"How happy is the blameless vestal's lot! / The world forgetting, by the world forgot / Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! / Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd." –Alexander Pope
This fic, for better or for worse, was inspired by Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. It is a one-shot and it is angst to what could be an extreme. Consider yourself warned.
This also contains slash (SBRL).
I do not own Eloisa to Abelard, the plot of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, or Harry Potter.
the office of Albus Dumbledore, 1989, in silence or something similar
"Remus," he says and the younger man looks up, miserable.
The light from the sunset casts ugly shadows across the almost thirty two year old and the elder is quiet, waiting, and he should know and probably does that he's not going to get a response until he starts pushing because pushing is what Remus needs. Albus folds his hands and watches with a mix of regret and envy as young, smooth hands bury themselves into brown hair that's streaked with gray that doesn't come with age but with pain and monsters.
"You came here for a reason, did you not?" he asks and tired hazel eyes rise slowly to look miserably into his and it's the first time since the moment of his arrival that Remus has been able to match his gaze.
"I did," the werewolf whispers and there is a tense silence because they both know why and one isn't ready to acknowledge it yet and the other is kind, so he'll allow the final preparation.
There is silence and memories are dancing in the dust and Remus is steadfast in his desire to pretend they aren't there and it's one of those things, something similar to weakness but not quite, because, Albus thinks, the poor boy's survived this long, hasn't he?
"I need you to do something for me," Remus finally says, his eyes darting for a split second to an empty frame beside Albus' desk and they both know what he's thinking and the headmaster is glad he asked Phineas to leave because this is hard enough on Remus already and the other former masters of the school look away in what could be respect, but just as easily be revulsion. There is a silence.
"What?" Albus prompts softly and a dark look settles on the boy's-man's face and he suddenly knows that for all his denials, Remus is just as dangerous as everyone thinks he is. Or rather, he could be, if he wanted to and right now Albus got the distinct feeling that he wants to and badly.
"I want…" Remus breaks off and leans forward, nearly putting his head between his knees as he lets out a ragged, desperate breath and Albus thinks, is this what it's come to? Young, so young, and so destroyed was the once brilliant and somewhat happy Remus Lupin and, the old man chuckles, because that was the very thing he had been trying so hard to protect him from in the first place by allowing the boy-the werewolf-to come to Hogwarts at all.
"I want…" he repeats in the air between them and, though Albus knows, he wants to hear Remus say it, to admit just what it is he thinks he needs.
Then, suddenly, he looks up and there's a buzzing sort of quiet, as though Remus knows that Albus knows and they both know he has to speak the words out loud to make them real. There's a shuddering breath and then:
"I want to forget."
Albus smiles slowly.
"Do you?"
Remus has never taken well to mocking words, nor is he a fan of Albus' brand of incognito humor, so he glares in reply, "I do not want those memories, Dumbledore, and all I'm asking is that you remove them."
"You don't want these memories?" the headmaster repeats softly and regards Remus quizzically over half moon glasses. The werewolf is silent and there are muscles working in his jaw and really, there needs to be more movement here. More pushing.
"No," Remus says through his teeth and Albus smiles again just to irritate the boy further. Young, yes, and temper mental. He needs to see passed his own pain and rage to understand the truth. He may claim he knows what he wants, but Albus knows what Remus needs because once upon a time, Albus was Remus. More or less.
More silence, no movement and Remus is quiet, waiting and Albus is thoughtful because this is becoming delicate and Remus is proving more difficult, or thick, or both, than he thought.
"Want," the old man whispers, his voice gentle, understanding now, "Such a simple concept really, but people make it so complicated. You want something, yes, but for most simply knowing that is not enough. It becomes an obsession and we both know how dangerous obsession is," there is an awkward pause, then: "I myself could care less about want. For most, including me, it is a weakness. It is a pointless emotion that runs outside what we need to survive. I deal only in need, because it is what we need that sustains us."
Remus is looking nervous now and Albus swears he sees a hint of regret in his face, but it's gone as quickly as it came because the boy doesn't understand yet and, as the man, it is his duty to teach. Or something.
"So, you say you don't want the memories," Albus continues and there's a spark of understanding and then Remus looks angry.
"What are you suggesting?"
"Ask again, Remus, and change your words."
The boy's mouth opens, slowly at first, and then he closes it quickly as though in conflict. He is choking on the words and Albus sees it, so he stops pushing because he's made his point.
There is silence again and Albus remembers.
--
hogsmeade village, 1978, in love or something ridiculously similar
He watches them, two boys, standing on the edge of a tiny drop off and staring at their mutual sorrow through a snow flurry. There is no misery, however, especially since the taller one has an arm around the slighter one's shoulders and there is companionship in their body language, along with the trust and close relative of love's that he envied.
They are young and foolish and they think they are each other's destiny.
Watching them, Albus thinks and wonders: are they right?
Black hair flies into Sirius Black's face and Remus Lupin pushes it away with a mitten clad hand and the former smiles like he'd just been given the greatest gift in the world. Remus melts, like he always does, under the look.
"Careful, Black," he says, softly, almost shy despite their six years and counting of friendship, "People will think you've gone soft, wearing looks like that. Or daft. Or both."
Sirius snorts and turns his eyes back on the blurred outlines of the decrepit building Albus himself had ordered built and there is another pause, a darker one, and the atmosphere changes so quickly the old man does a double take. He watches as the gloved fingers of the tall boy tighten convulsively on Remus' shoulder and the smaller boy freezes and all three of them are thinking the same thing. It is Remus, however unexpectedly, who voices it.
"Things are going to change."
There is a break in everything, then Sirius speaks with reckless abandon, "They can try."
"Sirius."
One word and the taller, beautiful boy is infuriated. He spins, grabs hold of Remus' shoulders almost violently, and drags him so close the lines are blurred and Albus can't tell from his perch if they are two people or one individual formed by this thing that is so powerful, yet so fragile and Albus wonders, is it love?
"Do not say it again," Sirius seethes and Remus, the old man realizes with shock and horror and just a little bit of jealousy, is crying, "Don't."
But the brunette is shaking his head and there is desperation in those tears, "Sirius, I can't do this to you."
He's a self serving little imbecile who does not realize what he has and Albus spares a brief second of hatred for the boy for throwing it aside so carelessly.
"You're right," Sirius' entire being is shaking so hard it's liable to come apart and Albus twitches his beard aside and shifts against the tree he's found perch in to lean closer, to properly hear better, because this, these two, have always fascinated him. "You can't do this to me. You can't leave me."
And Remus lets loose a frightened sob and there is a hesitation there and his resolve is already weakening and this is an old argument, "I'm asking you to leave me," he whimpers and Albus' breath hitches as he understands because before he had been so consumed by envy he hadn't let his thoughts move passed the relationship itself and into the future poor Remus Lupin is doomed to.
Not self serving, he's self sacrificing, Albus Dumbledore, you're old and jealous of the young and in love.
Sirius leans forward, resting his forehead against Remus' and they are breathing in unison and the werewolf makes one final, pathetic plea, "I love you."
And his lover nods, slowly, sadly, "Which is precisely why I refuse to leave you, the rest of the world be damned."
And they look at each other.
And Albus Dumbledore walks away, tired of watching what he wanted so badly for himself.
--
the office of Albus Dumbledore, 1989, and there are tears once again
Remus buries his head in his hands and sobs, "You're right."
And his old friend nods slowly and folds his fingers under his chin and there is a sniffle, a hiccup, and then the boy-man, is getting to his feet.
"I'm sorry I bothered you," he's not bothering to hide the tears, "It was wrong of me."
"No," Albus shakes his head, "You are young yet."
Another silence, more pregnant than the last, and then Remus murmurs, "Do you think I will ever be free of him?"
The old man is quiet because the truth is, he is wondering the same thing, wishing there is hope for the boy where there wasn't for him. Remus waits a moment then assumes he isn't going to get his answer and turns towards the door. Albus lets out his breath.
"You want, Remus," and he turns back on his heel to stare, "You want so much you ignore what you need."
Remus shuts the door behind him and Albus is left with memories dancing in the dust and he knows there is no hope for either of them and really, that was the way they needed it.
Fin.