Shadow Walks |h.p/h.g|

ch. 9

"Harry?" Surprise was evident in Remus Lupin's voice as he saw the younger man standing in the doorway, looking more than a little frazzled. He was accustomed, along with most of those to whom Harry considered himself close, to not seeing Harry on this day at all.

"Hi, Remus," Harry said quietly, ducking his head as he spoke. "Can I speak with you? It's important." Remus swung the door of the flat open wide.

"As if you even had to ask, Harry," his father's friend sniffed. Harry stepped into the flat, and Remus closed the door behind him.

"Where's Tonks?" Harry asked, eying the small room fondly. It looked like pure Remus and Tonks, shabby chic, with very odd and kitschy touches here and there. A velvet Weird Sisters poster hung in the spare room, he knew, and one of the windows had a feather boa draping it instead of a curtain. Luna loved it. A pair of black slacks with rips in both knees was hanging on the wall by Sticking charm, half-pressed.

"She's down in Knockturn Alley. Stake-out."

Harry made an "ah" sound of comprehension. "That's right," he said. "I'd forgotten that was going down this weekend." In his heart of hearts, he was glad. Tonks would cause a conflict of interest, and he really didn't want to do anything that might implicate her and cost her job. Remus cobbled together a living doing some public speaking for more open-minded rights' groups, as well as substituting occasionally at Hogwarts as the need arose, but it was Tonks to whom the title of breadwinner fell. If Remus chafed at this, he had never mentioned it aloud in Harry's hearing.

"I - I've got to ask you something - and then - and then do something, and I don't want to do it by myself," Harry stammered. Remus eyed Harry curiously, and his gaze drifted down to the small box that Harry had drawn from his pocket and was twiddling between his fingers. "I don't think you'll want to, but I - I just couldn't ask Ron, and I - I can't watch it by myself, especially not today - and it's got to be today. I don't think we have a lot of time, before I won't - " he halted abruptly, as if he'd lost his train of thought, and stared blankly at his former professor for a moment.

"Tell me what it is you need me to do," Remus said gently, laying one hand on Harry's shoulder. "You know I'll do it."

"I need your memory of Hermione's - of what happened to Hermione, and what happened to Bellatrix." Harry's bleak green eyes met Remus' gaze squarely, and the werewolf paled. "I've already got Ron's." He cleared his throat noisily. "And I need you to look at them with me."

"All right," Remus conceded calmly. "Have a seat. I'll be just a moment." Harry sat on the sagging leather sofa, as Remus retreated to the kitchen. He heard him clinking around in the other room, and his curiosity rose when the older man emerged carrying two glasses. "It's Ogden's laced with a Calming Draught," he explained. "I figured we might need it after." Harry exhaled a shuddering breath, and managed a shaky smile at the closest thing he had to a father.

"Yeah..." he said, running one unsteady hand through his dark hair. He set the portable Pensieve on the low table in front of them, next to the glasses of whiskey, and snapped open the lid. Ron's memory swirled placidly inside, with a silvery ripple. Placing his wand at his temple and drawing it slowly away, Remus withdrew his own memory, and dropped it in the magical container. They both eyed the Pensieve warily for a moment, as if it might suck them into its nightmares of its own accord.

"So... what's all this about?" Remus asked, after a moment of heavy silence. Harry propped his elbows on his knees and his chin on his folded fists, staring at nothing, as he began to tell Lupin the same story he'd told Ron, not even a half-hour ago. Remus listened intently, commented rarely, and occasionally swore violently under his breath.