Wolf: whel`lp, It's my second fic. *Grins happily * well, at least under
this name.. Anyway, I hope you like it. The beginning quote is from "The
Crucible" when Abigail is talking to John Proctor. We were reading it in
class and when we read this part it just hit me that it was perfect for
Remus! Now, if I can just get this to be a little more.um.. Better (?) than
my last.. The last quote is from.well, it has something to do with the
title, you tell me ^_~
Note: This is somewhat related to Thank You, so I guess it could another chapter, but it's going under its own title. Forgive the odd language usage in the beginning, I'm never quite sure how to start stories engagingly.
Plea: REVIEW, my beloved readers! My muse so thrives upon it that it does ache to see so few responses.
Disclaimer: not mine, no, not mine. If it were mine Remus would have a much larger part and Sirius would still be here. J.K. Rowling owns it all, and now she has a house in the Alps, I bet. ^_^ Good woman, she.
Along this Road
By: Wolf of Hallow Shadows
A Rem/ Siri fic
~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~
I cannot Sleep for Dreaming;
I cannot Dream but I Wake
And Walk about the house as though I'd Find you
Coming through some Door.
~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~
In the twilight hours, neigh upon the morning, as the waning moon slid gently from the heavens to her silver palace, so did the world so hushed and quiet sleep that Dreams were muffled in their passing, and all but one were so soundly slept that the dawn had no fear of waking them. But in this hour, as the sun rose faintly 'pon the mornings cheeks, one man stirred, his slumber broken by a willful haunt.
Remus J. Lupin, entangled in his sheets, was listening. In his mind a faint voice rose, to call him from a darkness that surrounded him in an expanse of black. Following the small cry, he came upon a door, looming large and sudden out of the haze that blinded him. The door was tall, an expensive wood that smelled like oak and mahogany, and the brass knob, glinting with an unknown light, reflected his eyes and threw into contrast his own amber gaze. Lifting a slight hand, he pulled cautiously on the handle. The door slid soundlessly by on invisible hinges. Remus paused for a moment, hesitant of entering the dark doorway, then glided as soundlessly threw as a breath of wind. With a small click of the lock, the door shut behind him. Remus was in a hallway he did not recognize, but was haunted by a sense of familiarity that he could not place. The dingy walls and gray carpets were blurred in the half -light, out of focus in the way that Remus could not seem to look at one spot for too long before it seemed to become nothing but a patch of gray upon gray. No sounds came from the walls, and no door lead off save the one he had come through. It seemed to stretch on and on, and Lupin was filled with the urge to find the end, or else die gray, dingy death. He chose a direction, feeling that it mattered not which way he went, and walked for a while. But the hall just went on, as gray and nondescript as before. Panic welled from the pit of his stomach, and he started to jog, lightly, then a bit faster. Soon he was in an all out run, his breath ragged and his legs aching but still the hall would not change, would not end, but still he ran, for hours, days, years. Time ceased to exist, and it felt like a minute had become an eternity. These walls, these gray and dingy, hazy walls, would he be trapped here for ever, doomed to-
A sudden sound and he stopped. Thinking he had gone mad from fear, he waited, ears ready to receive any sound of life, or anything at all apart from his own, ragged breath and pounding heart. For a moment all was silent, the gray walls seemingly absorbing even the very life within his body, and then.
Rem.
It was the same call that had brought him to this place, out of the dark expanse of Nothing. Confused and blinded by the gray, Remus had no choice but to follow this small hope, a familiar voice that hung on the edge of his memory. He continued forward, his feet moving unconsciously, his eyes straining. Was that light ahead? A faint flutter of hope, he knew, but still. As he moved, it became clearer, a small light ahead, and becoming larger with each step. Soon he could see the end of the hall. A light, wrought iron painted black like an old street lamp, was perched on the wall, its flame glittering faintly, casting shadows. A door of dark, purple wood and gold inlays was there, the handle gleaming in the flickering light of the flame. The walls here melted from dingy gray to burgundy red; black rose vine wallpaper making their way up to a wooded ceiling, or trendiling down to plush, red carpets. It was familiar to the man, not so much how it looked, but the feeling that it gave, like a warm embrace, familiar and safe. Turning, he looked back, but the dreaded hall was lost in shadows to him, and he faced the door with a longing he had not realized was there until this very moment.
Briefly Remus crossed his hand over his eyes, feeling the sweat of fear and something indescribable there, so strong that he could almost taste it in the air and deep in his lungs, clinging to his heart like a terrible weight. On the other side of the door lay something he desperately wanted, something he needed, someone.. With trepidation, he pulled on the handle. The door gave way as easily as the one before, and now he was blinded by a light that streamed forth so bright it cut off all senses.
Rem.
The voice was strong, next to him, and Rem dared open his eyes briefly against the shining. He felt arms, strong and familiar, wrap around him and gasped. His love, dark and tall, was there, holding him, and the feelings that had built up for the longest time burst through. Throwing his arms around him, he grasped his love and kissed him, passionate and wild. The other gave in, gentle as he had always been, soothing away all the fears and sorrows that had weighed Rems' heart down for what felt like an eternity. Rem wanted to melt right there, become nothing and be absorbed by his love. He didn't want the kiss to end, but he could feel him pulling away. Despite his best efforts, his love was slipping away, and the light was fading. Rem, in his sudden despair of finding those strong, gentle, loving arms disappearing cried out-
~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~
"Sirius!"
Flailing limbs entangled by sheets clinging to their sweating skin pulled Remus up from his bed. Gasping and out of breath, the werewolf was suddenly aware that he had cried aloud, the echo of his voice coming back to his own ears. Light was streaming through his open window, the summer breezes lifting the old, faded lace curtains up and out gently. In his four- post bed, the man took in the morning scene, peaceful and familiar, but doing nothing to quell the fear and sadness in his heart. Shifting on the bed, he unwrapped himself from the covers, pulling on robes, the color of broken plant-pots, and found his wand. He was shaking again, that feeling like a great chasm had torn itself through him once more taking over the parts of him that he was sure could never be healed. In his small house he was alone. Wandering from the bedroom, he made his way to the kitchen down the short hall. Walls, gray and dingy like the old robes or discarded rags that littered the floor, greeted him, their every flaw visible in the sun that was pouring through the broken shutters and grimy windows. Putting on a pot of water to boil, Remus threw himself into a dilapidated old chair, metal protesting under his almost nonexistent weight. In his robes, which had once fitted him, he now looked like a haggard dog; ribs protruded from draw-out skin like a wax-paper wrapping over wooden frame, fragile and looking to the point of falling in. His spine was visible when he bent forward, and his eyes seemed too large for his face. His mouth, drawn and bitter, was set in a distressed line, and his hair, once golden in color and only lightly peppered in gray, now looked white and thin, and in desperate need of a trim.
In his chair, Remus sat, exhausted from the lack of sleep. Every night, the same dream came. First the fear, then the hope, then the joy and once more the sorrow and fear. And every morning the same as well. But this morning, it was worse.
Yesterday had been the last day of his latest job; the notice of his termination had come the day before by owl. Despite his best efforts, Lupin just couldn't keep up to the demands of working anymore. Now, alone, with no money and no job, Remus had come to the end of his line. He no longer wished to try, had given up, on even the semblance of a normal life that he had maintained for so long. Staring at the thin line of steam that was trickling out from the pot on the stove, he had no wish to move from that spot, and, with a realization that would have shook him had anything been able to, doubted he would. And what would it matter if he did, he wondered. There was nothing he could do anymore; Nothing he could do for the Order (with Voldemort's return, the prejudice against werewolves had only risen to a boiling point); Nothing he could do for Harry (the Order would see to him better than Remus could); Nothing he could do for anyone. In the days since he had cleaned out Sirius' old room, he had only felt himself sinking. Now, wrapped in one of Sirius' old robes, in Sirius' smell, he could think of nothing better to do than stay right there, the last of the true Marauders and the only to die a peaceful death. He could easily fix himself a tea that would be his last. Odd, how such thoughts seemed to bring a faint hope to his heart. He remembered a potion that Muggles used, cyanide he believed it was called.
In his musings, he started to move, pulling out this-and-this herb and mixing it with such-and-such. The delicious odor that wafted up from the concoction belied its deadly nature, and, mixing it with hot water, he allowed a faint smile to cross his lips. What would Sirius think, if he could see him? Would he think Rem a coward, unable to go on alone in the world, or would he think him a tragic figure, dying for his one and true love? Remus chuckled, making his way across the checkered linoleum to the painted-metal table.
~ How corny. ~ He thought ~ Like something out of those Muggle novels Molly's so absorbed with. ~
Sitting down, he stared into his mug. Tea-colored reflections stared up at him, almost unrecognizable.
~ Have I really changed this much? ~ He thought, bewildered. ~ When was the last time I looked into a mirror? ~
Steam rose to his face, carrying the sickly-sweet smell of wormwood and monksbane to his sensitive nose. The cup was halfway to his mouth when a loud pop and a sudden whoosh stopped him in his kitchen. Cursing his luck, Rem turned to see what damnable creature had interrupted his first happy moment since he could remember.
That damnable creature was nothing less than Albus Dumbledor.
Sighing, Remus placed his cup down and stood, deftly straightening his robes in the process.
"Good morning Albus." He said as best as he could.
"Good morning Remus. How are you this morning?" Albus smiled, eyes twinkling in the morning sunlight, which now seemed to be adjusting its shine from grungy to wholesome in the mans presence. Rem sighed inwardly, but controlled himself, and replied.
" I'm as well as can be expected, under the circumstances. I was just about to have a cup of tea, but it can wait." He gestured to the table in invitation, and ordered a cup of tea for Dumbledor to sail across the room into his hands (this one filled with normal Earl Gray for the older man). Albus accepted the offer with grace, and, sitting down, faced the young man with an open smile.
"Well, I've good news Remus. I've just been talking to my friend Linda Loveall. Lovely woman, she, such a great personality. We had a lovely chat, and in the midst of it she mentioned to be that her company had just lost an old employee, and they are looking for a replacement to fill his position." He paused and took a sip of his tea.
"Ahh, that's good tea. Your own brew, Remus?"
Remus nodded, but couldn't help his impatience.
"Albus, as you were saying?"
"Of course, of course. So I told that I knew the perfect man for the job. 'He's young, able and ready, and is available for just such a career.' Of course, she was delighted to hear this and bid me go and see how he feels." He paused again.
"This 'young' man, Albus, he wouldn't happen to be a werewolf would he?" Remus asked exasperatedly. Albus just smiled more and waved a hand.
"Yes he is, but it doesn't matter. This job wouldn't even require you to leave your house more than once a week, Remus, and I'm almost certain you will enjoy it."
Remus sighed, and seemed to shrink in his seat.
"Albus, I really don't think." he started, but a look from Dumbledor silenced him. The old man had suddenly grown grave, and his eyes did not sparkle. He seemed tired, so suddenly that Remus wondered if his health had failed him. But Dumbledor leaned forward, and reached for Lupins' hand.
"Remus, I'm serious. You cannot stay like this. You need something to distract you from all that's happened, or else I fear that you might do something drastic." He glanced significantly at Rems' cup. "At least wait until I have told you what it is you'd be doing before you reject me."
Remus exhaled, and nodded. Dumbledor smiled and leaned back.
"Good, my dear child. So, as I was saying, I'm certain you will enjoy this job. It has a special interest that should surprise you."
"What is it?" Rem asked.
"Writing!"
"Writing?" Confused, Rem leaned forward . What was so special about writing?
"Yes, writing, Remus. You'll be in charge of all material to be written about Voldemort and his dealings in the Daily Prophet."
Rems' brows came together in bewilderment. "Why would I be interested in that?" he wondered. Albus sighed now, and spoke to Lupin as he would a young child.
"Because, Remus, this is your chance to clear Sirius' name. You'll be in charge of editing and decide what will be printed, as well as writing the articles yourself." He leaned forward, his voice lowered to a quiet tone. "It's the least you can do in his memory."
Remus thought about that a moment, his gaze wandering to the dusty corners of his small shack, where spiders had made their home and cobwebs decorated the ceiling like lace, stucco and wallpaper peeling off to reveal wood the color of the old, faded photographs that decorated the room.
~ He right ~ the man thought, running his hand through his hair to bring it out of his eyes ~ it's the perfect opportunity. Sirius would love it. ~
"I wouldn't have to leave the house more than once a week? You're sure of this?" he asked suddenly.
Albus nodded. Rem sighed. There was no way his lycanthropy could get in the way of this, then. Finally, after more thought, Mooney nodded.
"Alright, Albus. I'll do it. " He said. Dumbledor beamed, and stood. Clapping Lupin on the back, he said
"Good for you, Remus. I'm sure this will be a good experience. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have business with a Goblin down at Gringots. Good day!"
"Good day, Albus." Remus replied, and with that the old man Disapperated out of the kitchen.
Sitting back, Remus contemplated what he had just agreed to do. Maybe Dumbledor was right, he thought, in thinking that he needed a distraction. Certainly, he had been thinking too much lately. But still.
Rem, standing, took a deep breath. No, it would do no good to think like that. Staring almost longingly at his now cold mug of tea, he picked it up, and with one motion had dumped its contents into the sink. He would have to buy a new pot now, he thought. That wormwood was hell to clean. Opening the door that lead to the front yard, he inhaled the smell of sea air and pinewood tickling his nose. He would do this for Sirius, he knew. Clearing his name would be a tribute to his lover. He could even put in a little about their Marauder days, if he could, though nothing to personal.
Already planning what he would write Remus stepped outside into fresh air and summer sun. ~ Death can wait. Just for a little while. I'll see Sirius soon enough. ~ He thought, almost whimsically, and a little smile crossed his mouth. ~ For now, I have work to do. ~
~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~ Here I go Along this Road Feeling I don't want to slow down Run so hard I lose my breath One thing I don't want to know now. ~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~
Note: This is somewhat related to Thank You, so I guess it could another chapter, but it's going under its own title. Forgive the odd language usage in the beginning, I'm never quite sure how to start stories engagingly.
Plea: REVIEW, my beloved readers! My muse so thrives upon it that it does ache to see so few responses.
Disclaimer: not mine, no, not mine. If it were mine Remus would have a much larger part and Sirius would still be here. J.K. Rowling owns it all, and now she has a house in the Alps, I bet. ^_^ Good woman, she.
Along this Road
By: Wolf of Hallow Shadows
A Rem/ Siri fic
~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~
I cannot Sleep for Dreaming;
I cannot Dream but I Wake
And Walk about the house as though I'd Find you
Coming through some Door.
~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~
In the twilight hours, neigh upon the morning, as the waning moon slid gently from the heavens to her silver palace, so did the world so hushed and quiet sleep that Dreams were muffled in their passing, and all but one were so soundly slept that the dawn had no fear of waking them. But in this hour, as the sun rose faintly 'pon the mornings cheeks, one man stirred, his slumber broken by a willful haunt.
Remus J. Lupin, entangled in his sheets, was listening. In his mind a faint voice rose, to call him from a darkness that surrounded him in an expanse of black. Following the small cry, he came upon a door, looming large and sudden out of the haze that blinded him. The door was tall, an expensive wood that smelled like oak and mahogany, and the brass knob, glinting with an unknown light, reflected his eyes and threw into contrast his own amber gaze. Lifting a slight hand, he pulled cautiously on the handle. The door slid soundlessly by on invisible hinges. Remus paused for a moment, hesitant of entering the dark doorway, then glided as soundlessly threw as a breath of wind. With a small click of the lock, the door shut behind him. Remus was in a hallway he did not recognize, but was haunted by a sense of familiarity that he could not place. The dingy walls and gray carpets were blurred in the half -light, out of focus in the way that Remus could not seem to look at one spot for too long before it seemed to become nothing but a patch of gray upon gray. No sounds came from the walls, and no door lead off save the one he had come through. It seemed to stretch on and on, and Lupin was filled with the urge to find the end, or else die gray, dingy death. He chose a direction, feeling that it mattered not which way he went, and walked for a while. But the hall just went on, as gray and nondescript as before. Panic welled from the pit of his stomach, and he started to jog, lightly, then a bit faster. Soon he was in an all out run, his breath ragged and his legs aching but still the hall would not change, would not end, but still he ran, for hours, days, years. Time ceased to exist, and it felt like a minute had become an eternity. These walls, these gray and dingy, hazy walls, would he be trapped here for ever, doomed to-
A sudden sound and he stopped. Thinking he had gone mad from fear, he waited, ears ready to receive any sound of life, or anything at all apart from his own, ragged breath and pounding heart. For a moment all was silent, the gray walls seemingly absorbing even the very life within his body, and then.
Rem.
It was the same call that had brought him to this place, out of the dark expanse of Nothing. Confused and blinded by the gray, Remus had no choice but to follow this small hope, a familiar voice that hung on the edge of his memory. He continued forward, his feet moving unconsciously, his eyes straining. Was that light ahead? A faint flutter of hope, he knew, but still. As he moved, it became clearer, a small light ahead, and becoming larger with each step. Soon he could see the end of the hall. A light, wrought iron painted black like an old street lamp, was perched on the wall, its flame glittering faintly, casting shadows. A door of dark, purple wood and gold inlays was there, the handle gleaming in the flickering light of the flame. The walls here melted from dingy gray to burgundy red; black rose vine wallpaper making their way up to a wooded ceiling, or trendiling down to plush, red carpets. It was familiar to the man, not so much how it looked, but the feeling that it gave, like a warm embrace, familiar and safe. Turning, he looked back, but the dreaded hall was lost in shadows to him, and he faced the door with a longing he had not realized was there until this very moment.
Briefly Remus crossed his hand over his eyes, feeling the sweat of fear and something indescribable there, so strong that he could almost taste it in the air and deep in his lungs, clinging to his heart like a terrible weight. On the other side of the door lay something he desperately wanted, something he needed, someone.. With trepidation, he pulled on the handle. The door gave way as easily as the one before, and now he was blinded by a light that streamed forth so bright it cut off all senses.
Rem.
The voice was strong, next to him, and Rem dared open his eyes briefly against the shining. He felt arms, strong and familiar, wrap around him and gasped. His love, dark and tall, was there, holding him, and the feelings that had built up for the longest time burst through. Throwing his arms around him, he grasped his love and kissed him, passionate and wild. The other gave in, gentle as he had always been, soothing away all the fears and sorrows that had weighed Rems' heart down for what felt like an eternity. Rem wanted to melt right there, become nothing and be absorbed by his love. He didn't want the kiss to end, but he could feel him pulling away. Despite his best efforts, his love was slipping away, and the light was fading. Rem, in his sudden despair of finding those strong, gentle, loving arms disappearing cried out-
~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~
"Sirius!"
Flailing limbs entangled by sheets clinging to their sweating skin pulled Remus up from his bed. Gasping and out of breath, the werewolf was suddenly aware that he had cried aloud, the echo of his voice coming back to his own ears. Light was streaming through his open window, the summer breezes lifting the old, faded lace curtains up and out gently. In his four- post bed, the man took in the morning scene, peaceful and familiar, but doing nothing to quell the fear and sadness in his heart. Shifting on the bed, he unwrapped himself from the covers, pulling on robes, the color of broken plant-pots, and found his wand. He was shaking again, that feeling like a great chasm had torn itself through him once more taking over the parts of him that he was sure could never be healed. In his small house he was alone. Wandering from the bedroom, he made his way to the kitchen down the short hall. Walls, gray and dingy like the old robes or discarded rags that littered the floor, greeted him, their every flaw visible in the sun that was pouring through the broken shutters and grimy windows. Putting on a pot of water to boil, Remus threw himself into a dilapidated old chair, metal protesting under his almost nonexistent weight. In his robes, which had once fitted him, he now looked like a haggard dog; ribs protruded from draw-out skin like a wax-paper wrapping over wooden frame, fragile and looking to the point of falling in. His spine was visible when he bent forward, and his eyes seemed too large for his face. His mouth, drawn and bitter, was set in a distressed line, and his hair, once golden in color and only lightly peppered in gray, now looked white and thin, and in desperate need of a trim.
In his chair, Remus sat, exhausted from the lack of sleep. Every night, the same dream came. First the fear, then the hope, then the joy and once more the sorrow and fear. And every morning the same as well. But this morning, it was worse.
Yesterday had been the last day of his latest job; the notice of his termination had come the day before by owl. Despite his best efforts, Lupin just couldn't keep up to the demands of working anymore. Now, alone, with no money and no job, Remus had come to the end of his line. He no longer wished to try, had given up, on even the semblance of a normal life that he had maintained for so long. Staring at the thin line of steam that was trickling out from the pot on the stove, he had no wish to move from that spot, and, with a realization that would have shook him had anything been able to, doubted he would. And what would it matter if he did, he wondered. There was nothing he could do anymore; Nothing he could do for the Order (with Voldemort's return, the prejudice against werewolves had only risen to a boiling point); Nothing he could do for Harry (the Order would see to him better than Remus could); Nothing he could do for anyone. In the days since he had cleaned out Sirius' old room, he had only felt himself sinking. Now, wrapped in one of Sirius' old robes, in Sirius' smell, he could think of nothing better to do than stay right there, the last of the true Marauders and the only to die a peaceful death. He could easily fix himself a tea that would be his last. Odd, how such thoughts seemed to bring a faint hope to his heart. He remembered a potion that Muggles used, cyanide he believed it was called.
In his musings, he started to move, pulling out this-and-this herb and mixing it with such-and-such. The delicious odor that wafted up from the concoction belied its deadly nature, and, mixing it with hot water, he allowed a faint smile to cross his lips. What would Sirius think, if he could see him? Would he think Rem a coward, unable to go on alone in the world, or would he think him a tragic figure, dying for his one and true love? Remus chuckled, making his way across the checkered linoleum to the painted-metal table.
~ How corny. ~ He thought ~ Like something out of those Muggle novels Molly's so absorbed with. ~
Sitting down, he stared into his mug. Tea-colored reflections stared up at him, almost unrecognizable.
~ Have I really changed this much? ~ He thought, bewildered. ~ When was the last time I looked into a mirror? ~
Steam rose to his face, carrying the sickly-sweet smell of wormwood and monksbane to his sensitive nose. The cup was halfway to his mouth when a loud pop and a sudden whoosh stopped him in his kitchen. Cursing his luck, Rem turned to see what damnable creature had interrupted his first happy moment since he could remember.
That damnable creature was nothing less than Albus Dumbledor.
Sighing, Remus placed his cup down and stood, deftly straightening his robes in the process.
"Good morning Albus." He said as best as he could.
"Good morning Remus. How are you this morning?" Albus smiled, eyes twinkling in the morning sunlight, which now seemed to be adjusting its shine from grungy to wholesome in the mans presence. Rem sighed inwardly, but controlled himself, and replied.
" I'm as well as can be expected, under the circumstances. I was just about to have a cup of tea, but it can wait." He gestured to the table in invitation, and ordered a cup of tea for Dumbledor to sail across the room into his hands (this one filled with normal Earl Gray for the older man). Albus accepted the offer with grace, and, sitting down, faced the young man with an open smile.
"Well, I've good news Remus. I've just been talking to my friend Linda Loveall. Lovely woman, she, such a great personality. We had a lovely chat, and in the midst of it she mentioned to be that her company had just lost an old employee, and they are looking for a replacement to fill his position." He paused and took a sip of his tea.
"Ahh, that's good tea. Your own brew, Remus?"
Remus nodded, but couldn't help his impatience.
"Albus, as you were saying?"
"Of course, of course. So I told that I knew the perfect man for the job. 'He's young, able and ready, and is available for just such a career.' Of course, she was delighted to hear this and bid me go and see how he feels." He paused again.
"This 'young' man, Albus, he wouldn't happen to be a werewolf would he?" Remus asked exasperatedly. Albus just smiled more and waved a hand.
"Yes he is, but it doesn't matter. This job wouldn't even require you to leave your house more than once a week, Remus, and I'm almost certain you will enjoy it."
Remus sighed, and seemed to shrink in his seat.
"Albus, I really don't think." he started, but a look from Dumbledor silenced him. The old man had suddenly grown grave, and his eyes did not sparkle. He seemed tired, so suddenly that Remus wondered if his health had failed him. But Dumbledor leaned forward, and reached for Lupins' hand.
"Remus, I'm serious. You cannot stay like this. You need something to distract you from all that's happened, or else I fear that you might do something drastic." He glanced significantly at Rems' cup. "At least wait until I have told you what it is you'd be doing before you reject me."
Remus exhaled, and nodded. Dumbledor smiled and leaned back.
"Good, my dear child. So, as I was saying, I'm certain you will enjoy this job. It has a special interest that should surprise you."
"What is it?" Rem asked.
"Writing!"
"Writing?" Confused, Rem leaned forward . What was so special about writing?
"Yes, writing, Remus. You'll be in charge of all material to be written about Voldemort and his dealings in the Daily Prophet."
Rems' brows came together in bewilderment. "Why would I be interested in that?" he wondered. Albus sighed now, and spoke to Lupin as he would a young child.
"Because, Remus, this is your chance to clear Sirius' name. You'll be in charge of editing and decide what will be printed, as well as writing the articles yourself." He leaned forward, his voice lowered to a quiet tone. "It's the least you can do in his memory."
Remus thought about that a moment, his gaze wandering to the dusty corners of his small shack, where spiders had made their home and cobwebs decorated the ceiling like lace, stucco and wallpaper peeling off to reveal wood the color of the old, faded photographs that decorated the room.
~ He right ~ the man thought, running his hand through his hair to bring it out of his eyes ~ it's the perfect opportunity. Sirius would love it. ~
"I wouldn't have to leave the house more than once a week? You're sure of this?" he asked suddenly.
Albus nodded. Rem sighed. There was no way his lycanthropy could get in the way of this, then. Finally, after more thought, Mooney nodded.
"Alright, Albus. I'll do it. " He said. Dumbledor beamed, and stood. Clapping Lupin on the back, he said
"Good for you, Remus. I'm sure this will be a good experience. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have business with a Goblin down at Gringots. Good day!"
"Good day, Albus." Remus replied, and with that the old man Disapperated out of the kitchen.
Sitting back, Remus contemplated what he had just agreed to do. Maybe Dumbledor was right, he thought, in thinking that he needed a distraction. Certainly, he had been thinking too much lately. But still.
Rem, standing, took a deep breath. No, it would do no good to think like that. Staring almost longingly at his now cold mug of tea, he picked it up, and with one motion had dumped its contents into the sink. He would have to buy a new pot now, he thought. That wormwood was hell to clean. Opening the door that lead to the front yard, he inhaled the smell of sea air and pinewood tickling his nose. He would do this for Sirius, he knew. Clearing his name would be a tribute to his lover. He could even put in a little about their Marauder days, if he could, though nothing to personal.
Already planning what he would write Remus stepped outside into fresh air and summer sun. ~ Death can wait. Just for a little while. I'll see Sirius soon enough. ~ He thought, almost whimsically, and a little smile crossed his mouth. ~ For now, I have work to do. ~
~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~ Here I go Along this Road Feeling I don't want to slow down Run so hard I lose my breath One thing I don't want to know now. ~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~