I stumbled out of bed
I got ready for the struggle.
I smoked a cigarette
And I tightened up my gut
I said this can't be me; must be my double
And I can't forget (I can't forget)
I can't forget but I don't remember what.
7th August 1993
An owl arrived that morning, and it was as if Remus had been waiting for it all along. He was brushing his teeth when the bird landed on his bathroom windowsill, brown and tawny. He recognised it at once - he would know a Hogwarts owl anywhere. It gave an official 'hoot' and stuck out its scaly leg. Remus untied the letter, toothbrush clenched between his teeth, mouth full of froth. He spat and opened the envelope as the bird took off again, navigating the narrow brick buildings with the perfect ease of a predator.
Mr R. J. Lupin,
Professor Dumbledore wishes to pay you a visit today at about tea time. He apologises for the short notice given, and hopes that he will be made welcome. No need to provide refreshments.
Hoping you are well.
It was not signed, and had presumably come directly from the headmaster's office. Remus expected his insides to turn cold, his hands to shake, tears to prick in his eyes. But nothing came; he felt no reaction other than extreme tiredness. Heaving a sigh, Remus finished brushing his teeth and dressed.
Grant had left at some point for football practice - he'd invited Remus; he always asked, but Remus never took him up on it. He'd spent enough of his life watching people who were sportier than him doing sporty things.
It was a Saturday, and there was nothing much to do, so Remus read the paper - The Guardian; he hadn't picked up a copy of the Prophet in years - and settled in to wait.
He expected that 'tea time' was about 5pm, though you could never tell with Dumbledore. He tried to picture his old head teacher, wondering whether twelve years had made much difference - and to see if he was still angry. But no, Remus didn't think he had the energy for anger any more. Maybe he'd used it all up.
Restless, Remus switched on the telly, then turned it off again when there was nothing to watch but Grandstand . He found himself growing agitated. What sort of person simply announced their visit the morning of? What sort of person just invited themselves over? No one but Dumbledore. It was downright rude - what if Remus had had plans? He briefly wondered about teaching the old goat a lesson - walking out and going to see a film, let Dumbledore arrive to an empty flat. Serve him right. But. But.
Remus wanted to know. It had to be important; no one from Hogwarts or the Order had tried to get in touch since the early eighties. It could be anything.
Finally that old familiar *CRACK* sounded just outside, and there was a soft but purposeful rap at the door. He opened it quickly, and found Dumbledore almost exactly as he'd remembered. Hair a bit whiter, if that was even possible, but very much the same man. A queasy feeling rose up in Remus's throat, and he felt eleven years old again.
"Professor." He said, dryly, standing aside to allow Dumbledore entry.
"Remus," the old man smiled, "How are you?"
"Fine," Remus rubbed the back of his head, "Fine, yeah."
"Lovely." Dumbledore's bright blue eyes darted about the room, taking in every inch of the home Remus had once shared with Sirius.
"Sit, if you want." Remus offered.
"Thank you."
"Tea?"
