*****

In Your Pocket You Carry Devotion

“Harry, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Remus asked calmly, perhaps more calmly than another wizard might if an angry Harry Potter had just apparated into his flat. This fact only seemed to make Harry more angry.

“You disappeared after the Gringott’s raid,” he said, clearly waiting for a response. When none came, he continued, “I know you were in bad shape. The medical team tried to catch up with you after, you know.”

“Did they?” Remus shifted painfully in his faded armchair, trying his best to look like a man who simply enjoyed being seated. “I’m sorry to have caused them any trouble. I didn’t suppose I was as poorly off as all that.” He rearranged the blankets in his lap.

Harry sighed. “Remus, it’s no use, I know you can’t stand without that cane.” He pointed to the corner next to Remus’ chair. “Between the injuries done to you in the field, and those you’ve inflicted on yourself,” Harry gestured toward Remus’ mangled hands, “it’s a miracle you’re still alive.”

“If that’s true, I think I could do with one less miracle in my life.” Remus smiled wryly.

“You can’t mean that.”

“No, I suppose not,” Remus said, to avoid an argument.

“I’m sending someone to care for you. To bring you back to health,” Harry said.

“Sending someone?”

“Someone with the skill to help you heal,” Harry explained.

“In my home?” Remus felt ill. “Really, Harry, that’s the last thing I want right now.”

“You know St. Mungo’s isn’t safe anymore.” Harry was clearly impatient. “This is really the only way we can ensure your safety.”

“I don’t need a nursemaid,” Remus muttered, pulling a worn, green blanket over his left hand, which looked much worse than the other.

“That’s not up to you to decide right now.” Harry crossed his arms with authority. Remus ruffled.

“It most certainly–”

“You pledged yourself to the Order, Remus, and the Order needs you whole,” Harry interrupted. “So, no. It isn’t up to you.” His face softened. “It’s only temporary.” Remus looked away. Harry crouched next to his chair, his hand on Remus’ arm. “Remus, we’ve lost so many. We–” He stopped as his voice began to waver. He took a deep breath and began again. “There isn’t an alternative. We’re going to lose everything.”

“Haven’t we already, Harry?” Remus touched Harry’s hand. “This war has brought us seven years of terrible loss. The people we loved most are gone. What are we fighting for?”

Harry stood abruptly. “We can’t afford that kind of thinking right now.” He wasn’t looking at Remus.

Remus sighed. “I’ll need Wolfsbane. Your efforts are futile without it, you know that.”

“We’ve got someone.”

“It’s very difficult to find, Harry, especially now. My old contacts have all dried up and the ministry–”

“We’ve got someone.” Harry’s face was hard again. “He’ll be here in an hour.” With a *crack* he was gone.

Remus sank deeper into his chair, which was considerably less comfortable than it had been when he and Nymphadora brought it home five or so years ago. He couldn’t remember clearly now exactly when they’d moved into this flat in a Muggle neighborhood, far from wizarding London, which had become almost entirely controlled by Voldemort. They’d learned to use less magic in their daily lives to ensure they’d be inconspicuous, saving all their strength for the Order’s work, which only grew more dangerous each year. If he closed his eyes, he could still see her–short, pink hair and dark, shining eyes–waving to him as she apparated away, promising to pick up supper on her way home.

It was in this chair that he’d read the owl telling him that she wasn’t coming back. It was in this chair that he listened over and over to that awful music that she’d loved.

Dance, your final dance
This is your final chance
To hold the one you love
You know you’ve waited long enough

Nymphadora twirled, laughing, so graceful when she wasn’t thinking about it. She called to him, arms outstretched, drawing him in. He reached for her, but she had disappeared into a cloud of pink. He called her name, but his voice was swallowed up by the music as it grew louder and more chaotic until all he could pick out of it was the steady beat of a drum.

*****

It was dark in the room when Remus awoke, and he felt lost, uncertain of time and place. It was only after a long moment that he recognized the knocking on his front door. He reached for his cane, and pulled himself up painfully. The walk to the door seemed to take forever. Finally he opened the door to reveal the round, pink face of Neville Longbottom, accompanied by a fairly unpleasant odor.

“It’s a bit cold out isn’t it?” Neville said. “Sorry to be so late.”

“No, of course,” Remus said, stepping back from the doorway. “Come in, Neville.”

Neville’s eyes widened as he noticed the cane. “Professor Lupin, sir, I’m so sorry!” He rushed in, taking Remus’ arm with his free hand.” You should be sitting down. If I’d known–”

“It’s fine, Neville,” Remus said, leaning gratefully on Neville’s hand, and allowing himself to be led to his chair. “Did Harry send you?” he asked, tentatively.

“He told you, then.” Neville let out a long breath. “That’s a relief. At least I haven’t arrived entirely unannounced.” His brow wrinkled as he eyed Remus’ ragged frame. “You’ve got some fair wounds, I’d say, haven’t you? We might as well get started there.” He began to unpack some items from a small knapsack.

Remus was still confused. “You’re not also–” He searched for the most delicate wording. “Harry mentioned he had someone who could brew Wolfsbane potion.”

Neville set down a large, heavy-looking bowl with a brown cloth over the top of it. “Yes, we’ll be taking care of that problem as well.”

“Neville, I’m not sure how to ask this, but,” Remus hesitated, “Wolfsbane is a very difficult potion. I know you’ve come a long way since third year, but are you certain you’re ready for this? The effects when brewed poorly–”

“We’ve got a week or two to think about that,” Neville answered while rolling up his sleeves. “Let’s see about cleaning you up a bit, shall we? That’s a nasty bit of work you’ve done there.” He nodded his head toward Remus’ hands.

Remus was becoming impatient. “Neville–”

“I’m not much good with healing spells and the like,” Neville said, lifting the cloth from the top of the large bowl to reveal its contents, which, to Remus’ dismay, proved to be a pale yellow-green liquid, and the source of the noxious smell. Neville continued, “I’m afraid we’ll be doing this the long way ’round. Hand me those leaves there, would you?” He pointed at the bundle of green on the nearby table.

“Neville, I’m sure you’re very good at what you do,” Remus said, passing him the bundle of leaves, “but do you really think–”

“Terribly underestimated, Herbology,” Neville continued, uncovering Remus’ mangled left hand. “Once they’ve passed their O.W.L.s, people tend to forget all about it.” He dipped a leaf into the noxious liquid. “Before that, really,” He said, placing the wet leaf on the top of Remus’ hand and smoothing it down with his palms. The liquid stung as it formed into some kind of adhesive substance. Neville smiled shyly. “Not the most glamorous field, is it?”

“I didn’t mean–” Remus started.

“Oh, it’s all right,” Neville said, his smile growing a little wider. “Being forgotten has its advantages. Why else do you suppose they haven’t bothered killing me?” He prepared another leaf, applying it just above the other. “It’s not showy, of course, and it takes a while.” He smoothed the leaf gently. “But it gets the job done right enough,” he finished, wrinkling his nose. “‘Course there’s always a bit of a smell.”

Remus touched the leaf gingerly with his fingers and was surprised to find that it had taken on a soft, fuzzy texture, like the skin of a peach. The adhesive had ceased to sting, and was so firmly fixed, it felt like a part of his own skin. He wondered if he, in fact, had underestimated Herbology. “I must confess, I don’t recall anything quite like this in Encyclopedia of Toadstools.”

Neville chuckled, “No, you wouldn’t, of course.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “This one’s my own cross-breed, actually.” His face reddened a little, and his eyes seemed to be focused somewhere near his shoes. “I don’t get out much,” he said, his smile turning shy again. “It’s related to Alihotsy, so, you know, don’t eat it,” he said, eyes twinkling. “We should tend to your legs as well? Perhaps–” he looked around.

Remus realized Neville was waiting for him. “Yes, yes that’s fine,” he said, gesturing toward his bedroom. “Could you–” He looked wearily at his cane. “Would you help me?”

“Of course!” Neville jumped up and offered his arm.

Remus was embarrassed, but grateful. “I’ve been levitating myself generally, but it’s a bit tiring,” he admitted.

“No need while I’m here,” Neville said. “You can save your strength.” He guided Remus into the bedroom, letting Remus set the pace, for which Remus was grateful. Neville helped him onto the bed, and arranged pillows under his head. After a moment of awkward silence, Neville finally gestured meekly to Remus’ trousers.

“Oh, of course,” Remus said, removing them as hastily as he comfortably could, while Neville fetched his supplies from the front room.

Neville returned, and his eyes widened. He glanced at the supplies in his hands. “I haven’t brought enough,” he said, obviously trying to hide his shock. “We’ll take care of the larger ones, and I’ll go out for more in the morning.” He quickly busied himself with dressing the wounds on Remus’ legs with the remaining leaves. He worked in silence now, and Remus tried to think of a polite way to bring up the Wolfsbane problem again. Unfortunately, this process was hindered by his growing dizziness due to the violent stench now eminating from much of his body.

“It does… have an odor, doesn’t it?” Remus asked, feebly.

“You’ll get used to it.” Neville smiled again, this time much more broadly. He raised his eyebrows. “Haven’t got a hot date tonight, have you?” Remus winced involuntarily, and Neville’s smile was replaced by a look of utter horror. “I’m so sorry, Professor,” he said rapidly, “I’m an idiot, please–”

“Remus,” Remus said. “It’s Remus. I haven’t been anyone’s professor in a long time.” His head ached, and he couldn’t bear the sight of Neville’s pained, honest eyes one moment longer. “I think I need some rest now, Neville. I’m very tired.” He tried to smile, but he could feel the strain in his face.

Neville’s face flushed as he burst into motion. “Of course, yes.” He gathered up a few stray leaves and the dread bowl, stumbling a bit on his way to the door. “I’ll be just outside if you need me,” he said, closing the door behind him.

*****

It was late the next morning when Remus was awakened again by a soft knocking, this time from the door to his bedroom. “Come in,” he said as clearly as he could manage, though his voice was rough with sleep. Neville’s head appeared in the doorway.

“Is this all right?” he asked, softly. “I’ve brought more leaves. I thought you might like to close up the rest of those scratches.”

“Yes, of course, come in,” Remus said, gesturing him in. “I must tell you that I’m quite impressed. I haven’t slept this late in a very long time–the effects of greatly reduced pain, I’m sure.” He smiled. “That will, at least, be my excuse.”

Neville smiled now, too. “I don’t think you need much of an excuse to catch up on a bit of sleep, after what you’ve been through. I had no idea. I haven’t seen wounds like that in some of the worst battles.”

“Mostly self-inflicted, I assure you,” Remus said. “The older I get, the less ability I have to heal between full moons.” Remus sighed, dreading his next words, “Neville, I’m afraid I must ask–”

“Well, we’re going to patch the rest of these up right now,” Neville interrupted, setting up his leaves and the bowl of foul liquid. “I expect you’ll be up and walking again in a few days. You’re far to young to be hobbling about like an old man,” he said with what might have been a wink, though Remus was quite sure he’d imagined it.

“This war has aged us all beyond our years, unfortunately,” Remus said. “You’re a young man of what now?”

“Twenty-four.” Neville replied.

“Are you really?” Remus was genuinely shocked, and feeling even older than usual. “How quickly time has passed. Perhaps it’s just me, then,” he laughed.

“Come, let’s have a look.” Neville pulled back the blankets covering Remus’ legs, less shy now than he had been the night before. “These are healing nicely. I might add a bit to some of the larger ones.”

Remus sighed again. “Neville, I must ask about the Wolfsbane potion–”

“We’ll worry about that when I’ve got you healed up, Prof–” Neville stopped himself. “Remus.” He faced Remus earnestly. “Please, just trust me.” When Remus hesitated, Neville went on, “I promise I won’t let you do this to yourself again. I just need a bit of time.”

“Very well, Neville.” Remus was too tired to argue, though he was not greatly comforted. “I hope you can understand why I’m anxious.”

“Yes, of course.” Neville looked solemn in a way Remus couldn’t quite place. “All right, that should do for today.” He patted Remus’ legs gently and glanced out into the hall. “Shall I put the kettle on?”

“Yes, thank you, Neville. That’s very kind.”

Neville grinned. “Life does have its necessities,” he said, gathering his supplies and heading out toward the kitchen.

*****

The next week passed easily, more so than Remus could have imagined. It was comforting to have someone else around the house again, and Neville was an easy soul to have about. He seemed to have made himself right at home–perhaps more so than Remus had ever felt himself in this cold, shabby Muggle flat. In some ways he was helping Remus to feel at home too–the easy way he moved around the sitting room and tiny kitchen, talking to the plants without a trace of embarrassment. There were more plants in the flat now that Neville had arrived, and they somehow managed to dress up the place, something Remus would not have thought possible.

In the afternoons, Neville would shut himself up in the kitchen, occasionally for hours at a time. Neville never spoke of what he was doing there, and the room was always spotlessly clean when he emerged, no matter what horrid smells (and muffled profanity) had seeped out from under the door that day. Remus was certain he was attempting to make Wolfsbane potion, though what surprised him was that he found himself increasingly distressed, not with the unsurprising evidence that Neville’s attempts were not going well, but with Neville’s absence during those times. Remus had spent so many of his years alone, it seemed almost comical that he should be unable to bear it now.

Some mornings, Neville took Remus to the Muggle park down the road to stretch his quickly healing legs and get a bit of air. It was too dangerous, even in Muggle areas, for either of them to stay out public for long, so these outings were always brief, but Remus looked forward to them a bit more than he was prepared to admit. They strolled slowly, Neville’s steady hand on his arm, ready to catch him at any moment.

In the evenings, Neville read to him from one of the dusty books from Remus’ shelves, or from the small stack he’d brought with him. Remus preferred Magical theory and Neville liked Muggle fiction (for which he loudly blamed Dean Thomas), so they would take turns choosing each evening’s entertainment. Both of them ignored the stack of unread copies of The Daily Prophet growing steadily by the front door. It was these moments Remus particularly treasured, when he could imagine for however short a time that he was truly not alone and all was right with the world.

*****

The morning of the full moon, Remus awoke, and for the first time in over a week felt the loneliness and dread he had become accustomed to since Nymphadora’s death. Neville had already shut himself up in the kitchen when Remus emerged from his room to find a pot of tea and a bit of toast waiting for him on the table next to his armchair. Neville was whistling to himself, not quite tunefully, just loudly enough to be heard through the closed kitchen door. Remus sat down to his tea and toast, which were both warmer than he expected. Thank you, Neville, he thought, letting himself sink into the comfort of his chair, avoiding the inevitable for just a moment longer.

Dance, your final dance
This is your final chance
To hold the one you love
You know you’ve waited long enough

“Hurry up, Remus”, a rough, familiar voice said, and Remus turned, face to face with Sirius’ hungry eyes.

When his eyes opened again, the shadows in the room had grown long, and the tea beside him, cold. Remus rose in a panic and burst into the still-closed kitchen to find Neville at the center of a mess of dirty, dripping pots and pans, more of them than Remus was actually aware he owned.

“Neville, you don’t have to pretend about the Wolfsbane. I know you’ve tried. It’s all right. But I need you out of the house now. It isn’t safe for you to–” Remus stopped abruptly, terrified as he felt the madness begin to rise up from his chest. “Now!” he shouted.

Neville thrust a cup of green, steaming liquid at him. “Drink this,” he said.

Remus clung to the nearby countertop, attempting to hold back what he could. “Neville, please, there really isn’t time–” he cried.

Neville was forcing the cup to his lips. “Just drink it.” His voice was demanding.

“What is it?” Remus asked. It was becoming very difficult to speak.

“Tea,” Neville said. “Well, a bit of a special tea,” Neville was talking very quickly and Remus was still not drinking. “Believe me, it’ll go down a lot better this way.” Remus was losing his balance. “Please,” Neville pleaded, “trust me.”

Remus grabbed for the cup in desperation, and Neville helped hold it steady as he drank the green liquid down. It was hot and cold all at once, and it seemed to be grabbing at the walls of Remus’ throat as it slid down. Remus looked frantically for an escape, somewhere to go where he could shut himself up tight, at least long enough for Neville to find his way to safety. Then suddenly it was gone–the madness, the fear–gone as quickly as it had come upon him. Remus staggered toward the floor, caught at the last moment by Neville’s sure hands. Neville steadied him against the table and stood, holding Remus at the shoulders, watching him expectantly.

Remus breathed slowly, finally able to speak again. “Neville,” he said, “what have you done?”

“I’m not quite sure yet.” Neville’s voice was very low and his eyes were fixed on Remus. He was still holding Remus’ shoulders. “Come with me, will you?” He pulled Remus through the kitchen door and into the bedroom, toward the pair of crooked French doors overlooking the neighboring tenements.

Remus shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

Neville pointed to the full moon, flat and pale, just barely visible in the early evening sky between the tops of two buildings. “That speaks for itself, doesn’t it?”

“Neville,” Remus whispered, “what have you done?”

“It’s something–” Neville looked a bit unsteady himself. He ran his fingers through his hair, which had become damp with perspiration. “I’ve been working on it for a while. It’s better than I’d hoped, really. I thought you’d grow some extra hair at least.” He was smiling tentatively now. “Maybe a bit of a snout.”

“It’s gone. The feeling–” Remus inhaled sharply, trying to find the words. “No, not gone. I feel it lurking, just below, but–” He stared at Neville, all further words lost.

“You’ll have to drink this tea at least three nights after to be safe,” Neville said. “I’ve got quite a bit of it made up already, and I’ll be sure you have enough to last a long time. You know.” He hesitated. “In case something happens.”

“Neville, have you any idea what you’ve done?” Remus knew he was repeating things, but he felt helpless to express himself.

“I–I believe so. You’re–” Neville’s face had gone a bit pale. “You’re happy, aren’t you?”

“Happy?” Remus laughed. “Neville, it’s much more than that.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” Neville let out a long breath and smiled. “It worked for Bill Weasley, but of course he isn’t fully–” He tilted his head. “You know.” He was almost grinning now. “I bet he wished I’d have got the tea bit figured out sooner. He had to eat the plants raw, and they weren’t exactly bred for taste. Lucky for you your kitchen’s pretty resilient.” He held Remus at arm’s length, looking him up and down. “There’s really no fur or anything?” He bit his lip. “We should probably wait a bit to be sure.” He turned to the French doors again, feeling around the tarnished brass knobs. “Do these open?” he asked.

“Yes, of course.” Remus moved in and found the latch, opening the doors out on to an old, slightly wobbly balcony, covered in rust.

“I thought you might want to–” Neville gestured outside. “Most people like looking at the full moon. Probably not something you’ve enjoyed often.”

Remus stared. “No, indeed not.”

“We don’t have to–” Neville said, quickly.

“That would be lovely, Neville,” Remus interrupted, smiling. “Thank you.”

“Look, we’ll bring these chairs.” Neville ran over to the other side of the room, gathering up a small armchair, which he placed gingerly on the balcony. When it proved itself stable, he gestured for Remus to sit, and then went back for the small, rickety desk chair also from the bedroom, which he sat on, himself. “That’s nice, isn’t it?” he asked, with a touch of anxiety in his voice.

“Yes,” Remus said, touching Neville’s hand, reassuringly. For a moment they sat silently, gazing, the moon growing rapidly brighter as the sky darkened.

Finally Neville spoke. “How did you–” he began, stopping himself abruptly. After a moment he continued. “Professor Snape’s been gone a long time. How have you managed all these years? Without a potion, I mean.”

“It wasn’t difficult until the ministry banned it,” Remus said. “Then for a while, I had connections in Knockturn Alley. After the ministry’s real collapse, of course, it became too dangerous even for them, but Nymphadora knew someone–” his voice wavered. “Well, I never knew where she got it. Obviously, that’s no longer an option.”

They were silent again, and then Neville asked softly, “Do you miss her?” He seemed to regret the question immediately, shaking his head. “I’m an idiot, of course you do. I just–” he looked at Remus. “It must be awful.”

“Yes,” Remus said quietly. “I miss her very much.”

“When they told me my mother died, I lost my mind for a while. Silly, really. I never knew her,” Neville said, “Not really, you know. She used to give me gum wrappers when I want to see her at St. Mungo’s. Gran made me throw most of them away, but I always kept one. I used to sleep with it under my pillow. So stupid.”

“Not at all,” Remus said.

“Anyway, I thought, if it was that hard for me when she died, it must be so much worse when–” Neville hesitated again. “You have all the day-to-day things to miss, and I never had those to begin with.” He was shaking his head again. “It’s not the same thing at all, really, but I just thought–”

“It’s very hard,” Remus said, his voice still quiet. “Perhaps not now as much as it was. Or perhaps I’ve just become accustomed to it.” He smiled weakly at Neville.

They were both silent for a long while, and Remus drifted off, wakening as Neville tucked a blanket around him.

“Sorry to wake you,” Neville said. “It was getting a bit chilly, I thought.”

“Neville, I’m terribly sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it at all.” It was Neville’s turn to be reassuring. “It’s a peaceful night,” he said, leaning his head back to view the few visible stars.

“Yes, it is. Something I never thought I’d have.” Remus turned his head to face Neville. “I really don’t know how to thank you.”

“Please, there isn’t any need, really,” Neville answered, softly.

“How did you–or perhaps the better question is why?” Remus asked, “Why would you work so hard on something like this? It puts you in terrible danger, you realize, and it’s not as though there’s a big demand.” He smiled sadly. “I think I’m the only werewolf left in England who has any interest in being human at all.”

“I don’t know. I guess I always–” Neville bit his lip. “Did you know you were the first teacher who ever thought I could do anything?” Remus moved to protest, but Neville continued, “No, really, I mean it. With the boggart. You didn’t yell at me, or sigh and brush me aside like the rest. You just… taught me something. Like I was just as good as anyone. Maybe that sounds funny, but it meant a lot. I don’t think I ever would have bothered to really try at anything if it hadn’t been for you.”

“Surely that’s not true,” Remus said, shocked. Finally something dawned on him. “Neville,” he spoke slowly, “are you saying that you made this for me? Because I let you fight a boggart?”

“Well,” Neville said, smiling a little, “it didn’t hurt that you embarrassed Professor Snape.”

Remus chuckled. “That was enjoyable, I’ll admit.”

“I guess,” Neville went on, not quite looking at Remus. “you’ve always been a bit special to me. So when Professor Snape… left, I started working on it. I didn’t know if it’d ever work, but I thought it was worth a try.” He stared back into the sky. “It’s taken me seven years. More, actually. I never thought the war could go on so long.”

“Neville, thank you.” Remus felt at a complete loss. “Thanks are inadequate… but heartfelt. Truly.”

“I wouldn’t have even asked for that, Professor.” Neville grinned at his own mistake. “Remus.”

“Well, that’s something, Neville, that’s unique about you,” Remus said. “I really don’t want you to underestimate the importance of this to me. This is something I never thought I’d have. I’m not sure I can even describe it.”

Neville finally looked at him again. “You can try.”

“It’s–” Remus searched for words. “It’s like you’ve given me the gift of myself. A version of me long forgotten. You’ve allowed me to feel safe with myself in a way I can’t–” He shook his head. “I have no memory of feeling this way, though I’m sure I must have, long ago.” He paused and then continued. “To exist without fear–It’s something I never could have hoped for. Even now it doesn’t feel quite real.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever felt that myself,” Neville said.

“You’re probably closer than you imagine.” Remus looked thoughtfully at Neville. “What do you fear, Neville? What do you truly fear?”

Neville blushed. “I should have kept quiet. I see that now,” he said with a sigh. “What do I fear?” He shrugged. “Death, I suppose. The war really brings that home, doesn’t it? Or maybe it’s more about dying alone. To have done all this, fought so hard only to die before knowing what it feels like not to be alone.” He looked at Remus. “I envy you that, I guess. For all you’ve lost, you still–” He blushed again. “Well, that’s probably enough said, isn’t it?”

Do you feel alone now?, Remus wanted to ask, though he stopped himself just in time. His head was oddly light, and he felt very suddenly that it was important for Neville to leave. “I should let you get some rest,” he said. “You don’t need an old man keeping you up all night.”

“I’m sorry.” Neville said, standing hastily, “I expect it’s me who’s kept you up. Shall I help you settle?”

“No, no,” Remus said, hurriedly. “I think it’s time I remembered how to do for myself. You’ve been too kind already.” He pulled his blanket closer. “I’ll just sit here a moment longer. You go ahead.”

“All right.” Neville was visibly disappointed, and Remus felt both guilty and excited, which only made the urgency of the situation more clear. “Goodnight, Professor.”

Remus waited until the flat was quiet and he could be sure Neville had settled into the sofa for the night, then he got up and put himself to bed.

*****

Remus woke the next morning with an energy he hadn’t felt in a long time. When he stepped out of his bedroom, he found a note stuck to his door that read, “Gone for supplies. Back soon. Neville,” which he smiled at for longer than he should have. He also found Harry Potter standing in his hallway, peering into the sitting room.

“Do you never knock?” he asked, still smiling.

Harry turned with a start. “Remus?” he said.

“Harry,” Remus said, “I wasn’t expecting you, though I’m glad you’re here. I do have something to speak to you about.”

Harry stood, looking confused. “I came to check in with Neville, actually. I wasn’t expecting to see you.” He gestured at Remus vaguely. “Well, not like this,” he said. “Aren’t you usually, er, recovering?”

“It seems that Neville is more talented than he thought,” Remus said.

Harry smiled. “He usually is, actually.” He looked around again. “Where is he?”

“I believe he stepped out for supplies of some kind,” Remus said. “Before he gets back, however, there’s something I’d like to speak to you about.”

“Of course,” Harry said.

“I think it would be best if Neville moved out,” Remus said. “Tomorrow, if possible.”

“I–” Harry started, flustered. “I’m sorry. I thought things were going well. Neville said–”

“It’s been fine, really,” Remus said. “I suppose I’ve just become accustomed to being alone. It’s quite cramped here, and I think I’m well enough now to be on my own.” Harry stood, apparently dumbstruck. “He’s done a wonderful job,” Remus added, hastily. “I’ll be ready to work again, of course. Whatever you need of me.”

“Yes,” Harry said, remembering himself finally. “Yes of course. It’s no problem at all. I’ll tell Neville–”

“No, that’s all right,” Remus said. “I’ll tell him. I don’t want him to feel it’s anything he’s done, I’m sure you can understand.”

“Yes.” Harry looked around, awkwardly. ” Well, then. I guess I’ll be on my way,” he said. “It’s good timing, actually. We’re starting a new mission tomorrow, and he’ll be a valuable asset. The location’s secret, so I’ll come back tomorrow to escort him.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Remus said, gratefully.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Just as Harry was preparing to apparate, the door opened and Neville walked in, arms piled high with packages, his pink face smiling brightly.

“Oh, hello,” Harry said, very rapidly. “Well, I’ve got to be going.” He was gone before Neville could respond.

Neville heaped his packages on the table in the middle of the room and looked around, quizzically.

“Hello, Neville,” Remus said.

Neville frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?” Remus asked, trying not to panic.

Neville looked at the spot where Harry had stood moments before, and then turned back to Remus. “Was that Harry?” he asked.

“Yes.” Remus’s voice felt very loud. “He came to speak with you, actually, but I guess he was in a bit of a rush.”

Neville smiled. “Oh, well, can’t have been so important then, eh?” He gathered up several of his packages and took them into the kitchen.

“Right,” Remus said.

Neville walked slowly back into the hallway. He seemed to have forgotten about his packages. “Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”

“No, you’re right,” Remus said, struggling to keep his voice steady. “There is something, Neville, and I’m a fool to try to lie to you. I’m sorry. I hope you won’t misunderstand, but,” he hesitated for a moment, and then forced himself to finish, “I think it would be best if you left.”

Neville stared. “Sorry?”

“It isn’t safe for you,” Remus hurried on, “If anyone finds out about your work–” He paused, forcing himself to slow down. “Voldemort’s people have a lot of stake in keeping werewolves dangerous. They’ve made thousands of them. It’s their best threat against the ministry–really the only thing keeping them in power right now. If they ever found out, you’d be killed immediately.” He was feeling steadier now. “I can’t let you stay here, it’s much too obvious.”

“Nobody knows about it outside the Weasleys and Harry.” Neville’s voice was very tight.

“Neville, that’s not good enough,” Remus said, his voice becoming louder again. “Someone will find out. It’s only a matter of time. After what you’ve done for me, I can’t let you continue to endanger your own life.”

“Don’t you think that should be up to me?” Neville asked, unsmiling.

“No!” Remus was shouting now. He stopped and took a breath, forcing his voice to be calm again. “No, I’m sorry, it can’t be. Not this time.”

Neville’s eyes went wide. “This isn’t really about me, is it?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Remus said. Neville was walking toward him now, and Remus’ legs would not move.

“Remus, I–” Neville bit his lip and started again, his voice quiet but strong. “I was there when she died.” Remus tried to turn away, but Neville had taken hold of his shoulders. “It was complete madness. There wasn’t anything you could have done, not even if you’d–”

“Thank you.” Remus smiled, wearily. “But you see, Neville, that isn’t really the problem.” He was tired now, and he longed to sit, but Neville was holding him firm. “It’s not that I wasn’t there to save her. I’m not foolish enough to imagine I have that kind of power. It’s that she shouldn’t have been there at all. I knew it then. I knew something wasn’t right, but I let her go, despite every instinct not to.” He felt his voice shaking. “I’ve never been strong enough to stop her, or anyone. Not enough for her, not enough for–” He stopped himself abruptly, closing his eyes to try to find his balance, and instead coming face to face with Sirius’ flashing eyes. Remus gasped, his eyes bursting open again, blurry and damp. “I’m sorry. This is extremely embarrassing.” Neville let him go, and he sank into the hallway chair. “Please if you’d–”

“No,” Neville said. “Remus, you have to listen to me. Please.” Neville kneeled in front of Remus, placing his hands gently on Remus’ legs. “Just listen–listen to yourself–you can’t possibly believe this. Do you truly believe for a moment that’s what she wanted from you? What he wanted?” Remus startled, and Neville rolled his eyes. “We might have been children, Remus, but we weren’t stupid.” He continued, “They didn’t love you for your damned strength of will.” He leaned in closer. “They loved you because you loved them enough to let them be who they were–wild and reckless and different from everyone else. Because you saw beauty in them that other people couldn’t.” He was even closer now, with his wide brown eyes so earnest and steady. “Because you could forgive them for not being right or graceful or perfect all the time.” His voice cracked. “Don’t you see?” Neville’s face was so close, and Remus felt that he might break in two.

“Neville,” Remus said, helplessly.

Suddenly Neville was kissing him, all softness and youth and big honest eyes, and Remus felt certain he should stop it, but it had been so long, and then there were strong arms lifting him, easing him from his chair, and he let his tears fall as he was enveloped in the cushion of Neville’s warm body and the faint scent of earth.

*****

The room filled with morning sunlight, rare for London that time of year, and Remus could feel it on his eyelids as he awoke. He kept his eyes closed, savoring the warmth of it, and inhaling the saltysweet smell of the soft hair on the pillow beside him. When he could bear to wait no longer, he opened his eyes to take in the beautiful sight of the young man he had shared his bed with. The joy of it was almost too much, and Remus forgot for a moment to breathe. For a long time he stayed there, just looking, his mind oddly peaceful in a way he hadn’t felt, perhaps ever before. A *crack* in the hall startled him out of his reverie, and he remembered what the morning was to bring. Damn, he thought. He got out of bed as quietly as he could and crept out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.

“Remus.” Once again, Harry appeared confused. “Uh, Hello.” Remus stifled a smile. “Where’s Neville?” Harry asked.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Remus said. “He’s still sleeping. It’s my fault, I’m afraid.”

Harry glanced at the empty sofa. “Er-”

“This is terribly awkward,” Remus said, unsure of how to continue. “I think,” he said, “I made a mistake about Neville.”

“Is–” Harry’s eyes grew wide, the rest of his face seemingly frozen. “Oh,” he said.

Remus sighed. “Please, Harry, you needn’t make this more awkward.” To his relief, Harry’s face softened.

“But I’m so good at it,” Harry said, smiling ruefully.

“Indeed you are.” Remus smiled back. They stood in silence for a moment, until Remus finally went on, “It’s– all right?” He felt foolish, but he wasn’t sure what to say at this point.

Harry laughed. “I don’t think that’s up to me to say, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” Remus said, still smiling. “About the mission,” Remus’ voice turned apologetic. “I’m afraid I didn’t tell him.”

Harry shook his head. “Nothing to tell. We’ll be fine without him,” he paused, “this time.” Harry’s smile held a warmth Remus hadn’t seen in him for many years. “After everything, I can at least give you that, can’t I?”

“Thank you,” Remus said, though he wished to say much more.

“I’d better go, then.” Harry said, smile gone, back to business. “We’ll be in touch.” He smiled one last time. “I expect you both back in the field by next week.”

“Of course.” Remus nodded.

Just then, Remus’ bedroom door opened and Neville appeared, hair mussed, pajamas rumpled. Remus’ heart skipped at the sight of him.

“Harry?” Neville said, his voice groggy with sleep.

“Er-” Harry’s face turned red, and he apparated with much haste.

“What was that about?” Neville asked, scratching his head.

“Nothing.” Remus said, turning to him. “Nothing at all.”

Neville nodded. “I’ll put the kettle on, then?”

“Yes, Neville,” Remus said, “that would be lovely.”

Notes: Song lyrics are from “Magic Works” by Jarvis Cocker, recorded for the 2005 film, “Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.” “Hurry up, Remus” from “Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban,” page 297., Title is borrowed from Peter Mulvey’s, “No One Else.”

*****
Read the cross-fandom prequel (The Past and Pending) or a very short bit that takes place after (Making Promises).

*****

Making Promises

The bundle’s brown paper was tattered in places, as though its journey had been especially rough, and from the look of the owl who’d left it, that seemed a fair assumption. Neville unwrapped it slowly, drawing out the moment, finally holding a worn, old book entitled The Dower House Mystery, and a smooth bit of parchment that fluttered to his feet.

From my mum’s old collection–hope you like it!

Dean

Neville smiled, fingers playing over the faded black print on the cover, considering how and when he might sit down to read it. Any token from a friend was a treasure these days, and Neville was not fool enough to squander it.

The faint chime of Remus’ clock inside pulled Neville from his thoughts, and he stood quickly, as a gust of sooty air picked up a scrap of the brown paper and carried it off the small balcony before Neville could catch it. He stepped inside, hair rumpled from the breeze, and hurried to the dressing table that held his wand and a few other magical items he often carried into battle. Neville placed the book carefully on the table, memorizing the feel of its rough corners with his hands.

“Are you ready, Neville?” Remus’ gentle voice called from just outside the door.

“Yes, coming,” Neville replied, shoving the last of the items into the pockets of his robes. Tonight, he thought, giving the book a final glance. Tonight, when we’ve returned.

Sometimes making promises was more important than keeping them.