worldfromafar | In the infirmary...

After this, and this. Open for RP, in case anyone wants to visit him. :)

PS: Even if he returns to the cottage with Tonks eventually for a few days, Remus can still receive visitors here or in the comm. <3

While he sleeps he can still hear him. He can hear his howls, and the snarls. The growling. Often he can still even feel the claws as they dig through his chest, the fangs as they bite into his throat and the way they rip his shoulder apart.

It all seems so real while he sleeps that, once he manages to wake up, it's hard to remember that it's over. That Fenrir Greyback is dead and that it's time to move on. Get better. Get out of here. That's what is important, isn't it?

Except, as his breathing returns back to normal after each dream and he does all he can to ignore the pain that ebbs and flows steadily throughout his body, his thoughts start to plague him. What if Fenrir hadn't died? And if he was dead... So many that were once dead were back once more. He himself had been dead not that long ago, hadn't he? So what, exactly, assured him that Fenrir wouldn't be back?

Perhaps it's because of those thoughts that he can't feel happy of his victory. He feels relief, sure, but there's not much more past that. Maybe it would come later, once his body stops aching over the smallest movement. Maybe it would sneak up to him at the most random moment.

Maybe it wouldn't even come.

But it's over, he reminds himself. For now that is all he tries to concentrate on. That, and the fact that in a couple of days he would be going home to finish recuperating if they managed to convince Poppy to let him go. Merlin, and he's certainly hoping that she'll do that because he already feels claustrophobic even if he has barely been there for a couple of days.

Not feeling tired enough to fall back asleep, Remus just stays where he is and stares blankly up at the ceiling as thoughts continue to take over.

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Harry had appeared originally in owl form, perched at a window, and watching from there. There was something to be said about a bit of distance to handle what has happened. He's proud that Remus won the fight, but his stomach is in knots at the damage that he incurred in doing so. From his spot he is able to keep watch over all three Lupins, as well as his godfather and the puppies.

He loses track of time this way, and finds himself able to handle this easier in this form. It's easier as an animal than a human to accept the nature of kill or be killed. Owls are hunters. Maybe that is why he can handle it better as Hooters.

After a few hours, he takes off in flight, to try and clear his head. When he returns it's morning so he has to teach. He showers, changes in into his clothes and robes, and conducts his class as if nothing has happened. It's just another day. Another battle won. Another injured soldier taken to heal in the infirmary.

By the end of the day he makes his way toward the infirmary and quietly takes a seat next to Remus' bed. His eyes scan every mark, every trace of Fenrir that remains, and for a moment nothing is said. He can't be angry, really, when this was Remus Lupin's fight more than anyone. But there is still traces of that seventeen year old boy who saw his mentor laying on a table next to his wife, both death.

"Well done. How are you feeling?" His tone is so quiet that he almost wonders if he spoke loud enough to be heard at all.

The moment Harry had walked in Remus just kept his eyes on him but didn't say anything, either. Part of him is still waiting for someone to confront him for what he did, make him see just how wrong and foolish he had been for facing Fenrir by himself, and since he still remembers the conversation he and Harry had had when he had broken the news, he half expects it to be him. Not that he would blame him, or anyone, really. Even if he is glad that Fenrir is dead, he has yet to feel proud of what he did.

His tone of voice, however, how quiet it is, gets to him more than if Harry had been raising his voice. The last thing he had wanted was to get his family worried, and Harry definitely falls in that category.

"A bit restless," he admits almost as quietly, "but better than how I had been earlier." Pauses for a moment before adding, "How are you?"

"Relieved." It was the most honest answer he had. He looked Remus in the eyes and studied him for a moment. Harry wasn't sure what to say here. It wasn't like he could tell anyone they were wrong to go one on one with someone. He'd been trying to get Voldemort to take the bait to duel him.

He couldn't lie either. There was no way he could pretend that he hadn't been scared when he saw Remus lying in that bed. The restlessness he understood well. He'd felt the same way when he was there.

"You were very pale." His tone sounded weird to him. It was his own voice so he wasn't sure why it sounded so foreign to him. "I watched from the window, and I kept thinking about how pale and still you looked. It made me..." He stopped himself from continuing the thought as he looked away for a moment to compose himself.

"I get it, why you did it, but I need something from you, Remus. I absolutely need you to live through this war. Do whatever you have to to survive, and I do mean anything. Make no excuses for it, but I am begging you to live through this one."

If there was one thing that Remus knew well, it was survivor's guilt. He knew what it was like to be the one that got left behind. The one that kept losing others while all he could do was watch because nothing seemed good enough to stop it. In the first war he had lost his friends. His best friends, the ones that had managed to make him feel like he belonged. In the second war he had lost his best friend for a second time, along with other friends and his own mentor.

So he understood Harry's fear. He understood at least some of what he was feeling, and he most definitely understood that need for reassurance.

What he didn't know, though, was what to say, exactly.

"Harry, you have my word that I will do everything in my power to live through this war. Everything. I will not be foolish enough to throw myself into battles that I know I will not win, and I think this served me as a lesson that dealing with things on my own when I don't know my opponent well enough is not the best approach. But I have every intention to live through this war.

"If I ever underestimated how much my family means to me," he continued, his voice even more quiet, "I don't now. I know how much you all mean to me, and the last thing I ever want is to lose you again. Last time I made many mistakes, and I must have made at least one in that last battle, but I am not willing to make more."

He paused once more, looking away briefly, but he turned back to him once he spoke again. "I'm sorry."

"You don't owe me an apology." The was the last thing that Harry wanted or expected, really. That was the bugger of it all. He understood wanting to face Fenrir one on one and finishing it. How could he not? Was that not exactly what Harry wished to do with Voldemort?

Reaching out, he took one of Remus' hands in his own and squeezed it lightly. Sometimes it was the physical gestures that spoke louder than words. Survivor's guilt was hard to live with. Being the one left standing when everyone you loved fell was his nightmare.

The boy who lived had grown up to be a man who wasn't sure how to fight this war. Everyone had clear ideas for what should be done, but Harry couldn't grasp the perfect plan.

"He was yours. I understand that. You above anyone had to the right and perhaps the obligation to finish it. I understand that completely, Remus. I have my own to seek out. I just need everyone to remember that death comes so quickly. I..."

He paused and looked over at Padfoot who was sleeping. He looked to the bed where Severus had been, and then back at Remus. "It happens so quickly. In just an instant everything changes. One bad choice, one mistake can cost you everything, and I don't want us to be the ones to make those mistakes." He managed a half smile as he added, "You survived. That's all I asked for."

Except, he did owe him that apology. He owed him more than one, actually, and part of him even figured there would never be enough apologies in the world to cover everything. For the mistakes he had done so many years ago that he never apologized for. For being one of the ones that had died nineteen years ago, leaving him to deal with everything on his own. For how Harry felt, because he knew the absolute Hell that surviving meant sometimes. For him having to face yet another war when it was supposed to be over by now, when he had already done so brilliantly not only once but twice. For not being able to stop it, for not knowing how to end it, for...

Remus squeezed Harry's hand back, lips tugging into a faint but grateful smile.

At his words, he gave his hand another light squeeze. You're not fighting this alone, he promised silently as he did so. We won't leave you alone anymore.

"I think we all want to be more careful this time around as well, and we will be. We have second chances we do not want to simply give up so easily." His smile widened slightly, to reassure him. "I was not ready to give up so easily this time either, and I am in no rush to do so. I will be fine; I just need some days off, I'm afraid."

In the infirmary...

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