A/N:
For what seems like forever now, I've been trying to think of a way to capture the immense sadness of the marauders' tale and I've been doing one shots such as From Yesterday and The Night it All Began as attempts to write a super tear jerker fic, but I haven't succeeded. I'm not sure if I've succeeded with this one, but all joking aside, this is the only fic I've ever written that had me close to tears as I was writing it. So I'm hoping for the best.
And I'm saying please, please read to the end, because I actually really like this fic, and I think it'll be worth it. Put on some sad, nostalgic music while you're reading, if it'll help.
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Marauder
(By TasteOfCinnamon)
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Once there were four,
Four beating hearts, four devious minds,
Four sets of paws, claws, and hooves
Four sets of tracks in the snow,
Four detentions served on long lonely nights,
Four empty mugs of butterbeer,
Sheets in a dormitory,
Bespeaking only four.
They lived in a castle far, far away, in a realm of magic where everything was possible and everything was meant to be explored. But they weren't perfect, no. Far from it.
The stag found himself in a predicament; he had to choose between hate and love for a certain emerald eyed beauty, and either way he felt at a loss.
He ran from his heart.
The dog hated his family, and hated his blood, and wanted nothing to do with those who called out to him and tried to teach him how to be.
He ran from his heritage.
The wolf suffered from monthly pains, hideous, excruciating transformations that wracked his body and never allowed for recovery.
He ran from himself.
The rat never felt he was good enough, never felt handsome enough or strong enough or that he mattered enough and he always, always, always wanted to be somebody.
He ran from scrutiny.
Somehow these four runners, stag, dog, wolf, and rat managed to converge and come together to make each other strong and brave and whole, so that no one who beheld them could believe that they were ever weak and seeking.
And whoever thought that a stag, a dog, a wolf, and a rat couldn't possibly become friends was proved so terribly, terribly wrong. And the castle was a playground, a jungle meant to be explored, it's every passageway mapped out, it's every facet discovered and laid out to map.
Everyday, the stag would say to the dog, "What shall we explore today, good friend?"
And the dog would turn to the wolf and say "I'm up for anything, and you?"
And the wolf would smile and say to the rat, "It's your turn."
And the rat would shrug his shoulders, give a lopsided grin, and declare, "Why not I just close my eyes and point?"
So they did, and every day led to a new adventure, and every night they would fall into bed dreaming of tomorrow and tomorrow's adventures. Their professors would smile at them and whisper about how one day they could change the world, and their comrades lived in envious admiration of who they were. They were everything, all any could ever hope to be. Happy, looked up to, capable of anything.
Untouchable.
Years passed, and the stag chose love over hate, won the fiery temptress with a light of her own. The dog cut off, tore off, ripped off all that bound him to those he hated and those he could never escape until that moment. The wolf transcended above, proved himself despite his demons, managed to define himself as human.
Only the rat, watching as his companions grew great and moved forward, sank backwards in his self doubt, his timidness. Only the rat was left behind, struggling to catch up, to find a way to achieve, to find any way to achieve.
No one ever imagined the lengths he would go to. Not even himself.
Then there were three,
Three who mourned the loss of Rat,
Watched him drift apart,
Watched him fall apart,
Wept silently, shoulders strong,
Sat brooding over cider,
Reminiscing of Yesterday,
One night the rat dreamed of eyes. Red, cold red eyes that bore into his soul and an icy shrill voice that laughed at him as he watched his friends, stag, dog, and wolf become heroes. And he sobbed and called out to them to wait, but they didn't hear, or wouldn't hear. Or just didn't care any longer for poor, misguided Rat.
He woke then, poor, lonely Rat, and he saw before him the stuff of nightmares. And he felt sure he would die.
The snake, the owner of those cold red eyes, frightened him. He was scared, trembling. But then…the eyes softened and the snake began to croon.
"Come with me," he said, "Join me, and I will make you strong. Stronger than the pathetic fool you are now. More powerful than the worthless pitiful creature you've always been. Everything, I can give to you. Everything."
And the rat longed. He longed for that "everything", that power, that strength that only Snake could give him. He wanted with all he had, was willing to give up everything to become great like Stag, Dog, and Wolf. And so he uttered a single word, unclenched his shaking jaw and uttered a single word:
"How?"
And the snake smiled, bared his white shining teeth and smiled. And he showed him.
Stag, knew that he was as good as dead the moment he saw Snake walking toward him, smiling a cold, dark smile. He knew Rat had betrayed him and he knew that he would never live to hate him, or ask him why. He gritted his teeth and fought as hard as he could, but it was over in a flash of green light.
Before his eyes closed and his breath escaped his lips, the stag thought of his wife and his baby, his little baby boy now doomed to grow up without a father. His wife and son that he had died for and would die for again. And he remembered Dog and Wolf, knowing how this would pain them, how they would weep for him, and he shut his eyes tight and thought over and over again in his head,
"I'm sorry."
Then there were two,
Two who mourned noble stag in solitary,
Separated by walls of concrete,
Ocean waves; deception,
Longing with everything for everything,
Things that had once been,
And would never be again
They met one warm summer night, one warm calm summer night. And the wolf cringed at the sight of his friend aged so, hallowed so. He had been so beautiful, so strong, so noble. What had happened?
The dog, after a distance of thirteen years, looked at his friend. And he remembered. Remembered Stag, great, beautiful Stag, and small, timid, amiable Rat, and he sobbed because he knew, he knew what had been lost, what could never be retrieved.
They embraced then and there in the dusty cabin that had been the cradle of so many memories. They shared in that musty room, the shack that was stilljust the way they had left it, showing for the passage of years only dust.
And they found each other, two silent wanderers. Dreamers, of times better. And hopers, always hopers. Armed themselves and prepared to fight against the darkness. Finally managed to find some inkling of happiness after years of sorrow and pain. Friends always, and friends forever. And Stag, somewhere drifting…he too was welcomed into their circle. He was watching, smiling. Rat too, was watching, the old Rat, the Rat that would never betray, the Rat that had run beside them on clear starry nights, paws brushing the earth, ears perked, eager for adventure.
For the first time in so, so long, they were almost four.
But before they could enjoy, before they could reassemble, in stepped snake, slithering, red eyed monster, not satisfied for the two he had already taken.
Dog, fighting nobly, as he fell thought only of Stag. Of Stag, of Wolf, and of small, timid Rat. Of their castle and their secret tunnels, secret rooms, and secret journeys. Of laughter, song, and how that could never be again. He thought of Wolf, doomed now to wander alone, doomed to solitary howling to the full, cold moon, and he wept for clever, devious Wolf, and wished he could be there while he sorrowed, just to keep him company.
And he fell, apart from Stag, Wolf, and Rat. Alone.
And then remained one,
One wanderer, one resounding howl
On cool, full moon nights,
One lonely weeper, bearing pain for four,
Wishing, wishing,
But knowing that he was lonesome,
Always would be lonesome,
Doomed now to laugh
Only in dream
He sat, quiet, softspoken Wolf, alone while the rain beat at his windows. In the room adjacent he could hear the weeping and sobbing of the others that had known Dog, and had loved Dog, and who lamented his loss.
But Wolf mourned alone. Who could understand him? Who could feel also just how he felt, the depths of his pain? They sorrowed, yes, but they had lost little compared to him, Wolf, who had lost the world.
He didn't believe, couldn't believe what had become of Stag, Dog, and Rat. Who would have guessed? And he tried as hard as he could, strained to be able to feel the presences of his friends around him, comforting him and telling him that he was alright, that they would be there for him always.
But he couldn't.
All he felt was emptiness, cool, hard emptiness. Vacuum. Space where once had been warmth, and companionship, and laughter. Echoes where once had sounded the voices of his comrades, now gone forever, never to return again.
And Wolf didn't know if even death would reunite them. If anything would again. He knew he would give anything, everything, to be able to return to their castle, his friends, laughter and jokes. To return to Yesterday, when he'd had it all. To escape from the lonesome nightmare that had become his life. So he hoped, and mourned, because that was all he could do.
To those who saw him he was still quiet, softspoken, clever Wolf, as he'd always been. They thought he'd taken the loss well, that he didn't let it get him down. He tried to live up to that, tried all he could. He laughed, and expressed his hopes. Felt his life slowly returning to normal.
But when it rained, all he could remember were wet stormy days in their castle far away, games of cards and chess and cozy red chairs, warm crackling fires that dried their rain-soaked clothes and mugs of butterbeer that calmed their souls.
When it snowed, all he could think about was snow fights and snowmen, and the one Dog had one charmed to look like a teacher. Red and gold scarves and a hall decorated in tinsel, stars, and mistletoe. Christmas dinner sizzling in silver platters, the chatter and laughter of those who partook.
And once a month when the moon waxed to its max and triggered changes in his body he had despised, then looked forward to, and then despised once more, wolf recalled the long, wonderful nights he had spent roaming with Stag, Dog, and Rat, the secret tunnels they had discovered, the secret tunnels they had vowed to someday return to and discover. Starry skies that beamed down upon them as they ran together, pulses racing, paws and hooves striking the earth in unison, living in the moment, all else forgotten.
And every full moon, Wolf, his mind's eye full of memories, his soul weeping silently, downs his potion in three swallows and curls about himself in the corner of his bedroom.
Alone.
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A/N:
Disclaimer: there is no slash other otherwise same-sex pairing, or any intended hint of slash in any of this. I'm hoping it doesn't seem like slash, but…some people take things the wrong way.
So what's the verdict? How many tissues did you go through, if any? Tell me, tell me! The review box is calling. (:
Oh, and a bit of a post script: I was reading and re-editing From Yesterday and I said to myself "Oh my god, this take on Remus' life is completely opposite the one in Marauder!" and I spent a few minutes wondering how I could've written two opposing stories. So, another shameless advertisement: Read From Yesterday, too! It's nostalgic, as well. More sad acceptance/reminiscing and less angsty than this one.
And, when you're done, tell me which take you liked better or believed more; I'm curious.