Chapter Text
There's an excitement in the air that weighs on his shoulders. One of the pack children runs past; his laughter is bright as his mother picks him up, smiling.
The war is over.
The Dark Lord is dead.
He went to the Potters' .
They're dead.
The whispers float between his ears, not formed enough to sink in. He stumbles past.
Remus presses a hand to his chest, where his heartbeat presses against his ribs painfully.
A breathless litany of no, no, no , settles on his tongue.
At the back of his mind, Moony howls and curls away from him, as angry at him as Remus is.
They're dead.
Bright and brilliant, James Potter and Lily Evans are dead.
Surely, surely , it can't be real.
He would know. He would have known . Someone would have told him… right?
Someone. Sirius, Peter, Mary, Frank, Alice, Dumbledore? They wouldn't- they wouldn't forget him.
Or do they blame him?
…or is there no one left to tell him?
He doesn't realise how hard he's breathing– that he's even moved– until he walks into the edge of a desk and half collapses onto it. He braces his hands against it, gasping helplessly.
"-Remus!"
A hand wraps around his arm, pulling him away from the table. Without the support, his legs can't hold him, and he sinks to his knees, pulling his companion with him.
"Breathe, Remus." The voice commands.
Astra .
The man crouches before him, grey eyes wide in alarm as he holds him by the arm.
Remus pulls in a shuddering breath and lifts one hand to the other's forearm. The strong pulse beneath his fingers soothes.
"Good, again."
Remus breathes obediently, trembling like a newborn calf, until his mind clears of all-consuming panic.
And with that clarity comes denial.
"No. Let– let me go." He gasps, pulling back. He scrambles, trying to pull himself together and get back onto his feet.
He needs to check; he needs to help. He–
–He needs to get out of here.
"Let me go !"
Astra lets go, holding his hands up placatingly. "Calm down, Remus. It's alright-"
'Alright?' What part of this is alright?’
Remus does not see red. He doesn't have the energy for anger. He sees nothing. He's faintly certain he's blacked out for a moment.
"-breathe; you're safe here, Remus. Nothing is going to hurt you. It's alright-"
He blinks, and Astra has his hands on his shoulder; talking that way, he talks to the pack's pups. On any other day, Remus would find it sweet, if not comforting, but today it is too much.
It is too much of a reminder of the people he loves. The people he might have just lost .
"Stop it!" Without thinking, he shoves the man away, stumbling back as he does. Stronger than him, the man only takes a step back because he chooses to.
His eyes are still soft with worry, but his tone is almost disapproving as he admonishes, " Remus . You must calm down; you're panicking. Tell me what the problem is."
The problem?
The problem is this .
Remus has been living lie after lie for almost two years, and none of it matters anymore because the war is over and James and Lily, and who knows who else, are dead .
He opens his mouth to say just that, but the words don't come.
He can't. If he says it out loud…
There's a shuddery whine building in his throat, more Moony than him as it escapes and the other man's eyebrows furrow.
"Remus, what's going on?" He sounds more serious now, the voice of a pack leader.
A pack Remus doesn't really belong to; a pack Remus has lied to for months .
"I need to go." Astra straightens, and he realises the words had come from him. He wets his lips and repeats it just to be sure, "I need to go. I need to leave."
"What? Remus, what are you saying? You should sit down."
He shakes his head desperately. "No, no . Astra, I have to leave. I have to check that- that," his voice shakes, but he knows he has to say it, "they're really dead."
" Who? Your old pack? The ones that nearly killed you? Remus, please. You're not thinking straight-"
"No." He cuts in, "No, not them. My- my friends, my family . My- my-” pack he wants to say but cannot, “Astra, please, I have to know. I need to find them. I have to leave. Let me go."
"I'm not your jailer, Remus. I am your friend. Breathe."
Friend .
Is Remus allowed to call someone he has deceived a friend?
The man closes his eyes, "Where will you go? You must know you cannot return once you leave. This forest is magical, Remus. If you leave now, you will not be able to find it again; find us again. Please reconsider."
The thought of leaving scares him more than he'd like to admit.
Remus was never trained for infiltration. He never learnt how to separate the version of himself he showed everyone and the version he showed the packs he infiltrated. Here, is somewhere Remus could belong, where being a werewolf doesn't matter. He's not a freak, he's not different, he doesn't have to be scared every waking minute.
Of course, he's a little attached.
But not enough to keep him from his friends.
"...I know. I have to."
Astra frowns, "Alright, I understand. You've made up your mind. Am I to assume you mean to leave as soon as possible?"
"Yes." His heart aches, the traitor. "I'm sorry."
"For leaving? Don't be Pup , but I hope you know what you're doing." The older werewolf returns. "Even if you insist on leaving, I have no wish to hear of your death. Do not let me."
Remus relaxes, "Thank you."
He does not make a promise.
“You are an adult despite our habit of calling you pup, and you are my friend as well, Remus… come, I will help you pack your things.” The strong hand between his shoulders guides him up and out of the tent as Remus tries to ignore the worry emanating from the other man.
“Astra… Thank you. For everything. I wish there were something I could do, something I could give you-”
Shaking his head, Astra waves him off, “No need… and you may not feel the same after the children hear, for I certainly won't be the one to inform them of your departure."
Remus winces; they had been quickest to approve of him.
He owes it to the pack to at least tell them he's leaving, doesn't he?
"I- no… I will. I'll tell the pack before I leave. I owe them that. I owe you that. Thank you."
///
It is, Remus decides, phenomenally hard to say goodbye to a place where you felt safe even when you always knew it was not, and never would be, home .
It's made slightly easier by the distance his emotions have kept from him since he first received the news.
Numb. He feels… numb.
There are several rounds of tears and infantile screaming, and Remus is sporting new scars from the wolf cubs and bruises from angry… friends. Still, he finally manages to un-entangle himself from the pack pile to meet Astra under the cherry tree that served as a marker for their borders.
The black-haired man smiles sadly at him. “Somehow, I knew from the start you wouldn't stay forever. I did hope you would stay longer, though.”
He doesn't know how to respond to that, but it doesn't seem to matter as Astra goes on,
“I can only hope our pack has taught you some things in your time here. You are a good man, Remus Lupin, and you deserve good things to happen to you. I am deeply sorry for your loss.”
For your loss.
“Oh, I-” He stumbles, feeling like a lost child. Lily had once told him something similar. With no better ideas, he repeats the two words he's said to this werewolf what feels like a hundred times over, “Thank you. Thank you, truly.”
And then he is leaving it all behind, turning away from the possibility of a happy, peaceful, safe life and back towards a society in which he lives in fear.
To a society in which he's not sure his friends exist anymore.
Despite it all, one thought rings in his head.
Why hadn't Dumbledore reached out to him?
The old man was the only one who knew exactly where he was. He knew how to contact him. While owls could not reach the forest, a patronus could… a phoenix could.
Then, it occurs to Remus as he nears the edge of that very forest that with Voldemort's death, his mission is pointless.
He hesitates and turns back momentarily, guilt and self-hatred roiling in his stomach.
"Astra. If the war starts again, if it continues… stay out of it. Keep your pack away, please."
Astra jolts, confusion then understanding flooding his face as he steps forward. Remus had been a persistent voice for joining the light side of the war. In a few months, he'd made a lot of headway in turning the neutral pack to his side. For him to change tones altogether now… “Remus-?”
Remus smiles sadly, tiredly, "Thank you. For everything. For… for being my friend."
And then he turns and steps past the pack lines, out into the forest and away from what had temporarily been a home.
He does not look back until he's gone several steps past the line, and when he finally turns, he finds that there is nothing behind him but brambles and bushes.
Remus turns and keeps walking.
He's glad to still be in England, at the very least. Getting to West Country will take a long time without a portkey but he trudges on determinedly.
There's a muggle village somewhere on the edge of the forest, according to Astra and the town after it is magic. He can floo from there, but he needs information first.
The forest clears, landing him on a straightforward path that definitely wasn't there before. It bends around a large willow where Remus spots a family of Bowtruckle sitting in the branches.
“I’m coming back… I’m coming home, so please… please wait for me.”