King's Cross Station was frightfully busy, the crowd jostling hurriedly in the cool early morning air. Pale and thin, Remus Lupin stood before the building of the station, clutching his briefcase. His thumb ran subconsciously over and over the little brass plate that bore his name.

Professor R. J. Lupin.
Professor R. J. Lupin.
Professor R. J. Lupin.

Remus's heart seemed to beat the syllables in a tattoo against his chest as he stared up at the grey London clouds looming above him. A sprinkle of rain fell against his face and all around him a hum of umbrellas opening up thrummed as people felt the drops coming down. Remus closed his eyes, welcoming the cleansing coolness, some part of him hoping it might wash away the anxiety that thrummed in his ears like a constant, barking laugh...

"Wotcher, Remus!"

Remus opened his eyes to find a sprite, pixie like young woman standing before him, her pinched nose and wild eyes offset by the most violently pink hair anyone had ever seen sported about London. He moved quickly, catching her as she managed to trip over her own two feet, tumbling into him and making him drop his briefcase, the worn handle snapping clean off as it dropped to the pavement. Nymphadora Tonks smashed headlong into Remus's chest.

What an odd pair they must look from those who knew no better, passing by. She, with her brightly saturated hair and clothes, a neon billboard of youth and energy, and he with his ragged sepia-toned browns, eyes rung with dark bags that revealed the nights of restlessness he'd passed through, ever since that strange encounter in the dark cemetery in Godric's Hollow. 

"Nymphadora!" Remus said in surprise, quickly straightening her up and withdrawing his hands from her the moment she seemed steady enough to stay upright on her own "What are you doing  here? I --" Then, a sigh of frustrated understanding flitted across his brow. "Was it Albus or Alastor who's sent you, then?" he demanded.

Tonks blew a chunk of bubblegum pink hair from her forehead with a twist of her mouth and a gasp of breath, then looked back at Remus with slightly narrowed eyes. "Don't call me Nymphadora," she warned him. "You above all people know how much I hate being called that."

"I do, yes," Remus replied. "But you're tailing me, and you above all people know how much I hate that." He turned and bent down, plucking his briefcase's handle from the ground with a sigh, avoiding her gaze altogether as he looked it over as though surveying the worn out thing for damages. 

"You ought to just get a new one," Tonks admonished him, taking the handle out of his hand before he could make a fuss and, with a quick glance about her to be sure no one was watching, she rapped the handle against the top of his briefcase with a flick of her wrist and a muttered, "Reparo!" The briefcase handle magically reconnected smoothly with its body and she lifted it up, turning to him as her fingers tightened around it. "This looks as though it could do with being replaced."

"There is no replacement for it," Remus murmured, shaking his head and taking the case from her. She'd repaired it very well, he acknowledged, testing it out with a few twists of his wrist. He looked up at her. "So?" he pressed, "Mad Eye or Dumbledore? To which wizard do I owe my objections?"

Tonks flushed, her cheeks burning as Remus's eyes turned to her and she crunched up her face to hide the blush, turning her features to resemble Alastor Moody's. "CONSTANT VIGILANCE," she said in a grumpy tone, jutting out her lower lip, and mockingly placing her fists to her hips. 

"Ah," Remus murmured, "Of course."

"But not in the way you're thinking, Remus," she added quickly, the Moody impersonation melting back to her own face. "He's only got the Station surrounded by about a dozen of the top Aurors, you know, watching out for the Weasleys and --" she looked around, then said in a stage whisper, "Harry."

Remus tried not to flinch at the name. "Does he now?" he looked around, and even as his eyes skimmed the square, he realized he'd been foolish not to spot them before. There were indeed several Aurors, barely concealed, walking about the place, trying to act inconspicuously muggle-like. 

"Yeah, of course, what with Sirius Black on the loose'n all." She shuddered at the name.

Remus could remember when the name Sirius Black had made her smile.

He could remember when it had made himself smile, too, though. Now, it just filled his guts with a lead-heavy dread that seemed to tug his heart down with it, all the way to his toes. His fingers tightened 'round the briefcase handle, once again running his thumb over the brass plate.

Professor R. J. Lupin.
Professor R. J. Lupin.
Professor R. J. Lupin.

"Of course you are supposed to have already been in safekeeping, aren't you now?" Tonks interrupted the thrumming of his mind. 

"Hm? What?" Remus looked at her, having lost himself in thoughts of the past.

"You! You told old Mad Eye you didn't need no escort to Hogwarts, didn't you? Said you'd made arrangements? With Dumbledore?" Tonks shook her hand accusingly, wagging her finger in a motion that distinctly reminded Remus of Andromeda. "Yet here you are, traipsing around unguarded for any rogue wizard to come after!"

Remus drew a deep breath, "For your information," he said patiently, "I did make arrangements with Dumbledore, which was part of why I suspected it might be him who had you tailing me today. We agreed that I could make my way to Hogwarts without being babysat --" he said the word pointedly, knowing she would see the irony in her babysitting him for a change.

Tonks looked around, "And what're you going to do, ride up on the train?" she laughed, then paused, and said, "Blimey Remus, you're riding up on the bloody train?"

Remus nodded.

Tonks made a face. "Ugh. Why? You can apparate, you know. Right to Hogsmeade. Enjoy a bit of time in the village before term starts, 'eh?" She grinned, "I know, we could go together, right after I'm done this bit of surveillance for Mad Eye! We see Harry gets on the train safely and --"

Remus waved his palm, stopping her mid-sentence, and her excitement deflated a bit. "I'm afraid, no," he said, shaking his head, "Thank you, 'dora, but I'm very tired and I do think that a nice long nap on the Express is just the ticket." He forced a sort of slanted, sad smile.

Tonks sighed, nodding, giving in. "Alright. Alright, yeah. I s'pose I ought to at least walk you to the platform, then, 'ey? Or else ol' Mad Eye will give me a proper thashin' for leaving our prized Professor unguarded and at the mercy of an attack!"

"Oh 'dora, I don't suspect, for even a moment, that anyone would ever sight Sirius Black anywhere near King's Cross Station, or anywhere near Harry, for that matter." Remus shook his head, "No, he's far too clever to show his face about where others could recognize him. Only those who knew him best would ever understand that fully." 

There was a burst of movement then, and Remus and Tonks both looked around, both their hands instinctively clutching their wands, concealed inside of their sleeves. But the movement was only the scattering of a flock of pigeons, upset by the arrival of several dark green cars that lined up at the curb of the drop off by the Station.

"Oh here they are now," Tonks said quietly, and she glanced at one of the other Aurors standing guard, who folded his muggle newspaper and began casually walking toward the entrance of the Station, keeping in time with Arthur Weasley and, there beside him, pushing a trolley of luggage, unmistakable as anything -- 

Remus stared, watching the boy as he crossed the square with his trunk and snow white owl piled high before him. Harry's hair stuck up in just the right places. His trainers were scuffed and old and the left one's laces were untied as he walked, following after Arthur. Instinctively, he followed, forgetting all about Nymphadora Tonks and the conversation they'd been having, leaving her in the gaggle of the sudden crowd of ginger headed students arriving to board the train to school. None of them paid any attention to him, even as he passed the Aurors stationed throughout King's Cross, none noticed the too thin, too pale man that slipped behind, following in a near hypnotic state as he stared at the back of Harry's head, transfixed. Remus lost sight of the boy only when Arthur Weasley had neatly tucked him through the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10.

By the time he got through the barrier himself, having to wait for all of the myriad of Weasley children and their assorted entourage to pass through, Harry had disappeared among the crowd.

Remus felt as though he'd seen a ghost.

Coming out of his reverie, he suddenly realized the grip on his briefcase had been so tight that he'd nearly snapped the handle off again and he quickly performed yet another quick repairing charm on the shabby old thing. 

The truth of the matter was, whatever he'd told Tonks back in the square, he was in no condition to apparate. How he would've loved to go so quickly from London to Hogsmeade, with no time to overthink the situation, no time to analyze and relive... but his muscles and bones were weak, and splinching was a near certainty. 

It was hardly a day after the full moon, after all, and although the vial of Wolfsbane given to him by Dumbledore had, admittedly, been brewed with the perfection of a most skilled potions master (Remus grudgingly had to admit), he was still recovering from a fit of his Lycanthropy.

He had spent the long night in the bomb shelter of his parents' old house, alone, in the dark, curled up on an old mattress he'd carelessly chucked into the corner of the tiny sized room. He'd spent the long night hours, fully aware of himself and the putridness of what he'd become, staring at the shelter door, half expecting it to open up and for him to come down those ladder steps...

No matter how hard he tried, the face of Sirius Black in his mind did not resemble the gaunt, wasted figure from the Daily Prophet's headlines, but the warm, round one he'd last seen - back in East London - red with passion and anger...

Remus shoved the thoughts out of his mind.

"Ticket?"

"Oh... Oh, yes. Here." Remus reached into his moth-chewed coat pocket and withdrew the parchment from Dumbledore, handing over the ticket for the Hogwart's Express and handing it over to the conductor, who gave the newest member of Hogwarts staff a once-over, then stepped out of the way to allow him through. "Thanks," Remus murmured as he passed by, stepping into the corridor.

The Express had somehow managed not to change in the fifteen or so odd years that he'd been away from it. He stood, staring the narrow length of the corridor that led along past the compartments. Students jostled and pushed one another about, paper birds flying here and there, delivering messages around from person to person. There were chocolate frogs ribbiting and leaping, and an unexplained miniature pig went squealing past him, on down the train, followed a moment later by a young girl.

He could almost hear the conversation that might've been going on around him, fifteen years ago, could almost hear Sirius's voice as he sang some stupid song, could almost feel James's arm about him, helping him stay steady... 

"There ya go Moony," James would have said, winking, "Your furry little problem ain't nothin' we can't take on, yeah?"

"Yeah," Remus whispered, answering the imaginary friend that stood at his side.

His steps were shaky, but he reached out a palm and touched the wall for balance, moving slowly along. Every step felt harder than the first as memories flooded him, weighing him down, and he glanced at this compartment or that, imagining the faces of everyone who wasn't there...

Marlene Mackinnon and Emmaline Vance would've sat just in there, probably gossiping a bit with their friends, catching up on all the latest news of the goings ons in everyone's lives...

And there, that's the spot where Xenophilius Lovegood might've sat, with Pandora Jenkins, probably trying to give her one of the many-times refused  bouquets of flowers...

And over there, that had been the compartment that Bilius Weasley and Derek Bell had been seated, pouring over Quidditch playbooks on the way in for Second Year... 

He stopped. The first and seemingly only empty compartment was, of course, the very next one. Of course. Of all of the compartments on the Express... He hesitated, then pressed the door open. 

The initials were still carved into the wall.

He stood, staring at them, then slowly, mechanically, put his briefcase into the luggage rack, and set down a bottle of Gillywater he'd brought along in his pocket. His eyes never left those marks in the wood, severe and rudimentary, carved by an inexperienced young version of Sirius Black so many years ago...

Again the echos of the past seemed to engulf him.

"Alright, Rey?"

"My Moony! You're Swoony! Why dost thou swoon, my moon-moon? I haven't done anything hardly sexy enough for this sort of behaviour yet!"

"And you aren't going to for a good while, either, you twat, we're on the bloody train!"

"As if that's ever stopped me before!"

"Well it ought of done..."

"As if it's ever stopped YOU before, you and Evans, doing your ROUNDS all over the place, up an down the Express like a couple of preying mantis-eeze!"

"Preying mantis-eeze?" James's laughter had followed, filled with warmth and amusement, and then Sirius's barking chortle... "I don't reckon that's right, mate."

"Preying man tease-eezies!" Sirius had cried.

"Here's a bit of chocolate Remus... It'll help you feel better."

That last voice had been Peter's.

Weakened by both the past and the moon, Remus sank dazedly into the seat that he always would have occupied, and forced himself to take deep breaths...

Remus shook his head, pushing away the ghostly voices of James Potter and Peter Pettigrew, trying to ignore the persistent thrumming pulse that was the memories of Sirius Black, as he'd been, way back then in 1978, before the world had gone to hell.