When he fell asleep that night, Remus had dreams of the days long past, the days before Azkaban, before Halloween 1981, before -- but not long before...

"I am afraid, Mister Lupin, that I must call in a favor or two," Albus Dumbledore had said, smiling grimly and leaning against the counter in the kitchen in the flat in East London. If anyone had ever looked out of place in that flat, it was Albus Dumbledore. Somehow the dark magenta robes and long grey beard simply did not make sense there, standing in front of the sink board that was piled with the dishes Remus and Sirius used everyday, the black curtains Sirius had magicked into the windows for privacy and safety as a backdrop. He seemed too big - not in a physical way, like his body fit just fine but his persona, his existence, his power - it was all the flat could do to contain him.

Remus had sat at the kitchen table, staring at the wood grain dully, his eyes unfocused, palms against his leg, which was crossed over the other, ankle balanced against knee, a glass of Gillywater on the table before him, another across the table, before where Dumbledore stood, both glasses untouched.

The proposition hung between them, heavy as iron.

Remus drew a deep breath. "For how long?" he asked.

Dumbledore smiled benignly, "I would be a liar if I said that I knew for certain, Remus," he said.

Remus stared at the table top. "I mean, are we talking -- are we talking days? Weeks?"

"Months. Possibly even a year... maybe two at the most..."

"Years?" Remus looked up at this.

Dumbledore hesitated, then, carefully choosing his words, "Remus, I would ask someone else, but you are the only person that I absolutely trust to be able to do what I am asking of you. You understand, don't you? You have demonstrated to me that you are trust worthy... all these years at Hogwarts, you've never once let me down when I have needed you..." he paused and added, "Nor, I hope, have I let you down."

Remus's eyes met Dumbledore's. 

"Might I remind you, Remus," Dumbledore said gently, "That no other headmaster would have taken the chance... to have a werewolf on the grounds of Hogwarts."

Remus felt cold in every nerve in his body. "No sir, you - you needn't remind me of that."

Dumbledore smiled, "I knew, of course, that I could trust you to follow my instructions, to do what I requested of you to do, to keep yourself - and your friends - safe."

Remus's eyes reverted to the table top.

"I am asking you once again, Remus, to trust me and follow my instructions," Dumbledore said, "For the sake of the safety of your friends - and not for them only, but also for the entire wizarding world."

"But what about Sirius?" Remus asked. He had other concerns, too, of course - like what about the Potters? what about the work Remus had been doing, all those art commissions and the small name he'd built up for himself? what about the classes he loved so much and the muggle friends he'd made? - but Sirius Black was, as always, his first priority. 

"I am afraid that even Sirius cannot know every detail of the work that you would be doing, Mr. Lupin, it would only endanger him further than he is already endangered, being so close to James and Lily Potter, so close to Harry Potter..." Dumbledore's words trailed away.

And then there he was - there was Remus Lupin - staring into the face of Fenrir Greyback, standing so close together that their chests nearly touched. The smell of that place... Blood and dirt with an undertone of canine - but not that comfortable, happy and warm version of it, not"dog", which Remus associated with Sirius, but rather this was a dank, putrid, urine-soaked scent that turned his stomach. Werewolves. 

"You dare to stand in front of me..." Greyback growled, "And challenge me... as though I am some child in your school yard?"

Remus always felt small in Greyback's presence. Even later, even after this duel had been won... the sound of the gravelly tones of his voice sent violent shivers through the nerves in Remus's back, sprouted goosebumps on his arms, made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He was three years old and cowering in the shadow of the roots of an old oak tree within seconds every time...

But somehow, he managed to stand through it... managed to hold Greyback's eyes, managed to snarl out the words, "The question is do you dare to accept my challenge, Greyback?"

Oh what a terrible fight it had been.

The sparks from the spells were so great and powerful from both of the dueling parties that the room smelled of electricity, as though a livewire had been let loose to wreck havoc on the space, and the residual scent burned Remus's nose for the months following that he would spend in that place, nestled right in there with that awful werewolf scent, and the blood.

How he had fooled anyone was beyond him.

But he had.

One by one, he convinced his friends, just as Dumbledore had told him to.

One by one, he destroyed every good thing.

One by one, he burned every bridge in blazing flames that haunted him at night and made his spirit shatter one little chink at a time.

Sometimes... there were literal flames.

He could still see them... see the fire...

He could still see the bodies.

But somehow even worse than those haunting images, perhaps because they were so personal and raw, there were the letters from Lily and James...

"I know that they are wrong, Remus. I know that something bigger is happening, something that we haven't been told. You would never betray us. I can feel it in my bones, in my heart of hearts. Whatever it is, Remus, it isn't worth all of this." Lily's looping letters, no longer dotted with hearts but still pretty just the same, seemed to glow with the love that she'd written the words with. "Please, come home... Baby Harry is growing so quickly and he needs his Uncle Moony..."

In contrast, James's messy scrawl seemed angry, frustrated. "Mate, this is absolute rubbish. Whatever it is the Old Man has told you to do - please, call it off. Whatever it is you think he has that he's hanging over your head - it isn't worth it. I told you before and I'll tell you again - there are dark things that have happened that make me doubt how much we ought to lean on certain people who we once considered trust worthy, and I question some of the orders that we've been given and the validity of the intentions behind them. I believe now more than ever we must be careful choosing sides..."

But the worst was Sirius.

The cold emptiness that had been occupied by Sirius for so many years. The lack of letters from Sirius, the radio silence, the worry and the desperate wishing that Sirius would reach out...

There was a night - early autumn, the leaves crunched on the pavement as Remus kept his head down, a knit cap pulled over his distinctive curls, his eyes on the pavement as he slid into the fenced-off alley way and snuck up the stairs... The air was as cold outside as in, the fireplace dark, the windows covered... The flat was void of the color and music and joy that it had always been so full of... Sirius Black lay on the couch in the dark, feet crossed on the arm of it, staring at the door, watching as Remus slid the locks, waved his wand and sealed the door... as Remus tugged off the cap and turned to look at him.

"You have a lot of nerve walking in here as though you're wanted," Sirius chuckled lowly, his voice settled in his throat in a strange, dark way, as though he hadn't spoken aloud in a time.

"I had to see you."

"Seen me now, haven't you? Get out."

They had fought - loudly and violently - things had been broken. Things besides their hearts, that is... and Remus knew even then that he had made a mistake.

But it was too late to take it back.

He didn't know then how late it was.

Remus woke with a start on the beach in Costa Rica, the sun rising over the water far off on the horizon, Sirius beside him on the blanket, Sirius's leather jacket still around his shoulders - Sirius's head resting against his chest. His heart slammed so hard it was a wonder that Sirius hadn't woken up from the sound of it beating like a drum under his ear.

"Fuck," Remus gasped. "Only a dream."

But it wasn't only a dream.

No, it was memory.