Chapter Text
The pack lived in woods nestled in a valley far from any villages. The small stream that ran close to the campsite provided both water and a significant portion of the food, depending on the time of year.
It was almost picturesque if you ignored the campsite, where the ground had been worn to dirt and there was a makeshift outhouse that always gave off a stench despite sitting far away from the rest of the camp.
Remus had been there for just over a month, and he hadn’t adjusted. He knew his own unease was the problem. He’d been changed as a young child, much earlier than many of the werewolves who lived there, but he’d had a sheltered upbringing compared to most young werewolves. He wasn’t used to his own kind, which meant he didn’t feel entirely comfortable around them, and in turn, they didn’t feel comfortable around him. They thought he saw himself as superior, as if Remus could ever develop such an ego when most days were a struggle to hold onto what little ties he had left in the world of witches and wizards.
He couldn’t deny his discomfort though. He could handle eating venison five days in a row, but the lack of seasoning was a small but repeated reminder of other comforts that he was missing. While his employment situation had always been difficult, he had at least managed to keep a roof over his head. If he hadn’t, he’d known that the worst case scenario would be showing up on his dad’s doorstep and asking for help. That had been a safety net that no one else here had.
Try as he might to hide it, that knowledge made him feel guilty.
Dumbledore had sent him to the werewolves to gauge the situation and persuade them away from Voldemort if possible. He was pretty sure he was failing at the latter. Talk of Voldemort within the pack had been growing since Remus arrived. The Ministry may not have been convinced of his return, but the werewolves were. The woods they lived in provided an illusion of isolation, but this pack was well-connected with others in the area, and the network spread out to include most of the werewolves within Britain.
Remus missed out on a lot of the day-to-day gossip because no one was keen to chit chat with him, but in the evenings, the whole pack gathered around the fire to cook and eat together, which was when Remus soaked up as much information as he could.
He heard about the Death Eaters’ movements amongst so-called “dark” beings, and he repeated the important tidbits over and over in his head until he remembered them well enough to write them down once he was alone. He also gathered the werewolves’ own feelings from their expressions upon hearing the news as much as he did from their words.
Not everyone was convinced that aligning with Voldemort was a good idea. Most knew that they were merely pawns. Voldemort would use them and throw them away at the slightest inconvenience, but to many, it was better than being ignored. Some even believed Voldemort would give them more freedom to do as they pleased on the full moons if he gained power. Others agreed with Remus that such promises were a ruse. If anything Voldemort hated werewolves more than the Ministry when they weren’t useful to him. Once he was in power, he’d keep a few of their kind around to inspire fear, but he would ignore the plights of the rest of them, likely treating them even worse than the Ministry currently did.
To Remus, that interpretation sounded by far the most logical, but false promises were alluring when you had nothing to lose, and Remus was worried that it was only a matter of time before more were brought around to Voldemort’s side. Remus certainly wasn’t enough to convince them of anything.
That didn’t mean he didn’t try. Whenever conversation of Voldemort came up, Remus was quick to voice his belief that Voldemort would kill them all if given the chance. Until he came to learn that he was too quick to protest that is.
He was sitting on the edge of the stream, a fishing pole held loosely in his hands, when Walter appeared beside him and sat down on the same log Remus had chosen.
Walter was one of the most interesting individuals in the pack. He’d been a werewolf for roughly the same amount of time that Remus had, but he’d been two decades older when he was bitten. From what little Remus had learned, he’d had a wife at the time but had fled to the woods shortly after his first full moon. Remus had noticed that Walter disappeared for longer lengths of time than most of the others, often in the direction of the nearest village. No one else seemed to care or speculate about what he was doing there. Remus had appreciated seeing it as it meant his own trips back to London wouldn’t be questioned either.
For a few minutes, he and Walter sat on the log silently. Remus waited for a fish that probably wouldn’t take the bait, and Walter stared at the opposite bank.
“You should be careful,” Walter said finally, breaking the silence. The warning wasn’t menacing, just matter-of-fact. It also wasn’t entirely unexpected. Walter turned to look at him, his face blank. “If you keep showing so much interest in human morality, they’ll turn on you.”
Remus nodded slowly. He’d already been trying to soften his approach. He’d do so even more. He turned back to the stream, but he could still feel Walter’s gaze on him.
“You’re so enmeshed with humans that sometimes I forget you were bitten decades ago,” Walter said, a slight grin on his lips. “At first, I thought you must have been lying about how long you’d been a werewolf, but after that first full moon, I realised you were telling the truth. You’ve just lived in isolation from your own kind for so long that you’re still deep in the ways of humans.”
There was so much Remus could have said in response to that, but none of it was a good idea if he wanted to stay in the pack and continue monitoring the situation.
“Maybe,” he said, trying to sound as noncommittal as possible. “I was only a child when I was bitten, subject to the whims of my parents. They wanted me to be successful and happy in the ways that they viewed success and happiness.”
Walter, and many of the others, probably painted a rosy picture of his childhood when he said things like that. He could see it in their eyes. Because he’d grown up around humans despite being a werewolf, they thought his parents must have been saints. Remus would never tell them about the looks of horror he spotted on his father’s face when he didn’t know he was looking. Or the borderline cruel ways his father had come up with restraining him in the early years.
His parents loved him, that Remus knew deep in his bones, but that didn’t mean his childhood had been a walk in the park. They may have loved the human part of him, but he was reasonably certain they’d never loved the wolf, right up to their dying breaths.
Whatever Walter thought about Remus’ parents, he accepted Remus’ excuse. “I had strict parents as a kid,” he said. “And I was a goody-two-shoes who did everything they asked, so I get that part. Unlike some of the others, I don’t hold it against you. I’m saying all this as a favour. Your focus right now should be on integrating with our ways, not trying to change a group of werewolves into something they’ll never be.”
Before Remus could respond, he stood, walking away from the stream. Remus watched him go until a fish tugged at his line.
Several days and nights passed after Remus’ uncomfortable conversation with Walter. He took the older man’s advice and tried not to influence the pack in any way. The most important thing was keeping an eye on where their minds were at. He continued to keep notes of anything useful he heard, and he tried his best to connect with the other werewolves in other ways, but it was difficult.
Walter was right. Remus had little in common with them. Even those who had been bitten later in life after growing up as a witch or wizard, seemed to have erased everything they’d known and loved before. Remus didn’t know what commonalities to focus on other than their monthly transformations.
At least he could rest assured that he’d hear from the Order soon and be summoned back to London for a meeting. When the message finally came, it was in the form of Kingsley’s lynx patronus appearing in his tent in the middle of the night.
Its bright white light made Remus worried that others would see it, even from within the walls of his tent. At least it was the early morning hours when the rest of the pack was least likely to be awake and moving around.
“Your presence is requested at the usual place and time next Thursday,” the lynx said in Kingsley’s voice before promptly evaporating into wisps of smoke.
Remus couldn’t help but smile. He knew the work he was doing with the werewolves was important for the Order, but the longer he was there, the more it weighed on him. Despite the difficulties that came from living with witches and wizards, it was where he felt he belonged. Not only did he feel out of place amongst other werewolves but he felt guilty for feeling out of place. Visiting Grimmauld Place would be a welcome reprieve, even if the news he learned wasn’t good.
Many members of the pack disappeared on a regular basis. Remus had never been quite sure where they were going. From what they were willing to share about their pasts, most had cut ties with their loved ones not long after being bitten, so Remus wasn’t sure what could continually call them away. He knew better than to ask. It was an unspoken rule that anything that happened away from the group was that individual’s business, which was too convenient for Remus for him to go around pushing back against the rule.
He could go to London to meet with the Order at Grimmauld Place, and no matter how long he was gone, no one would question him upon his return.
That didn’t mean he shouldn’t be cautious. There was never any telling what the others were thinking about him that they weren’t willing to say out loud. He’d heard stories of packs that had turned on members who’d been with them for decades, but as long as he didn’t involve the pack in his own personal matters, he thought he would be fine. Even if they suspected something, they could claim plausible deniability, which was all most of them wanted, Remus suspected.
It was still dark as he packed up his tent. It was the sort of frustrating chore that could have been done in seconds if he was able to use his wand, but he knew better than to do that here. As annoying as it was, he was impressed with how quickly he managed to take it down.
He was growing more used to this type of life, something that scared him more than it made him proud. He needed a break from it, back in London, where he hoped he still belonged more than he did hidden in a forest.
In the months since Sirius—and by extension the Order—had moved into Grimmauld Place, Remus had come to rely on one particular alleyway to Apparate to and from whenever he visited. There had yet to be another lifeform around when he Apparated there, not even a rat, so he felt relatively safe from Muggle and wizarding eyes alike.
When he emerged onto the street, he found the usual city traffic, with cars and pedestrians hurrying along. None of them cared what he’d been doing down the alleyway, even though he looked like he’d spent weeks in the woods. He hurried in the direction of Grimmauld Place, soaking in the feeling of being around the hustle and bustle of the city again.
He hadn’t been raised in the city, but he had spent a number of years in his adult life living in London while working various odd jobs. He enjoyed the feeling of blending in with the crowd as he walked. It made him feel integrated into the community in a way that being with the werewolves didn’t, something that made him feel guilty but that he couldn’t help but enjoy.
The entrance hall of Grimmauld Place was as dark and quiet as always. Remus resisted the urge to announce his presence as he eased the door shut and tiptoed past Mrs Black’s portrait towards the kitchen.
It was still early, but he suspected Sirius would already be in the kitchen waiting for people to arrive. He’d been antsy about being alone in the house since he moved in. There were plans for the Weasleys to come stay with him very soon, but judging by the void of life, they hadn’t moved in yet.
Sure enough, Sirius was sitting at the head of the kitchen table when Remus entered. Kreacher, the only living soul in the house aside from Sirius, was nowhere to be seen. Sirius jumped to his feet, a large grin on his face. “Moony!” He clapped Remus on the shoulder and pulled him into a hug. “It’s nice to see you.”
Remus returned the hug, doing what he could to transfer strength to Sirius. “You too. How are things here?”
Sirius waved off the question. “Same as always.”
Remus couldn’t blame him for not wanting to talk about the house when he was spending most of his days there alone. As difficult as Remus’ work with the werewolves was, at least he got to be outdoors and speak with a variety of people on a daily basis. He didn't envy Sirius his position.
“You should really think about my offer,” Sirius said as they both took seats at the table. “This place has plenty of room. You could have your pick of the bedrooms. Merlin knows this place is as depressing as they come, but it must at least be better than roughing it outdoors.”
Remus wondered if Sirius really preferred staying at the house to his own stint of ‘roughing it outdoors,’ but he didn’t ask. “You know I can’t, Padfoot,” he said as gently as he could. “Dumbledore still wants me to gather intel from the werewolves. When my duty with the wolves is done, then we can revisit the idea.”
Sirius frowned. They both knew there was no point in the near future where intel from the werewolves wouldn’t be useful to the war effort.
“He’ll probably give me some time off eventually,” Remus added. “There will be other work I’m sure. Work that might bring me to London.”
Sirius brightened. “And you’ll stay here then?”
Remus smiled. As much as Sirius hated staying in the place, the idea of getting to spend longer periods of time with his best friend after more than a decade apart made the prospect more appealing to Remus. “If you’ll have me,” he said.
The answer seemed to satisfy Sirius enough for the moment.
Kingsley was the first Order member to arrive after Remus. He slipped into the kitchen and immediately started up a cheerful conversation that kept Sirius laughing. Remus was grateful that there were people able to keep Sirius’ spirits up in small ways when he was away.
It didn’t take long, though, for their conversation to drift to their efforts in the war.
“How is recruiting amongst the Aurors going?” Sirius asked. “Last I heard you were having trouble.”
Kingsley’s expression turned more serious and thoughtful as he nodded. “It’s been difficult when we have to be so secretive. If I say the wrong thing, it could wind up with me being fired, and that’s no help to anyone. So, I’ve been taking it slow, waiting for signs from them before I say anything at all. But we finally have a recruit! Her name is Nymphadora Tonks, but she hates her first name and prefers to just use her last. She’s a new recruit, and I could tell right away that she’d be on our side. She’s coming to the meeting today. Moody’s bringing her. He was her mentor during Auror training.”
Remus couldn’t help but smile. They always needed more people, especially those inside of the Ministry. If she was a new Auror, then Tonks wouldn’t be privy to the most important secrets being transmitted through the Ministry, but she would still be highly valuable.
“Tonks?” Sirius said, a thoughtful frown on her face. “My cousin Andromeda married a Tonks. Ted Tonks, I think his name was. He was a Muggleborn. The whole thing got her disowned.”
Kingsley looked vaguely uncomfortable. “Yes, Nymphadora is the daughter of your cousin Andromeda. We found that connection back when we first hired her at the Ministry, but she doesn’t like to talk about it.”
Knowing what Remus did about Sirius’ family, he could understand perfectly why she wouldn’t. With her mother having been disowned before she was born, Tonks likely didn’t didn’t face the sort of abuse that Sirius did, but he could imagine the spectre of her maternal family had still hung over her at times.
Sirius laughed, not even seeming to notice Kingsley’s discomfort with the topic. “I hope she enjoys getting a glimpse of the family home,” he said, sounding overjoyed at the situation. “Andromeda always hated it, said it was too dark and grimy. I agreed of course. We’ll see if her daughter feels the same way.”
Remus opened his mouth to point out that questioning Tonks about such a sensitive topic probably wasn’t the best move immediately after meeting, but he didn’t get the chance to speak when Mrs Black’s screeching filled the kitchen, followed by a loud curse from Moody.
Sirius’ grin widened. “Sounds like she’s already getting acquainted with the family.”
Remus rolled his eyes as he ran out of the room after Kingsley to go help with the portrait.
When they got to the ground floor, Moody was cursing at the portrait, unable to force her hangings closed by himself. Kingsley went straight to him and started helping. Remus’ gaze shifted to a woman who was on the floor, the umbrella stand on its side in front of her.
Even in the dark hallway, her pink hair stood out. She looked up at Remus, her face sheepish. “I didn’t mean to make such a poor first impression,” she said. “I’m afraid I have a nasty habit of tripping over things. Don’t let it colour your impression of my ability in the field.”
Remus fought back a grin, not sure that Tonks would appreciate it. “It’s fine,” he said. “We’ve all set her off at one time or another.”
It was a bit of an exaggeration, but it was one that he felt was warranted. They’d been trying to recruit more Aurors for a while. There was no need to embarrass her and scare her off immediately.
The screaming quieted as Moody, Kingsley, and Sirius finally got the portrait under control. Remus held his hand out to Tonks and quietly said, “Let me help you up.”
She took his offered hand with a grateful smile, but before he could tug her up, there was a tingling sensation. He gasped, pulling his hand away to look at the glowing red ring around his left ring finger.