w h a t . y o u ' r e . b e s t . a t

What You're Best At
[by victoria p.]

Rating: G

Summary: Remus is best at one thing.

Notes: Thanks as always to Dot, Meg, Jen, and Pete/Melissa. Written for 15minuteficlets; the word was abandoned.

Date: April 12, 2004

"I hate you! I hate you and I wish you'd died instead of Sirius," Harry shouted. Remus nodded. He wanted to say, The feeling is quite mutual, but he kept silent and let Harry rage on. "Everybody dies and you're the only one who's left and you abandoned me. You did it fifteen years ago and you did it last summer. Why should I listen to you?"

You shouldn't, Remus thought, but what he said was, "I think you'll find my advice is sound, Harry. And that's why you should take it."

He was prepared, glad even, for the fist that came flying at him. He thought maybe he should let Harry hit him; it's what Sirius would have done. But he didn't. He caught the fist easily, held it lightly, the delicate bones of Harry's fingers cradled in his palm.

"You should have gone for your wand," he said, always the teacher.

"I want to feel it when I hurt you," Harry replied, his voice low and ragged.

Remus closed his eyes. So much like Sirius. So much like James. Everything he'd lost wrapped up in one child who was far too thin and hurt to bear the burdens Dumbledore placed on him. Remus swallowed hard, pushing down the pity that welled up. He couldn't afford it anymore.

Harry wasn't Sirius, wasn't James. He had a job to do, a role to fulfill, and it was Remus's job to prepare him for it, regardless of what either of them felt toward the other, their budding friendship having rapidly deteriorated into mutual animosity on Sirius's death.

Remus knew it was wrong, stupid, to hate Harry, to hate sharing his grief, to expect Harry to understand without being told, but he couldn't help it. He hated that Harry acted as if he were the only one who'd ever lost anyone, when in reality, it was he, Remus, who had lost everything. He'd managed, the first time, to overcome self-pity and make something of his life. Now he saw it was pointless, and he wasn't going to do it again.

"I'm sure," he replied after a long silence, dropping Harry's hand and walking away.

"Go on, leave. It's what you're best at."

He turned at the door. "You're not wrong."

Later that evening, he asked Dumbledore to send him on a mission to Russia, and he never looked back.

end

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