Day 2 of my Final Finale! More fall-out from the Shrieking Shack incident, and here we close with Prisoner of Azkaban.

Chapter Forty

Prisoner of Azkaban

~ Remus Lupin ~
"You look horrible."

I sat bolt upright with a start at the voice, and then groaned and slowly lowered myself back down into a sitting position leaning against the headboard as each and every muscle made known a complaint of some sort. When that was all sorted out, I opened my eyes again to find Sariah standing beside me, hands on her hips, looking extremely disgruntled.

"Was that really necessary?"

"I forgot your senses are stronger," she said airily, but she and I both knew that she was a lot more serious than she sounded.

I tried to smile at that, and failed. She knew the capabilities of Moony even better than I did, sometimes – mainly because I'd been too busy trying to bury Moony under everything and anything I could throw at him – and Sariah only attempted to bring humor into the conversation when she was gearing up for a tongue lashing the likes of which even her closest friends would shy away from.

Translation: I had a big ticking time-bomb on my hands.

I rubbed at my forehead. "Sariah, could we perhaps continue this conversation . . . elsewhere?"

"Where else?"

"Not in the hospital wing?"

Sariah snorted, and then plunked down on the bed across from me, drawing her feet up neatly under her. "Remus, we moved you from the hospital wing last night," she explained, playing idly with a loose thread. "Madam Pomfrey said you'd probably recover here better than lying on the floor next to my bed after having passed out there instead of going to your chambers as you were supposed to."

I swallowed. She had a point. It had been my habit, always, to retreat to my chambers, to avoid students from getting suspicious – or, really, to avoid student contact completely. I had gone out of my path to go to the hospital wing after I had transformed back, and it had taken all of my strength, if not more, because the second I had seen Sariah and known she was going to be okay, it was like every bit of strength had fled from my body, and the last thing I had known before the darkness hit me was the ache of my knees connecting with the floor.

"I had to see that you were okay."

Sariah looked at me, her gaze softening. "Remus, I was fine. Madam Pomfrey said that Pettigrew only Stunned me, nothing more."

"Sariah, I threw you into a tree," I said sharply. "Forgive me for being a little concerned."

"Wouldn't have helped if you'd brained yourself on the floor afterwards."

"Sariah."

She scowled and then slumped against the backboard, hugging her knees to her chest like it was decades ago and we were students again, trading secrets and chocolate after a full moon. It had been years ago, but I remembered it rather clearly – or, at least, the wolf did, and what the wolf knew, I knew.

Of course, Moony agreed. We are one and the same, in more ways than one. And it is good for you to acknowledge that, pup.

I'm not so young anymore.

Moony snorted. Pup.

That, at least, wrangled a reluctant smile out of me.

Sariah noticed. "Moony?" she guessed, her stance softening.

I nodded. "He still hasn't ceased with the endless commentary on everything I've ever done or thought about doing," I said. "I think you've made it worse."

Moony snarled; I ignored him.

Sariah tilted her head. "Sometimes, I bet he gives good advice all the same."

"Not yet, he hasn't."

"Maybe."

"No, I'm fairly certain he hasn't." I took a deep breath. Teasing mode was great with Sariah, but there were still some things I wanted to deal with before she started yelling at me again. "How . . . How's Sirius?"

I knew Sirius had been sentenced to receive the Dementor's Kiss. And for a time, I had even perhaps, maybe, believed that his crime – to turn his back on his solemn oath, to betray Lily and James and Harry, to betray us all – may have merited it. But even then I had had my doubts, for it was a horrible sentence. And when faced with the unquestionable evidence that Sirius had never actually committed the crime. . . Well. I could only hope for the best, shallow as that hope was.

So I wasn't expecting Sariah to grin giddily, like a child. "Sirius Black escaped."

I blinked.

Her grin widened. "Yes, you heard me right, Remus," she said playfully. "Sirius Black escaped last night, sometime before midnight. Fudge and the others have no idea how – he had no wand or help, because the door was guarded, but the Ministry and the dementors have found no trace of him on the grounds." She shrugged. "He's gone."

I let out a long, relieved breath, and slumped into my pillows. "Was it . . ."

She shook her head, anticipating my question, her face turning sorrowful. "No. Dumbledore believes us. But Fudge doesn't. The only comfort we can have is that he didn't escape alone."

"Your work?"

Sariah raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Remus, after being thrown into a tree and Stunned I was immediately able to sneak past Ministry guards and the dozens of dementors in order to free Sirius," she said sarcastically.

"So."

"Yep."

"Do I want to know how?" I finally asked, regretting the words the instant they left my mouth. Harry and Hermione and Dumbledore had come through, somehow, for Sirius – that knowledge should be more than enough for me. "No, never mind, I don't want to know."

Sariah smiled at me, a little softer. "No, you don't."

"I'm just glad it worked."

"Me too."

We basked in the silence a little longer. It was comfortable, to know we were finally on the same page again, with everything, no more secrets between us. And at least Sariah knew the truth now, about Pettigrew and Sirius, because I had dreaded telling her. She had loved Lily fiercely, almost as much as she had detested James and Sirius in the beginning, and I knew that the death of Lily and James had dealt her a strong blow, one which she had never quite forgiven Sirius for. It was a relief to know I wouldn't have to struggle to find the words to explain the situation.

However, I did have something else to explain.

For a moment, I let my gaze linger on Sariah as she stared into the fire, a lazy smile on her face. She was beautiful, even after everything, and so strong. To lose her . . . to lose anyone . . .

I remembered the terrifying loss of control – the shredding of my clothes, the breaking of my bones, the animalistic surge of instinct and crying for blood. And I remembered the startled look on Sariah's face, not fear of me, but fear for me, and the way she had moved towards me instead of away, like a sensible person, as she didn't even have the protection of being an Animagus the way Sirius did.

And I made my decision.

"I might need your help. Later."

"What for?"

" . . . I need to pack. Hopefully, I can leave before the owls start arriving."

Sariah gave me a startled glance. "You're leaving? Why on earth would you leave, Remus?" Her voice was surprised, but not yet concerned; she wasn't taking me seriously yet.

I pushed myself off the bed and walked towards the desk. No doubt Dumbledore would argue – fiercely – but my mind was made up, and that would require an official notice of resignation, with the signature and the wording and everything. And it would be best to get things over with now, instead of having to deal with . . . anything else. I couldn't risk this happening again – to anyone – but especially not to Sariah, who I knew without a doubt would definitely do everything she could to push the boundaries, and possibly get hurt, and I . . .

I had suffered enough as a result of being a werewolf. I never wanted Sariah to suffer the same problem.

"Remus – Remus – are you . . ."

"Yes," I said, when she had trailed off, possibly out of shock, or possibly out of anger. "Yes, I am. I will." I closed my eyes, remembering the scene almost too vividly – Sariah, so close, too close, as the wolf burst free – and remembering how close I had been to charging them all and ripping off their heads, all of them, no matter what. I was used to losing control of the wolf, but usually, that loss happened in private – locked in the magically reinforced basement at my house, or caged up in isolation in my chambers or the Shrieking Shack. I hadn't had a proper run-in with someone during the full moon for years.

When I opened my eyes again, Sariah was right in front of me, caught between confusion and concern. "But why?" she was asking. "Why would you leave? You've got a job here, the students love you – "

"I could have killed you," I interrupted harshly, taking her shoulders in my hand. "All of you. If Sirius hadn't stopped me. Or worse, just simply . . ."

She touched my cheek. "It wasn't your fault."

I knew Sariah would remain stuck on that point, and I knew she wouldn't back down from it. She was too much like Lily in that sense – loyal to a fault, uncaring about anything else, just like she had been when she had first discovered the truth about my monthly disappearances to become a bloodthirsty, out of control monster.

"Perhaps." I hugged her. "But it doesn't matter. We can't keep this quiet forever, anyways, and I refuse to risk it happening again."

Sariah clung to me, stubborn, flaunting her refusal to let me flee as well as her steadfast belief that I meant her no harm – and while it was somewhat true, as Moony seemed at best adverse and at once indifferent to harming her, I appreciated the sentiment, but I knew I had to turn it down.

"It won't. You have Wolfsbane. It'll be fine."

"Sariah. . ." I sighed and looked her in the eye, trying to convey how serious things were. "I appreciate it. I really do. But you know as well as I do that we have to put people's safety above that. The Wolfsbane keeps me at bay, but – anything can happen to it, you know that. I won't risk it happening again. To anyone." And especially to you.

She looked away. "So you'll just leave."

I heard the unspoken word she refused to use: again.

I touched her hair. "I would prefer to resign now, rather than to force the Headmaster to lose face over this. And, besides . . . I think we can keep in touch."

"You promise?"

"Yes."

And I drew her into a hug again, and I promised that this time, my departure from Hogwarts wouldn't result in another connection broken – to my past, and to the love we'd once shared so many years ago.