Fic:: A Sequence of Ghosts (continued)

[raven]

Night had fallen long ago. He was tired and hungry and fed up, and his hair was falling in his eyes as he stood there waiting.

Remus was conscious of the water in front of him, deep black and reflecting lights in smooth steady ripples. The heavy, clanking noises of the port were deadened by the still warm air, and he wondered momentarily if he had somehow misinterpreted his instructions. Inland of him, the dim yellow streetlights spilled over the cobblestones, illuminating people heading towards the town, but he was alone by the waterside, the gentle waves lapping at the cobbles a few feet below him.

“Excusez-moi?”

Remus jumped; the stranger had crept up without warning. He was dressed all in black so only his eyes were clearly visible in the sodium lights, and Remus took an involuntary step back. Quickly skimming the stranger’s attire revealed what he sought, however; the most incongruous of secret symbols, the Star of David. It was pinned on the other man’s lapel, glowing dimly.

Remus felt ready to speak. “Oui, puis-je vous aider?”

The man was scrutinising him. “Comment appelez-vous?”

Remus took a deep breath, uncomfortably aware that his voice might well carry across the water. “Remus Lupin. Rémi,” he added as an afterthought, tasting the strange word as he said it.

“Bien.” He paused, and Remus noticed he hadn’t offered his own name. He waited patiently, knowing what would come.

“Vous etes loup-garou?”

“Oui.” At least he could be honest. “Je dois aller...”

“D’accord.” The man blinked, then handed over a small package.

“Merci beaucoup.” Remus was suddenly tired, and thinking of Sirius. He would be home soon; there was no need to worry about boats and trains, for once. They didn’t recommend Apparition over long distances, but Remus felt suddenly reckless – it didn’t matter, nothing mattered….

Besides, it wasn’t so far, even with the choppy waters of the English Channel to cope with. Thirty-two miles at the outside. Not far...

“C’est loin?” The stranger – one of the Continental contacts of the Order, Remus was sure – seemed to have guessed his thoughts.
Remus shook his head. “Trente-deux... non, cinquante kilomètres.”

The man smiled. “C’est vrai. Bonne nuit, M. Lupin.”

“Bonne nuit.” Remus nodded at him, then looked away towards the water.

When he turned his head the stranger was gone, Apparated somewhere no doubt. Remus yawned, suddenly caring very little for Continental packages or top-secret pick-ups. Three days on Order business, no proper meals, very little sleep; even his clothes, hidden under a wizard’s cloak but still Muggle out of necessity, were irritating him.
He closed his eyes. He could Apparate to the doorstep of Grimmauld Place, be far removed from this French port that smelled of fish in a mere instant.

Or... he could do better than that.

He was tired, exhausted, beyond that. He was tired enough to project his magic around him in a palpable cloud. Concentrating, he drew it in and focused it. The wards around Grimmauld Place were impenetrable… almost. He could feel them from where he stood; best to avoid them and just Apparate into the street. But he was so tired, and he wanted Sirius so much, and he could feel it, feel him, and that was his magic, his and Sirius’s, bound together, protecting the old house, and he was far gone enough to just go with the flow, follow and find the breaks in the lines of the world, and his eyes were tightly closed.

He didn’t open them again, but he knew he was in the kitchen. Sirius leapt up from the table, caught him before he fell, and although Molly was clucking in the background, held him, kissed him, whispered, “I missed you.”

Remus opened his eyes for just one moment. “Je suis desolé,” he whispered back, and closed them again, ready to fall asleep in Sirius’s arms on the kitchen floor.
Molly was still clucking, but her maternal instincts were kicking in. “Get him off the floor, for heaven’s sake! I don’t know what Dumbledore was thinking, sending him off in the back of beyond with no-one to look after him properly, hasn’t had a good meal in days I’ll wager...”

Roughly, Sirius manhandled Remus into a chair, abruptly embarrassed by any show of emotion. Conscious of his awkwardness, Tonks was carefully averting her eyes, and after a minute she got up to close the door. The children were still awake in their various parts of the house and could look in at any moment.

The moment was passing. A second later, Remus’s eyes opened fully; he was tired but lucid and Sirius felt the atmosphere subtly change. With a bump, he let his body flow down from the chair and pulled Remus with him so they were entangled on the floor. Molly sighed, grabbed Tonks’ arm and headed towards the door. Before she closed it behind them, she took the opportunity to give Sirius the sternest of glares. “I don’t know what you think you’re playing at,” she said, “but for heaven’s sake get it over with and let Remus get some sleep.”

Remus ignored her. He was looking up at Sirius. “You didn’t have to wait up for me.”
“Yeah, I did.” Sirius was emphatic.

“Padfoot” – how long, too long, since he’d used the nickname – “what is it?”

Sirius looked at him straight in the eyes. “Do you remember that night?”

Remus wanted to ask which night, when, which night out of so many nights, nights of love and hate and blood and fur, but the dim lantern light threw his thoughts into sharp clarity and he knew which night. “The last night.”

“Yeah... before I left, when you gave me my coat... do you remember?”

A word so soft it was barely spoken. “Yes.”

“I wanted to tell you... something.” He stopped, and didn’t seem able to speak. Slowly, Remus stood up and threw his wizard’s cloak off his shoulders. Underneath it, he was wearing a leather trench coat. Sirius reached for it slowly, wonderingly, and pulled at it, pulled Remus closer, and seemed able to speak again. “You were standing there by the table, you were clearing up… and you looked so beautiful and I loved you so much.”

Remus sat still for a few moments. Sirius looked at him, through him, along the soft lines of his face and hair, trying to see the twelve lost years on him.

When Remus spoke, it was in the half-light of dreams. “Plus ca change, c’est la meme chose.”

><><><><

The sun shone down on the Muggle street, softly illuminating Harry Potter walking down it, with the Dursley family trailing in his wake.

None of them turned to look back, not even Harry, so none of them saw Remus Lupin slip back into King’s Cross station. Turning round, he realised that as he had been watching Harry, he had been being watched himself. Molly Weasley was standing next to him, her eyes running over him in silent scrutiny, and Remus was surprised to see the concern in her expression.

“Remus,” said Molly quietly. “How long until the full moon?”

“Just a few days,” he admitted. He hadn’t been thinking about it, he realised with a jerk. It was never far from his thoughts, but today was different. This was the first time in a long while that something else had driven it out so thoroughly and completely. The thought made him feel oddly human.

Someone had overheard their beginnings of a conversation. Mad-Eye Moody seemed ready to say something. He opened his mouth a few times, like a codfish, then apparently changed his mind and moved off towards the Weasley twins. In the end, it was Molly who spoke next. “Remus?”

“Yes?”

“Are you... are you taking your... you know, your potion? Wolfsbane?”

Remus smiled. “Yes. Having Severus Snape in the Order of the Phoenix is beneficial in one way at least.”

The question was being asked on Moody’s behalf. Moody would trust anyone Dumbledore trusted, but his ever-increasing paranoia meant that having an obviously Dark creature in the Order grated on his battle-scarred nerves. Remus’s outwardly quiet demeanour only served to unnerve the Auror further. Remus had never felt particularly threatened. It was worth it, he’d decided, to see Mad-Eye at a loss.

“It’s just...” Molly went on, with difficulty. “It’s just... you have forgotten before, and... well, you know what happened...”

“I won’t forget,” Remus promised her, but she didn’t seem quite content. He waited for her to speak again, and when she did it was with further trepidation. “You know when you transform?”

“Yes,” said Remus slowly.

“You might be alone this time, because of... well, you know… and I just wondered... will you be all right?”

Remus gazed at her steadily. “When Sirius was in Azkaban,” he said quietly, “I survived one hundred and forty-four transformations alone. I think I can manage one more.”

Molly smiled at him, but didn’t speak. As she turned away to tend to her family, Remus realised Moody must have heard what he’d said as well. Neither of them had noticed the significance in his last remark. Molly would never suspect such a thing, and Moody was so much on his guard for the darkness out there that he never thought to look for the darkness within.

When he got back to Grimmauld Place, he sat on the floor and stared at the wall and waited for the knock at the door. It came exactly on time; Snape was nothing if not punctual. But when Remus looked opened the door and looked out, he was gone. The only evidence for his presence was a smoking goblet on the floor.

Remus stared at it with a kind of amused bitternesss. For the use of Dumbledore’s pet werewolf...

He lifted the goblet.

And dropped it.

It smashed on the ground, the smoking liquid gushing over his bare feet. Calmly, he stepped back, reached for his wand and muttered, “Reparo.” The goblet was in one piece again, but the potion was gone, swiftly trickling away and evaporating. He smiled.

It wasn’t the only time he did it. Molly made him eat and sleep, the twins made him smile on occasion with their latest inventions, and even Snape was heard to remark he seemed almost heartless in his determination to be unaffected. He only smiled.

On the night of the full moon, he placed the required charms on the door and went to do the same for the windows. The clouds were shifting; there wasn’t much time left. Taking a step back, he whispered the charms and then put down the wand just as his ragged fingernails started curling into claws.

><><><><

Late in the summer, early in the evening, Dumbledore came to collect the parcel. He found Remus standing in the front doorway, leaning against the frame. The pale warm light was illuminating one side of his face, letting soft shadows form around his eyes. Those eyes, almond-shaped amber, were burning with the feverish light that bespoke a soaring body temperature and accompanying latent anger: this is your fault this is your fault this is your fault.

“Remus, you did well.” Dumbledore’s voice was soft. “Thank you.”

Remus nodded and turned away, walking quietly and swiftly around the house and into the garden. He didn’t wait to see what Dumbledore would do, ignoring him completely as he moved away. In the dying light, Molly was tending the flowerbeds and Ron and Hermione were sitting at the edge of the lawn, idly pulling up daisies and talking.
They didn’t notice him. He lay down in the overhanging shade of a tree, staring up at the sky, conscious of the long grass beneath him. It was cool to the touch and pleasant in contrast to the heat of his skin. His lips were slightly parted, his breathing audible, and he knew that perhaps, maybe, he wasn’t quite in his right mind.

A flock of swallows was winging by overhead, black against the colours of the sky, and he followed their flight with his eyes until they were out of sight. Soon it would be getting dark. Already, he could see a glimmer of cold white light in the overgrown bushes. Fireflies. Small stars, beautiful like the ones slipping out from behind the horizon.

There were footsteps. His hearing was sharper than most; he heard the soft rustling of the grass as someone came up behind him. He turned to see him sitting there, watching him with eyes that gave away nothing.

Remus sighed deeply. “Hello, Harry.”

“Professor Lupin.” It was a formal mode of address delivered in a formal tone of voice, but Remus didn’t comment on it.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Okay.” Harry wasn’t looking at him; eyes on the ground, he was methodically shredding pieces of grass.

“Yeah?” Remus smiled suddenly. “You’re okay? You do know it’s all right not to be?”

“Well, is it all right just to be okay?” Harry was staring at him now, exuding teenage defensiveness.

“Of course. What’s not okay is lying to me.”

“I’m not lying to you!”

“Never said you were.” Remus could feel something, and he was surprised. Feeling… feeling was good. It meant no numbness. It meant he felt free. “It’s just that if my godfather had died a couple of months ago, I wouldn’t be okay at all. Far from it.”
“Professor, with all due respect...” Harry was staring straight at him.

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” Remus asked, and shook himself inwardly. He was being cruel, he knew, playing the clueless stranger with aplomb; but he was no stranger to grief.

“Please” – and Harry almost sounded guilty – “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“About what? Sirius? His being dead?”

“Shut up!” Harry yelled, and Ron and Hermione looked round. At the foot of the garden, Molly was beginning to move towards them.

Remus decided to cut to the chase. “What did you say?”

Harry was standing up, standing over him, hands on hips. “You don’t know what it’s like!”

Some of the pretend anger mutated into reality. Remus was on his feet before he knew it; eyes flashing, head thrown back, he said quietly, “I don’t know what it feels like?”

Harry was silent for the moment, still glaring, still furious.

“Harry.” Remus’s voice was gentle again; no anger, just the parry and thrust of revelation. “I loved Sirius. I loved him. In every single way. Do you understand me?”

Harry merely stared at him. Molly was getting closer by the second, getting ready to jump in...

There was a breathless silence. And then the plaintive voice of a child confused: “Professor Lupin?”

Remus held up one hand. “Stop, Harry. I’m not your teacher. I’m not your godfather. I don’t even think I’m your friend, not at the moment.”

And then the charade was over, the game played out; all that was left was a simple admission. “But I’d like to be.”

Harry stood there for a moment, swaying slightly. Then he said, “I’d like that, too.”

Remus smiled. Behind him, Molly Weasley undertook a sharp U-turn and careered into Ron and Hermione coming the other way.

Harry and Remus didn’t notice. They walked together towards the house.

Remus didn’t speak for a moment, and when he did, it was in a quiet voice coming from far away. “When you were James’s son, Lily’s baby, Sirius’s godson, I had no claim on you.”

Harry didn’t speak.

“And now,” Remus said, still looking out from some distance behind his own eyes, “I still don’t. But you loved Sirius, and so did I, and well, maybe that’s a start.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

And in the sunlight and silence, it was enough.

><><><><

Remus strode through the house, cloak flying out behind him, feeling younger. At his right side was the Boy Who Lived.

They crossed the hallway, keeping step with each other, sending the dust motes whirling. The evening sunlight was scattering in every direction and the portrait had been taken down.

Hermione opened the front door and laughed at the sight of them. “Harry! Where did you get that? Camden Market?”

Remus smiled. “Originally,” he said quietly.

Harry shook his head at Hermione, not understanding. “Moony gave it to me,” he said shyly, turning around. The soft leather coat flowed around him, enveloping him in its familiar smell. He rubbed it between his fingers, enjoying the feel of it, and looked up at Hermione. “What do you think?”

She grinned. “It suits you.”

It did. He twirled again, with more confidence this time, and the coat flew out in a large flat whirl. Remus smiled again. “You remind me…”

“Of Sirius?” Harry’s eyes were shining.

“And myself,” Remus told him. “When we were younger.”

“Is that a good thing?” Harry asked, laughing.

“Yes,” said Remus seriously, and then he was laughing too, caught up in the moment.
Hermione giggled, grabbed Harry’s hands and spun round, letting herself be catapulted through the door. “See you later!” she called as she disappeared.
In her wake she left silence, charged with sunlight and sweetness. Harry looked up at Remus, and apropos of nothing: “You must have really loved him.”

Remus looked back, taking in the light and the leather and those green eyes. “I did,” he said, and was horrified to feel tears in his own eyes. “I really did.”

“That’s why you gave me the coat,” Harry said, and it wasn’t a question. He skipped to the door, still smiling, and was gone.

Remus settled himself by the window. He watched the Order coming through the garden, listened to the sounds of talking and laughter and the hiss and sizzle of cooking in the house behind him, and rubbed two fingertips over his eyes.

It was a couple of minutes before he noticed Molly standing in the doorway and looked up. “Oh...”

She didn’t say anything for the moment, coming to sit beside him. He moved to make room for her and was surprised to feel her hands in his. He opened his palms to see the tissues. “I’m sorry,” he said, and when after using the tissues the tears wouldn’t stop, “I shouldn’t be... oh, fuck.”

Her eyebrows raised, and Remus remembered something. “Sirius,” he said incoherently. “Sirius... used to like to make me swear.” He took a shuddering breath, and went on, “Looks like he’s still doing it.” The tissue was already shredded. “Fuck.”

“Remus.” Molly gently pushed his hair out of his eyes, using the moment to look after him the way she did Harry and the other children. She let the touch linger, making sure he was able to listen. “My mum used to say that tears for mourning are bitter, salty; but not tears for love. Without the hurt and the bitterness, tears for love are sweet...” Her voice was tailing off, but Remus heard the whisper, “It’s going to be all right.”

Outside, Harry, Ron and Hermione were running down the path towards the street, shouting and laughing. Tonks was coming the other way, shouting good-naturedly back at them, and Moody was looking ready to commit murder for the flagrant lack of paranoia all around.

Remus took a deep breath and licked the salt from his lips. The sun was setting, but the darkness was a long, long way off.

finis

Comments

[arianwen.livejournal.com]

I have no idea how long I just sat here and read that for, but it was captivating. I loved it. The style of writing was beautiful to read and held my interest over quite a few pages!
Wonderful.
Cassie x

[arianwen.livejournal.com]

And by 'quite a few pages', what I meant was, usually fanfiction bores me after about 20 lines, so that was incredible. :D
Cassie x

[loneraven.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much. I'm very glad to hear you enjoyed it (and that it held your attention!).

[hathy-col.livejournal.com]

*speechless*

Bloody. Wonderful. Perfect Sunday afternoon reading, and I will save it and re-read this one. Repeatedly. Beautiful.

I should say more, but I can't find the words nearly as well as you so gorgeously did in this fic. Bravo indeed.

[loneraven.livejournal.com]

*blushes* Squee. Thank you. You've made me all floopy. :)

[werewolfsfan.livejournal.com]

Wow!

As much as I love the HP series, my favorite characters are the adults. I adore Remus, Molly and Arthur, Mad Eye, Minerva, ect. I love your use of Molly in this story.