September 12, 2012

Disclaimer: You're so pretty. Bless your little heart.

Authors Note: Hi! I've missed you! I hope you missed me! Sorry if the grammar or formatting is bad, and off we go!

"You gonna to make it?" Tonks asks me cheekily as we walk into the surprisingly boisterous cafeteria.

"Yeah," I reply flatly. "I'm just not keen on meeting with the twins again is all."

"Why? Because of what they said to you, or what you said to them?"

"Me to them. You are right. I had no right to prematurely color Harry's behavior and attitude before he had even woken up. It could completely change Fred and George's own behavior which may upset Harry even further-"

"Hold on," Tonks cut in. "You can't berate yourself for something that hasn't happened, something that might not ever happen. For all we know your warning could change their behavior in such a way that leads them to opening Harry's shell, or making them turn a new leaf… or cause tornados in Tokyo." At my puzzled expression, she answered with a blasé, "butterfly wings," and continues on. "The point is stop worrying. You can't start to fix something before you know what is broken – or if it even is broken. We'll figure it out when we get there."

"I know, I just can't help it. Harry has been my entire responsibility for the past month and freeing him is all that I worked on for the month before that; I can't help but feel like I have to guard him from the world."

"Well, you've done a really excellent job," Tonks said honestly as we sidle into the line, "everybody thinks so. He didn't even flinch yesterday when he came down to a kitchen full of people and that was something we had all discussed and planned for."

"You planned for the possibility that he wouldn't be able to handle it?" I ask incredulously.

"We're the Order. We like to have all our bases covered," she smirks as she selects a fruit bowl off the line. I am relieved to note that the gush of breath that whooshes out of my lungs is amused and not irritated at not having been in on the plan. Curious, I inquire what the contingency consisted of. "Mostly duck and hide," she confesses with a sheepish grin. "We were all going to have to escort him here; it's not as if we could just leave and go home." I can't stop the chuckle that comes up as a picture of Mad Eye trying to squat behind a dining chair comes to mind. Tonks turns and tries to hand me a plate covered with eggs, fried tomatoes and toast. I shake my head, "Really, Tonks, I'm not hungry." My mind is so firmly on Harry that I don't think I'll be able to swallow a single bite.

"Yes, you are," she replies emphatically. "How many all-night diners have we sat across from each other in after the full moon? You could put one of those places out of business for the day with how much you can pack away. I know you're worried about him and that can wreak havoc on anybody's stomach, but you need to eat. He's not going to make a miraculous recovery because you skip a meal. If anything, eating breakfast will wake you up a bit so that when he does decide to re-grace us with his waking presence, you'll be there to comfort him, which will make him feel better." Dejectedly, I recognize the truth in her words and accept the full plate while she pays the cashier. "Breakfast is on me," she tosses over her shoulder as I strengthen my resolve to eat at least some of what's on the plate. With a gesture of her head, we walk toward a table in the back half of the large hall and sit across from each other. After a few bites on both our parts she asks nonchalantly, "So, how did it go last night?"

"It was fine," I sigh between bites. "Severus brought the Wolfsbane so there was nothing to worry about."

"And how was his meeting yesterday?"

"You haven't heard?"

"No, should I have?" she asks nervously.

"I'll have to tell you at another time," I say lowly, and solemnly she nods her head.

Remus and I eat quietly for a few more bites and my mind wanders as to what could have possibly gone wrong at the Death Eater meeting. I would think that if we'd lost Severus we all would have known within hours of the meeting being over so I gladly disregard that notion. If Harry was in more danger, we wouldn't be here right now. I suppose they could have found out some information that we didn't want them to have, but no. If it was anything serious we would all be well aware by now. I turn my focus to my fruit bowl, shoving pieces around and hoping for a slice of orange despite it being the wrong season.

I glance up and beyond Remus' right shoulder as he cuts up his toast with his fork and immediately pray that his eyes stay on his plate. Not five meters behind him is a boy about Harry's age, the same shock of messy dark hair sticking out like it's never been combed. He's sitting with who I presume is his mother and two sisters, one older, one younger. I can clearly see that he's had surgery recently but he's in high spirits nevertheless, laughing and joking with the elder of the sisters. When the younger sister playfully shoves his arm, he lets out a small grimace and an "Ow," but continues to laugh straight through. The mother directs a glare at the younger girl, but the siblings are too busy enjoying themselves to notice.

I'm certain it would kill Remus to see it but I'm glad for it; it brings me hope for Harry's future and I pray that soon we will see the same look of relief on our own faces as I see on our doppelganger's mother's face. 'Soon we'll have our own reunion,' I promise myself, 'soon.'

Not wanting to be caught staring beyond him, I look back to my fruit just in time for Remus to clear his throat.

"I haven't really spoken with Albus in a while. How is he faring?" he asks but it seems like he's forcing the question.

"He's doing all right, I suppose," I reply. "He's been a bit distracted this morning but was still the sharpest person in the room." He nods absently as if he expected the answer. "What do you know that I don't?" When he settles for spearing some eggs and toast on his fork and chewing deliberately slowly I ask, "Something else for another time, or the same thing?" At this he nods but I don't bother asking which one he's nodding for. I sigh inwardly, hating that he won't just tell me outright but understanding that Order business is not public business.

Quite unexpectedly, he tosses his fork down on his plate and clears his throat. "This is wrong." Curious, I rest my fork on the rill of my bowl and ask, "What is wrong?"

"This," he whispers vehemently, gesturing lightly at the table and the room at large. "It just feels like I should be doing something more important right now."

"Like what?" I ask placatingly, "You've already done so much."

"I could be researching," he retorts, "reading up on ways to talk to him, things to say. If there's a possibility that part of this has been magically induced… well, I could help figure it out and cure him. There's… there's always somethingthat can be done." The desperation that floods his voice makes my heart ache and I notice that I'm holding my breath. I let it out silently, not wanting to alert him to the fact and consider my words carefully before I begin.

"You're not a miracle worker, Remus," I say, and instantly regret how bluntly it came out. I power on, hoping to quell some of the harshness of it with further explanation. "What's happened to Harry can't be fixed overnight. You're not going to find a spell or a passage or a magic word that will remake him to what he was two months ago. This is just another unfortunate turn his life has taken. Some people's roads are just rockier than others."

"Yes, but I can't help but feel that I've shoved enormous boulders into his path, blocking his way out."

I sigh softly, a small laugh masked beneath the sound. "You are the only one that doesn't see the giant pick-axe in your hands, breaking them down."

"What?"

I don't reply for a moment; I can't. All of my thoughts have become completely jumbled. Albus' distraction, Severus' even more distinct avoidance, secrets within the Order, Remus' self-loathing, Harry's newfound incarceration… and me, in the middle, desperate to understand, to comfort, to raise up. It's what I do, in fact it was written in my exams in bright Ministry-purple ink by Mad-Eye himself. "Cares too much, may be a detriment to her law enforcement." He thought I should be some kind of therapist, and probably thought keeping me in an office would keep clumsy accidents to a minimum. But although my coordination isn't always so coordinated, facts and figures have always had a tendency to slip into perfect synchronization in my mind, and I fear now is the time to bring up a slightly older topic for discussion.

I stay quiet for a moment more, hoping something else will crop up, but I know this is the route to take and so, with great care, I begin speaking.

"You know when… when Sirius died," I start, and he is clearly not expecting my change in tone and certainly not this direction of topic. "When Sirius died, the only thing I could think about was the things that happened that night. What time I was called, the fact that I waited for someone else before I entered the building, the people I fought and tricks I could have used to stop them faster so that I may have been able to save him. But I can't go back in time to protect him, I can't redo any of my actions from that night – I'll never get my cousin back. You, on the other hand, you can still help Harry. He's not lost yet. You have to remember that just because he isn't talking doesn't mean he's throwing in the towel – he's not gone, just confused trying to understand what's happened to him in the last few turns of the road and what it means for those ahead. You can help him make sense of it, navigate it." I scoff slightly, "You're the only one who doesn't see that you already are making sense of things. Don't give up on yourself because he's not racing down to the park to play football with the neighborhood lads and don't push yourself too far to try and make that happen before he's really ready. If you do, I have a horrible feeling you'll both burn out or wear down and that's the last thing any of us want. You have all of the future to make things right; don't give up because the first month was a little tough."

"Tonks, I'm so sorry about Sirius," he starts.

"Stop. There's nothing you could have done either – trust me, I've been through all the scenarios. Besides, if you hadn't been with Harry, we probably would have lost him too. It seems you, my friend, were born to rescue him. I know Sirius. He would be happy… and proud… of what you've accomplished. He's not angry with you from beyond the grave – he never could be. And I don't think Harry is angry or upset with you. You may not have noticed it yesterday morning, but he leans towards you slightly when you walk side by side. He knows that you'll protect him and he trusts you. He wouldn't do that if he ever doubted you or didn't think that you were helping." I swallow carefully. "And while we're here, I don't think you should be angry with Harry either, for what he did to you this morning."

His head comes up sharply, looking into my eyes with confusion and concern. "What? What did he do? And how could he have possibly done something to me if we were separated all night?"

I look down at my bowl before raising only my eyes to his face; my face always burns when confessing the truth. "Harry is the one that convinced the Weasley's to drug you this morning. You know Molly has a soft spot for anything he asks, especially since he asks for so little. He's been so worried about you lately and he knew you weren't getting much sleep. He was just trying to help."

"But this morning you behaved as if you didn't know anything about it!"

"I lied," I say simply. "He asked Molly and the older sons, they told me before I came down here. They knew you were angry and wanted me to understand the situation before I leaped into the middle of it."

"So you've all known this whole time?" It somehow always surprises me that his anger can flare so quickly.

"I wouldn't think that five people counted as 'you all' but yes," I admit.

He sits and fumes across the table from me, digesting this new information and obviously not liking one bit of it. "What is the matter with him?" he suddenly bursts out. "Doesn't he wantmy help?" The young man and his sisters from two tables over turn around and look at Remus curiously and with awe. He looks more like Harry than I originally thought.

"Of course he does!" I break in placatingly, praying the siblings will turn back around soon. "But you know how Harry thinks – always about others and never about himself. How many hours of sleep have you gotten in the last week?"

"What? I don't know!"

"Guess. How many hours a night? Four? Five if you're lucky? And how many does it actually feel like? Two or three at the best? You are just as run down as he is and if you would pause and just think about the words behind his eyes you would know that he feels so guilty for keeping you up and for being a trigger for your migraines. You both are protecting each other from yourselves, don't you see? And yes, this was a horrible day for Harry to do it in your mind, but honestly, when would be a good time?"

He mulls that over for a moment as the cafeteria goes back to their conversations but eventually he shakes his head in disagreement. "That should not have been his choice to make. I am the grown-up here and he had no right to do that."

"No right to take care of you, his guardian? The only one he's had that he's ever liked and cared about and had the ability to actually live with? The only one he'd risk angering into disownment because of his own concern? You yourself have said what a rough time Harry's had and how you don't want to make it worse. Look at where he placed himself this time and everything that he is risking for you, the only person he seems to consider true family right now. Don't let being indignant spoil this gift he gave you in the face of a potentially great personal loss. He's risked banishment and alienation from you so you could get just a couple hours of sleep. Don't ruin what you have because of that."

He sucks in a breath and holds it for a few seconds, his eyes traveling to the other patrons of the cafeteria as he ponders over what I've just said to him. Eventually he bows his head and rubs one of his eyebrows gruffly. "Fine," he states reluctantly. "But I still don't like it."

"You don't have to like it," I reassure him, "you just have to understand."

We sit in silence for moment, Remus watching his plate, I watching Remus.

"Where did you get so good at speeches?" Remus asks finally.

"My mum," I laugh. "If you've heard the pep talk once, you've heard it a hundred times." He laughs lightly, knowing that it's true having been on the receiving end more than once. "Let's get out of here, eh?" I ask. "There's a nice garden outside and the weather is nice. It'll do you good to get away, if only for a few minutes."

"All right," he agrees with a sigh. "But only for a few minutes."

We finish our breakfast and drop off our rubbish at the bins then slowly begin to meander our way back through the halls. Even two feet away from him, I can tell he feels drained, as if all his angry energy has been spent and in so doing, the rest of his energy has left with it.

"It's over this way, to the left of the little newsstand," I direct and we stroll out the sliding doors into a shaded, cool garden, despite the summer heat. Unexpectedly Remus selects a bench along the outer walk and sits down, soaking in the peacefulness while radiating the negative energy he feels. I sit down lightly beside him and take his hand. The move is a touch bolder than I usually go for and although Remus doesn't initially seem terribly inclined to accept my intrusion, he eventually warms to my palm against his and folds his fingers surreptitiously around mine. This is not normal for us; usually we only share the sort of jocular rough-housing of Aurors, pats on the back, and warm handshakes after lengthy absences from each other. Three years ago we were little more than acquaintances, but now... now I can feel his flagging strength beating through the capillaries of his fingers while my skin absorbs the waves. It is electrifying and melancholy much like that miraculous night that we brought Harry safely home to Hogwarts, only this time there is a considerable difference. This time we have contact, and this time, through his pain, I think Remus can feel me, too.

"Well good morning, beautiful," I hear exclaimed from somewhere that is decidedly too close. "Finally going to join us, eh? Grace us with His Majesty's presence?"

"Piss off," I grumble good-naturedly. When I open my eyes I see shocked excitement and realize I've broken my vow of silence with them.

"He speaks! All Hail! All Hail!" they call and feign all-reverent bowing from their seats while I sit up gingerly and shake my head at them. "He's so radiant!" "And glorious!" they continue so I decide to make myself as comfortable as possible. I pull my pillows up into a half pyramid behind me with an actual amount of struggle. I feel weak in general and my muscles feel watery, as if they've never moved once in my entire life. Once piled, I lean my side heavily against them so I can see the twins better, but it pins one of my arms and I don't have the strength to move it. Oh well, I think and return to smiling wanly at their antics.

After they've worn themselves out with their dubious displays of admiration and they see that I'm situated relatively comfortably they turn serious. It makes me wonder if they've always had this ability or if it is something they have recently acquired. "We heard you had a rough night, mate. How are you feeling now?" I shrug noncommittally against my deep, embracing pillows and vaguely wave in their direction as a means of diverting their question back on themselves.

"Us? Ah well, the storm kept the ghoul up all night-"
"-had him in a right frenzy."
"So it wasn't as enjoyable as usual-"
"-but on the whole-"
"Not bad," they concluded together.

"Mostly we couldn't wait to come see you," said Fred. "Been a right boring summer without the extra twerp to pull pranks on." I frown at them jokingly. I'm sure your summer was utterly ruined, I think sarcastically and refuse to acknowledge the truth of my own ruined summer in the process. Still, I'm sure the smothering black weight that tries to settle on me crosses my features despite my best attempt to hide it. The twins mercifully give no indication of a change and George powers ahead.

"But you've had the better part of the summer with Master Moony if the rumors are to be believed. Learn any new tricks? Spent any days with horrible, multi-colored pustules across your face?" Of course I shake my head 'no.' Neither of us was ever in a truly cheery mood although we did have some good days. Jelly beans hidden in my pancakes, one of Leggo's giant, plastic bugs hidden in Remus' bowl of popcorn when he was engrossed in his favorite book, cartoon-themed bedding on a day that was plagued with naps but more importantly nightmares. I feel a little guilty thinking back on them this way. His 'pranks' were always happy or silly surprises, mine and Leggo's always had a little more shock value.

Then Fred drops the proverbial bomb.

"We hear you pulled off a pretty elaborate scheme yourself this morning," and my frown turns inward just as it blatantly covers my features. "You did the right thing," he says confidently and with zero hesitation. "Remus doesn't have anyone to take care of him. Someone's gotta do it." I feel horrible and disappointed in myself for going behind his back but I know Fred's words are true. They are the exact words I repeated to myself for three days before going through with it. I shore up my confidence in my actions so that when he comes in raging I won't melt into a puddle.

"You're mum?" I ask plainly.

"She's giving your house the 'everything-is-fine' scrub down, but she'll be all right. She felt the same way you did, I think she just wishes he could see how much he needed it, too." I nod thoughtfully. I just don't want him to be irrevocably mad at me. That's always been my biggest fear with him. That I would cross The Line and it would all be over. "He's been here already this morning," he continues and I must look surprised. "It's nearly one in the afternoon. He's out having a really late breakfast with Tonks; they'll probably be back soon."

"We'd like to ask you something Harry and since we don't have much time, we can't exactly beat around the bush," George states.

I pause for a moment and my eyes travel across the bedding toward my legs. What could they want? What do I have to tell them? Do they need me to do something in return so soon? How can I repay them when I'm happy that I'm merely upright, and precariously so?

"Don't look so distressed, mate. It's just a question," Fred says comfortingly. I take a deep breath and nod that I am ready for them to proceed even though I'm really not. "We just wanted to know if you've spoken with Hermione or Ron at all this summer. Ron hasn't said anything and we haven't seen her. The bottom line is, we'll sneak them in for you if you want. We're not feeling terribly generous to the professor at the moment and we're in the mood for a little rule breaking."

I release my deep breath and almost shake my head at the irony of it all. I've seen Ron twice this past week alone and Hermione four or five times in the past two. The only difference was that Ron didn't have a clue who I was; the idea of it still makes me feel a little sick and baffled. How did he not notice that Hermione acted so much more affectionately than she would have with a true stranger? Daft. Completely oblivious.

"Not necessary, but thank you." I say as they both lean back in their chairs, sizing me up visually with questions in their eyes. I debate whether I should let them in on the secret or not before finally deciding to go for it. "I'm 'Lupin's neighbor.'"

They look each other in the eye sharing an entire conversation with just a shift of their chins before George blurts out, "You're the kid that's 'new to the neighborhood and could use some company'?" I nod carefully, wondering what their next reaction is going to entail.

After a moment, Fred exclaims, "Blimey he's crafty, and none of us even considered questioning him; we took it at face value and off Ron went to a play-date with a stranger."

"Did he know it was you?" George asks next. I shake my head side-to-side. "Fidelius Charm," I whisper hoarsely and leave it at that.

"Did Hermione know?" Fred tries and I slowly nod a yes. "Told or figured it out?" he asks in a tone that suggests he favors the Sherlock Hermione theory to the cheaters path. I glance at George's none-too-pleased face and raise one finger in reply hoping against hope that it stays attached to my hand.

"Why her and not Ron?" George asks and I detect a slightly more dangerous note to his tone.

I can't shrug in response to this and I certainly can't blow it off. I'm in hot water and feel exhaustion sweep over me as my headache ratchets up. I close my eyes and hear her screaming in my dreams again as I lean back into my pillows, praying for a rescue.

Quietly from my side, I hear Fred say, "Do you love her, Harry?" My eyes snap open and I shake my head, eyebrows pressed together incredulously. Fred almost laughs as he concedes, "All right, mate, just asking."

"Nightmares," I explain simply. "Needed reassurance. Chickened out on telling Ron. Didn't want to endanger your family more."

"We all know about you Harry - we're all in the Order!" George says exasperatedly.
"Except Ron, Ginny, and Percy," Fred interjects.
"Percy doesn't count, he's a git," George bites back.
"Fair enough, I'm just saying..." Fred murmurs and risks twitching his eyebrows at me for a laugh when George isn't looking. It doesn't help.

"You should have just told him!" George argues and now I do shrug. What can I possibly say? The whole truth is just downright paranoid. It was bad enough telling Hermione the extremely small amount that we thought was relatively safe to tell. I can't handle a similar reaction from Ron only I know it will be a million times worse. I cover my face with my free hand and try my hardest to keep rational, keep the tension from over flooding my nerves.

"All right, ease off the coffee, George. We're here to make Harry feel better, not worse," Fred intervenes delicately. "It must have been beyond awful for you to only tell one of your best friends. And Hermione's a smart girl, but she must have taken what you told her badly if you weren't encouraged to share with more people." But that's not it, I think miserably. She doesn't know anything at all. "It doesn't matter what your reason is for not telling others, including Ron," he says looking pointedly at George. "However, our offer still stands: we will smuggle them in for you, or anyone really, should you happen to change your mind." I nod my head thankfully as another more urgent thought comes to mind.

"Don't tell Remus you know they came over. We'll get in big trouble," I beg insistently.

"With who?" George asks, intrigued.

"Dumbledore," I say, before turning to see Remus and Tonks standing in the doorway. So much for keeping secrets.