Tonks

Somewhere, in an in-between place that might look like King's Cross, Lily Evans Potter was absolutely raging at Albus Dumbledore. Finally permitted the perspective to see the much larger gameboard he was playing on, the veil was also pulled back on how that didn't make him a nearly larger enough player. Certainly not in terms if emotional/psychological wisdom. Some of these decisions could indeed be strategically sound—but only up to this point. Having come to it, now, there was absolutely no reason for cruelly lethal idiocy like—You don't leave Remus alone. And not in the place defining, epitomizing his isolation and trauma. For fuck's sake, at the very least, have this meeting with McGonagall present; allow possibilities from here… if only suicide watch. For all timelines and probabilities and interference and alternate dimensions and whatever else, Lily thanks Tonks from every bottom of her heart. Thank you for being there for him.

Here and now, realising he's awake or doomed to think of this as a dream, Remus's hand fell into hers. At first limply, but her warmth started to warm his (which needed it; his nails had tinted grey-blue). At he didn't do it, fingers stiffened, and his eyes lifted to hers. By her last word, he was staring at her, into her, like he was searching her being for the truth of the present and the past—because if Sirius was capable of this now, then his entire history would have been a lie, his friends—his family—lost, stolen, destroyed, now and retroactively, but—

"Potters, Sirius," Remus repeated, voice alien from shouting and grief but starting to revive. "No…? Your note… it got lost years ago, but I've always tried to remember, there was a third part that didn't make sense… 'Potters, Sirius'. What about Peter?"