The Lonely Years

(AN: Sorry for the delay, my Muse went on holiday. He's back now, and I've started on the third chapter. Thankyou to you lovely three who reviewed.)


It was raining. Not the soft rain that leaves everything looking fresh, nor the thundering, stormy rain that makes you want to cuddle in front of a fire, but the hard, freezing rain that hurts as it hammers into the flesh. It seemed appropriate.

James and Lilly were being buried. I'd just been let out of Azkaban and declared not guilty – but from some of the looks I was receiving, you wouldn’t think it. I stayed at the back of the crowd, head down, too far into my misery even to cry. There was a physical pain in my chest as I looked across the graves at Lilly’s sister, Petunia. She had come alone, and looked far more shaken than anyone could have expected.

I remembered when Lilly and James were married – Petunia hadn’t attended. Harry’s first birthday – his aunt was invited, but didn’t attend. Now, it was clear that she wanted her sister back. I recalled being told that Harry had been left with her, and wondered. Petunia hated magic, and always had. How was she going to cope with raising a magical child?

What other options were there?

I felt my breathing hasten as I considered. Sirius had been Harry’s godfather. Sirius had also been my mate. Was that enough to make me a second godfather? I didn’t know, but perhaps Petunia would let me take Harry anyway. It would be bad for the child to be kept from the magical world.

It would also be bad for me to be kept from him. Harry was the last of my pack. And a werewolf without a pack is a dangerous thing.

The rain slowed, then stopped as the service came to an end, and the crowd drifted apart. I found myself face to face with Molly Weasley, who seemed to be trying to say something. Eventually, she just shook her head, and pulled me into a hug. I stiffened, unsure of what to do, and she released me, tears in her eyes.

“Now, Remus, if you need anything, anything at all, you’ll let me know. Won’t you?”

I nodded as I took her hands, unsure of what to say. Molly had testified against Sirius, but for me. She had known us both well enough to be able to see where we would draw the line. Arthur then appeared, looking concerned.

“Molly, dear, we need to get home. The kids…” He trailed off, and I knew he wasn’t making excuses. With six sons and a four month old daughter, the Weasleys couldn’t be away from home for long. I managed a smile for Molly as she wrapped me in another hug.

“Promise me, Remus. Promise you’ll tell me…”

“I promise, Molly,” I whispered.

She finally let go, gave my hand a final pat, and the pair Apparated away. I looked around, saw Petunia talking to Albus, and made my way over to them. As I drew within hearing range, Petunia nodded and turned to leave. I went to call out to her, but Albus caught my eye and shook his head.

“Come inside with me,” he requested in that voice which makes the listener obey. I hate that voice. We walked into the church, which was completely deserted. The other mourners had all left, and the priest was obviously elsewhere.

“Remus… don’t ask her.”

I was astounded. Surely he didn’t mean that – but a look at his face told me he did.

“Harry needs to be with his aunt and uncle. While they are by no means the most pleasant people in the world, he will be safe there. And I am afraid no jury would give you custody of a child, especially a baby like Harry.”

“But Albus-”

“You know I am right,” he interrupted. “You’re a werewolf. While I was able to protect you from Azkaban, I cannot help you gain custody. What would happen during full moons? How would you support the two of you? It simply cannot happen, Remus.”

I lowered my head, defeated. His words made sense – even if it did feel like I was being run through with a silver sword. But he wasn’t finished yet.

“Remus, listen to me. You must stay away from Harry. Let him grow up with a normal life – and don’t give the Anti Werewolf people any reason to accuse you of harbouring ill will for the boy. You need to stay away from him.”

I shook my head numbly.

“Albus, how can I stay away? I need to protect him. I need to keep him safe, I can’t… I can’t just let him go to a home where he won’t be understood, or even wanted. I just can’t.”

Albus sighed, then took something from a pocket.

“I know it’s going to be hard for you here in England. So I brought this.”

He handed the slip of paper to me. It was an aeroplane ticket to Darwin, Australia.

“Go out into the desert between Uluru and Darwin. There’s a werewolf sanctuary there – you’ll be able to live in peace with other wolves. You can grieve without interference, and when you’re ready, you can return.”

“Albus, I…” I was struggling to find the words. “How is it that I’ve never heard of this place?”

“Because the British Ministry hates werewolves. They’d rather you were dead, or at least learned how to fit in with so-called normal wizards. Since you have been doing the latter, you’ve been tolerated so far. The Australians, on the other hand… even the Muggles are odd. They were the first country to allow women to vote, but still often discriminate against the native inhabitants.

“However, this works in your favour. The Australian Ministry, such as it is, has arranged for a couple of Aboriginal reserves to be converted into Werewolf sanctuaries. There, you can change and roam free without fear of attacking an innocent bystander.”

I looked down at the ground, then nodded. There was nothing left for me in England, and at least I’d finally be with my own kind. I looked at the date on the ticket, and swallowed. It was only three days away.

“Best get packing, my boy.”