The handle was coming off again.

Remus fidgeted with it, his fingers wiggling the little metal bit back into place on the top of the briefcase, raising his wand, soldering the piece back into place. He tucked his wand back into his tweed jacket and ran his fingers over the briefcase, smoothing  tear in the leather on the corner and staring at the little brass name plate.

Professor R. J. Lupin.

He drew a deep breath, closing his eyes, his knee bobbing as he expelled some of his nervous energy.

The door opened behind him and Albus Dumbledore came into the room. "So sorry to keep you waiting, my boy," Dumbledore said as he crossed the room, settling behind his desk.

"It's quite alright," Remus replied, "I wasn't here long."

Dumbledore arranged his beard and leaned back in his tall-backed chair, looking Remus over with those bright eyes, scrutinizing him for a long moment. "You've lost a deal of weight, Mr. Lupin. Have you been eating properly?"

"As I can," Remus answered. Then, before Dumbledore could say more, he lay the briefcase on the edge of the desk and opened it, his hands shaking, and he removed a sheath of papers, thrusting them into Dumbledore's hands. "I wanted to give you this," he said.

Dumbledore took the papers, reached into a pocket and withdrew his spectacles, shaking them opened and sliding the half moon glasses onto his nose. Remus watched, closing the briefcase and, being careful for the handle, put it on the floor next to his leg. Remus put a hand over his knee, trying to stop it jogging up and down.

"Your curriculum vitae?" Dumbledore mused, his eyes raising up from the parchments.

"Yes," Remus said, and his voice shook very slightly.

"Do you know something I do not?" Dumbledore asked, a slight smile trembling upon his lips. "Are one of my members of staff about to depart from here?"

"You've hired a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher every year since I was here, Dumbledore," Remus said, "And I thought I might beat out the competition for '87's go at it."

Dumbledore smiled and put the CV down on the desk.

Remus's heart sank.

"My boy, we have discussed this many times over the years, as you know..."

"Yes, but, I thought - perhaps - I mean, with the potion, it could be possible..."

Dumbledore sighed and pursed his lips. "You should go back to Fallengunder, my boy."

Remus shook his head,  a lump rising up in his throat. "I've told you. There's too many... ghosts." He paused and stared down at his knees.

"Then home, perhaps."

"I have no home."

"You've two, actually," Dumbledore said gently.

"I'm never going there again," Remus said shortly. "Either one of them. I'd rather sleep on the ground in Knockturn Alley than go to either of those houses."

Dumbledore stroked his beard absently.

Remus looked up, his eyes glistening. "You gave me the chance here once."

"Yes, and I should love to give you another, but Remus, it is very difficult now that you are older and the -- condition -- is more matured. And the reports to the school governors... the procurement of all that Wolfsbane..."

"Professor Slughorn --"

"Is not the sort of person you want knowing about your condition, I assure you," Dumbledore  murmured. 

Remus sighed heavily.

"I will keep your CV in my files, of course, Remus, and perhaps one day the circumstances will align and I will be able to give you the answer that you wish for."

"Yeah. Right. Perhaps one day." Remus was trying very hard not to cry, or to get angry, or both, perhaps. He should've been used to this rejection, yet it stung all the harder now, coming from Dumbledore, of all people. He stood up, lifting the briefcase as he did, and he limped painfully to the door of the office.

Dumbledore's voice was gentle, "Mr. Lupin."

"What?" Remus turned at the door to look at Dumbledore. He was finding it very hard not to have hard feelings at the headmaster.

"Have some breakfast before you go."

Remus stood frozen in the doorway.

"I'll have the house elves pack you something to take with you as well."

Remus hated taking gifts of charity. But the thought of another day eating nothing but a tin of soup with the dry, stale crackers in his briefcase was thoroughly depressing. He nodded, "Thank you, sir."

Dumbledore nodded. "Happy Christmas, Mr. Lupin."

"And to you," Remus muttered as he opened the door and stepped out.

Dumbledore sat in the silence after the door had closed, and he lifted Remus Lupin's CV, glancing it over. Long gaps between positions littered the page. Teaching, briefly, at Fallengunder following University, a smattering of odd jobs, everything from working in shoppes in Diagon Alley and Godric's Hollow to professional degnoming for a company called Pluckem's to something even as degrading as working in a muggle shop that sold tourist items in London nearby the Tower of London. Nothing ever lasted longer than a month or two. Dumbledore sighed and opened a drawer, sliding the CV into it.

Fawkes the Phoenix sat perched by the fire, tilting his head at Dumbledore as though asking a question.

Dumbledore stood and crossed the room, reaching up to stroke the scarlet red bird.

"I, too, wish there was more we could do, Fawkes," Dumbledore said, and he stared out his office window over the snow-covered trees of the Forbidden Forest. The wind howled loudly against the window pane, frost creeping against it, whirlwinds of snow travelling over the grounds.

In the Great Hall, the atmosphere was subdued. Barely anyone was there. The House Tables stood long and empty, stretching across the wide room, clusters of warm, steaming food scattered across them, being served in small batches until there were more people there to eat it. The staff table was mostly empty, too, with the exception of Professors Viridi and Clearwater, who were deep in a conversation about the movement of the planets and the astrology report for the coming year.

Tonks and Charlie settled on the benches at the empty end of the Hufflepuff table, where a large bowl of porridge and a stack of toast and jams sat waiting for them. Charlie ladeled out a big bowl full and scooped some berries from a basket and tossed them in, watching as Tonks buttered toast and spread peanut butter across it eagerly before stacking on handfuls of berries, her favorite breakfast.

"Woss yaw fam'ee doon fah 'ris'muss?" Charlie asked with his mouth full.

"Just the three of us, hanging about, I expect," Tonks replied.

"My Auntie Muriel's coming," Charlie loudly gulped the food in his mouth. The warm cereal felt good sliding down into his belly. 

"Well thank goodness none of my aunts and uncles are coming," shivered Tonks. "We don't even speak to them."

Charlie nodded, thinking of Tonk's Aunt Narcissa, "Yeah, who would, don't blame your mum for cutting that lot out." He yawned and shoveled some more berries into his bowl. "I hope mum and dad got me that racing broom I asked for."

"I hope so too," Tonks answered. "Though my mum probably thinks a racing boom isn't a gift fit for a girl. She's too old fashioned. It's all those ruddy manners her mother raised her with before mum went and got a brain for herself. It's ingrained in her so much she can be really strict sometimes without even meaning to be. Narrow mind, like."

"Your mum is great," Charlie argued, "What are you talking about? I love Dromeda."

"Everyone does," murmured Tonks. She absently played with her hair. Then, her eyes lit up. "Hang on." She'd just spotted - across the room, at Gryffindor table - but... no, couldn't be. Could it? She stared, gape-mouthed at the figure so long that Charlie turned in his seat, porridge falling over his chin.

"What?" he asked, wiping his mouth, "Not Bill, is it? Stupid prefect, he'll get on me about sitting at the wrong table... But I swear, if he says a thing I'll tell mum the minute I get home and --"

"No, it isn't that, it's -- him."

Charlie looked where she was looking, his eyes falling on the shabby form at the end of Gryffindor table. "Who is that?" he asked, "And what's he sitting at Gryffindor for? Is that a new teacher? You'd think they'd teach the new staff about --- hang on, where are you going? Tonks?"

But Tonks had already taken off running across the Great Hall, her stomach doing backflips as she hurried, stepping out of a slipper and having to go back to put it back on before scurrying on. She could feel Charlie Weasley staring after her, but she wasn't about to stop. Her heart was pounding twice it's normal speed in her chest and she paused as she passed Ravenclaw table, taking a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

She walked up to the table, standing at the end by where the shabby man sat.

He looked up, his crystal-green eyes meeting hers.

"Remus!" Tonks cried, and she flung herself at him, wrapping her arms about his shoulders, knocking his porridge bowl over in the rush.