Sometimes it just takes a minute. Not a glorious minute of noise and adulation, but a quiet minute spent in quiet reflection after one too many drinks. It is in that rare moment that you have to face yourself reflected in the bottom of a glass and wonder if it was really all wo-

He stopped thinking, and after a careful moment poured himself another glass. The empty bottle fell on the floor, joining the pile.

His eyes went distant, looking back over the past. Those that knew him would swear that for a moment he seemed to lift weight off his shoulders, young age no longer suppressed by sodden liver and sodding past. It didn't last for a minute. It never did. The past swelled up again around him, darkness pulling him back.

He silently summoned another bottle, letting magic spark idly around his fingers for a second. Rolling his hand he let it spark as he contemplated the bottle. Shrugging, he tossed the glass behind him, hearing the smash as it hit the wall. They would tidy it away with the bottles, as they did every night.

He drank deep. Maybe tonight he could find rest. Maybe tonight his ghosts would agree that he'd done enough.

Maybe tonight, at least the bottle would agree with him.

Something to look forward to.

"It's no use, not tonight. He won't answer." It had the tone of exasperation that all women had perfected when the world was being silly and ignoring their advice.

Her partner shrugged it off. "We have to try. Orders."

She stuck her tongue out at him behind his back. A small victory, but she'd take what she could get. Some people were too tied up in their work for their own good. He didn't notice, or ignored it if he did. Measured strides across the ground neither faltered nor changed, eating up the ground as the smaller women rushed to keep up.

They made a strange couple. One tall and stern, with forbidding black robes sweeping aroud his broad shoulders, the other short and curvy, green hair framing purple eyes on a pastel-pink robed witch. The biggest similarity lay in their gear, both sprouting an old-fashion pistol on one hip and a longsword on the other, his with an ornate steel guard, hers with a simple silver hilt. Wooden wands lay loosely in their right hands, with both wearing a small shield framing a clenched fist on their hands speaking for their unspoken authority.

The knocks resounded through the chill night air, echoing off of trees and darkened windows, silencing the passing rustles of wildlife. Three thuds. Even and measured. A minute passed. Scowling, the man hit the door again, andthen again. Three times three knocks echoed.

Still silence, aside from the faint crackling of an open fire somewhere deep within the manor.

"Maybe not tonight." The girl's voice whispered, staring at the door looming above them.

The scowl tossed her way would have, did make, lesser mortal quake. Touching his wand lightly to his head, he spat out a torrent of words before tossing his hand out, turning to watch the silver owl burst from the end and fly amongst the trees, disturbing any wildlife that had not been roused by his knocks. The Minister would want to know immediately, and probably demand a report when they returned nonetheless. He was not really in a mood for her snide comments tonight.

Staring into the trees waiting for a reply, he nearly missed the gasp from his partner as a cold voice spoke, "Expecting company?" The tall man spun, wand flying towards the doorway, where another leaned tiredly, silhouetted against light falling from what would probably be the manor library. The dry tone continued dismissively, "You're disturbing the kid."

Scowling was promptly directed at the owner of the manor, who bore it without flinching. The lady appeared ready to fly into the house, tackling the owner and all. Placing a cautionary hand on her arm, the enforcer spoke, "Fourteen years. Fourteen fucking years to answer the fucking door."

The witch beside him promptly solved her dilemma of rushing into his arms or fleeing from his property by fainting, falling forwards with a dull thud between the two men. Tense air turned wry as a glance passed between the men. Some things never changed.

Wordlessly the occupant gestured onwards into the house before casually waving a hand at the dead weight witch, levitating her upwards and inwards. "It's true then?" The bottle paused for a second on it's journey upwards at the outburst. "You don't need a wand." A casual shrug, a not-so-casual drink. Some questions were so obvious they didn't deserve answering.

"Whiskey?"

"Not tonight."

"So business"

"Of a kind."

"With her no less. I thought they didn't send marri-"

"They don't."

"Ah." He threw back the tumbler of whiskey thoughtfully before setting it down on the table next to him. "Best of luck then."

"It's a legal problem."

"I won't help."

"I don't expec-"

Harry shook his head.

Silence fell, except from the breathing, and the tinkle of the whiskey as the tumbler was refilled. The two men watched each other, the witch unconscious between them.

The younger man shifted his weight slightly. "So business"

"They want you back."

"I'm an old man Lupin."

"I'm twenty years older. You're not even thirty five yet. Nothing to a wizard"

The young man winced slightly. "I feel older."

"I don't think they'll take no."

"They insisted on it for the first ten. They've left em along for another five. If they remember anything of who I was they'll do so for anot-" his attention tailed off as the fire flickered a different colour in the ornate fireplace, "You came alone?"

Remus glanced at the still unconscious woman. "Just the two of us."

Harry nodded thoughtfully before picking himself out of his chair. "Just a minute then. Tell Tonks to stop pretending. Metamorphagi return to their original appearance when they genuinely collapse."

The hair of the witch on the table went bright red as she stood up, her embarrassed glance catching only the billowing cape as Harry strode out the door.

Remus smirked a bit. "Told you he'd recognise it."

"Got us in though dinnit?"

The wizard rolled his eyes as Tonks brushed herself off. The window flashed for a second, lights burning across the pane. "Guess we were followed?"

Remus' eyes flickered for an instant. "I'm not surprised."

Harry re-entered, placing a couple of wands on the table next to him as he sat down. He glanced at Tonks before flicking his fingers idly, a conjured chair springing into existence next to Lupin's.

"Whiskey?"

"Nah Harry, it's a work night."

"So I've heard."

Tonks eyed the chair apprehensively before flicking her wand and changing the upholstery to a flowery pattern. "S'been a while."

"Just a bit."

"Liking what you've done to the place. No more gits right?"

"Not here at least." His eyes flickered.

"Good I s'pose. Malfoy Manor s'always full of 'em before."

An eyebrow twitched, and Harry's hand tightened around the whiskey glass (once more full). "I wouldn't say it was go-"

"She didn't mean that." Lupin cut across, the older man's anger flaring across his face for once. Tonks winced, backing down into her chair a little, sinking into the lush cushions.

There was a moment, not a minute, of silence. There always was before the storm.

Harry set the tumbler down again. "Should I expect more company?"

Lupin and Tonks shared a look, before confirming that they were the only ones that they knew about.

Harry smiled coldly, "Good. We won't be disturbed further then. I suppose you have some letters for me?"

"There's all the ones we sent in the post of course, but a few that we were asked to try to deliver by hand by various parties." Lupin reached into his jacket, pulling out a selection of letters. "The Unspeakables would like a word, as would the Minister." Two letters landed in Harry's lap followed by a significantly larger one, "Gringotts also asked you to kindly respond to at least one letter this year."

Tonks took over, pulling letters out of various pockets. "Hogwarts passed this onto me, the Order asked me to give this to you." Remus shot her a look. "What? It's not like we weren't coming here this year anyway!"

Harry sighed and put the stack of letters on the table next to the rapidly depleting whiskey bottle. "Anything else?"

"Just this." Tonks pulled out a thick folder and was starting to open it before Harry's hand was held up.

"I recognise what type of folder it is and the answer is no. I don't work for you. Not now. Never again. I did enough of that."

"Harry, this is… a unique probl-"

"I said no."

Lupin sighed before leaning forwards, "Please, we'd just like you to consid-"

Harry snapped his fingers, silencing Lupin, anger burning across his face. "I'd like you to leave now."

Tonks tried to speak, only to discover that she too had been silenced. Shooting Harry a bad look, she tossed the folder onto the chair, stuck her fingers up at him and dragged Lupin out behind her.

Harry stood at watched, anger boiling around him. "Harry?" A red-headed girl stood at the top of the stairs, looking at the open door.

Harry was silent for a minute, taking a deep breath before turning round, "It's okay Molly, it's okay. Back to bed okay?"

The door shut as the wards rippled, letting the two cloaked figures pass unharmed. The wizard walked up the stairs, looking in through the door at the fourteen year old girl, who was already drifting off to sleep.

Sometimes he wondered if he had enough moments left with her before she would disappear from his life like everyone else had.

Sometimes he thought that he didn't really have a choice. Moments were… difficult.

He tucked her in.

The ministry was as alive as ever. It no longer slept, even late at night. The older man stormed through the atrium, past the fountain that had been damaged and repaired so many times that no one knew what it was supposed to represent, let alone what it was supposed to look like. Too much curse damage for the builders to work, the architect had said.

Lupin snorted. Fat chance of that. They'd managed to repair Hogwarts and Diagon Alley, and both had seen the brunt of the fighting. But he didn't blame the builders. He had seen the plans for the fountain that the Minister had wanted. No one wanted to memorialise what she claimed her role in the war had been, no one that knew the truth at least.

Standing in the lift, a memo butted him in the stomach until he grabbed it with a snarl. 'Report to me immediately'

He swore and jumped off the elevator a floor higher than he intended, sweeping into the cold office that Dolores had made her home for the years past the war. "Can I help you Minister?"

"How was he?"

Remus glanced at the toad-faced woman and debated, briefly, telling her the truth. A broken man, alcoholic and forgotten by the world for who he actually was, wanting to forget his glories and failures in the bottom of a glass. He would never give her that satisfaction, not after how they treated him. "We managed to deliver the letters Minister."

"Thank you Enforcer Lupin. Dismissed."

He shuddered. He had never liked her or the pink dresses she wore, nor the magic eye that was still stuck to her door. Poor Moody. His mind turned back to the war.

He didn't think Harry was the only one who needed to get drunk tonight.

Back at the manner, Harry looked at the letter from Hogwarts once again. It had been at the top of his pile and it had been the first he opened.

It still didn't make sense.

He carefully set down the glass of whiskey, untouched, before summoning a large bottle of water and downing it. He would need to be sober tomorrow. He glanced at the letter again before summoning a second bottle of water and a hangover preventative. Thanking the Weasley twins for the good things they had managed in life he tossed water and pill back in a practiced manner

With slightly less blurriness he glanced once more at the parchment in front of him.

'Headmaster Albus Dumbledore requests your presence at a meeting.'

Some times you definitely needed to be sober.