Remus had heard, liked by all. Remus felt sorry for them all.
"Why would he do this?" James continued when no one else spoke, and Remus watched as Lily stood to join him--to stand next to James and take his hand as James faced down Professor Dumbledore. "He was our friend. We mourned him--we still do--and all the time he was serving Voldemort. He was--They wanted to kill Harry. He could have killed Harry."
"We may never know his reasons, James," Professor Dumbldore answered him, just as steadily as before. "Voldemort was extremely skilled in gathering those to him who he thought would do his bidding."
"But why didn't you tell us before now?"
"Because we had our own spy we needed to protect. It nearly cost Remus his life to bring us the information."
"Professor--" Remus said, attempting to forestall Dumbledore from saying anything more.
"The time for secrets is long past, I think. You were definitely one of our best kept, but I think we can trust the present company, especially in light of current events."
"That's why they were saved," Sirius said, cutting across Professor Dumbledore's calm, diplomatic voice. His own voice was barely above a harsh whisper as he struggled to contain himself. Remus realized then that Sirius was shaking slightly, and when he met Sirius' eyes, they were that bright silver, intense and glittering with anger and gratitude--too much emotion to contain and it made Remus tremble a bit in response. "You saved them. You saved my family."
"But Peter escaped," Remus said. "I lured him away and meant to keep him there until Professor Dumbledore could come. He was--It was the night of the final battle in Godric's Hollow. He couldn't come and I was meant to guard him but--"
"That wasn't your fault, Remus," Professor Dumbledore gently said.
"Rabastan." Sirius still held Remus' attention and Remus thought back to the night at the Burrow, to the form the boggart had taken. He gave a quick nod and Sirius gripped his shoulder, giving Remus what strength he could, and Remus was again flooded by gratitude and…something else. Something he hadn't felt in a long time, if ever. He was suddenly, painfully aware that they had an audience though Remus still couldn't look away from Sirius.
"Yes. He followed me. He never trusted me, and of course he had good reason. I was completely untrustworthy." Remus gave Sirius a grim smile, which was answered with one of Sirius’ own, and Remus felt something warm blossom in his chest. He knew it now, that crush he'd had as a boy, the one that had never gone away--he wanted Sirius Black, and for a moment just then, he thought that Sirius wanted him back.
"So what does he want now?" Sirius asked. "If it is Peter. If he's still alive."
"He is."
"That's why you said you recognized one of them. It was him. We should have recognized him, too."
"No, you can't think that. You didn't expect him."
"But you did," James said as he looked sharply at Remus. "The break-ins. Gringotts. Grimmauld Place. He's searching for something, isn't he?"
"I don't know, James. I mean, I'm not sure." Remus looked away, hating to lie but unwilling to expose all his secrets at once. They'd been all he'd had for so long. "The timing could be off. They could still be unrelated. I just know he was there at the museum."
"We'll look into it, Potter," Moody cut in. He'd been silent, too, since slipping in to the kitchen late. He stared at Remus with his good eye while the other moved constantly--dizzyingly. "We'll need to lean on the Yaxleys more until they tell us what was stolen. Lupin might be right. These robberies have been too well thought out for Pettigrew. You knew him best, Potter. Do you think he could have done them alone?"
James winced as Moody spoke, clearly upset to think he hadn't known Peter at all. He drew Lily closer to his side and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "I don’t know. I never suspected he was the spy. I couldn't say what he was capable of."
"Perhaps," Professor Dumbledore said. "We should leave it here for tonight. I have a theory, though no more than that. We need more information. Remus, I'll call on you soon, and until then, I'll trust Sirius to keep you safe."
Remus was startled by the twinkling in Professor Dumbledore's bright blue eyes over his spectacles but next to him Sirius was nodding gravely, and straightened to stand tall, partially shielding Remus' body with his own as if he expected another attack in this very room.
"Until then, let us all keep safe and take extra precautions. The holidays are upon us, and I'm quite looking forward to James and Lily's party."
"The party--" James began but stopped when Professor Dumbledore spoke again.
"Should carry on as planned. Now, we've taken up enough of your time, I believe, Mrs. Potter. I see you have another quest, and we should perhaps be cautious about being seen to be meeting like this."
Remus and Sirius turned to look out the window above the sink and saw that Violeta stood chatting with Molly in the back garden as the children continued to play in the twilight. Behind them, they could hear the flames of the floo flare to life as first the Longbottoms then the others filed out. Professor Dumbledore was quietly talking with James and Lily, too low for Remus to make out what they were saying and he didn't try either, and there was the soft whir of Moody's magical eye as it continued to search for any sign of danger.
"I should be going, too," Remus said to Sirius and Sirius nodded.
"I'll walk with you down to your cottage."
"I'll be fine. I think--" Remus paused to look over his shoulder at James. Professor Dumbledore was patting him on the shoulder before he turned to the floo himself, Moody following. "James needs you tonight, I think."
Sirius nodded, ran his hand over the back of his neck. "You’re probably right. Can I stop by later? Just to be sure you're all right."
"I'll be fine. I'm just going to bed."
"Yes, of course; you must be tired."
Remus was halfway to the door before he stopped and looked back at Sirius, his brain catching up to what Sirius had said. Tonight hadn't been the first time that Sirius had stood up for him, but it was because they were friends. Remus had learned not to expect anything more. But the way that Sirius was looking at him now, made him question that--made him believe, if only just for this moment, that perhaps there was something more. Something to it. Just as he thought maybe he should go back and find out for sure, Violeta came through the door.
"Oh! Vi! I'm so sorry," Lily called out with false cheer. "I forgot we were meeting. Just let me get Harry in and settled."
"Take your time, Lily."
"I should be going," Remus said. Lily turned to him suddenly and surprised him by hugging him hard, and he flashed a helpless look to Sirius who was watching him in return. Lily held him out at arm's length by his shoulders, searching his face for a moment, before she rushed out the back to where Molly and Arthur stood with the children. "I'm going to go," he said, then cleared his throat.
"You'll come to the party, Remus?" James asked from where he still stood at the fireplace.
"I'm not sure."
"Of course, he will--" Sirius and Violeta said in unison, and Violeta looked back at Sirius with narrowed eyes. "He'll come with me," she said. "Won't you, Remus?"
"I really should be going." Remus backed toward the door, meaning to escape before he embarrassed himself in front of everybody. He didn't quite make it before Violeta slipped her arms through his. "I'll walk out with you. Mind telling Lily I'll be right back, James?"
***
"What was that all about?" James collapsed into the chair next to the fire and looked Sirius over. His usually pale cheeks were flushed as he stared still at the door that led to the gardens.
"Don't know what you mean."
"'Course you don't."
"Do you think he's really interested in her?"
"Ah."
"Don't 'ah' me," Sirius said but he had the grace to look embarrassed about it.
"All right. Then I'll say I don't know. I think maybe he's just being polite."
"Good."
"Are you interested?"
"In Violeta? I already had a go, didn't I? Once was enough."
"I was thinking of Lupin."
"Remus?"
"You are."
"Shouldn't we talk about what happened tonight?”
"No." James stood, agitated at the very thought of Peter--over what he'd done to them all. Over finding out that he'd been betrayed so thoroughly. He crossed the room to the sink and folded his arms over his chest, unconsciously imitating Sirius' stance.
"All right," Sirius said, drawing it out. "Fine."
"I was thinking of Lupin."
"What do you mean? About tonight? That was pretty amazing, finding out what he'd done."
"Yeah. I had no idea. We owe him a lot. That's twice he's saved Harry," James said. "But I was thinking about you and him."
"What? Don't be ridiculous, James. You were the one who declared him off limits to me. I haven't looked at him twice."
"You looked at him at least three times tonight."
"Prat."
"Besides, when have you ever listened to me?”
"Please, please, please don't bring up the one date Lily and I had."
"You could have told me, is all I'm going to say."
"Why do I stay friends with you?"
"I always supposed it was my boyish good looks."
"There is that."
"So, why do you care if Remus asks Violeta out?"
"She's not his type. Or rather, I wouldn't have thought Remus was hers."
"He's smart, attractive, and blows things up with a regularity of which I approve. What's not to like?"
"I knew you were in love with him. You're sure he hasn't asked her out?"
"You'd have to ask Lily. If you're not interested in her--"
"Definitely not."
"Or him?"
"No," Sirius said and James laughed when it came slower than his answer for Violeta, and harder still when Sirius frowned at him.
"Why are you so sure Remus isn't her type?"
"What?"
"You said--"
"I know what I said. I don't know. I guess she was a little too keen in wanting to meet my mother. Can you imagine?" Sirius laughed bitterly. "She may be pureblood, Violeta, but still not quite good enough for Walburga."
"She wanted to meet your mother? She actually asked?"
"She suggested. Strongly. Regulus had apparently told her all about Grimmauld Place, and she wanted to see it."
"And you think it was a hint at marriage?"
"What else would it have been? We didn't get on at all, so I imagine my name was a bit more tempting than the bearer. So, now she's keen on your werewolf who has nothing but his honor and his education to offer."
“I'm not sure who that's meant to be a condemnation for, Violeta or Remus."
"I happen to think that both his honor and education are worth a lot, actually, but I can't imagine Violeta agreeing."
"I knew it. You are interested. Poor Remus."
"Yeah, well." Sirius rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and then over his chin. James stayed quiet, waiting for what he knew was coming next. "Are you all right?"
James looked up at Sirius for a long moment before he nodded. "It's just a bit of a shock, isn't it."
"We'll find him. Ask him why."
"Ask? In the old way?"
"Something like that."
"Do you suppose he'll tell us?"
"We'll have to be persuasive," Sirius said. "In the meantime--"
"In the meantime, you'll be careful with my tutor. I'm rather fond of him--I'm fond of you both."
part 1
part 2
part 3
part 4
Username:
escriboGenre: action/adventure, romance
Rating: NC-17
WARNINGS: Violence, language, sex
Word Count 27,500 (this part roughly 6500)
Summary Magical AU. Seven years after the end of the war, Harry's new tutor turns out to have a secret and a crush on Sirius Black. When the past catches up to him, will it destroy the family he's finally found?
Author's Notes Originally written for the 2011
rsbigbang. Thank you to kiltsandlollies for the beta work. The title is a reference to the Wilifred Owen poem "Dolce Et Decorum Est". It was noon, and the London Museum of Wizardry was filled shoulder to shoulder with tourists and students. The thief had come here often over the last few years, wandering the halls and exhibits, losing himself in the artifacts of Wizards past. It had been a favorite place of his father's and sometimes, on the rare occasion when it was quiet, he could almost feel his father walking with him. Today, however, he had a mission.
In the early days after the war, the museum had become a repository to rival the Ministry of Magic's stores of what hadn't been hoarded or stolen during the dark times. The labyrinthine rooms in the basement held the overflow of the collection under protection as scholars attempted to make order of the chaos of the war, returning items to the survivors when they could but otherwise keeping the items safe. The thief had long suspected that one of the scrolls he sought could be found there. Once he had this last one, then they could all be destroyed, though he dreaded that particular task, knowing it was his father's life's work.
He walked carefully through the maze of hallways, his shoes echoing off the mosaic floors. There was no sneaking around this time--he'd been invited to visit, to be guided--but it didn't make him feel easier. In fact, it was worse knowing he was abusing the trust that had been placed in him. It couldn't be avoided. The mistake at Grimmauld Place had cost him time and disturbed the veil of secrecy that he had long relied upon. Those who remained loyal to Lord Voldemort knew he existed now--they knew what he sought. He could only hope that they remained in the dark about the purpose and power contained in the scrolls. He had no doubt that if they possessed them, it wouldn't take them long to learn how to use them. In hiding them away, they certainly had known they were valuable. It wasn't a chance he could take, so he was forced to take others instead.
The tour took nearly three hours, and the thief followed along, pleased that he at least didn't have to feign interest. The work the museum had undertaken was interesting and vital to the preservation of the history of Wizards and Witches. The middle-aged Witch in crepe-soled shoes who served as their guide was a methodical soul, who began with their scant collection from the time of Merlin and the druids, saving the materials from the last war until last. To the very end, she was conscious of her audience, and the thief appreciated her thoroughness as she showed him some of the more mysterious relics, his father's scroll amongst them. He suffered another pang of guilt at knowing that if it hadn't been for their acquaintance, she would have never allowed him so much access or time. That he'd been lucky. Still, he eased himself with the knowledge that this was his last scroll to find, the last one to take and then it would be over.
His luck held out for a bit longer, though it wasn't easy to distract her. He managed it with a whispered spell and a discrete flick of his wand that sent a teetering stack of archival boxes spilling from their shelf. In the chaos, the thief pocketed the scroll and then rushed to help her, though she managed the mess easily with a wave of her own wand. It was then that she realized how much time she'd spent and they laughed together before each made their own excuses and good-byes. She never noticed his small theft, and the collections from the war were in such chaos that he was confident it would likely go unnoticed for months, too long to connect it with his visit.
He didn't linger now through the great hall of the museum but walked quickly toward the doors, eager to be home--to be safe again, to have the chance to plan his next move. He blamed that for his distraction.
"Professor Lupin?"
"Yes, Harry."
"Do you know those men?"
Sirius was in his office at the Quidditch pitch when the message came. James' patronus had shimmered to life in front of him, the hasty message faint, begging him to come. It had reminded him of the war, of the attacks, of that last night when Sirius thought he'd lost James and his family forever. Just like then, he'd apparated away immediately, but this time he landed in the alley nearest the museum in Hogsmeade, wand drawn. He found James there, firing off hexes and jinxes in quick succession at two Wizards in white robes opposite the street. Sirius was shocked to see the hoods of the Death Eaters, there in the middle of the day. For a moment, he stood stock still, too surprised to act until a hex whizzed past his ear, missing him by a hairsbreadth as it exploded in a shower of green sparks behind him. He saw then that it wasn't James who was their quarry but a man in a familiar old traveling cloak--Remus--and with him, Harry. Sirius was spurred on to action then, running to James' side as he wove his magic wordlessly.
The battle seemed to rage for hours but Sirius knew it could have only been seconds. It was hard to see through the haze of Remus' magic as he tried to protect Harry from the volley of malevolent curses. They fought bitterly until the Death Eaters evaporated with the pop of apparition as Aurors, answering James’ calls for help, arrived one by one. Sirius' last spell hit the wall above Remus and Harry, raining shards of brick around them and then all was quiet. Sirius could hear James as he breathed heavily, his wand arm still outstretched.
"Harry!" James called and Sirius realized he'd been saying it all along, crying out to his son, only Sirius hadn't heard through the buzz of his own adrenaline. Remus' protective shield shimmered then faltered, fading to nothing like a morning mist when the sun's finally come up. Harry stood and ran to his father, his face streaked with tears and blood, his t-shirt torn at the shoulder, and James caught him up into his arms. He was on his knees then, checking Harry over, finding him unharmed though scared.
Sirius knelt with James, his hand on Harry's head, listening as Harry stumbled over his words as he tried to explain to his dad what had happened. It was then that Sirius looked up, expecting to see Remus--expecting his calm presence--but found he still lay where he had fallen when he'd dropped his shields.
"Remus?" Sirius called but there was no answer from Remus. Sirius stood on shaky legs, his stomach roiling with fear. There had been too many lost in the war--lost to the Death Eaters--and Sirius couldn't bear the thought of Remus being their next victim. James had been right about Remus, of course he had been, Sirius thought irritably. James had always been the better judge of character, and now Remus had become a kind of friend to Sirius as well. Next to him, James caught Harry up into his arms again and Moody began to yell at his Aurors, rounding up the witnesses, while Sirius ran to Remus' side and knelt next to him. Feeling for a pulse and nearly collapsing in relief when he found the weak thrum in Remus' veins though his hand came away sticky with blood. He was already gathering Remus up when Moody barked at Sirius to take Remus to St. Mungo's, and that, too, was so horribly familiar from the dark days that they were gone before Moody could finish his sentence.
Hours later, Sirius was still at Remus' side in the hospital. Remus was unconscious but healing, a nurse with a thin face and a sharp nose had said. Sirius had answered her brusquely, still thrumming with anger at the way Remus had been treated when they had first arrived. Sirius had levied the full weight of his family's name, barking orders at any staff members who happened to be nearby and threatening to cut off generous funding if Remus wasn't seen to immediately. Sirius had no idea what sort of support his mother likely provided, having never had interest in the Black family legacy, but he imagined it must be vast by the private room they'd found themselves in and the nurse who hovered nearby though she clearly expected Remus to rise up at any moment and attack. When James had stopped by, he'd whistled low as he’d come into the room and told Sirius it was a good thing that Remus was still out, as he'd likely be embarrassed by the attention. James had offered to stay, but Sirius had turned him down and sent him home to be with Lily and Harry, recognizing what it had cost James to leave them at all that night. The fear that it was starting again--that his family was once again in danger--weighed heavily on them both.
Instead Sirius sat quietly and alone in the metal chair at Remus' bedside, the smell of antiseptic burning his nose. He tried to take shallow breaths through his open mouth and force his thoughts to something other than how much he hated hospitals. The last time he'd been inside St. Mungo’s had been when a man barely out of Hogwarts told him that there was nothing they could do for Regulus, that he had died within seconds of being struck in the chest by the curse his own cousin had conjured. That it was too late. If he thought on it for too long, he could remember how his mother had wailed and beat her hands on Sirius' chest, asking why Sirius hadn't protected his younger brother--why it hadn't been him instead. Sirius had stayed silent, asking himself the same questions.
Sirius stood and walked to the window, his hands buried deep inside his pockets. Far below him was Muggle London, and Sirius watched the lights from their cars and buses, tiny constVitions of their own, as he pushed aside thoughts of his brother. Instead, he thought of how angry his mother would be when she discovered that when he had finally used the leverage of his name it was only to help a werewolf. He could practically hear her ragings already.
Sirius turned to look at where Remus slept still and pale, the color only just beginning to return to his cheeks from the blood replenisher potions he had been given. James was right; if Remus had been conscious through any of this, he would have been embarrassed, insisting he was fine even as he lay bleeding to death. They had only met a few times since that night at the Weasleys’--at James and Lily's Sunday dinners and again, only once, at a pub in London, where Remus had discussed some new bit of obscure Muggle relations legislation with James as easily as he had talked about Pudimore's chances of beating Sirius' team at Quidditch in their next match. Sirius found he liked Remus quite a lot, despite his own misgivings, especially as it was so very apparent that Remus had a knack for finding mischief. That Remus was quite fit, as James had promised, only added to his appeal, though Sirius really did try to keep his distance out of respect for James. He couldn’t help being fascinated by the man, though.
The nurse bustled in again, leaning over Remus' bedside to take his temperature and monitor his progress. She had barely raised her eyes to Sirius, clearly nervous, though whether it was because of Remus or Sirius himself, Sirius couldn’t say with more certainty than he would have earlier. He left her to her tasks, looking out the window again and then moving to straighten the room a bit--rearranging his cloak over the back of a chair and resettling Remus' cane. When he reached for Remus' cloak, a roll of old parchment fell from it and Sirius bent to pick it up, puzzling over it a bit when he recognized the runes for "life" and "the moon.” He unrolled it some more, frowning at the Greek letters he hadn't bothered to study since leaving school but remembering enough to know that this was part of a ritual of some sort. He stumbled through a little more of it before he realized the nurse was standing at his elbow, waiting quietly, and he rolled the parchment back up tightly.
"Has there been a change?" Sirius asked as he tapped the scroll against his open palm.
"He's much improved, Mr. Black. Only just sleeping now," the nurse said. "He should be waking soon."
"Will he be able to leave tonight, do you think?"
"That'll be for the doctor to say, sir, but I wouldn't be surprised if I were you if he had to stay until morning. If you don't mind my saying, sir, his kind generally--"
"I do mind, actually," Sirius said stiffly, cutting her off.
"As you please, sir." The nurse stood straight and tucked her wand back into her sleeve but said nothing more as she left the room.
"I suppose you're used to that," Sirius said out loud though Remus only just slept on. "Wretched thing to get used to." Sirius sat again, turning the parchment over in his hands. There was something familiar about it, some memory that tugged at a corner of his mind. He could almost hear Regulus laughing at him, you don't have to know everything, Sirius. We already know how terribly clever you are.. Toward the end, they hadn't argued nearly as often as when they'd been boys, and Sirius had been proud of him. Losing him to the war had been awful.
Sirius twisted the page of parchment again, picking out the words he knew--or thought he knew: potion, return, death. The rune for life repeated itself again and again across the page, even to the edges, as if it wanted to carry on. He knew the writing wasn't Remus' clear, even hand and wondered what it meant--why Remus had it. What it was that danced at the edge of memory like the missing lyric to a song he'd heard a thousand times.
"Sirius?"
Sirius gave a start at the sound of Remus' voice and quickly shoved the parchment scroll back into a pocket of Remus' cloak. "You gave us a scare."
"Harry--"
Sirius leaned forward to press Remus back against his pillows when he would sit up. "He's fine, thanks to you."
"I just--there was something so familiar about the smaller of the two."
"Do you know who it was?"
"I don't know." Sirius watched as Remus squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the palms of his hands over his face. "I need to speak to Professor Dumbledore."
"James has sent him a message. I imagine he'll be here soon. Do you remember anything? About your attacker, I mean."
"I couldn't see him well enough. We had just come out of the museum and they were on us. I barely had time to send a patronus." Remus let his hands drop to his sides on the bleached sheets. "Did James call you?"
"Yeah, and Moody, too. He thinks you might have injured one of them. There was blood there that wasn't yours."
"Was anyone else hurt?"
"No, it was over nearly as soon as I got there. James took Harry home to Lily. They're all fine."
"Are they very angry with me?"
"What? Of course not."
"I shouldn't have taken Harry with me. I just thought he would enjoy seeing the museum." Remus' voice trailed off and he looked away from Sirius, to the square patch of night sky they could see through the window. His eyes were weary, strained, as they had been the night the boggart took the shape of Rabastan, and Sirius wondered again about his role during the war. He was sure that Remus wouldn't do anything to hurt Harry--he could have done so at any moment over the past few months. It wasn't that, Sirius knew. Like James, he was positive now that Remus couldn't have fought on any other side but their own, if he'd fought at all.
"Don't be ridiculous," Sirius said, reaching out to put his hand on Remus' shoulder. "It wasn't your fault."
"If something should have happened to him… I should--"
"You should lie here and rest, yeah? He's safe for tonight, and the doctor said you needed to rest."
Remus nodded, suddenly docile beneath Siruis' hand, and they were quiet for a long time, long enough that Sirius' thoughts strayed again to the parchment scroll in Remus' cloak. He was startled when Remus spoke again.
"Thank you, Sirius."
"For what?"
"You must have said something or done something. I wouldn't have been treated otherwise."
"I suppose people haven't always been kind."
"No."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't."
"I am. I doubted you at first, too, you know, though I'm ashamed of it now. James and Lily don't--no worries there. They both adore you."
"I--They've become like a family to me. I haven't had that in a long time. I wouldn't want to do anything to hurt them. Or you." Remus closed his eyes and swallowed, and Sirius watched the bob of his adam's apple. He hadn't moved his hand from Remus' shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
"Rest now," he whispered, and in a few moments when Remus' breaths had evened out and when Sirius thought that maybe he'd fallen asleep again, he stroked his hand over Remus' hair.
Remus couldn't help but think back to the first time he'd been in the Potters’ kitchen and had expected at any moment to be expelled for who--or rather what, he thought wryly--he was. Instead, he'd found a home and friends, the family he'd been so envious of and feared losing now. He leaned against the sink, the smell of the flowering athelas plant easing his mind, and he distracted himself by recounting its properties, a schoolboy's exercise that only partially blocked out the louder, angry voices of the men and women who had crowded into the kitchen as well.
It was only the evening after the attack at the museum and Remus' body still ached, though he fought not to show it. Dumbledore sat at the table between James and Arthur, and Remus wished they had had more time to talk before the meeting had started. The Longbottoms were there, as well as Moody, Sturgis Podmore, and several others who had been members of the Order of the Phoenix. Molly had ushered the children outside to play when she discovered Harry and Ron attempting to listen in, and it was good that she had, as what had begun as a civil discussion had quickly devolved.
They were afraid, and right so. After the attack on Remus and Harry, several people in the room had received messages, portents, Moody had called them. They certainly all felt the threat.
"But why now?" James asked the room again. "And why Harry?"
"I'm not convinced Harry was the target, James," Professor Dumbledore said, and Remus tried to ignore the way that Professor Dumbledore looked at him over the rims of his half-moon glasses.
"But what about these pictures of the Order members? Don't you think they're related, Albus?" Arthur picked up the picture that had been left in his own kitchen before tossing it back onto the pile with the others--one from the Longbottoms’ wedding, another from a Christmas party at their first headquarters--all defaced in some way and all with the imprint of the snake on the back.
"They're not all Order members," Sturgis said from where he sat next to the fire. He crossed the room to pick up one of the pictures from the center of the pile. In it, a very young, very reluctant Remus skulked in the corner of the frame, his long hair falling into his eyes. It was the official Ministry of Magic photo taken from his file with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and over which his registration number had been scrawled. "His was the last to come, wasn't it. And he was there when Potter's boy was attacked."
"Just what, exactly, are you implying, Podmore?" James said, with a dangerous edge to his voice.
"How can we be sure of him?" Sturgis thumbed over his shoulder to where Remus stood, and Remus forced himself not to look away when James and the others looked over at him. "We all remember how it was during the war. Couldn't trust no one, could you? Now here comes a complete stranger--"
"That's not fair," Lily said, interrupting Sturgis and leaning forward with her elbow on the table so that she could point at him. "Remus and I were prefects together at school. He's not a stranger to me."
"But where was he during the war? And now he shows up here right when things start happening. Who's to say he didn't leave this to make himself look innocent?"
Remus bit his lip, still not sure how to respond, but was saved from having to as Dumbledore shook his head slightly to keep him quiet. Sirius caught the action as well, and looked from Dumbledore to Remus and back again before he rose from James' side to cross the room to join Remus at the sink. Remus was grateful to him. The mistrust was familiar but he could still feel his face heat up as some of the others in the room looked at him and he fought the urge to tug his sleeve more firmly down to hide the registration number on his wrist.
"I trust Remus," James said so firmly as if that alone would put paid to any further argument. "The wards on the cottage aren't as strong as they are here, though that will change. Perhaps whoever left it was trying to get at us here at the house."
"By leaving this?" Podmore tossed the photo back down onto the pile and the Remus in the picture crossed his arms over his chest as he again tried to leave the frame though it was charmed to prevent his escape. "And what of the attack?"
"We only just assumed Harry was the target," Sirius said, haltingly, his voice low, as if he only wanted James to hear. "Perhaps it was Remus they were after."
"Him?" Podmore jeered, but more quietly now, and Remus thought he sounded a bit unsure of himself.
The room was silent for a moment, only the sound of the fireplace as it crackled and popped with its merry flame, and Remus stared into it. James, he knew, was watching him--regarding him--until Sirius broke the silence again. "You were an Order member, weren't you, Remus? That's why no one can find out what you were doing then and that’s why Dumbledore is so concerned now. No one was supposed to know."
Remus gave a start and jerked his head about to look sharply to where Sirius stood at his side. He couldn't deny it--didn't want to--but Sirius was right. No one was ever supposed to know. Remus didn't say anything, only just looked again to Professor Dumbledore when he cleared his throat.
"I think it's time for the truth, Remus," Dumbledore said. "No more secrets. They've served none of us well."
"Then it's true?" James asked.
"Yes," Remus finally said. "I did some work in the north for--for the Order, trying to prevent Voldemort from gaining a stronghold amongst the werewolves and vampires. I'm afraid I didn't have much success. They didn't trust me because I was a Wizard. Because I'd been educated at Hogwarts."
"You proved extremely valuable and did more good that you believe, Remus," Dumbledore said fondly. "Because of the prejudice Remus has suffered as a werewolf, Lord Voldemort assumed his loyalty. He was able to infiltrate quite deeply into their ranks and fed us information that led to many of our successes on the battlefield. He was also able to stumble across a rather large plot that may have marked our defeat have Voldemort succeeded."
"The spy," James said.
"Yes, there was one of our own, we knew, who was passing along information that nearly destroyed our chances of defeating Voldemort and caused the death of so many of our friends. The other side knew how valuable a weapon they had and kept it secret for well over a year, at least until Remus discovered his identity and conveyed that information to the Order, at great risk to himself," Dumbledore said, looking carefully at Remus. "So, in the end, there was one other person who knew Remus served the Order besides Minerva and myself. One former Order member who found out at the end of October in 1981. One who is likely posing this new threat to us now."
"Who?" James asked, but Remus thought by the sound of the tremor in his voice that maybe James already knew the answer.
"Peter," Sirius said, his eyes flashing as he looked at James.
"Peter's dead." Remus watched James reach for Lily's hand, the blood draining from his face, and he felt tremendously sorry for them both.
"He disappeared, yes, but I do not believe he's dead," Professor Dumbledore said.
"So you think it's Peter doing this?" Lily asked.
No one answered her. Professor Dumbledore only just sat back into his chair, his eyes on James as James fought back another wave of emotion.
"I'm so sorry, Lily," Remus said after a while, when it felt as the silence would consume him. "James."
"Don't be sorry," Sirius bit out. "This isn't your fault. It makes sense now. Everything makes more sense. He was to be the secret keeper, we thought it was safer, and then Voldemort found James and Lily, and nearly killed them. It was only chance that--" Sirius stopped, pushed his hand through his hair and glanced down at Remus. "Of course, it wasn't chance, was it. That's when you--"
"Yeah."
"But then when Peter never came back. When we thought he died, I don't know. We thought he'd been captured and tortured. We did look. It never occurred to us that he could have been the spy "
"I can't believe this." James pushed up from his chair and walked to the fireplace and back. Frank drew Alice nearer him and Arthur folded his arms over his chest. They'd been quiet all evening and Remus couldn't help but wonder what they thought as well. Frank and Alice must have known Peter during school, too, he supposed. Even Sturgis was quiet now, his hands flat upon the table as his jaw worked hard. Peter had been an affable sort, Remus had heard, liked by all. Remus felt sorry for them all.
"Why would he do this?" James continued when no one else spoke, and Remus watched as Lily stood to join him--to stand next to James and take his hand as James faced down Professor Dumbledore. "He was our friend. We mourned him--we still do--and all the time he was serving Voldemort. He was--They wanted to kill Harry. He could have killed Harry."
"We may never know his reasons, James," Professor Dumbldore answered him, just as steadily as before. "Voldemort was extremely skilled in gathering those to him who he thought would do his bidding."
"But why didn't you tell us before now?"
"Because we had our own spy we needed to protect. It nearly cost Remus his life to bring us the information."
"Professor--" Remus said, attempting to forestall Dumbledore from saying anything more.
"The time for secrets is long past, I think. You were definitely one of our best kept, but I think we can trust the present company, especially in light of current events."
"That's why they were saved," Sirius said, cutting across Professor Dumbledore's calm, diplomatic voice. His own voice was barely above a harsh whisper as he struggled to contain himself. Remus realized then that Sirius was shaking slightly, and when he met Sirius' eyes, they were that bright silver, intense and glittering with anger and gratitude--too much emotion to contain and it made Remus tremble a bit in response. "You saved them. You saved my family."
"But Peter escaped," Remus said. "I lured him away and meant to keep him there until Professor Dumbledore could come. He was--It was the night of the final battle in Godric's Hollow. He couldn't come and I was meant to guard him but--"
"That wasn't your fault, Remus," Professor Dumbledore gently said.
"Rabastan." Sirius still held Remus' attention and Remus thought back to the night at the Burrow, to the form the boggart had taken. He gave a quick nod and Sirius gripped his shoulder, giving Remus what strength he could, and Remus was again flooded by gratitude and…something else. Something he hadn't felt in a long time, if ever. He was suddenly, painfully aware that they had an audience though Remus still couldn't look away from Sirius.
"Yes. He followed me. He never trusted me, and of course he had good reason. I was completely untrustworthy." Remus gave Sirius a grim smile, which was answered with one of Sirius’ own, and Remus felt something warm blossom in his chest. He knew it now, that crush he'd had as a boy, the one that had never gone away--he wanted Sirius Black, and for a moment just then, he thought that Sirius wanted him back.
"So what does he want now?" Sirius asked. "If it is Peter. If he's still alive."
"He is."
"That's why you said you recognized one of them. It was him. We should have recognized him, too."
"No, you can't think that. You didn't expect him."
"But you did," James said as he looked sharply at Remus. "The break-ins. Gringotts. Grimmauld Place. He's searching for something, isn't he?"
"I don't know, James. I mean, I'm not sure." Remus looked away, hating to lie but unwilling to expose all his secrets at once. They'd been all he'd had for so long. "The timing could be off. They could still be unrelated. I just know he was there at the museum."
"We'll look into it, Potter," Moody cut in. He'd been silent, too, since slipping in to the kitchen late. He stared at Remus with his good eye while the other moved constantly--dizzyingly. "We'll need to lean on the Yaxleys more until they tell us what was stolen. Lupin might be right. These robberies have been too well thought out for Pettigrew. You knew him best, Potter. Do you think he could have done them alone?"
James winced as Moody spoke, clearly upset to think he hadn't known Peter at all. He drew Lily closer to his side and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "I don’t know. I never suspected he was the spy. I couldn't say what he was capable of."
"Perhaps," Professor Dumbledore said. "We should leave it here for tonight. I have a theory, though no more than that. We need more information. Remus, I'll call on you soon, and until then, I'll trust Sirius to keep you safe."
Remus was startled by the twinkling in Professor Dumbledore's bright blue eyes over his spectacles but next to him Sirius was nodding gravely, and straightened to stand tall, partially shielding Remus' body with his own as if he expected another attack in this very room.
"Until then, let us all keep safe and take extra precautions. The holidays are upon us, and I'm quite looking forward to James and Lily's party."
"The party--" James began but stopped when Professor Dumbledore spoke again.
"Should carry on as planned. Now, we've taken up enough of your time, I believe, Mrs. Potter. I see you have another quest, and we should perhaps be cautious about being seen to be meeting like this."
Remus and Sirius turned to look out the window above the sink and saw that Violeta stood chatting with Molly in the back garden as the children continued to play in the twilight. Behind them, they could hear the flames of the floo flare to life as first the Longbottoms then the others filed out. Professor Dumbledore was quietly talking with James and Lily, too low for Remus to make out what they were saying and he didn't try either, and there was the soft whir of Moody's magical eye as it continued to search for any sign of danger.
"I should be going, too," Remus said to Sirius and Sirius nodded.
"I'll walk with you down to your cottage."
"I'll be fine. I think--" Remus paused to look over his shoulder at James. Professor Dumbledore was patting him on the shoulder before he turned to the floo himself, Moody following. "James needs you tonight, I think."
Sirius nodded, ran his hand over the back of his neck. "You’re probably right. Can I stop by later? Just to be sure you're all right."
"I'll be fine. I'm just going to bed."
"Yes, of course; you must be tired."
Remus was halfway to the door before he stopped and looked back at Sirius, his brain catching up to what Sirius had said. Tonight hadn't been the first time that Sirius had stood up for him, but it was because they were friends. Remus had learned not to expect anything more. But the way that Sirius was looking at him now, made him question that--made him believe, if only just for this moment, that perhaps there was something more. Something to it. Just as he thought maybe he should go back and find out for sure, Violeta came through the door.
"Oh! Vi! I'm so sorry," Lily called out with false cheer. "I forgot we were meeting. Just let me get Harry in and settled."
"Take your time, Lily."
"I should be going," Remus said. Lily turned to him suddenly and surprised him by hugging him hard, and he flashed a helpless look to Sirius who was watching him in return. Lily held him out at arm's length by his shoulders, searching his face for a moment, before she rushed out the back to where Molly and Arthur stood with the children. "I'm going to go," he said, then cleared his throat.
"You'll come to the party, Remus?" James asked from where he still stood at the fireplace.
"I'm not sure."
"Of course, he will--" Sirius and Violeta said in unison, and Violeta looked back at Sirius with narrowed eyes. "He'll come with me," she said. "Won't you, Remus?"
"I really should be going." Remus backed toward the door, meaning to escape before he embarrassed himself in front of everybody. He didn't quite make it before Violeta slipped her arms through his. "I'll walk out with you. Mind telling Lily I'll be right back, James?"
"What was that all about?" James collapsed into the chair next to the fire and looked Sirius over. His usually pale cheeks were flushed as he stared still at the door that led to the gardens.
"Don't know what you mean."
"'Course you don't."
"Do you think he's really interested in her?"
"Ah."
"Don't 'ah' me," Sirius said but he had the grace to look embarrassed about it.
"All right. Then I'll say I don't know. I think maybe he's just being polite."
"Good."
"Are you interested?"
"In Violeta? I already had a go, didn't I? Once was enough."
"I was thinking of Lupin."
"Remus?"
"You are."
"Shouldn't we talk about what happened tonight?”
"No." James stood, agitated at the very thought of Peter--over what he'd done to them all. Over finding out that he'd been betrayed so thoroughly. He crossed the room to the sink and folded his arms over his chest, unconsciously imitating Sirius' stance.
"All right," Sirius said, drawing it out. "Fine."
"I was thinking of Lupin."
"What do you mean? About tonight? That was pretty amazing, finding out what he'd done."
"Yeah. I had no idea. We owe him a lot. That's twice he's saved Harry," James said. "But I was thinking about you and him."
"What? Don't be ridiculous, James. You were the one who declared him off limits to me. I haven't looked at him twice."
"You looked at him at least three times tonight."
"Prat."
"Besides, when have you ever listened to me?”
"Please, please, please don't bring up the one date Lily and I had."
"You could have told me, is all I'm going to say."
"Why do I stay friends with you?"
"I always supposed it was my boyish good looks."
"There is that."
"So, why do you care if Remus asks Violeta out?"
"She's not his type. Or rather, I wouldn't have thought Remus was hers."
"He's smart, attractive, and blows things up with a regularity of which I approve. What's not to like?"
"I knew you were in love with him. You're sure he hasn't asked her out?"
"You'd have to ask Lily. If you're not interested in her--"
"Definitely not."
"Or him?"
"No," Sirius said and James laughed when it came slower than his answer for Violeta, and harder still when Sirius frowned at him.
"Why are you so sure Remus isn't her type?"
"What?"
"You said--"
"I know what I said. I don't know. I guess she was a little too keen in wanting to meet my mother. Can you imagine?" Sirius laughed bitterly. "She may be pureblood, Violeta, but still not quite good enough for Walburga."
"She wanted to meet your mother? She actually asked?"
"She suggested. Strongly. Regulus had apparently told her all about Grimmauld Place, and she wanted to see it."
"And you think it was a hint at marriage?"
"What else would it have been? We didn't get on at all, so I imagine my name was a bit more tempting than the bearer. So, now she's keen on your werewolf who has nothing but his honor and his education to offer."
“I'm not sure who that's meant to be a condemnation for, Violeta or Remus."
"I happen to think that both his honor and education are worth a lot, actually, but I can't imagine Violeta agreeing."
"I knew it. You are interested. Poor Remus."
"Yeah, well." Sirius rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and then over his chin. James stayed quiet, waiting for what he knew was coming next. "Are you all right?"
James looked up at Sirius for a long moment before he nodded. "It's just a bit of a shock, isn't it."
"We'll find him. Ask him why."
"Ask? In the old way?"
"Something like that."
"Do you suppose he'll tell us?"
"We'll have to be persuasive," Sirius said. "In the meantime--"
"In the meantime, you'll be careful with my tutor. I'm rather fond of him--I'm fond of you both."
part 1
part 2
part 3
part 4