Chapter 4

The Events which transpired in the Hall of Mysteries were so terrible that Remus never bothered pondering the 'what ifs' of the situation. Either disaster would have been entirely averted, or a much worse catastrophe would have taken place. If he'd been at his post and still missed them in the Forest, there wouldn't have been anyone in range of the fireplace when Snape raised the alarm. Kreacher had laid his trap well.

As it was, Remus was in the kitchen preparing dinner for himself and any members of the Order who might happen along. Sirius was upstairs tending to Buckbeak, even though the Hippogriff had more or less recovered from his mysterious injury. Tonks, Moody and Kingsley were in the upstairs drawing room. The situation in the Auror office at the Ministry was getting more complicated, and they required a private place to discuss their plans. When Snape appeared, Remus had been on his way back upstairs, but the Potions Master arrived in time to command his full attention.

For the only time in their lives, the two were civil to one another: just a quick exchange of information in place of the typical insinuations, and then Remus was off up the stairs at top speed.

"Sirius!" he bellowed. "Sirius!"

"What in the world – " said Tonks, ambling out of the drawing room. Moody glared over her shoulder and Kingsley looked up from where he stood gazing out the window.

Then Sirius was there. He held his wand in his hand, and his eyes were wide. There was almost an exultant gleam in his eyes. For whatever reason, he knew he would finally be leaving the house.

"It's Harry," Remus said. "Harry and his friends. They've gone to the Ministry."

"I knew we should have told him!" Sirius burst out, almost proud. "I knew he'd figure it out!"

"I imagine Miss Granger did most of the figuring out," Moody began, scathingly, but Remus cut him off.

"That's not why he's there," he yelled. "He thinks – Voldemort – has you."

"Children," breathed Tonks. "Children against every Death Eater in England."

"Listen, you lot," Moody said, his magical eye whirling. "This is my call. You will all do as I say."

There were nods from everyone but Sirius.

"If you think I'm staying here – "

"You're not," barked Moody. "Against Voldemort, I'll need even you. But you'll listen or I'll make sure you never leave this house again."

"Tonks, send your Patronus to Dumbledore," Moody instructed. She nodded and left the room. "Kingsley, raise everyone. I don't care if they'll fight or not. We'll need witnesses, or Fudge will make us out even worse."

Tonks returned. Remus wondered what happy memory she could possibly have conjured to produce her Patronus. His stomach hadn't felt this hollow since the nights he'd spent waiting for Voldemort to give up on or attack Lily and James. Yet he remembered sandwiches and heartfelt conversations, and wondered if he might have managed the spell after all.

Moody went down the stairs, rummaging through his pockets to dispose of things he wouldn't need to fight. Tonks followed him, her bright pink hair making the faces in the portraits turn away in disgust.

"Dumbledore will come," she said. "We'll need to leave a message in case someone comes here."

"Kreacher!" Sirius yelled "Kreacher! Blast it, get down here!"

With a sharp crack, Kreacher appeared on the landing. His eyes had an odd gleam to them, and he rocked back and forth with barely suppressed laughter.

"Yes, Master?" he croaked. "What shall Kreacher do?"

"Dumbledore will be here soon," Sirius said. "When he gets here, you must tell him everything."

Kreacher gave a very violent twitch and began to cackle with laughter, no longer even trying to hide it. Sirius reached out and grabbed him by the ear.

"Tell Dumbledore everything!" Sirius repeated harshly.

"Yes, Master. Kreacher always does what Master says, even though Master broke his mother's heart. In this, Kreacher serves the Noble House of Black."

"Useless elf!" Sirius exclaimed, nearly throwing him up the stairs.

"Let's go!" Moody called out.

Moments later, they Disapparated to the Ministry, and then there was no time for reflection. The fight was fierce and instantaneous. Afterwards, Remus remembered only bits and pieces, but the centre of it was always Sirius and Harry.

He remembered catching Harry, stopping him from blindly following Sirius through the Veil. He remembered Harry running after Bellatrix, but Remus thought he'd seen Kingsley follow, and had gone to Tonks to make sure her injuries were not severe. He remembered a sea of befuddled and panicked wizards in the Atrium of the Ministry. And he remembered Dumbledore telling him that Headquarters was off limits. So for the first time in months, Remus had gone home.

Months of emptiness had done little to improve his flat. There wasn't much to begin with, a moldy sofa, a sparse kitchen, a near empty bedroom, a bath, and a closet that Remus had turned into a veritable prison for the nights he needed it. The couch was still covered with the blankets and pillows Sirius had used when he was laying low after the debacle at the Triwizard Cup.

Sirius.

The first time Remus had mourned for Peter, for James and Lily, and for a boy he might not see again for years. His mourning for Sirius had been guilt-ridden, bordering on hatred. How could he have missed the signs? How could Sirius have been the one to betray the Potters to their deaths?

And now, once again, he was the only survivor of the Marauders. He let his loneliness and his isolation envelop him, shutting out the world entirely. His Daily Prophets piled up on the kitchen table. The tawny owl who delivered them became increasingly peevish as the week wore on. He couldn't bear the vindication. All those people coming out to say that they had never doubted, always believed. Sirius's name was cleared, and he would receive no benefit.

No one from the Order had contacted him. It was public now, but his role within the organization would remain secret. If anything, Ministry involvement made his relegation to the background even more necessary. Remus was not surprised. He knew that, eventually, there would come some dark, dangerous, uncomfortable job that he would be called upon to do, because everyone would already be doing something else.

So the week passed. Remus made an effort to clean up, but the flat was in such disrepair that it was futile. He ordered food to be delivered by owl, as was his custom. Since his teaching at Hogwarts, even more of the local wizards knew he was a werewolf, but he hadn't had time to move. It was easier to avoid his neighbours than it was to determine which of them were willing to deal with him.

He had just settled in for another evening of maudlin remembrances when a rattling knock on the door brought him out of his deep contemplation of the bottle of Firewhiskey on the table in front of him. He sat up, wondering who was at his door. Sirius was dead and Dumbledore had returned to Hogwarts, and the list of people who knew where he lived did not extend much past them. The knock came again, frantic and tremulous, and he rose to answer it, wand at the ready.

"We had roast beef sandwiches on the floor of the Shrieking Shack," Tonks said, identifying herself as soon as he'd cracked the door open.

"Tonks!" he gasped in surprised, for she was among the last of the people he expected.

He made it general practice not to tell anyone who worked for the Ministry where he lived. Kingsley was the sole exception. Even the Weasleys didn't know. But even more surprising than Tonks's presence was her appearance. Most people emerged from St. Mungo's with a pale, wan bit of health around them, one that spoke of incipient recovery. Tonks was grey from head to foot.

"Come in," he said finally.

When she didn't move, he took her by the shoulders, intending to steer her towards the newly scourgified sofa and press a cup of tea into her hands, but as soon as he touched her, she collapsed against his chest, shuddering and beyond tears.

"Shhhh," he said softly, tightening his arms. "Shhhhh, this way."

Without loosening his grip, he led her across the sparsely decorated room. The sofa was old, but steady. It was also relatively comfortable, which was one of the reasons he hadn't replaced it. Sirius had left him an uncomfortable amount of money, but he was reluctant to use it on something as frivolous as his own furnishings.

When they were seated, he pulled back from her a little and cupped her chin with his hands.

"What happened?" he asked. "You're supposed to be in St. Mungo's."

"I was," she said, breathy and stunned. "I - they let me go today. Just now, actually."

"Why here?" he said, more shaken than he cared to admit. This Tonks was so different from the one he knew, and the difference was more terrifying than a legion of Death Eaters.

"I went home." Her voice was detached, almost mechanical. "Everything was right where I'd left it, but I could tell something was wrong."

She twisted her hands in her lap. In the fraction of a second it took him to look down and then back to her eyes, he realized that he was holding her face gently in his hands. Something inside him stirred in an entirely too-familiar way.

"I looked around the kitchen, and everything was right, so I walked into the den. It's not much, just two chairs and the radio, the fireplace." Her eyes shone with something he couldn't identify. "And then there it was. Dog's blood. On my wall. 'I killed Sirius Black'."

The enormity of it crashed in on him.

"She knows where I live, Remus. I can't go home."

Without a word, he folded her into his arms. They clung to each other, past tears and talk, past grief and terror, in the dark place where only the need for human contact remained. Remus forced his mind to stay there. He knew that the instant he came back to his surroundings, it would be like the breaking of a spell, and he would be forced to realize that the woman in his arms was Tonks. That she trusted him. That of all the people in the world, she had come to him for help.

"You can stay as long as you like," he heard himself say.

She looked up at him. He felt the world shift beneath him, and before he knew what he was doing, he bent his head, and pressed his lips against hers.

Remus Lupin had not kissed very many people, but in that moment, none of it mattered. She didn't flinch, didn't pull away from him in disgust. For the first time in a week, in years, Remus felt that nothing was wrong. There was only her soft mouth beneath his, her hair that seemed to wrap itself around his fingers, and her warm, solid presence in his arms.

She shifted closer to him, her body fitting itself against his. He felt a flare of warmth deep inside, in the place he tried to deny the existence of. There was hunger there, and desire, in measures that terrified him. And she pressed against him, stoking the fire he feared. Abruptly, and without thinking, he pushed her away.

She stared at him, breathing hard, the pink beginnings of mortification creeping over her face. He couldn't look at her, couldn't face the wealth of emotions she offered, so he shut them down entirely.

"I'll have to do some cleaning, if you're going to stay," he said, because it was the first thing that occurred to him to say. He'd tried to say it lightly, but he knew that it had come out horribly false.

"If I – " she began, then mastered herself. "Perhaps it would be better if I went to my parents' house."

"I imagine they'd have more room," Remus agreed. He felt rather like everything in the room might shatter at any moment.

"Right." She was on her feet and backing towards the door. "Well, thank you for the…talk."

"Anytime!" Remus said.

And then she was gone, and Remus was wondering if he hadn't just made everything so much worse.

Notes: And that's it for part one! Look for part two ("Change Will Do You Good") soon at fanfiction sites near you!