Someone was knocking loudly on Remus' door. Groggily, he wiped his face, wondering who would be at his door at this late hour. It wasn't as though he'd been asleep or anything. In fact, he'd been buried up to his ears in research for the Order, trying to find ways to kill the immortal. This seemingly impossible task had actually been done several times throughout history. Didn't that defeat the purpose of becoming immortal in the first place?

He grinned wryly to himself, before the knocking drew his attention again. Pulling on a dressing gown, he opened the door and yawned.

Bill Weasley stood there, speckled with dirt, face covered in scratches. A mile-wide smile stretched across his features, causing some of his freckles to blend together. His shirt was torn and if Remus hadn't known any better, he'd say it'd been done intentionally. His flaming red hair was halfway pulled out of his ponytail, several wild tendrils framing his (face).

Mouth caught half-open because of the yawn - the yawn, of course! - Remus stared stupidly for a moment before asking, "Bill?"

"That's me!"

"What are you doing here?"

Bill stepped inside Remus' house and swung him around merrily. To say Remus was bemused would be putting things mildly. "It's over!" Bill told the other man.

"Over? What's over?" Then realisation dawned and his mouth hung open again. Was Voldemort...?

"Dead. He's dead, Remus. Harry's done it. The part of the battle I saw was pretty gruesome. Most of the Death Eaters collapsed on the ground the moment Voldemort died, clutching their forearms. It made it easy for the Aurors to round them up."

Remus crossed his arms, not entirely sure this wasn't a trick. "Why wasn't I told?"

Bill pulled a face. "Dumbledore thought it was too close to the full moon. What that has to do with things, I'll never know."

Remus knew. Voldemort had power over the wolf and Dumbledore hadn't wanted to test fate. The research had been busy work. "You're sure he's gone?”

"Positive."

"How's Harry?"

"I didn't get to see him. Mum told me he's as fine as he can be, under the circumstances."

The circumstances. A nice way of saying a basically nice, seventeen-year-old boy was now a murderer. Why would anyone care, since Voldemort had been a vile, immortal, Dark Wizard? Remus' brow wrinkled.

Bill looked at him in concern. "Are you okay?"

"I'm...conflicted. Of course, I'm glad Voldemort is dead, but I worry about Harry. And the other children, too."

"One step at a time, right? Life's a journey and all that other cliché stuff."

"I suppose you're right." Remus thought for a moment. "Why were you sent here?"

"Sent?" Bill replied. "I wasn't sent. I wanted to see you...tell you for myself."

"Why?"

Smiling slightly, he said, "Well, not to be cliché again, but at the end of every journey is a new beginning." Bill reached out and took Remus' hand. He looked down and with his free hand, tipped Remus' chin up. Remus noticed he had very blue eyes. "Our work with the Order led me down one path and I'd like to explore a new one with you."

Remus drew out a shaky breath. The prospect was completely unexpected, but not unwelcome. Reaching his foot around, Bill kicked Remus' door closed, allowing Remus to push Bill up against it. As he covered Bill's mouth with his own, Remus thought of a cliché of his own. For every door that closes, another one opens.