The war ran deep and hard. The days bled into weeks, months, and years. Memories blurred. People went missing, names went forgotten. In his apartment in muggle London, Remus sat.

James and Lily were in hiding. Sirius was long gone. And Peter... Fuck Peter.

It was well past noon. He was old now, much older. Not the scrawny insecure boy he once was. Maybe still a little insecure. But not as much now.

For twenty-one, he had aged horribly. Perhaps it was the war. Or the werewolf thing. He was even taller now, which he hadn't thought was possible. Still lanky and skinny, but with bigger scars. The muggles didn't care about the scars on his face so he stopped hiding them. They probably thought it was some freak accident he'd gotten into. The quiet boy in London's Chinatown, who wouldn't?

As he sat in his favourite corner, he sighed. This apartment was too big. He was still so used to being in a cramped place - the dormitory at Hogwarts or the big room at Potter manor. Perhaps he'd move again.

He didn't even hear it at first, the doorbell. He should have, really, that buzzer usually set him off. He had refrained from building a floo connection, even though Moody had asked in the earlier days. It felt like an intrusion. So Remus assumed it was someone from the Order when he did register it. Maybe Mary, or Marlene. Not you. Never you.

He forced himself up from the corner. It took all he had in him to move, to open the door. Last month's moon had not been kind.

"What are you doing here?" It did not take long for the rage to settle into Remus's face at the sight of you.