I.

The students were still filing into the Great Hall for the welcome feast when Charity dashed through the doors around them and hurried toward the front dais. She was only slightly surprised to see a stranger sitting next to her normal chair; she had known the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was arriving that day, but he looked rumpled and tired, and she couldn't help but frown, wondering what sort of dinner companion he might be. Reminding herself that appearances weren't everything, Charity straightened her robes and smiled as she pulled out her chair to join him.

"Good evening," she said, hoping she sounded welcoming because he looked so weary. His face was lined with care but also with kindness, and he had soft brown eyes that watched the hall with both a hint of nervousness and a trace of sadness. Like her, he had been a student not so long ago, and she remembered her own first feast as a teacher a year earlier. It had brought back all sorts of memories, and she could only imagine what he might be thinking, having come back to the castle where he had grown up.

"You must be Remus Lupin," she continued. He turned to smile at her, and she decided she liked him immediately just from his smile. It made him look younger, when he appeared so much older than he really was. She wasn't the type to form quick opinions, but she had been curious about the headmaster hiring a man with lycanthropy to work so closely with students. Seeing him now, she had to admit Remus Lupin's slightly rumpled and weary appearance did little to help his cause, yet his smile and his kind, sad face negated any concerns she had unconsciously developed, and she looked forward to sitting with him.

"I am, but you have me at a disadvantage, given I've just arrived." He stood as she sat, and she was impressed with his manners, old-fashioned as they were.

"I'm Charity," she said, holding out her hand. He took it, his grip firm, his hands rough as if he'd been using them for something other than reading books and grading papers. "Charity Burbage. I teach Muggle Studies."

"Ah," he said, smiling at her once more. "Muggle Studies. I enjoyed that class when I was a student."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Did you really or are you simply saying that because we've just met? Only most people don't admit to taking it, let alone enjoying it. Especially in school."

He cocked his head at her, eyes twinkling. "No, I really did enjoy it. My grandmother was a Muggle-born, and I have very fond memories of her. She died when I was quite young, so Muggle Studies was a chance for me to rediscover her world."

Charity couldn't help but be impressed once more. Too often she found that most witches and wizards were simply not interested in her area of expertise, or worse, dismissed it completely as unbecoming for study. Even now, so many years after the war, the number of Slytherins in her classes continued to dwindle, while those who did take her class were the rare few who braved it for career purposes only. She was glad the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was so open to it; perhaps she might have finally found someone to discuss her lessons with.

Before they could talk much more, Dumbledore started the feast with his customary words of wisdom, as well as a warning to students regarding the Dementors surrounding the castle. Most of the students knew perfectly well the reason for their cold presence: Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban, and the Dementors were there to protect the castle. Why, she wasn't exactly sure, but then it occurred to her that Remus Lupin had been in school with Sirius Black, and she looked at him curiously.

Coincidences like that didn't happen--not in Professor Dumbledore's castle.

She had been a first-year Ravenclaw and he had been a fifth-year Gryffindor, but she remembered Remus Lupin and his friends. Few students had left such a mark on the castle as James Potter and Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and…she couldn't remember the fourth boy, he had been so much quieter than the others. Yet experiencing three years of their exploits, even from another house, had definitely left an impression in her mind. She was surprised she hadn't made the connection before.

"So when did you arrive?" she asked after Dumbledore had introduced both Remus and Hagrid as new staff members, and the food began to appear. She helped herself to her favorite dishes and turned to offer him some, but Remus had already tucked in; goodness, was he starving? He certainly looked thin enough.

"Sorry," he apologized as he wiped his mouth with his napkin and grinned ruefully. "I arrived with the students, actually. I took the train."

"The Hogwarts Express?" she asked in surprise, and he nodded, another small smile playing at his lips. "Why ever would you do that?"

"I was in London." He shrugged. "And it's been so long since I've been back, I thought I might enjoy the ride, for old time's sake."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "And?"

"Professor Dumbledore asked me to," he laughed. "With everything that's going on."

"You mean Sirius Black," she said. She noticed his face stiffen just slightly, but he composed himself quickly and just nodded, his expression neutral.

"You knew him at school," she said, trying to be conversational. "I remember you and him."

"You do?" he asked, sounding puzzled. "What year were you?"

"I was a first-year when you became a prefect," she said. "I was in Ravenclaw, but I remember because you and your friends were almost always the talk of the school--pranks, fights, you name it. Plus most of my friends had a crush on one of you at some point."

"My friends." Remus swallowed and set down his fork. He turned to her and the look on his face almost broke her heart: incalculable loss, tinged with bitterness and anger. "I'm afraid my friends are all dead, Miss Burbage."

"Sirius Black isn't dead," she pointed out, slightly confused. "He escaped. That's why the Dementors are here."

"I am well aware of why the Dementors are here," he replied curtly. "But Sirius Black is dead to me." He placed his napkin down, even though he clearly wasn't finished with his meal, and stood. "If you'll excuse, it was a long trip. The Dementors boarded the train, and I must rest before classes begin tomorrow."

Remus left the hall, his back stiff. Charity stared after him, mentally kicking herself for offending him so quickly. And she hadn't heard about the Dementors either, which must have made the trip even more difficult, given how cold and and dark they made her feel whenever she passed one. Glancing around, she caught Severus watching her.

"What?" she snapped. "Care to have a go at me for pissing him off on the first night?"

He smiled tightly, but it was not a pleasant smile. Severus was not pleasant: he was dry, bitter, sarcastic, barely tolerable. He inclined his head toward the doors. "Lupin was correct. The Dementors boarded the train, and he sent them off. I'm sure his abrupt departure had nothing to do with your company."

She narrowed her eyes at him. For the most part, she got on reasonably well with Severus Snape. Oh, he hated her class and took every opportunity to sneer about it when he could, but after a year of failing to react and in fact holding her own against him, she thought she had finally earned a small bit of grudging respect from the Potions professor. She was one of few staff members who tried to give as good as she got, it seemed; most others avoided him.

"He seemed upset when I mentioned Sirius Black, not the Dementors," she said, wondering if Severus would know anything more. He had been at school at the same time as Remus, after all.

Snape's lip curled. "I'm sure anyone would be upset if you mentioned the man who had killed his two closest friends." He spoke with little sympathy; he was never sympathetic, toward the students or the staff, but he sounded almost gleeful at revealing something so tragic.

Charity frowned. "What do you mean, his two closest friends? I thought Sirius Black killed a street full of Muggles."

"Oh, there was that too," said Snape. He strode over to take Remus's seat next to her, his black eyes boring into her own. "But there was more."

"I didn't realize you were such a gossip, Severus," Charity admonished, even though she desperately wanted to know what had really happened between Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. Snape seemed to sense this and merely raised an eyebrow.

"It's not gossip when it's truth," he replied. "Lupin was quite close with Black, Potter, and Pettigrew, as you might recall." When she nodded, remembering Peter Pettigrew as the fourth member of the group now, he continued. "Sirius Black gave up the hidden location of Potters to the Dark Lord. When Pettigrew went after him, Black killed him and the rest of those Muggles."

Charity stared at him, unable to believe what Severus was telling her. No wonder Remus had left so abruptly. It was his first day back at Hogwarts, and she had immediately brought up the man responsible for the death of his two best friends. How he had survived such a crushing blow was almost unthinkable. She had to talk to him and make amends.

"Thank you, Severus," she said, finishing her pumpkin juice and standing. "I appreciate you telling me the truth."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You're going to find him and apologize, I presume?"

"Of course," she replied, meeting his gaze. "I can only imagine how hard it must be for him right now, being back at Hogwarts, knowing Sirius Black has escaped. What if Black comes after him?"

Snape actually sneered, and Charity was taken aback by the sharp look of loathing on her colleague's face. There was something else going on, something she could only begin to understand--some sort of history between the two men. It was clear that Snape did not like Remus, which made Charity all the more determined to support the new professor.

"Black is not after Lupin," Snape finally said. "And if he were, it would be no loss."

Charity turned away, disgusted once again with her colleague. "Sometimes you are a despicable human being, Severus," she said as she left. "Good night."

She hurried out as quickly as she had come in, hoping to find Remus Lupin and try for a better first impression.

* * *

Remus wandered the castle, hands tucked deep in his pockets as he gazed around the childhood home he had not seen for more than ten years. Every twist and turn of the corridors brought back deep recollections; every portrait, every classroom, every brick itself was tied to a memory so profound he wondered why he had come back. It hurt to remember such things, when he had lost so much.

Letting a hand trail along the wall that lead to the secret passage behind the fourth-floor mirror, Remus sighed deeply, wondering if he would regret returning to Hogwarts. It seemed no coincidence that Dumbledore had called him at the same time Sirius had escaped from Azkaban. Surely there must be a reason the headmaster required his presence now after so many years. Was Sirius after him, or was the traitor searching for Harry? Had Remus been called to Hogwarts for his own protection, or to watch over his best friend's son? Perhaps it was both.

Shaking his head of maudlin thoughts, Remus finally came to the rooms where he would be staying. His trunk had already arrived, and he had few other possessions to unpack. Instead, he glanced around his new home in the castle, so different from the Gryffindor dormitory. A small sitting room was set off from an even smaller sleeping quarters, with a private bathroom to the side. There was a beautiful view of the grounds from the window--but ironically enough, it looked out upon the Whomping Willow, and Remus turned from it, not wanting to think about the tree and all it had meant to him in his youth.

He had just sat down and poured himself a glass of wine he had brought with him--a Muggle red he had become fond of over the years and always made sure to have on hand--when a knock at the door roused him from his reverie. He opened the door to find the Muggle Studies professor standing across from him. She looked both contrite and concerned.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Professor Lupin," she began, and Remus waved away the formal address.

"Please--call me Remus," he said. "And don't apologize. I should be apologizing to you for running out on our conversation earlier."

She looked surprised. "No, of course not!" she exclaimed. "I know you've had a long trip. I spoke without thinking at dinner, and I just wanted you to know I'm sorry I mentioned…well, what I mentioned."

He smiled wanly. "You mean Sirius Black?" When she nodded, he sighed. "I should have expected it. You will probably not be the first person to ask me about him, given our former friendship and his recent escape."

"It must be hard," she murmured, and he eyed her speculatively.

"I've found most everything about my life to be hard, Miss Burbage," he replied. "That does not give one excuse to be rude."

"You weren't rude," she smiled at him. "And please call me Charity."

"Would you like to join me, then, Charity?" he asked, motioning her inside. He liked her. She seemed kind and open and perhaps it was best not to be alone his first night back. He should certainly attempt to become a part of the staff. "I was just about to have a glass of wine and would be happy to continue our conversation from dinner."

She glanced around the corridor, as if she were nervous about being caught entering his rooms; perhaps it was him, and she was looking for an excuse, an escape. Pushing the thought from his mind, he nodded, though he couldn't help feeling disappointed. "Another time, then," he murmured.

"No!" She stepped into the room and shut the door behind her rather quickly, he thought. "It's just that I don't want the students talking, this being your first night here and all."

He moved toward the chair he had been about to collapse into and motioned to the open bottle of wine. "Would you like a glass? It's a Muggle wine."

"You really are into Muggle Studies, aren't you?" She laughed, and Remus was glad to hear that it was clear and light; she did not sound nervous at all. He poured her a glass and handed it her, indicating a nearby chair before he joined her.

"I don't tend to make up things to win favor," he replied. "I prefer honesty, which has not always served me well, but is certainly preferable to deception."

"Spoken like a true Gryffindor," she murmured, and took a sip of her wine. Remus watched her, noting her delicate features, vibrant hazel eyes flecked with green, dark hair tinged with auburn. For some reason, he reminded her of someone, and the thought made him both sad and more comfortable with her.

"What do you think?" he asked, indicating the wine, and she nodded in appreciation.

"Not too dry, a hint of cherry and vanilla, I think, with nice oak undertone." She gave him a challenging look. "It's a merlot from France, probably Bordeaux or Bergerac. Am I right?"

"I'm very impressed!" he laughed, and he allowed himself to relax. A woman who knew wine could only be someone worth drinking it with. Suddenly the thought of being back at Hogwarts didn't seem so bleak after all.

* * *

II.

Remus found he was quite busy as the term began. He had been told that Gilderoy Lockhart had done a poor job the previous year, but he was still dismayed to find just how far behind the students were, and he spent hours working on lessons to catch them up. He saw Charity at meals and occasionally in the staff lounge, but as they both seemed either busy or to keep to themselves most of the time, there were days when he did not see her at all, and he found that he missed that interaction, however brief and innocuous: she was one of the few staff members aside from Hagrid he enjoyed spending time with, and he wished he could find a way to see her more.

The first full moon back at Hogwarts was strange. He almost started toward the hospital wing to see Poppy (no longer Madam Pomfrey, of course; they were colleagues now) when he remembered he no longer needed her to escort him to the Whomping Willow under cover of darkness. Instead, she came to see him in his chambers, and unfortunately, Severus Snape came with her. Remus almost wished he could head to the Shrieking Shack instead.

Snape had graciously--or reluctantly, as Remus imagined it more likely--offered to brew the Wolfsbane potion Remus needed to remain safe around students during his transformation. He came with the last cup, the gloating sneer on his face almost too much to bear; yet Remus knew he must accept Snape's help and managed to be as gracious as possible. Poppy then locked him in his chambers for the night, releasing him in the morning none the worse for wear, with only the familiar exhaustion wearing at him, just as it had for his entire life.

It worked like a charm, and Remus found himself unusually hopeful. He had half expected to be discovered that first month and dismissed; now he felt slightly more confident and settled. More human, even.

It was almost mid-October when a few of the staff decided to walk to Hogsmeade one weekend, and though Remus wanted to join them, he decided he would do better to remain at the castle a while longer, working on grades, and head to the village later. He would definitely need a Butterbeer or two after grading the sixth-year essays on Lethifolds.

After several hours of bending over his desk, Remus gave up and grabbed his cloak. The students had long finished dinner and the Great Hall was empty as Remus left the castle, looking forward to the short walk to the village on his own. He knew he should be more cautious: in fact, he probably shouldn't be out alone at night with Sirius Black having escaped and presumed to be coming after Harry. Yet a part of him almost wanted to meet his old friend, to challenge him. Remus had not had the chance to see or speak to Sirius after that awful night twelve years ago, and there wasn't a day when he still wondered what the truth of it was--how it had all gone so wrong.

He left the grounds, shuddering slightly as he passed the Dementors at the gates, and reached the village without incident. Making his way toward the Three Broomsticks, he noticed how quiet it was. It was a cool but beautiful fall night; there should have been more people around, but it seemed that between the Dementors in the area and the threat of an escaped prisoner, people preferred to stay inside.

As he opened the door to the Three Broomsticks, Remus was startled to bump into Charity Burbage; she was clearly leaving, and looked flustered at that.

"Remus!" she exclaimed. "Whatever are you doing here?"

"I came down for a pint or two," he replied with a warm smile. He could not have imagined being more pleased to run into anyone else. "But why are you going out alone? It's dangerous outside now, you know."

"I could ask you the same," she laughed.

"I'm not afraid of Sirius Black," he said softly. "You should be."

She nodded and didn't say anything; she knew it was still a difficult subject for him, after their first awkward encounter during the welcome feast. "I was going to Apparate directly to the gates, actually. I came down with the others, but they've all gone back now. I was talking with Rosmerta and didn't realize what time it was."

"Care to stay out a bit later, then?" he asked impulsively. "I'd love to buy you a drink, and then we can head back together."

She cocked her head and seemed to think about it. "I'd like that. Safety in numbers, right?"

"Right," he laughed, and he offered her his elbow. She took it, and they entered the pub to find it half empty. "Plus we've been so busy we've hardly had a chance to talk in weeks."

Charity nodded sympathetically. "I heard that you've had a lot of catching up to do."

"You have no idea," he laughed. "But it's going well. They are quick learners."

"Back so soon?" called Rosmerta from behind the bar. "And Remus Lupin! It's about time you stopped by!" She came around front and embraced him, which drew a very curious look from Charity. Remus was fairly certain he was blushing, though he wasn't sure why. It wasn't as if he and Rosmerta had a history, they were just…friends. Mostly.

"Sorry, Rosmerta," he replied, trying not to mumble while Charity watched with a half-smile on her face. "I've been busy getting acclimated. I never realized how hard the professors worked while I was in school, that's for sure."

"Well, it's not busy down here so it's good to see you. Both of you." She winked at Charity, and Remus thought they exchanged one of those looks women share that men aren't supposed to notice and don't really understand anyway. She motioned them toward a table in the back. "And your teachers worked much harder, I should think, at keeping you lot in check. Have a seat. I'll bring you some mead--it just came in, a nice fall brew."

As they walked toward the table, Charity leaned close and whispered to him. "Is there something between--" she started, and Remus stopped her immediately.

"Absolutely not," he said, and now he was certain he was blushing. "Not at all. Never was, never will be." He coughed in embarrassment; it was half true, anyway.

"That's good," she murmured, and Remus swallowed, wondering what that might mean. He held out a chair for Charity and sat down across from her. An awkward silence fell between them at first, until they finally began chatting about the village.

"Rosmerta says things are pretty quiet around here with the Dementors up at the castle and the Ministry warnings posted everywhere," Charity told him. "It does feel far more bleak and empty than last year. It's sad how it's affecting everyone."

Remus wasn't sure what to say. The Dementors were there to protect the people from Sirius Black--or rather, to capture him and take him back to Azkaban before he hurt anyone else, particularly Harry. Remus felt everyone's discomfort with the Dementors keenly, because it was compounded by guilt. In some ways, it was his fault: his fault for not seeing Sirius as the spy, for not being able to save James and Lily and Peter. Perhaps if things had been different, they would all still be alive, and Sirius would either be dead or still in Azkaban and not trying to come after Harry.

His fault.

Shaking himself of maudlin thoughts, Remus forced himself to focus on the woman in front of him. Her hair was down instead of clipped back and looked more red in the dim light of the pub; he thought she was quite beautiful with it framing her face. Though he had known the comfort of women over the years, he had always tried not to let himself get close to anyone, knowing that should they return his feelings, his condition would only condemn her to a difficult, lonely life. Yet every time he saw Charity between classes or in the Great Hall, he found himself thinking about her more and more, wondering if he couldn't have the life so many others had, the life he had long ago stopped believing in.

He found himself almost wanting it.

They talked and laughed and enjoyed several of Rosmerta's new mead together. Every so often Charity touched his arm, and Remus felt that strange electric feeling race through his body, the one with the rush of heat that literally made his heart skip a beat. He was attracted to her, yet she was his colleague, and he didn't want to hurt her, so he continuously tried to force his body's impulsive feelings to the back of his mind and instead concentrate on their conversation.

And their conversation was lovely: Charity was quick and clever, a lively conversationalist, but an equally good listener. He could have talked to her for hours. Eventually she asked him about Sirius, in the most gentle, unassuming way she could. To his surprise, Remus didn't mind and found himself telling her far more about that awful night than he had told anyone over the years. Yet she was there with him, and Sirius was out somewhere in the night, and he needed to tell her, though he did not share everything. She took his hand more than once, and he was grateful for her friendship, even if he was also thinking about more.

All too soon she suggested they go back to the castle, and he reluctantly agreed. They decided to walk, for the night was clear and crisp, the stars beautiful. Remus kept one hand on his wand, while to his surprise Charity linked her arm in his much as he had offered earlier. His heart racing, and not from fear, they walked arm-in-arm down the road. As staff members, they were able to pass by the Dementors and return through the gates without incident, but before they started across the grounds toward the castle, Charity stopped him and gave him a thoughtful look.

"I'm glad you came down to the pub, Remus," she said. "I had a lovely time."

Her hazel eyes were bright in the starlight, and Remus felt his chest constrict because Merlin he wanted to lean forward and kiss her right then. But just because she had told him she'd had a lovely time did not mean she wanted to kiss him in return.

"I did too," he replied as steadily as he could. She smiled, and to his shock, she stepped forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Then we should do it again sometime." Raising an eyebrow, she linked arms with him once more and began to walk toward the castle. "Or at least make the effort to see one another around school more."

Remus felt a shiver of relief flow through him: perhaps she was interested in more. He smiled and nodded and placed his hand on her arm. "I'd like that," he said, holding her gaze a bit longer than necessary. "Very much."

They entered the castle together and parted ways for their chambers, though she did not kiss him again, and he was not so forward as to kiss her good night, especially in the middle of the corridors. Remus hardly heard her murmured farewell; he was already thinking about the next time he would see her, hoping there would be more.

* * *

III

Charity stared at her colleague, her skin prickling. "He was here? Sirius Black?"

Aurora Sinistra placed a steady hand on her arm. "He attacked the Fat Lady, but she was strong. She didn't let him in."

"Is he still in the castle?" Charity asked, trying to keep her voice steady. The thought that Sirius Black had somehow got past the Dementors and into the school was terrifying. Although she was concerned for the students, she was also just as worried for Remus: she had to find him.

"I doubt it," said Aurora, eyeing her strangely. "But the Headmaster's asked everyone to search the castle. We can go together."

Charity shook her head to clear it of distracting thoughts. "Of course. Let's go." Then she paused. "What about the students?"

"They are all in the Great Hall." She chuckled. "Dumbledore conjured them sleeping bags. A rare Hogwarts sleepover, it seems."

Charity did not answer, but instead tried not to think about Remus as they began to walk the castle, wands raised. She has some idea of what Sirius Black being in the castle might mean to him, and though they had not talked about it much, she was worried about him: would he go looking for Black, seeking revenge? She desperately wanted to leave Aurora and find Remus, but knew her first duty was to the school and the students.

A thorough search of the school turned up nothing, however, and within hours Professor Dumbledore went to the Dementors to inform them that Black was no longer in the castle. Charity hurried toward Remus's rooms.

He was just leaving. He had his cloak and his wand and a grimly determined look on his face. He also looked tired, and she remembered that the full moon was later that week. He shouldn't be going out, not when he was clearly upset and fatigued. She hurried to stop him.

"Remus!" she exclaimed, taking his arm before he could walk away. "Wait. You can stop looking for him. He's not in the castle anymore."

Remus turned toward her, his eyes glinting fiercely. "He may still be in the area, however. And I know the area quite well."

Charity wasn't sure what he meant, but she still knew he couldn't go out alone. If Black had killed his friends and a dozen innocent Muggles with no regrets, he certainly wouldn't think twice about finishing things with Remus.

"It's not safe--" she started, but he waved away her protest.

"I told you before, I'm not afraid of Sirius Black. I know him."

"You thought you knew him," she replied, her tone deliberately sharp. She hoped it would bring him back to reality. "But no one expects their friend to be a cold-blooded killer, who just tried to break into the Gryffindor common room."

His eyes flared with anger, but he did not say anything. She placed her hands on his shoulders. "Please, Remus," she said softly. "You can't go after him. You know you can't."

He shrugged off her arms. "I can and I will. I have to stop him. I can't let him hurt Ha--" He stopped himself, lips pinched tightly as he glanced away.

"You can't let him hurt Harry," she finished. "I know. But please--let's go back inside and talk about this. There are obviously some things you haven't told me."

His head whipped around. "There's nothing left to tell. He killed James and Lily. I won't let him kill Harry."

"Then I'm going with you," she said, hoping that might stop him. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"No, you're not. He wouldn't hesitate to hurt you."

"And you think he'll stop and think before he raises his wand at you?" she snapped. That got to him, so she kept pushing. "He killed James and Lily and Peter and all those Muggles. What makes you think he won't kill you?"

"Maybe I don't care," he hissed under his breath, his face close to hers. She was shocked at the look of bitter pain and furious resentment on his face. And it made her angry as well: she literally turned him around and pushed him toward his door.

"Don't you dare speak like that, Remus Lupin," she said, her voice low. "You open that door right now and talk to me before you go running out of this castle with a death wish."

"I don't have a death wish," he snapped, turning his head around to glance at her over his shoulder. "I just want--"

"--to risk your life because you're still pissed off at Sirius Black."

"Of course I am!" he practically shouted. "You would be too if he ruined every--"

"Open the door," she interrupted, sorely tempted to take out her wand and hold it to his back. But surprisingly enough, he responded to something in her voice and reluctantly unlocked his door. They entered the dark room together. Charity lit a single lamp with her wand and then motioned him toward the same chairs where they had sat and talked during his first night at Hogwarts. This would be a much different talk, however.

Remus did not sit down; instead, he paced before the fireplace while Charity sat and watched. After several minutes of running his hand through his hair, he finally turned to her and sighed, sounding more exasperated than anything.

"I don't know whether to thank you or shout at you some more," he said.

"As I'd rather not be shouted at," Charity replied, "I'll take the thank-you."

He stared hard at her before throwing himself into the other chair, elbows on his knees as he gazed into the fire. "The thing is, I should be looking for him. I should be the one to stop him."

"Stop him from getting to Harry?" she asked, and when he nodded, she continued. "Why is he after Harry? How do you know?"

Remus leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "Dumbledore told me, and he's had it from the Minister."

"But why?" Charity pressed. She sensed that although they had talked about Sirius Black when they had met at the Three Broomsticks, Remus still hadn't told her everything, and she felt like he needed to tell her more and unburden himself before he did something rash.

"He killed James and Lily," Remus replied, as if that answered everything.

"I know that…but why would he want to kill their son? To finish the job?"

He inclined his head and remained silent. Charity thought for a moment, then leaned forward to touch his knee.

"Remus, why is it your responsibility to find him? Why do you feel so guilty?"

He gazed at her with dull eyes. "Because it's my fault, Charity. It's all my fault."

"How?" she asked, shaking her head in confusion. "You didn't kill your friends, you didn't kill those people on the street that day--"

"I didn't see it in him!" Remus exclaimed, jumping up once more in agitation. "I thought maybe--maybe he was the spy, maybe he was the one leaking information to Voldemort, but I couldn’t bring myself to really believe it, and I certainly couldn't bring myself to confront him."

"Remus--" she started, but he kept going, as if he couldn't stop.

"Maybe they would all still be alive if I had said something, done something--Peter, James, Lily. All those Muggles and how many others? Dead because of me!" He actually turned toward the hearth and laid his head on the mantle. His breathing was quick, as if he was refusing to give in to either anger or tears.

Charity stood and walked over to him, hesitated, then slowly began rubbing his back. At first he tensed, then slowly he began to relax. He was still thin, but well-built and wiry, and she could both feel and sense a strength in him that went deeper than he probably knew. He had not broken twelve years ago, and he would not break now.

"It's not your fault," she said, speaking quietly but firmly so as not to agitate him more. "It never was and never will be. And neither is it your responsibility to right the terrible wrong he committed. It was none of your doing." He stood up straight to look at her, but his face was blank.

"You were his friend," she continued, this time letting compassion color her voice. "Of course you didn't want to believe such a thing about him, who would? You trusted him. You were loyal. The most important thing you can do now is watch over Harry, not throw your life away."

"Sometimes I just want to know why," he whispered, running a hand across his eyes. "I want to find him and ask him why." He paused and looked away. "Before I kill him."

She reached out and turned his cheek back toward her. "You might ask him, but you wouldn't kill him. You're not that kind of man, Remus."

"You don't know that," he said, and though he sounded angry, there was no real venom behind his words anymore, just pain. "He was supposed to protect them, keep their secret with his life. Instead, he betrayed them to Voldemort. He killed Peter. He condemned his Harry--his godson--to a terrible life." Remus swallowed and nodded. "He deserves to die. You know he does."

Charity didn't know what to say. In many ways, she did think Remus was right. Sirius Black was a wanted criminal who had ruined so many lives, what right did he have to live free, especially when he was still trying to hurt people? And yet what right did anyone, even Remus, have to take another life for the purpose of justice and revenge? Would it really ease his conscience, his guilt?

She didn't know.

And so she stepped closer and merely offered her support. She wrapped her arms around him, until gradually he relaxed into her embrace, and his breathing slowed down. Soon he even wrapped his arms around her, and she wasn't sure who was holding who, but she liked it, and she felt that odd catch in her breath as she started thinking and feeling things she probably shouldn't--not then, not there. Not that night, in that state.

So she pulled back, determined to end the embrace and put some distance between them, but he did not let her go, instead gazing into her face with a look of sadness and gratitude. He leaned closer, and whether he realized he was running his tongue over his lips, she wasn't sure, but she noticed, and Merlin she wanted to press her lips to his right then, only how could she, when he was clearly so upset?

"Thank you, Charity," he said, so softly she could barely hear him; his voice was hoarse.

"I'm not sure what for," she replied, trying to keep her voice light, though she could hear the uncertain shake in it. "But you're welcome."

"For finding me," he replied, and one hand came up and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. When had that come loose? His fingers lingered on her neck, and she sucked in a silent breath at his gentle touch as goose pimples traveled up and down her arms.

"For stopping me," he continued. "For listening." He was staring so deeply into her eyes that she felt almost hypnotized by his gaze. She knew perfectly well she was wetting her own lips now, but she couldn't help it. She had liked him from the first day she had met him, and had wanted to kiss him--really kiss him--since the night they had met at the Three Broomsticks. She just wasn't sure he felt the same.

She was fairly certain now that he did, from the way he was looking at her, touching her, still holding her, but was it the right time? He had been upset, and she had come to comfort him, not for anything else. Yet as his head moved toward her, she tilted her face upward and told herself that maybe it didn't matter, that night. Maybe he needed her…and maybe she needed him.

When their lips met, tentatively at first and then with growing passion, she knew deep down it was right. And as they stumbled toward his bed, falling into the dishelved blankets with kisses that grew more and more heated, she threw caution to the wind and embraced it for whatever it was, even if it was only for one night.

* * *

IV.
He didn't mean to avoid her, but found himself completely involved in his schoolwork, as well as growing more fatigued as the full moon neared. And so he did not see Charity for the rest of the week, and though he knew it might appear as if he was avoiding her and hated to think that she was upset because of it, he couldn't help it: he had too much work and too much on his mind. And the full moon that month was particularly difficult, sapping him of any energy he had left to try and make amends.

He even missed his classes the next day, barely able to get out of bed and stumble like an old man into the next room. He was only thirty-three; how long would it take him to recover in ten or twenty years? Once again he cursed his condition as he sat in his rooms and stared out the window at the Whomping Willow, sipping a draught Poppy had brought him that morning to help him recover.

He wondered once again if Sirius were out there, somewhere on the grounds, sneaking around as a large black dog. He should have told someone, anyone…and yet, revealing Sirius's secret also meant revealing his own, that he had spend three years of his time at Hogwarts running loose around the grounds as a werewolf instead of staying in the Shrieking Shack, built expressly for his transformation. Dumbledore had trusted him as an eleven-year-old and made it possible for him to come to Hogwarts; the headmaster had trusted once again as an adult struggling for work, inviting him to teach. Revealing Sirius's Animagus form meant revealing his betrayal of that trust, and Remus couldn't bring himself to do that.

He also couldn't help but wonder if it really had been Sirius in the castle, or if someone else hadn't just come in through one of the secret passages Remus and his friends had discovered during their time at Hogwarts. And more than anything, he couldn't begin to understand why Sirius would come after Harry. That was what still hurt so much: he knew Sirius had loved James and Lily and especially their son and, and Remus still couldn't fathom why Sirius had betrayed them--all of them--so long ago. What had driven him to the other side when he had once hated everything Voldemort stood for? And how had they all missed it?

Wrapped up in his own dark thoughts, Remus almost missed the knock on his door, until it became an insistent pounding. Standing gingerly, as the transformation sorely taxed his bones and sinew in unnatural ways, he walked slowly toward the door to see who was there. Perhaps Poppy had brought another draught.

He was surprised to see Charity standing in the corridor, and the look on her face almost made him step back: she appeared both angry and concerned, irritated and relieved to see him. He couldn't blame her. He had had barely seen her all week, and she had every right to be upset with him, assuming the worst after what had happened between them on Halloween; yet she had come at the most inconvenient time possible, and he couldn't help but frown even though a part of him was glad to see her.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice weary. She raised an eyebrow--whether at his words or his tone, he wasn't sure--as she held out a goblet for him.

"Poppy had another draught for you. I told her I'd bring it down. Are you going to ask me in?" Her voice was calm but cool--and also determined. He made the mistake of hesitating, and she walked right past him.

"I'm coming in anyway," she said.

"Charity, now is really not a good time," he started to say, but she set down the draught and turned toward him, opened her mouth to obviously retort, and stopped. Her face softened.

"I can see that. You look like hell."

"Thanks. Then maybe another time?"

She walked back to him and took his hand. "No, this time will have to do. I won't stay long. But please sit and drink." She pulled him toward the chair, pushed him down, and handed him the goblet.

"Can I get you anything to eat?" she asked, sitting next to him in the other chair.

He shook his head. "No, I'm don't usually eat until at least dinner, sometimes not even then."

"Was it worse than usual?" she asked softly. "Poppy said you were taking it hard."

"I suppose it was," he said, sitting back with a sigh and sipping at the draught she'd brought him. "I think there's so much else going on that it was much harder this time."

"You mean with the attack last week?" she said.

"And my classes," he added, not wanting to go there.

"And avoiding me?" she asked, raising that eyebrow again. He groaned.

"Charity, I'm sorry, but I really can't--"

She leaned forward and stopped him with a kiss. She tasted sweet, as if she had just come from lunch and had strawberries and cream. He sighed, but she smiled.

"I think I understand now just how hard this is for you, and that maybe it's why you've been avoiding me all week." He opened his mouth to protest, but she waved him off. "Because I know you have, Remus. Don't deny it."

He was quiet for a moment, thinking on how to respond. "I really have been busy and not feeling well, Charity--"

"Both good excuses," she said, nodding thoughtfully. "I've been positively inundated with bad essays on electricity this week and feel a cough coming on. But I've also missed seeing you, and I think that after what happened last week, we need to have a talk about things between us." She paused. "Don't you agree?"

Remus sighed again. "What do you want me to say, Charity? Because I really don't know, not right now. I can hardly think straight."

She looked away before turning toward him with a very serious look on her face. "Then I'll talk. I just want to know that it meant something, that it wasn't a one night thing because of all that had happened that night." When he was silent, she pulled her chair closer and gazed into his face very earnestly. "Remus, I don't want it to be for one night only. I want it to mean something because I…" And here she finally stumbled a bit, the calm confidence gone. "I really like you."

He couldn't look at her, she was gazing at him with hazel eyes so clear and bright. He couldn't hurt her either, but the truth really was that he just didn't know what to say: did he say what he felt with his heart, or what he knew with his mind? So he didn't say anything, any words that came to mind sticking in his throat until something fairly nonsensical finally made it out.

"You really shouldn't, you know," he muttered, still not looking at her.

"I shouldn't what?" she asked. "Like you?" He nodded in response, and sensed rather than saw the faintest hint of a smile on her face. "Well, that's not up to you. I like whomever I please. You should consider yourself lucky. I'm a terrible prat to people I dislike, such as Severus."

Remus couldn't help but snort. "But no one can blame you for that. He's an arsehole."

"He certainly is." She was grinning now. "Remus, I know you were upset last week and maybe what happened that night wasn't the best timing, but it still happened, and I don't regret it, do you?"

He couldn't lie to her: it had been wonderful. He liked her and wanted so badly to have that closeness with someone…and then he realized why he was still sitting there in his sleeping robes, exhausted and pale with his hair likely a bird's nest. He was a werewolf, and he could never put someone he cared about through so much heartache and pain; it was his burden, not hers.

Still, he shook his head, because he did not regret their night together, and he didn't want her to think that he did.

"Good," she said, patting him on the leg. "I'm glad you don't regret it either. I'd feel like a scarlet witch otherwise. Now, what do we do about it?"

Remus finally reached over and took her hands. "Nothing," he said intently. "Charity, look at me. I'm a mess. I'm no one to be with, I'm a --"

"Werewolf," she finished. "I know. But you are only that once a month. Can't I have you the rest of the month?"

He stared at her as if she were insane. "Why would you want such a thing?" he asked

"Because I like you, Remus," she said softly, leaning forward to kiss him once more. "And I think you like me too." He almost groaned, it was so perfect--she was so perfect. Maybe he had finally found someone--someone who really did care, someone who wouldn't abandon him or betray him or hurt him…

"I do like you too," he whispered back, raising his hand to her face. "I think I could even fall in love with you." His eyes widened as he realized what he had said; he sounded like a schoolboy, like James prattling on to Lily in his never-ending attempts to win her over. What was he thinking? Why had he said that?

Yet Charity smiled and leaned forward again and kissed him so soundly that apparently he had not said anything too terribly wrong. He kissed her back, reveling in the simple joy of human contact once more. Then he realized once more what he had said.

"But I don't let myself--" he started, and she put a finger to his lips.

"You should let yourself," she murmured. "Falling in love is a beautiful thing. I think I'd like to try it."

Another long kiss, and he cursed himself for being so weak. He should be pushing her away, telling her no. But he couldn't: it was what he wanted, what he needed. Maybe it could work out, maybe he didn't have to be alone.

When she finally ended the kiss, brushing the hair from his face in such a tender way he shivered at her touch, he wished he had the energy for more. Yet it was obvious he did not, not then, and she knew it. She stood and gazed down at him fondly. "I'm glad that's settled then. Can I bring you dinner here in your chambers?"

He stood to walk her to the door. "I'd like that. Thank you."

"You're welcome." She paused at the threshold and took his hand. "It's going to be all right, you know--you, me, us, even Sirius."

"I don't know that," Remus replied honestly. "But I'll try to believe you." He squeezed her hand in reassurance, because he would try: this time he would try.

"You should believe me," she said, eyes twinkling. "Mostly because I'm right. But also because you don't have to push away every chance at a normal life that comes by. You deserve to be happy, Remus." She gave him one last kiss, right there on the threshold, before she turned to leave.

As she walked away, he wondered how she had seen so clearly to the heart of the matter: yes, he wanted that normal life…but he would never feel like he deserved it.

Especially with Sirius Black running free.

* * *

V.
"Term starts again tomorrow," Remus protested as she lead him through the castle toward the Entrance Hall. "Don't you have a lot of work to be getting on with or is it just my classes?"

"I finished yesterday. Besides, this is preparation for one of my classes." Charity couldn't help but smile broadly as they stepped out into the cold, snowy world: the grounds were sparkling in the morning sun, a winter wonderland that almost took her breath away in spite of how chilly it was. She wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck and adjusted her knit hat; she didn't anticipate staying out long, but she wanted to enjoy it while she did.

"Don't tell me we're going sledding," he groaned. "I heard you took your third-years sledding last year."

She gave him a surprised look. "How did you hear about that?" she asked.

"Hagrid mentioned it." Remus coughed. "He thought I might need some tips if you decided to try and take me sledding."

She giggled. "So he knows about us, then?"

"Sometimes Hagrid can be unusually perceptive," Remus murmured.

"Did he see me leaving your rooms?" Charity asked. "And here I thought I was being careful sneaking out."

"No, he did not see you sneaking out so you're doing fine at sneaking," Remus said, shaking his head with a smile. "Actually, he asked me if I had ever thought about having a date with you, and I told him we already had. I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not," she said, taking his hand as they came closer to the lake. She didn't want him to run when he found out what she really had planned. "He's a good man."

"You have no idea," Remus murmured, and once again Charity could tell he was thinking about his past, about a life she still knew so little about even after so many weeks of laughing and talking and getting to know one another late into the night. She wondered if he would ever tell her everything--how he had become a werewolf, what he did during the war, that dark night twelve years ago when his best friends had been murdered. She was willing to wait, but she worried about him whenever he seemed to slip into the past.

Squeezing his hand, Charity stopped at the edge of the lake. It was, of course, frozen solid, as the winter chill had set in hard this year. She waved her wand and cleared an area of snow, then murmured a charm under her breath. Remus gave her a questioning look.

"Unbreakable Charm," she said. "Just in case."

"Just in case of what?" he asked, but there was a small smile tugging at the sides of his mouth, as if he were beginning to suspect something.

"Just in case there's a thin spot," she replied. "In the ice."

"Because we're…" He trailed off, as if asking a question.

"We're going ice skating," she announced, pulling out two pairs of ice skates from the bag she had carried out with her. Remus merely raised an eyebrow; she was starting to love that understated reaction from him.

"Aren't we a bit old for ice skating on the Hogwarts lake?" he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice.

"I'm not," she shot back, hoping to challenge him. When he didn't react, she leaned forward to kiss him quickly. "And neither are you, even if you think you are."

"And what about the students seeing us?" he asked.

"They won't be back until much later," she reminded him. "And it's too early for the ones who stayed. Come on, Remus--stop stalling. It'll be fun."

"If you say so," he murmured, but he did sit down on the blanket she laid out a bit back from the shoreline, and he began pulling on the skates she handed him.

"I know so," she said. "I used to come out here and skate every year when I was a student. I'm teaching my third-years this year since they are all expecting me to take them sledding. I want to surprise them."

"Next year you could try skiing," Remus suggested flippantly. He had done up his skates perfectly.

"I might," she replied with a laugh. "Have to keep them guessing!"

Finishing her own laces, Charity stood and hobbled her way through the snow toward the lake. Stepping onto the ice, she effortlessly glided away, quickly remembering the delicate balance of speed and equilibrium it took to skate on a thinly sharpened piece of metal over a frozen surface. She had loved it since the first time she had tried it as a child, and had introduced her friends to it at Hogwarts; now she was going to introduce Remus to the fine art of ice skating, and then her third-years.

Skating back to the edge of the lake, she watched as Remus gingerly stood and glanced down at the skates with skepticism. She held out her hand as he hobbled toward the ice, then held it firmly as he stepped onto the slippery surface. She halfway expected him to fall straight off, but he kept his balance remarkably well.

"First thing you want to do is relax and try to keep your ankles from turning in," she told him, skating backward and gently leading him forward. He was watching her face with a small smile, whereas most beginners tended to watch their feet. His ankles were fine: he wasn't wobbling one bit. She couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he had done this before.

"Then you want to push to the side, one foot at a time," she said. "Here, watch." She left him standing on the ice and glided away, speeding up to do a few quick turns before coming back to him with an elegant t-stop. He had an amused look at his face. "What's so funny?" she demanded.

"You look as giddy as a school girl," he replied. "Twirling around out there."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes. "And what's wrong with that? I happen to like ice skating. Are you ready to try?" She took his hands, ready to guide him out farther.

He still had that funny look on his face as he leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'm glad you enjoy it so much," he murmured, dropping her hands, "because I do too." And with that he stepped away, soaring perfectly across the ice without the slightest bit of hesitation. He even did a turn and waved at her as he glided backwards around the lake.

He had obviously been ice skating before.

With a laugh, Charity hurried off to join him. She caught his hand, and they skated in circles around the ice, every so often moving into a graceful dance move as if they had been skating together for years. It was glorious, having someone to skate with; last year she had come by herself and it had been a bit lonely, to be honest. She had anticipated Remus grumbling about coming out with her and had expected their time on the ice to be quite short, yet she felt that right then she could stay out for hours, never tiring, never growing cold.

It was perfect.

She idly wondered what else she still didn't know about him, but she decided that if it was something like this, that was all right. When he was ready to share the darker parts of his history, she would be there for him; for now, she was just glad to have discovered this wonderful secret.

Soon, however, the sun moved behind some clouds and the wind picked up, and between the increasing cold and the dull ache in her legs, Charity found herself ready to head inside to warm up. Remus agreed, spun her one last time, and together they glided back to their blanket on the snowy shore and began to undo their skates.

"Well, that was a pleasant surprise," Charity said, pulling her boots back on for the trek back to the castle. "Where did you learn to skate?"

"Oh, I picked it up over the years," he replied. There was a mysterious and lofty tone to his voice, but Charity could see the smile crinkling the skin around his eyes.

"You did not. Seriously--when did you learn how to skate like that?"

"Here at Hogwarts," he laughed. "My fifth year." He sort of smiled to himself, and Charity narrowed her eyes.

"I know that look. You're remembering a girl, aren't you?" He gave her a surprised look, and she crossed her hands over her chest, playfully challenging him. "Who was she, then?"

He shook his head and leaned over to kiss her. "It wasn't like that at all. It was Lily Evans, that's it."

"I thought she dated James Potter at school," Charity remarked. Remus nodded.

"She did, but not until seventh year. Lily and I were prefects together and became quite close friends. She had other interests, though, and I knew James always had feelings for her, so it was nothing more." Remus gazed out across the ice with a fond look on his face. "But one day she asked me to join her skating, and it turned out I was actually rather good at it, so it became something for us to do for fun, when O.W.Ls or N.E.W.T.s became a bit too much."

"I'm surprised I never saw you out here," Charity said, trying to remember if perhaps she had. Remus shrugged.

"We didn't skate all that often at first. Sixth year we came out a bit more, as it was a tough year. And then seventh year James asked me to teach him, in secret at night, so he could impress her." Remus shook his head at the memory. "And he impressed her, all right--he fell on their first pass and broke his wrist. He said I should keep skating with her after that, and he'd have hot chocolate ready for us when we came in."

"Did you?" Charity asked softly. "Keep skating with her?" Remus nodded.

"Every winter, until…" He trailed off and gave her a sad smile. "Well, until we couldn't skate anymore. I went out once by myself, that first year they were gone, but it wasn't the same."

"I'm glad you came out with me," Charity said, helping him stand. She stuffed the blanket and skates into her bag. "I'm sorry if it brought back difficult memories."

Remus wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead, her nose, and finally her lips. "I'm so glad you thought of this. They may be difficult memories, but they are also good ones. And now I have new memories."

Taking his hand, Charity began walking back toward the castle. "I'm glad I can be part of your new memories," she said, resting her head on his shoulder. They were silent for a moment, then Remus spoke unexpectedly.

"I wonder if Harry knows how to skate," he said, almost to himself. "Lily couldn't wait to teach him."

"Maybe you should," Charity replied impulsively. Remus occasionally talked about his friends, but he rarely mentioned Harry. She wondered why, when Harry was so obviously like his father. Perhaps it was too painful a reminder of the best friend he had lost.

Remus looked at her in surprise. "I can't do that!" he exclaimed.

"Why not?" she asked. "Teach him how to skate, as a gift from his mum. I think he'd like that."

He shook his head. "Harry doesn't even know I was close with his mum and dad. I can't just offer to step in as a surrogate parent. Besides, I'm going to be teaching him the Patronus Charm to help against the Dementors. It's more practical anyway."

Charity pulled him to a stop. "He doesn't know?"

"Of course not," Remus replied. "The Patronus Charm is hardly third-year material--"

"No, I mean--he doesn't know about you and his parents?" Remus's face went very still, until he finally shook his head. "So he doesn't know about Sirius Black either then?"

Remus turned away and continued walking. "I haven't told him, no. Why should anyone have to live with such knowledge, yet alone a thirteen-year-old boy?"

"But Remus!" she said, hurrying after him. "Think about how much you could tell him about James and Lily. Think of what that might mean to him."

"I can't. It was a lifetime ago," he mumbled, waving her away. "I have no wish to relive it."

"You just did!" she exclaimed. "Out there by the lake, when you told me about skating with Lily. You should share those stories with Harry."

"I'm not sure it's his business," Remus replied, and Charity could hear the deep sense of loss he must feel creeping into his voice.

"They were his parents," she said, but he cut her off once more.

"And they were my best friends," he said softly, his eyes bright with sadness. "But they are gone. It's time to--" He stopped, narrowing his eyes as he gazed at something behind her.

"What is it?" she demanded, whirling around. When she turned back to him, she was shocked to see his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide. He looked pale, when only moments earlier he had been flushed from skating across the lake. "What's wrong? Remus, are you all right?"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Yes, I'm fine. I just thought I saw…"

"What? Sirius Black?" Turning around again, Charity scanned the grounds for any sign of the escaped prisoner before stepping back toward Remus, who was gazing into the distance with a troubled look on his face.

"No," he replied, his voice stiff. "Just a big black dog."

Charity thought about making a joke about the Grim, as the third-years in particular seemed to have a fixation with it this year. But the look on Remus's face told her that it was not the right time for light-hearted jokes. Instead, she took his hand and began to lead him back toward the castle.

Yet he was clearly rattled, and she suspected that he was once again stuck in his past, reliving his years at Hogwarts, the memory of a black dog a particularly powerful one. She wondered if he would tell her about it one day, or if she would have to be content once more with the bits and pieces of his story that she was slowly starting to understand.

* * *

VI.
There was a knock outside, sharp and quick, and Remus knew something was wrong immediately. Setting down his textbook, he hurried to the door and found Charity standing there, looking very pale.

"What's happened?" he demanded, practically pulling her inside. "Was there another attack?"

She nodded mutely, and his hand flew through his hair before he spoke again. "Where?"

"Gryffindor again," she said, her eyes still wide. "He got in this time, Remus. He attacked a student."

"Harry?" he asked sharply, already berating himself mentally. If Sirius had got to Harry, Remus would have failed again and lost everything left to him of this past. He said a silent prayer that he was wrong, then felt even more guilty when Charity shook her head, because he was so relieved.

"No, he went to the wrong bed. He slashed Ron Weasley's curtains with a knife." Remus stared at her: Black had got into the third-year boys' dormitory then. There was little doubt he was after Harry. He hadn't wanted to believe it, but it seemed he had to now: Sirius Black was trying to kill his own godson.

A deep fury began to boil within him, but he held it back for the moment, storing it away for the moment he finally confronted his former friend. "Is Ron all right? Is he hurt?"

Charity shook her head again. "He's fine. He's terrified, though--they all are."

"How the hell did he get into the common room?" Remus asked. "Do we know?" It couldn't have been his Animagus form, as the portrait required a password, which had to mean…

"He knew the password, so Sir Cadogan let him in. Someone had written them down and he'd stolen the sheet." Charity took his hand before he turned away. "Remus, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going after him this time," he replied. "This can't keep happening."

"They're searching the castle--" Charity began, but he waved her off.

"Then I'll search the grounds, the forest, the village. I will find him." And I will destroy him, he added silently to himself. He knew he was being overdramatic, but he didn't care: he could not let Sirius Black hurt Harry, not now. He found his warm cloak, threadbare as it was, and began to pull on a scarf and gloves.

"I'm coming with you this time," Charity declared, and he put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead.

"No, stay here. You help search the castle. I'll be fine on my own."

"No, you won't. He's dangerous. Safety in numbers, right?" She gave him a challenging look, but he shook his head.

"Not this time. I need to face him, Charity."

"You need help," she insisted. She glanced around the room and Summoned an old blanket that she quickly Transfigured into a cloak; she was obviously determined to go with him. "I can't let him hurt you."

"Or let me hurt him?" he murmured, but she merely raised an eyebrow in response.

"I'm starting to think he deserves it. But I also think we should hand him over to the Dementors if we find him. They'll take care of it."

Remus stared at her, surprised at her change in attitude, then nodded slowly. "Fine. But I want my answers first…and I'll do anything to get them." He would. Sirius may have been his friend once, but Remus would do whatever he needed to do to force Black to tell him why he had betrayed them all--to explain it to him, face-to-face. And he remembered exactly what to do from his days in the Order of the Phoenix, though he had not told Charity some of the darker things he had done.

They left the castle quietly and fanned out across the shadowy grounds. They searched everywhere--the greenhouses, the Quidditch rooms, the boathouse and lake and paths. There was no sign of Sirius Black anywhere, just the cold aura of the Dementors floating about the perimeter of the castle grounds.

Remus knew what he had to do. There was only one other place he could think of where Sirius might be hiding, though he hated the very thought of going back there. He had hoped to never return, now that he had the Wolfsbane potion to help him through his transformations every month. Yet Sirius knew about the tunnel beneath the tree, and Remus did not know if Professor Dumbledore had thought to search it; it was his duty anyway, as it had been built for him.

"Let's check the Whomping Willow," he said, heading across the grounds toward the tree he still hated, even after so many years. It was still and quiet, unmoving until they began to approach it. Remus raised his wand toward a familiar knot on the tree, murmured a spell, and the branches stopping swaying.

"How did you do that?" Charity asked, her voice echoing across the silent grounds.

"Learned it at school," he murmured. Strictly speaking, it was true. He hadn't told her much about his transformations back then, though, so he did not elaborate, and ignored the curious look she gave him.

"Let's move a bit closer," he said, his wand out. Charity nodded and together they approached the tree. As they came to the great roots spread out across the ground, Remus made a silent apology before he stepped behind Charity and murmured a Sleeping Spell. A brief look of surprise crossed Charity's face as she turned toward him and then began to fall to the ground; catching her, he pulled her toward the tunnel and gently laid her down.

Lowering himself through the dark hole in the roots, he used his wand to bring her down into the earth as well; he might have just knocked her out, but he couldn't very well leave her lying in the cold with a murderer loose on the grounds. He conjured a blanket and tucked it around her, then lit his wand and gazed down the murky tunnel.

Memories assaulted him, as if on a dark wind blown from the depths of time…


…Madam Pomfrey leading him down the tunnel for the first time, terrified and ashamed…

…Another awful night spent alone, howling at the moon, scratching and biting…

…James and Sirius and Peter confronting him with his secret, yet supporting him when he was so certain they would be horrified and disgusted…

…Their first transformation in the dormitory, stunning him into speechless shock. They had become Animagi, dangerously and illegally, all for him…

…Running free and bursting from the tunnel, the stag and the wolf and the rat by his side. Exploring the grounds, the forest, even the village. How could they have put so many people in so much danger?

…His last night in the Shrieking Shack…


Shaking himself of the unwelcome memories, Remus took a deep breath and set off down the tunnel. It was quite a bit smaller than he remembered…but then again, he was quite a bit older. He had to bend over and even crawl, and though he kept a constant lookout for footprints in the dirt, he saw none. Sirius had not been there, then: he was chasing ghosts.

When he came to the hole that led into the house, he stopped. A sudden burst of fear and panic sickened him, and he almost turned to wretch into the dirt behind him. This place was pain, it was tears: why was he going back in now, so many years later? He did not need the Shrieking Shack any longer and had no wish to relieve the nights he had spent there, cold and alone. Staring at the entrance, his hands shaking, Remus closed his eyes and tried to settle his nerves. He should still search it, just in case Sirius had found another way in.

He couldn't.

Turning abruptly, Remus hurried back through the tunnel as fast as he could, desperate to put the past behind him once more. In fact, he had to beat back the urge to panic and run--run away as fast and as far as he could. When he came out beneath the roots, he found Charity sitting up, the blanket still wrapped around her, staring at him with her wand lit.

"You Stunned me," she said, her voice flat.

Remus stood up straight and began to brush the dirt from his cloak. He shook his head. "No, it was a Sleeping Charm, that's all."

"Why?" she demanded, and he sighed.

"I didn't want you to get hurt," he said, hoping that it was enough but knowing it wasn’t. She raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I am," she replied very simply, and he knew she was not referring to being physically injured. "Where are we and what are we doing here?"

"We're under the Whomping Willow," Remus said wearily. "There's a tunnel beneath it that I wanted to search."

"You think Sirius Black may be using it to get onto the grounds?" Charity asked.

"I had considered it, yes," Remus replied, passing a hand across his eyes "But there doesn't appear to be any sign of activity in the tunnel at all, so I doubt it."

"Did Black know about it?" she asked, her voice sharp. Remus nodded. "Then we need to tell Dumbledore about it immediately. He could still try to get in this way."

"Dumbledore already knows about the tunnel," said Remus, glancing away.

"How does he know about it?" she asked, but her voice was softer. If he knew her at all, she was probably starting to figure it out.

"Because he built it," Remus answered honestly. "For me."

She stared at him with a mixture of shock and horror and disgust and pity, and he almost couldn't stand it. He stood in the hollow space under the roots of the tree and wished he could pace to rid himself of the horrible feeling building inside him.

"Is this where you transformed?" she asked, her voice so quiet he could barely hear her. He could only nod, then quickly shook his head.

"No, not exactly. I came out here every full moon and followed the tunnel. It leads to a house. That's where I transformed."

"In a house?" He nodded. "In Hogsmeade?"

A bitter laugh escaped his lips. "Too dangerous. It's a bit on the outskirts, up on a hill. People stayed away because they thought it was haunted."

"Haunted?" she asked, then her eyes went wide. "Oh Remus, you don't mean the Shrieking Shack, do you?"

A cynical tip of his head told her she was right. Before she could say anything else to lessen his shame, Remus had the sudden urge--no, the desperate need--to get out of there, get away from it. If he was going to talk about it, he couldn't be there, right where it had happened every month for seven long years of his life. He had to leave.

"I can't stay here," he mumbled, then scrambled out from under the roots back into the open night air. He took several deep calming breaths, hands on his knees, to steady his shaky heart. He heard Charity behind him, but she did not offer any comfort, not this time, and her response shook him even more.

"Why did you really come here?" she asked him bluntly.

"To find Sirius Black," he answered, standing to face her. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Then why did you knock me out?"

"To protect you."

She nodded, crossing her arms in front her. "From him, or from you?"

Remus shook his head. "What do you mean, from me? I would never hurt you, you must know that."

"It hurts me to think that you don't trust me," she replied. "It hurts me to think that you're the kind of person who could kill a man in cold blood."

Remus just stared at her, his mouth hanging open. A dozen different responses came to mind, but he couldn't frame any of them into any sort of coherent sentence. And so he simply apologized.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I guess you don't really know me, then." And he turned to walk away.

"I know you're not a coward, Remus Lupin!" she called after him. He stopped, his back stiff. "So don't walk away like one, or you'll be walking away for the rest of your life."

"You're wrong again," he replied, though he did not turn to face her. "I am a coward, and I've been walking away my entire life, so why should I stop now?"

He walked away.

"Because I could have loved you," Charity said, her voice barely a whisper on the wind behind him. It cut into his heart, that a woman as strong and caring as Charity could ever have such feelings for him. And he wanted to return them--he did return them, he had fallen in love with her, just as he said he could--but he was damaged, broken by far more than his lycanthropy.

He was defined by his past, and though he kept trying to outrun it, it seemed even now when he might finally find happiness, he couldn't leave it behind. It had caught up to him, found him. He could never be with Charity because he could never tell her everything, because then she would leave him, and wasn't it better not to take that risk of being hurt all over again? To just continue on alone?

This way, at least, he couldn't hurt her. It would just be him…and perhaps, one day, he would find and hurt Sirius Black for ruining every chance at a good life that Remus had ever found…and lost.

* * *

VII.
"I'm sorry."

Charity glanced up from where she was sitting in the staff room and held back a sigh. She had been avoiding Remus for the past several weeks, eating early in the Great Hall and generally staying away from the staff room. Yet she had been so caught up in the latest edition of the Daily Prophet that she hadn't even heard him come in after his class, and now it was too late to excuse herself and leave--especially with Professor McGonagall already eyeing them from above the rim of her glasses.

Setting down the paper, Charity stood to face him. "I know you are, Remus, but it doesn't really change anything, does it?"

Remus glanced at McGonagall, and Charity was fairly certain the older woman gave him a look that plainly said, "Keep talking." She bit back a smile at the thought of Minerva McGonagall playing matchmaker; a small part of her wondered if her former Transfiguration professor had somehow told Remus that she was in the staff room.

"Are you busy right now?" Remus asked under his breath.

"Obviously not," Charity replied coolly. "As you've caught me reading the paper before supper."

"Then can we talk? Privately?" he asked. He took a deep breath. "Please?"

She wanted to shrug her indifference, but she couldn't: she hated avoiding him and missed being with him. So she nodded and gathered her things, then followed Remus into the corridor. She thought she heard McGonagall whisper, "Good luck, lass," but did not turn around to double check.

"I'm not sure what there is to talk about, Remus," Charity said as they stepped outside. "You made things rather clear at the Whomping Willow."

He hung his head before turning to her with a pleading look on her face. "I don't think I did, Charity. Will you give me a chance to explain?"

She was silent as she considered. "Explain what? Why you hit me with a Sleeping Charm and left me behind in a dark tunnel? Why you walked away from me afterward? Why you've waited so long to talk to me about it?"

Remus glanced around the corridor. "Yes, all of that. But not here in the middle of the hallway. Have dinner with me."

She gave him a raised eyebrow. "Dinner? Down in Hogsmeade? That's not very private either, is it?"

"Not Hogsmeade," he said, shaking his head with a small smile on his face. "Here in the castle."

"In your rooms?" she asked. "Because I'd rather eat in the Great Hall if that's the case."

"No, not my rooms." He held out his hand. "Someplace else. Trust me."

She hesitated, because she didn't: he had knocked her out to go after Sirius Black on his own. When she had demanded an explanation, he had walked away, leaving her with a very obvious answer, that it was over. She had been furious, then hurt, then sad. It had been almost three weeks, and now he wanted to talk--over dinner? Like a date?

"I don't trust you," she finally said, "but I'd like to. Where are we going then?" She did not take his hand, and though she saw him swallow nervously, he nodded in understanding.

"Fair enough." He motioned down the hallway. "And it's the seventh floor, actually." She gave him a curious look, but he merely smiled in return, following her but not too close. He asked about her classes, and she in turn asked about his. The light conversation felt distant, but it also felt good to talk to him again in a friendly manner.

"How's Harry doing?" she asked. "With the Patronus Charm?"

Remus nodded, his eyes smiling. "He's doing well. He hasn't produced a corporeal Patronus since the Quidditch match, but he's come a long way and is getting closer every week. I'm very proud of him."

"That's great," she said, then was silent. She wanted to ask him if he had talked to Harry about James and Lily, but decided that it was probably the best way to ruin their first real conversation in weeks, and she didn't want to do that. Fortunately they arrived in the seventh floor corridor right at that moment.

"This way," Remus said, and he took her hand. He didn't seem to notice what he had done, since it had once been quite natural for them to hold hands, and she didn't drop it, but let him lead her toward a large tapestry of a dancing troll. It was really rather hideous.

"We're having dinner in the seventh floor corridor?" she asked skeptically. Tapping the side of his nose, he began to pace the corridor. He stopped and stared at the wall opposite them, where, to Charity's surprise, a door had appeared in the stone.

"But that wasn't there before!" she exclaimed.

Remus took her hand once more, but she hesitated. One did not simply walk through random magical doors; it could be anything. It could be Dark magic and they might never return. Remus squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"It's safe--I was just up here with food from the kitchens. It's the Come and Go Room."

Charity gasped as she stepped forward with him. "You mean the Room of Requirement?"

He grinned like a schoolboy. "Yes, that one. We actually found it the end of our seventh year, but I just remembered it last week."

"You just remembered it?" she asked as they stepped through the door. They entered a large, ornate dining room. Although it was filled with tables, with sofas and lounge chairs around the edges, only one table was set with a single candle, flowers, and food--as well as a bottle of red wine. They walked toward it, Charity gazing around in amazement.

"This is unbelievable," she murmured. "I always thought it was just a legend."

"So did we, we spent so long trying to find it," Remus replied. "We almost gave up." He pulled out her chair and she sat down, momentarily forgetting that she was still angry with him. It was too magical--the room, the candles, everything.

"How did you only remember it now then?" she asked. She was fairly certain asking how he had found it would throw him back into his past, and she didn't want to see him slip into any dark moods, not then, so instead she asked about the present.

"We had a map of the castle," Remus said, sitting down and placing his napkin in his lap. "Filch confiscated it our last year, and we never got around to putting the Room of Requirement on it because we didn't find it until after he'd locked it away." He glanced around the room with a nostalgic look on his face. "I recently came across the map and oddly enough, it reminded me of this room, because it was the only room not on the map. I tried to add it, but I suspect it's probably Unplottable, because I couldn't do it."

"It's Unplottable? Just this room?" Charity asked in surprise. "How do you suppose that works?"

"I have no idea," he replied. He poured her some wine and smiled. "But I'm sure it's just one aspect of the rather spectacular advanced magic that must have constructed it. I mean, think about it--a room that becomes whatever you want, whenever you need it? That's remarkable, even for Hogwarts and all its secrets."

Charity was silent as she helped herself to some food. She felt comfortable with him, but she also felt tense, like couldn't let herself relax and go back to the way things were after what had happened that night on the grounds, at least not yet. So instead of asking him more about the room and bantering like they might have on an ordinary date, she decided to come to the point. Perhaps if they could resolve the issues between them, then she could relax and enjoy the magic.

"So why are we here, Remus?" she asked, and she hoped she didn't sound too abrupt or cold. He set down his fork and nodded.

"Of course. You're right. It's hard to enjoy a meal with so much hanging between us." She inclined her head in agreement, and he continued. "I said I was sorry, but I know I owe you so much more."

"You owe me an explanation, I think," Charity said. "And I don't mean everything--I know there are things in your past you're not ready to share. I know that. I just don't understand what happened that night." She took a sip of wine and set down her glass. "Remus, why did you leave me there, alone?"

He was silent for a very long time, with his fingers steepled before him. Finally he looked up at her and sighed. "Because like I said, it's what I do, what I've always done: I walk away. Sometimes I even run."

"What are you running from?" she asked, still trying to sound detached. She needed him to tell her, to confide or confess, she wasn't sure. She just didn’t want to keep finding out secrets like the way she had by the tree: she wanted to understand the truth of him.

"My life," he said bitterly, standing and beginning to pace, much as he had that first night they had been together in his chambers. "My life has not been an easy one, Charity. Nor a happy one."

She was silent as he continued; what could she say?

"And every time my life has started to resemble anything near normal, it always falls apart. So now I just run before it does--before I get hurt, or before I hurt anyone else."

Charity leaned back in her chair and studied him. "Tell me more." She cocked an eyebrow. "And sit down. You're making me nervous."

He nodded and sat down once more, though he did not continue eating and neither did she.

"I had a good life until I was bitten," Remus began, his eyes gazing into the distant past. "And then everything went wrong. I tried to run away, once, when it seemed just too much for my mother. I thought she'd be better off without me, but I came back. I had a good start at Hogwarts, too, to my surprise and relief--Professor Dumbledore built that tunnel and the shack just for my transformations every month, and for two years it worked perfectly. And then my friends found out at the end of our second year."

Charity frowned. "But they were your friends, so they must have been all right with it."

"Indeed they were." He nodded. "But I didn't believe them. I refused to return for my third year, but my dad convinced me, and my friends stood by me." He took a deep breath. "And they did more for me than anyone can imagine. We were truly the best of friends, the four of us. We even had nicknames--Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs."

"You were Moony, I assume?" she said, letting a bit of teasing slip into her tone. He smiled again as he remembered.

"Bit obvious, isn't it? Yes, I was. Well, my parents both died before I finished school, so James helped me out after we left. We all joined the Order of the Phoenix and fought for Dumbledore. It was…a dark time."

Charity couldn't help it: she reached out to take his hand before he became lost in his memories, and because she remembered: it had been a terrible time. She had been in school until the last year of the war, but still she remembered the stories, the fear, the small bits of the war that appeared in the castle every time a Slytherin got into a fight with a Gryffindor, or the Daily Prophet arrived with news of another murder, or another student disappeared, pulled from school. After leaving Hogwarts, she had gone to study in France; it had always been her plan, and at the time it had seemed much safer, particularly with her parents beginning to feel tide turn against them. They had laid as low as they could, until the war had ended and life had gradually begun to go back to normal. She had returned to a vastly different time than when she had left.

"You don't have to tell me everything," she said softly. "About the war, the Order. I know it was bad. I can't imagine how hard it must have been to be out there actually fighting."

He swallowed and nodded, his eyes bright. "It was awful. Especially at the end--every other day was like living a nightmare. And even more so for James and Lily."

Charity was silent. She suspected she only knew half the story of the Potters, so she waited patiently, hoping Remus--who had been so close to them--would tell her more, if only to get it off his own conscience.

He leaned forward, an urgent look on his face. "I don't think I can really make anyone understand what it was like. James and Sirius were like brothers. He was their best man, he was Harry's godfather. They were inseparable. James and Lily were in hiding for over a year, it was so hard for them--for all of us, but especially Sirius."

Taking a deep breath, Remus leaned back and continued. "Dumbledore had received word from a spy that Voldemort was going after them, so he told them their best chance to survive was to perform the Fidelius Charm. He offered to be their Secret-Keeper--I did too--but James chose Sirius. He swore up and down Sirius would never betray them." Remus shook his head bitterly. "A week later, they were dead--betrayed. Voldemort had gone to their house and killed them both. He tried to kill Harry, but for some reason, Harry survived."

Charity knew that story, of course: Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived. She hadn't known the awful details, though--the betrayal and heartbreak. Remus kept going, as if he couldn't stop.

"Apparently Peter went after Sirius, and that's when he killed Pete and all those Muggles in the street. He's been in Azkaban ever since--went straight there, no trial, nothing. I never saw or talked to him again. But in one day, my life fell apart: all four of them, gone--dead or imprisoned--and I was alone."

When she patted his hand, he squeezed it once but stood up and began pacing once more. "The first year was the hardest, trying to find work and just make it through day by day. Eventually things got easier, but I can't tell you how many times I'd settle down when someone would find out about me, and I'd have to leave." He gave her a look of sadness, but surprisingly little bitterness. "There are good people in this world, witches and wizards willing to give a werewolf a chance, but there are also cruel people, men and women too scared to look past one night a month. So I've spent the last twelve years walking, and sometimes running, away from every new life I tried to carve out for myself. Because no matter how hard I tried, something always went wrong. And now it's happening again."

Charity stood with him. "What do you mean?" she asked, and he took her hands.

"I said I could fall in love with you," he said softly. "And I think I have. Only there's still so much you don't know about me, Charity. My past keeps following me, it seems, and now even Sirius Black has found me. What had once been the best time of my life was ruined by him, and before he does it again I want to run. I can't help it."

"Remus." Charity took his hand and lead him to a nearby sofa. "I know how scared you are--"

He shook his head as they sat down. "I am not scared of Sirius Black, I--"

"--don't want to hurt anyone, and you don't want to be hurt, not again. Is that it?" When he nodded, she continued. "You have to trust someone. I know it's been hard, between your condition and what Sirius did, but you can give up. I know you won't hurt me, because I know you can't."

"Charity--" he started again.

"I love you too," she whispered, leaning forward to kiss him. "And I want to try this. I want to be with you. I want to trust you again, and I want you to believe in me."

"I don't trust myself," he murmured. "I don't trust myself to not hurt you, to not run again."

Charity sighed. "Then I don't know what to do, Remus. You're here and I'm here and I just don't see why we can't try to have that normal life you want but keep pushing away."

"I don't push it away!" he exclaimed, his eyes flaring briefly with anger as he tore himself away from her and stood. "It's ripped away before I can barely experience it. Do you think I like living the way I do, alone without friends and family? I hate it!"

"Then don't let this chance slip away," she said, standing and sharing intently into his eyes. "Don't run this time. Please."

"I couldn't stand it if something happened to you," he whispered, his voice breaking.

"I can take care of myself," she tossed back smartly, then softened her voice. "Or we can take care of each other."

"There's still so many things you don't understand about me," he said, but he ran a finger across her cheek, staring into her eyes.

"And there are things you don't know about me," she said, thinking back to her own experiences during the war, her life in France and the years since. Oh yes, there were things she had not shared either, but then, they were nothing compared to his heartache. "I'd like to know, though, and I'd like to share."

He shook his head, then unexpectedly stepped forward to kiss her, and she felt her heart drop into her stomach, it was so powerful, so passionate. Merlin, she had missed kissing him--missed him. With one kiss, she was more certain than anything that yes, she wanted to try this. She wanted to be with him, not matter what.

Pulling away, Remus laid his forehead against hers and smiled. "I would to," he whispered, kissing her gently. "Because I love you and I'm so sorry I hurt you."

Charity threw her arms around his neck and held him tight. "I know. And I'm sorry I wasn't more understanding…but you were a bloody git out there."

He laughed and nodded. "I was, yes. Thank you for even talking to me tonight."

"Of course," she replied, placing her hands on either side of his face. "I love you too, Remus. Which means we can do this."

"Right," he murmured. "Do what exactly?" He started to trail kisses along her jaw and down her neck, one arm reaching around to the small of her back and pulling her to him as his other hand caressed her cheek. "Because I have some ideas."

"I'm guessing they don't involve talking over dinner anymore," she replied, arching back as he kissed her collarbone, his hand moving lower behind her. She could feel his hips against hers and felt the familiar heat growing in her belly as she ran her hands down his chest, easily slipping off his outer robes.

"Not dinner, but maybe dessert," he said. "And wine--definitely wine." Her own robes fell to the floor as they kissed, their bodies pressed close together.

"I love the way you think, Remus Lupin," she murmured, letting him begin on her blouse. She in turn began to unbuckle his trousers.

"And I love you, Charity Burbage," he replied in return.

He slipped off her blouse and they tumbled to the sofa, where she quickly finished her work on his trousers. As they continued to divest one another of clothing, Charity pushed any doubts to the back of her mind, that she was making a mistake. Yes, he still had his secrets. Yes, he was a broken and possibly dangerous man.

But, yes--she loved him as well.

* * *

VII.
Remus gazed at the two fifth-year students standing in front of him. He was trying very hard not to laugh; it had been a great prank, after all. Yet he was a teacher now and needed to enforce school discipline, no matter how much he wanted to clap them on the back and share the laugh with them. He was reminded of his days as a prefect, and how difficult it had been to keep his friends in line.

“Fred. George.� Remus cleared his throat in an effort to hide his smile. “While I appreciate the intricate planning that went into this particular prank--� he ran his hands through his hair, now a violent shade of electric blue, “--you do realize that I must still give you detention.�

The twins shrugged, obviously not caring about detention after the hilarious uproar that had ensued in the Great Hall when dozens of students and teachers had begun spontaneously sporting a new hair color that morning.

“And take ten points each from Gryffindor,� added Remus. The twins looked at him in disbelief.

“That’s all?� asked George.

“A detention and twenty points?� repeated Fred.

“I must admit that while blue isn’t my color,� began Remus, “I thought that Professor Snape looked lovely in that particular shade of green.�

Fred snorted, but George kicked him silent. Remus raised an eyebrow.

“I assume you had planned on delivering the antidote as well?� he asked, watching their reaction.

“How do you know about the antidote?� asked George, narrowing his eyes.

Remus reached into his desk and pulled a small vial from the top drawer. It was filled with a clear amber liquid that he had brewed earlier that week. Without answering, he unstopped the vial and took a deep sip of the contents. Within moments he could feel his hair returning to its more traditional brown color, and he smiled at the look of surprise on the twins’ faces.

“It was not as original as you think, gentlemen,� he announced. “That isn’t the first time Hogwarts has found itself on the wrong end of a Shading Solution in the Great Hall on April Fool's Day.� He waited for the impact of his words to sink in.

The twins’ eyes went wide.

“You didn’t--� breathed Fred.

“No way!� chortled George.

Remus stepped around the desk and led them toward the door with the smile he'd been holding back the whole time. “I don’t think Professor Snape liked green hair back then, either,� he replied with a wink.

“Wicked,� said Fred, and George nodded in agreement. Before Remus could continue, however, there was a knock on the door. He was somehow not surprised to find Charity standing there, a stormy look on her face, her normally dark hair a light, fluffy, cotton-candy pink.

"Remus!" she exclaimed, then frowned. "But your hair's gone back to normal."

Remus heard the twins struggling to contain themselves. "I've got the antidote, Professor Burbage," he said, trying to hold back a laugh. "Please, come in--I'll just be another minute with these two."

Charity narrowed her eyes at Fred and George as she entered. Remus cleared his throat and turned back to the twins.

“Off with the antidote now, please,� he ordered “We had to deliver it to each Head of House with a full apology, so I would suggest you do the same. Immediately. You will serve your detention this weekend.�

“Yes, sir!� they replied, and turned away, grinning. But Fred glanced back, a curious look on his face.

"How did you know it was us, Professor? You dragged us out before we could hardly enjoy it.:

Remus nodded in mock understanding. "Good question. Next time remember to take it yourself, boys."

George ran a hand through his hair and groaned, but Fred just clapped him on the back with another laugh, and they hurried down the hallway. Remus sighed. It was remarkable how much the Weasley twins reminded him of James and Sirius. They too had always been trying to pull off one prank or another. There had been other, darker things as well--cruel jokes and outright bullying, especially when it came to Snape--but he pushed those memories aside as an idea came to mind.

Before the twins turned the corner, Remus raised his wand and sent a quick Color Change Charm down the corridor, then laughed to himself as Fred and George walked away, their red hair now a deep shade of purple.

They didn't even notice. Original, indeed.

Heading back into his office, Remus found Charity standing there with her hands crossed over her chest. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?" she asked.

He walked over to her and kissed her lightly. "So what if I did? There was no harm done."

"I don't know about that," she murmured. "Snape was angry, and there were some tears, from what I saw."

"Some people just don't appreciate a good joke," he said with a shrug. "Their hair will go back to normal by the end of the day, I'm sure."

"Did you punish them?" she asked.

"Of course I did," he said, pulling out more of the antidote. "I asked if I could. Twenty points and detention, plus they need to take the antidote to each Head of House personally. It's exactly what Minerva sentenced us to my fourth year."

Charity's eyes widened. "That was you?" she exclaimed.

"You didn't realize?" he asked, highly amused. It should have been obvious, given their reputation.

"I suppose not, or else I just didn't put it all together." She paused and nodded. "That's how you knew the antidote. But how did you know to have some ready?"

"Because I recognized a bit of James and Sirius in the Weasley twins," he replied, then laughed. "And because I overheard them talking about it in the back of my class."

"You didn't!" she exclaimed once more, then mock-punched him on the arm. "And you didn't stop them. Remus Lupin, you should be ashamed of yourself."

"On the contrary," he murmured, pulling her close and running a hand through her hair. "I quite like you in pink. It's lovely."

"I want the antidote," she said, stepping back.

"I think you should leave it," he said.

"Why didn't you leave yours?" she countered.

"Blue isn't my color," he replied with a casual shrug. Charity pulled out her wand.

"Want to try another color then?" she teased. He growled good-naturedly and threw her the vial of the antidote; almost immediately her hair went back to its normal color.

"That's more like it," she said, shaking it back over her shoulders. "Thank you, and I will see you at dinner."

"Wait, you're leaving?" he asked. "Now? After all that?"

"I've got work to do," she called, already halfway down the corridor. "I imagine you do as well. Ta!"

* * *

Later that night, as they lay entwined in one another's arms reliving the day's prank, Remus sensed that Charity was not really listening. She had seemed distant since dinner, and had sighed several times already, as if something were on her wind. Finally propping himself on his elbow, Remus turned her face toward him and asked.

"Is there anything wrong? Something you'd like to talk about?"

She laughed through her nose. "Yes. How did you know?"

"I can just tell," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her. "You've got an air of distracted thoughtfulness about you."

"I do?" He nodded, and she grinned. "Maybe it's just you and those amazing pyjamas."

"You should be over that by now," he replied with a smile. "I think there's something else on your mind."

She nodded but did not begin right away. "My parents are coming to visit in a few weeks."

When she didn't go on, Remus tried to think of something to say. "And you're upset?" he asked. "Or glad to see them?"

"Oh, I'm not upset," she said. "We get on fine. It will be good to see them as they were on holiday over Christmas."

Remus nodded. "But you're still worried about something." He had an inkling of what she was going to say and tried to brace himself for it.

"Not worried, not exactly." She sighed again, like she had several times already. "Only it's just that I haven't told them about you, Remus. And now that they're coming I don't know whether to tell them ahead of time or when they're here."

Rolling back onto his pillow, Remus tried not to frown as he gazed at the ceiling. She hadn't told her parents about him. What did that mean, exactly? That she hadn't told them she was involved with someone, that she was seeing a fellow professor, or that he was a werewolf? It didn't matter, not really: the bigger question was why.

"All right," he said slowly. "Let me ask this to help you decide. Why haven't you told them anything?"

Charity shot up, her eyes wide. "It has nothing to do with you, Remus!" she exclaimed. "Please don’t think that it does. I just tend to keep my personal life a bit more private when it comes to them."

He was silent, and she continued with a sigh. "My mum is very nosy, as well as rather meddlesome. If I tell her I'm seeing someone, she practically starts planning the wedding again."

He couldn't help it: he sucked in a breath as raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Again?' he asked. " Was there a first?"

"Yes--no!" she exclaimed. "Remus, I--Merlin's buttocks, I'm mucking this up, aren't I?" When he nodded, still feeling slightly shocked at the implication of her words, she shook her head. "Then let me try again. I was engaged once, years ago. My mum threw herself into it, as my brother has barely held down a job, yet alone a relationship for more than a year. But it didn't work out, and she still holds it against me."

"Why?" asked Remus; it was the first thought that came to mind.

"Why didn't it work out, or why does she hold it against me?" Charity asked, and he heard a bitter tinge to her voice. It was obviously not a pleasant subject for her, but it had come up, and he couldn't just leave it.

"Both," he said softly, and he pulled her back down next to him, kissing her neck in support. She turned toward him and kissed him back, but he smiled against her. "Don't try getting out of this now," he said. "I want to know."

"It's nothing," she started, but he shook his head.

"It must have been something, if you were engaged to be married."

She stared at him as if he had caught her stealing cookies from the cookie jar, then sighed once more. "It was a long time ago--almost ten years ago. I met him right after the war, and we were together until the day he left me, which was practically at the altar."

"Practically?" Remus prodded, curious about what had happened to ruin things.

"A week before the wedding he ran off with someone else." Charity's voice was flat, as if she did not want to drudge up the pain of what had happened. "My mum--well, you'd think she'd be more supportive, right? Try to comfort me, that sort of thing. Only she was nothing but furious--her perfect wedding had been ruined, and she was embarrassed by her only daughter's failure."

Remus stroked her back, trying to comfort her now, so many years later. "But it wasn't your fault."

"No, it wasn't," Charity agreed. "Although it took me a long time to understand that. I thought he loved me, and he probably did, once, but it wasn't my fault he found someone else. Sometimes things just happen."

Remus was silent as he thought about her last words: Sometimes things just happen. That had certainly been true in his experience. He was sad to think that Charity had experienced such heartbreak in her own life, though. He kissed her once more.

"And your mum?" he asked gently.

"Like I said, she was furious. She wanted dad to drag him kicking and screaming to the ceremony. Fortunately my father is a lot more rational." Remus chuckled with her before she continued. "Then she wanted to go ahead with the reception, but I refused. We had a major falling out, and I didn't talk to her for over a year after that."

"What did you do?" he asked, even more curious about how she had recovered without the support of her family at such a time. He hadn't had anyone after he'd lost everything, and sometimes he still wondered how he had survived the months after that horrible Halloween night.

"I traveled some more. Went back to France for a bit, saw more of Europe. And gradually I came to understand that it wasn't me--it was him, it was my mum, but it wasn't me."

"You're an amazing woman," Remus murmured.

"I'm not. I'm just lucky I figured things out on my own. When I returned, he was married, and my mum was beside herself with worry. We worked things out and everything is fine now, only she's developed the very annoying habit of inquiring about my personal life every time I see them. If I don't have anything to report, she tries to set me up with someone. So I finally stopped telling her things."

"And that's why you haven't told her about us," Remus said, and Charity nodded.

"It's nothing to do with you and everything to do with her. Honestly." Her eyes begged him to understand, and he did, he really did.

"So they're coming to visit…when?" he asked casually, starting to think.

Charity narrowed her eyes at him. "Next month. Why?"

"What if I wanted to meet them?" he asked. "Would you introduce me?"

She just stared at him, so long he wondered if he had just doomed their relationship; it was a big step, after all...wasn't it? "You actually want to meet them?"

"Yes, I do," he replied. "Your dad sounds like a decent bloke, and your mum too. She's just concerned about you and wants you to be happy."

Charity snorted. "She saved the place cards. She wants to plan another wedding."

"Well, I don't know about that quite yet," Remus murmured, smiling as he kissed her once more. "I think I'd like to just meet them first."

She studied his face, as if trying to gage just how serious he was. He had thought long and hard about her words at the Whomping Willow, about walking away from every chance at happiness he'd had over the years, and in spite of his temporary gloom at the time, he was now determined to stay. He wasn't going to push it away this time, he was going to embrace it.

"All right," she murmured. "I'd like that. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied, feeling his eyelids growing heavy. "We won't tell them everything, but I think I can make a decent enough first impression before we spring the rest on them."

"You'll be great," she replied, sounding equally as drowsy.

"Maybe we should color our hair for it," Remus murmured. "I really liked the pink--"

She twisted around and silenced him with a long kiss. "Good night, Remus."

"Good night, love," he replied, and he drifted off to sleep, more content than ever, even if he had just committed to taking a rather large step in their relationship.

* * *

IX.
"I thought that went rather well, myself," Remus said, and Charity gave him the most skeptical look she could. He laughed. "No, really. It could have been much worse, that's for sure."

"Define worse," Charity demanded, wondering how the dinner they had just had with her parents down in the village could have possibly been any less awkward.

"I could have…well…" Remus pretended to think about his answer. "I could have knocked over an entire pitcher of pumpkin juice. I could have stuttered an embarrassed and inept apology. I could have made a complete arse of myself in general. I--"

"You did do those things," Charity said, laughing as she wound her elbow through his offered arm. "Although you recovered much better than my mother, I must say."

"And I didn't even spill it on her," Remus said, sounding almost wistful. "I might have liked to see that reaction." Charity squeezed his arm tight in reproach.

"That would have been even worse. At least my dad was decent about it."

"I told you I could make an impression."

"You certainly did." Now Charity pretended to think, before glancing slyly at Remus as they walked back to the castle. "Maybe we should tell them everything tomorrow, now that you've made your impression."

"Tell them what?" asked Remus. "You don't mean…" She wagged her eyebrows at him and was rewarded when he shook his head emphatically. "Absolutely not--not after that debacle. In fact, let's never tell them. I kept it secret at Hogwarts, I can keep it secret again."

Charity laughed as they entered the grounds. "I'm joking, Remus. Of course we shouldn't tell them yet. And you're off the hook for tomorrow anyway. I know how important the final match is to you."

"You're important too--" he started, but she interrupted him.

"I know, but it's all right. It's Gryffindor's best chance at the cup in years, and it will give me a chance to visit with them on my own."

Remus pulled a face. "You mean talk about me."

"Of course we'll talk about you!" Charity laughed once more as they crossed the lawn beneath the stars. "It's much easier when you're not there."

Remus was quiet until they came to the castle steps. "Do you think your dad might want to come to the match? You and your mum could spend the day in Hogsmeade, and we could--"

"Bond over Quidditch?" Charity teased. She thought about it. "He might like that, actually. I know my mum's harping drives him mad sometimes." Leaning up to kiss him on the cheek, Charity smiled. "Thank you, Remus. That's a lovely idea." Then she stopped as something suddenly occurred to her. "You're not going to talk about me, are you?"

"Of course we are," he tossed back at her. "That's the point--you not being there and all." He punctuated his glib with a wink, but something was stirring in her stomach--a strange, nervous, fluttery feeling. Men didn't usually spend time with their girlfriend's fathers unless there was a reason. She distinctly remembered when Samuel had taken her father out to the pub one night: he had proposed the next week, out on the bank of the Thames. It had been a surprise and it had been wonderful, but she didn't know if she was ready for it to happen again, even after so many years…was she?

Something of her thoughts must have shown on her face, because Remus frowned as he gazed at her. "Charity, are you all right? It's just a Quidditch game."

She shook her head. "Remus, you're not going to ask my dad…well, a rather serious question? You know…the question that…" She trailed off at the look of surprise on his face.

"You mean the question that men usually ask fathers when they are in love with their daughters?" he finished for her. When she nodded mutely, he took her hand and smiled. "No, I wasn't planning on asking him that question. And I'm guessing from the look of shock and relief on your face that you're all right with that. Or else completely devastated and just hiding it really well."

"Let's go for a walk," she said, pulling him away from the main entrance and down toward the greenhouses, where they could wander and talk in private. It was a beautiful spring night--still chilly, but clear, and she didn't feel like going inside yet. Not when such a thing as a potential proposal hung between them now.

They walked in silence, until Remus cleared his throat. "Charity, it's not that I haven't thought about it. I have."

She whipped her head around to stare at him. "You have?"

"I have," he replied steadily. "Haven't you?"

"Yes," she said. "But I didn't think it was something you would ever consider, with your condition. You barely let me help you the next day. So I've always put it out of mind whenever I start--I didn't want to get my hopes up."

The bitter laugh she had grown to both love and hate over the months came through. "It wasn't something I considered very seriously, for a very long time. Years, even." They had come to the greenhouses. There was a bench outside and he led her to it, sitting down next to her and still holding her hand. "But you told me not to walk away, not to reject every chance at happiness that comes along just because I'm afraid I'll lose it."

"You're not afraid anymore?" she asked, curious about just how much he had changed since their talk in the Room of Requirement.

"Oh, I'm still afraid," he said, nodding with eyes wide. "Bloody terrified. But I also love you, and I'd like to think that someday we might have a future together. I don't know if I'm ready for that yet, but…"

She squeezed his hand in understanding. She wasn't quite ready to get married either. They'd only been together for six months, after all. She had been hurt pretty bad when Samuel had left, and for all her talk about not letting happiness get away, she had pushed it away on more than one occasion herself since then, not wanting to go through it all again. She had really struggled when she had returned to France to recover. There had been a man, a Muggle, and she had loved him, but she had been unable to commit in spite of every burning desire to be with him. She'd been too afraid that she was rebounding, or that he too would leave her. She'd seen him a few times over the years, and every time she saw him the old feelings resurfaced, yet always she pushed them aside to continue her life as it was.

Now she had found Remus, and he had overcome far more pain and heartbreak to be able to sit there with her and say yes, this is something I think I could do. Couldn't she do the same for him?

Take his face in her hands, she kissed him gently. "I don't know that I'm really ready for that either, yet. So I'm glad that's not why you want to take my dad to the match tomorrow."

He looked as relieved as she felt. "I just want to hear embarrassing baby stories about you," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her. She chuckled as she laid her head on his shoulder.

"I was a dull child--exceedingly normal. Have him tell you stories about my brother if you want to be entertained."

"Maybe I will." He suddenly stopped running his fingers up and down her arm and gazed across the grounds at the Whomping Willow, eyes narrowed.

"What?" asked Charity, squinting in the darkness. "What do you see?"

Remus didn't answer right away, and finally shook his head. "Just shadows--shadows of the past."

"The black dog again?" she asked. He had seen it in the fall, and she had wondered about it ever since. When he didn't reply, she knew she was right.

"Should we tell Dumbledore?" she said. "It can't be safe for the students if there's a large dog roaming the grounds."

He gave her a sharp look. "No. It's nothing."

She in turn studied him carefully while considering her words. "Did you once have a dog when you were young? Or does it remind you of something else?"

"It's just a reminder of my past," he replied, a sad but stiff smile on his lips. "I'm probably just seeing ghosts, what with being at Hogwarts with so much else coming back."

"You mean Sirius Black?" she asked, almost without thinking. She bit her lip, hoping he wouldn't snap and distance himself like he had so many other times. But he didn't; he merely shook his head and stood, holding out his hand for her.

"He was such a stupid mutt sometimes," he murmured. "Careless and impulsive."

"Who?" asked Charity with a light-hearted smile her attempt at pulling him out of any sort of black mood he might be tumbling into. "Sirius or your black dog?"

He gave her a rather enigmatic look that she couldn't read. "Both. But never mind, it's the past. Let's go inside. We have a busy day tomorrow."

Charity wanted to ask more, but bit back a sigh as Remus once again shut her out. He had shared more about his past over the last few months, and yet she still felt like he was holding back a very large secret, something that weighed heavily on him. She wished he would confide in her; they had just talked about the possibility of spending the rest of their lives together. If he couldn't share it and trust her, how could that ever be possible?

Her thoughts must have shown on her face, because he kissed her temple as they walked and tried to reassure her. "It's nothing, Charity. Really."

She wanted to say that she didn't believe him, but she merely nodded and swallowed her reply. Maybe someday he would tell her everything, because it was becoming harder and harder to accept not knowing what terrible heartbreak he was hiding. For now she had to be happy with what she had--and try not walk away after she had convinced him to stay.

* * *

X.
Remus woke up to the same dull ache and fatigue he always had after a transformation, but also to a sudden, blinding panic: something had gone terrible wrong this time.

Bolting upright, he was stopped by a gentle hand on his chest. "It's all right, Remus. You're all right. You're back in the castle."

He glanced around, trying to discern his surroundings and the calm voice. Charity was sitting next to him, but they were not in his room, where he should have woken up after a transformation: he was in the hospital wing. Groaning out loud, Remus threw his legs over the side of the bed and grabbed her hands.

"The kids--Harry, Hermione, Ron--are they all right? Did I hurt them? Did I hurt anyone?"

Charity looked confused. "They're fine, Remus. Everyone is fine, except you. Lie down, you need your rest."

He waved his hand at her and stood, already pulling on the robes that hung nearby. "I can't. It'll be starting soon, if it hasn't started already."

He started to walk away, his legs wobbly. Knowing what was at stake, he forced himself to take a deep breath and keep going as quickly as he could. Charity caught up with him, reaching for his hand.

"What will be starting?" she asked, looking both confused and frightened. "Remus, what happened last night? No one is saying anything, and all I know is that Madam Pomfrey found you in the woods first thing this morning, unconscious. No one will tell me anything else."

He stopped and kissed her forehead. "It's better that you don't know," he told her.

"Where are you going?" she demanded as he hurried away once more, ignoring Madam Pomfrey's sudden calls from behind him. As much as he wanted to curl up in bed and recover for the next three days, he knew there would be hell to pay for what had happened at the Shrieking Shack. He only hoped that he could spare Dumbledore the embarrassment before the consequences began raining down on them both.

"I need to see the headmaster," he tossed over his shoulder, then turned and gave her a weak smile. "I'm sorry. I'll come see you before I leave, I promise."

"Leave?" he heard her repeat before he left the hospital wing. "Remus!"

He hurried away, too focused on his one goal: to get to Dumbledore, to explain, and to apologize. His insides were twisted with shame and guilt, and he knew what he had to do. Charity would accuse him of walking away again, but this time he had no choice. What had happened in the Shrieking Shack had once again ripped away any chance at happiness he had cobbled together over the year. In one night, life had changed in more ways than he could contemplate and understand.

Peter was alive. Sirius was innocent. For so many years he had hated Sirius for what he had done to James and Lily and Peter, yet he had always asked himself over and over again, why?. How could Sirius have done such a thing? Now he had his answer.

Sirius hadn't betrayed them all: it had been Peter.

And suddenly it made sense. He couldn't explain it, but for some reason, it made sense. He had struggled to believe that Sirius would hand his best friend and godson over to Voldemort. Yet after seeing Peter again after all these years, after seeing his fear and his cowardice played out before him in the Shrieking Shack, Remus could believe it was Peter. It had always been Peter.

It didn't even occur to him to wonder why. It just was. Maybe he was too relieved to know that Sirius was innocent, because he had in truth been much closer to Sirius than to Peter, but for some reason he also had no problem believing it had Peter. Peter had been their friend, yes, but he had always been weaker than the others, and he had grown distant by the end. Remus stopped suddenly in the corridor, filled with guilt: why hadn't they seen it? Had Peter been so invisible to them that they had never even considered the possibility?

And then the reality of Peter's betrayal hit him once more: not only had he killed James and Lily, but Sirius had spent twelve years in Azkaban for it. Peter Pettigrew did not deserve any pity, and Remus would not feel guilty for what had happened so long ago. With a growl, he kicked at the wall before walking even faster toward the headmaster's office.

He passed a few students, Slytherins who were whispering in small groups. They looked at him in fear and disgust, and he heard the word 'werewolf' muttered under their breath as they turned away from him. He wanted to run, but steeled himself, forcing himself to keep a steady but quick pace even as his heart started to race and the looks and whispers continued. They knew. They all knew.

When he came to the gargoyles standing guard by the headmaster's office, he spit out the password and bolted up the stairs. The simple sprint left him exhausted after a night that had already taxed his body and soul. He was breathless as he knocked on the headmaster's door, bursting through when he heard Dumbledore's voice bidding him to enter.

Severus Snape stood before the headmaster's desk. When he heard Remus enter, he turned and gave him a subtle sneer. Remus strode right up to him and punched him in the face. Snape stepped back, hand to his jaw, and Remus pulled back for another.

"Remus!" Dumbledore ordered. "Stand down! I will not have schoolyard brawling in my office."

"He told them," Remus growled.

"They needed to know, to be safe," Snape offered, black eyes glittering cruelly. Remus took another step forward, but Dumbledore was up and standing between them too quickly.

"I am aware of what Severus has done, and I have made clear my displeasure. I would have preferred to inform the students myself." Dumbledore was frowning at Snape, who merely glanced back with a straight face and an unapologetic shrug.

"I would have told them, given the chance," Remus snapped over Dumbledore's shoulder, looking Snape in the eye. "You had no right."

"You have no right to be here," Snape hissed. "You're a danger to the students and faculty. You proved that last night."

"Last night was an exception. You know that!" Remus exclaimed.

"I know you forgot your potion and put several students in danger by roaming the grounds as a fully transformed werewolf last night," Snape tossed back. "Who's to say it won't happen again?"

"It won't," Remus spat at him, then turned to Dumbledore and took a deep breath to calm himself. "I'm tendering my resignation immediately. You won't have to worry about it ever happening again."

Dumbledore looked genuinely surprised; Snape looked victorious, and Remus had to clench his fist to keep from punching the man in the face again.

"Remus, do not be rash. I am sure there is another solution--" Dumbledore began, frowning as he studied Remus. But Remus could tell that even Dumbledore was having difficulty coming up with that solution.

"Professor, you know as well as I do, and perhaps even better, that as soon as the rest of the school finds out, there will be protests. Parents who do not want their children in my class, who do not want me in this very castle." Remus sighed, the reality of it hitting him hard. "I'm not going to place you in the position where you have to defend me. You would be fighting a losing battle. I have to resign."

Snape cleared his throat. "I should take my leave here, then. Lupin," he said, barely inclining his head before turning to go. Remus ignored him and kept his eyes on Dumbledore.

The headmaster was silent for a several moments. "I will not deny that there will be calls for your dismissal," he said softly, blue eyes gazing into Remus's face sympathetically. "But you would have my full support should you choose to stay. I know that you are not a danger to our students--you know it. You are one of the best teachers they have had for years."

Remus couldn't help but smile at the compliment, even though he shook his head at the same time. "Thank you, Professor, but we both know it's the right thing to do. It's the only thing to do. I can't stay. It's not worth the trouble."

"For me or for you?" Dumbledore murmured, eyebrow raised quizzically.

"For the school," Remus replied. "For the students. And yes, for me. I won't put myself in a position where I could hurt one of my students."

"You have been in that position all year, Remus, and have done a fine job at managing your condition," Dumbledore pointed out.

"Until last night!" Remus cried, turning and beginning to pace. "When I think about what could have happened…"

"Then you must also realize that it did not. And that last night was a extraordinary night, an exception for us all." Dumbledore returned to his desk, and Remus turned to him, suddenly realizing he had no idea what had happened after his transformation.

"I assume you've had most of it from Harry?" he asked, and Dumbledore nodded. Remus sunk into a chair and let his head fall into his hands. "I can't believe it--all this time we thought it was Sirius, when it was really Peter, hiding out for these long years."

"It is indeed a remarkable story," Dumbledore agreed. "Sirius told me everything, and I must say--I was quite taken aback."

Remus glanced up, his eyes suddenly bright as he felt the waves of guilt wash over him. "Sir, I'm sorry I never said anything," he said, his voice cracking. "About Sirius, about him being an Animagus, about them all. I just couldn't bring myself to believe it might really be him…or to tell you what we'd done…" He trailed off and looked away from the look on Dumbledore's face: both stern and sympathetic, Remus knew he had disappointed the headmaster, yet that at the same time Dumbledore understood.

"I cannot condone your actions, Remus," Dumbledore said, bringing his hands together in front of his face. "But there is a part of me that understands, and another part of me that accepts and forgives. What is done is done. Sirius is free now, and--"

"What?" asked Remus, glancing up in surprise. "He's free? How? What happened?"

Dumbledore smiled. "A most remarkable thing, time. Although he was captured, it seems Sirius was able to escape with Buckbeak last night."

"Buckbeak?" Remus repeated, frowning. "But Buckbeak was executed yesterday, before I even went out to the Shrieking Shack. How is that possible?"

Dumbledore smiled enigmatically. "Time, Remus," he replied. "And some very exceptional young Gryffindors."

Remus shook his head, trying to piece it together. "You mean Harry, of course…" He understood. "And Hermione. Hermione's Time-Turner." His mouth fell open as he began to understand the implications of Dumbledore's words. "You sent them back in time to rescue Buckbeak and Sirius?"

"I did no such thing, you know the laws," Dumbledore replied, but he winked. "I merely suggested the possibility."

"Of course," Remus murmured, slightly stunned. "So Sirius is free, then, just like you said. Do you know where he's gone?"

"I have no idea, nor do I wish to know. He is still a wanted man, Remus," Dumbledore pointed out, his voice more serious now. "He will likely be on the run for quite a while.

"But he's innocent!" Remus exclaimed. "I can prove it!"

"How?" asked Dumbledore. "By your word? Peter Pettigrew has also disappeared, so he cannot prove anything. And Harry's words will not count for much either, seeing as he is young, and Severus has spoken harshly against him."

"Snape," Remus muttered. "Why did he have to show up? He's ruined everything!"

Dumbledore nodded. "He is bitterly disappointed in many things."

"He's bound to a schoolboy grudge he won't let hold of," Remus snapped.

"Oh, there is much more to Severus than you might think," Dumbledore replied. "However, I am sorry for what he has done to you. Again, I will support you should you change your mind and choose to stay."

Remus shook his head and stood. "No. I have to go. I don't have any choice."

"You always have a choice, Remus," Dumbledore said, coming around the desk to walk him to the door. "I do not know what is the right choice for you, but I do know you must follow the path you believe you must follow."

"I'm sorry," Remus replied. "I'm sorry for letting you down, for failing you, for--"

"Remus," Dumbledore said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "You have not let me down. In fact, you have done more than you can possible imagine--for Hogwarts, for Harry--even for Sirius. You have done well this year."

Remus nodded, a knot in his throat. "I wish I could have stayed longer. Nothing ever seems to last."

"You are always be welcome here, Remus," Dumbledore said. "If you need anything, anything at all, please do not hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, Professor," Remus said. He sighed as he opened the door. "I suppose I'd better get to packing before the owls start arriving." He started to leave, but Dumbledore had one more question.

"Remus?" he asked, and Remus turned on the top step. "What will you say to Charity?"

He knew; Remus should have guessed that Dumbledore would have known about him and Charity.

"I'm not sure, sir," he replied, feeling completely and utterly at a loss. It must have shown on his face, for Dumbledore's eyes softened, and he nodded in sympathy.

"I would think she probably deserves the truth, don't you?" he suggested gently.

Remus swallowed and nodded before turning and heading down the staircase. His footsteps dragged as he neared the bottom. He needed to see Charity, but how could he even begin? He was leaving Hogwarts, and he couldn't put her through the pain and sorrow of continuing their relationship knowing he would once again be jobless and penniless. And yet he loved her, and didn't want to lose her.

Damn Severus Snape. Damn Peter Pettigrew. And damn his own heart for daring to hope for happiness, only to lose it once more.

* * *