Disclaimer: All characters are copyright J. K. Rowling.

Last Friend

You knock on the door and I open it to see your pale face, tired as ever, but now worried as I’ve rarely seen.

“Remus? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you lie. “May I come in, Pete? I need to talk to you.”

“Of course,” I tell you. You enter the room and for a moment you just stand there awkwardly, as if you didn’t belong here, until I offer you a seat.

“What’s wrong, Moony?” I ask you. You seem uncomfortable with my question, but you’ve come to talk after all.

“Some Death Eaters have approached me,” you blurt out after a while.

I wish I could see your eyes, but you look away. “What… what did you do?”

Your eyes return and they’re mad at me.

“How can you ask that?” You stand up furiously and aim to leave; I wish I could stop you, but I don’t know how. Something inside of you wants to stay, however, and you stop right in front of the door.

“I thought you would understand,” you whisper. “I hoped you would.”

“Remus, I didn’t mean…”

“Sirius thinks I’m a spy.” You aren’t looking at me but I can see the pain in your face, in your eyes. “And James… I think James doesn’t trust anyone anymore. I don’t blame him.” You turn to me and try to smile. “But you trust me, don’t you, Pete? You know me.”

Yes, I know you, I know you could never be the spy, and Sirius is an idiot for even thinking about it. But Sirius has always been an idiot and you should have realised that by now.

Your kindness blinds you, Moony. He and James are far from perfect. They don’t deserve you any more than I do.

“I know. I’m sorry,” I tell you, and I mean it. “It’s just- I thought they might have… threatened you… or offered you something.”

You look far away all of a sudden, as you so often do. Trying to block what I said. You can’t block out evil, Remus, no matter how hard you try. Don’t waste yourself with vain efforts.

“They did offer me things,” you whisper at last. I have never seen you look so ashamed, not even when we confronted you so long ago. “Things I know I’ll never get from the Ministry. Money. A decent life. Respect.”

Your eyes are on fire and for a moment I believe you might join me, you might see what I saw. But the light soon dies and you turn away.

“Liars,” you spit.

I wish I could prove you wrong. But would you understand if I told you what I see?

“You have nothing to be ashamed about,” I tell you, hoping you will hear what I’m really trying to say. “And it’s true… it’s true that you won’t get any of those things from the Ministry, after all. Nobody would blame you if you gave it a second thought. It’s not a secret that the Ministry will never give you what you deserve.”

“Neither will Voldemort.” You look at me with that calm determination I’ve always admired in you. “But I haven’t given it a second thought, Peter. I’m not a monster and I won’t become one.”

You don’t have to become a monster, Moony. It’s not about that. You can –you should– join me. You should set yourself free. You always look kind and gentle on the outside, and that’s real, but it’s not all. There’s anger in you, deep anger that you can’t blame on the wolf, because it’s yours and you know it. I’ve seen it. And I know how it’s eating you from inside, how you try to control it, but you don’t have to let it hurt you anymore.

You could be free if you listened to me. Don’t you want to release your anger, Remus? On James, on Sirius, who dare to think of you as a traitor. They hate you already. Why suffer for them? Unleash your anger, Moony, on Sirius, Sirius who made James mistrust you, Sirius who revealed the secret he had sworn to protect, Sirius who nearly got you killed. Don’t you want your revenge?

Just open your eyes. You’re being punished for something you haven’t done; at least give yourself the satisfaction of doing it. And you would be with me, Moony, you’d have a friend. You don’t have to be alone, caught in the middle as you are now.

If only you could listen to me, Moony. If only I was brave enough to talk.

But I’m not talking and you’re not listening. You follow your own thoughts, and when you speak again you do it with pain.

“Even if had, you know… considered it –not that I would ever do it– but you know that– even if I thought about their offers, their threats… I could never do that to my father; I couldn’t hurt him like that.”

Your father? You don’t have to worry about him, Remus, he’s a lost cause. So brave, so idealist, always willing to fight the good fight. He’ll get himself killed.

But you won’t see that, of course you don’t want to see that. Then at least realise that nothing you can do would hurt him. He’s blind when it comes to you; he never sees the anger like I do. You could kill him with your own hands and you’d still be his perfect little angel.

No, you wouldn’t hurt your father if you joined me, Moony. He’s blind and soon he’ll be dead.

Still you try so desperately to defend yourself, to prove again and again that you would never give this a second thought… Why? Who could blame you if you listened to them? James, Sirius? They’re pushing you towards the Dark Lord, Moony, and if you fall it will be because they’ve thrown you to him.

Give it a second thought, Remus, consider what they’ve told you. You call them liars, but you should listen to their offers. I would make sure that they give you everything they’ve promised. Some of them trust me already. They will give me power, and I would protect you with it. At last I’d be able to repay you for everything you’ve done to help me. For choosing to be my friend.

I stayed your friend when you told me your secret, Moony. Will you stay my friend if I told you mine?

For a few minutes you don’t say anything. You look lost in thought and I know you’re probably thinking about Dumbledore, about what he would say. It would surprise you to hear this, but I do agree with Dumbledore: this is a war. That’s all this is about– survival. I choose to survive. You too have that choice, Moony. We can help each other survive.

“Everything will turn out alright,” I assure you. Everything will turn out alright if you make the right choice.

You heave a deep sigh and shake your head tiredly.

“It seems you’re my last friend,” you say, with one last, pathetic attempt at a smile. You turn to go, but before leaving you face me again.

“You were the first, too, Pete– did you know that?” you ask me. “I didn’t know what a friend was before I met you.”

I wish I could answer. I wish I didn’t have a conscience. I wish you would stay.

But you’ve already closed the door behind you.