A/N: Here it is, another chapter. There isn't much to say though I apologize for not updating sooner. The holidays came, my muse left me and I've been recovering from one and hunting for the other ever since. As always, reviews would be nice. Tell me what you think, I'd appreciate it:)
BTW, to answer rockstar-101's question - yes, Eris will turn up later on in the story (not in a flashback) & the circumstances surrounding her return will be interesting, to say the least. You will learn what she's been up to for the past fourteen years, though it will be a while.
Disclaimer: HP universe not mine. You know the rest.
Chapter 4: Live Through This
The only cure for grief is action. (George Henry Lewes)
In the time it had taken for Remus to tell his daughter all he knew about the events of the previous night and fill her in on the Order of the Phoenix, the sun had risen high into the sky and the heat of the day had settled into the tiny cottage and all around them, yet inside the Lupin home, darkness had settled in the hearts of its three occupants.
When Sophie returned after storming out an hour later, he'd sat her down and against his better judgement, vowed to tell her all he could. He struggled through the little details he'd gleamed from Sirius, telling her what he knew about the circumstances of Cedric's death, his heart aching as he watched his daughter fight back tears in vain. Telling her about the Order, though, had, in some ways, been more difficult. There were things he couldn't say, things he didn't want to say but felt he had no choice but to tell her and all the while he tried his best not to make it sound heroic or extraordinary– in short, enticing. The last thing he wanted was his daughter – his young, precious daughter – fighting at his side.
When he'd finished, she'd left the room, locked herself away in her own bedroom to grieve the loss and let the rest sink in. She didn't leave her sanctuary for three days. He'd been worried – beside himself, really, -- but he'd born it well. He had Order business to attend to, and Sirius (who was at times like a needy child himself) to keep him busy. He had very little time and energy to do much more than secretly worry about his daughter.
Sirius, who had been frighteningly focused since landing on his doorstep (something he had never been before), seemed to think Remus was doing the best thing by leaving her alone. Remus, who didn't take much stock in the opinion of a man who, in a short time, had become obsessed with the welfare of a child not his own (with reason, he admitted) didn't agree but stepped back and let her be. He didn't want to stifle her or push her before she was ready. He had grieved for too many people in his life. He knew you never really got over the death of someone you loved.
Five days later, he was glad he hadn't interfered. Sophie had slowly emerged from her room and had even left the house, though he hadn't any idea where she'd gone. By the end of the week, though quiet and sullen, his daughter had come out of the dark tunnel more or less intact. In fact, he could swear there was a determination in her movements, a purpose to her steps. He wasn't sure if he should be grateful for her ability to cope with what life threw her way or not. It wasn't until she approached him one night as he boned up on his antidotes (preparing himself for what was to come in the only way he knew how) that he had his answer.
8888888
Sophie stood at the foot of the narrow staircase, watching her father and his mate as they sat in the tiny living room, each immersed in words. Sirius, who sat on their tattered old couch with his back to her, held the Daily Prophet in mid – air, examining each page for any reference to his godson. Ever since the Last Task of the Triwizard Tournament, the paper (no doubt at the behest of the Ministry) had taken to referring to Harry in some derogatory way. While it angered her father (and her, for that matter), it enraged Sirius beyond words.
"Pfff,fuckin' gits," he grumbled as he turned a page violently, tearing it in the middle.
Her father sat impassively in the old wingback chair situated near the fireplace. (During the cold winter months, it was the best spot to sit in the house but it made no difference at this time of the year.)
"I'd really like to read that," he said in a casual tone, his eyes never leaving the book on his lap. After a week spent trying to quell his friend's temper, her father had still managed to hold on to his patience. (That he had, she realized, was a mark of a truly disciplined man.)
Sophie heard her father's mate mumble incoherently, then resume his scanning of the pages, rustling the paper between his fingers in agitation. If either one of them noticed she was watching them, they gave no indication.
"Fuckin' bollocks!"
Sophie took in a breath, slowly steeling herself for what she'd resolved to do. She felt nervous, and their houseguest's outbursts weren't doing anything to quell the feeling, but she was determined to finally voice what she had settled in her mind.
"Dad," she said, walking into the room and standing by the hearth.
Her father looked up from the book, which she recognized as a potions manual, and gave her a curious look.
"Are you busy?" she asked, trying not to fumble on the words. It felt like years since she'd spoken more than two words to another person – over a week since she'd learned about Cedric's death and Voldemort's return.
"Not at all," he answered, closing the book, putting it aside and giving her his full attention.
Sirius rustled the paper in his hands but stopped grumbling, which made Sophie aware that he was listening, despite the obvious distraction in front of him.
"I – " she began anxiously, "I just – " She took a deep breathe. "I want to join the Order."
The words she'd been contemplating for a week finally out of her mouth, she felt a wave of relief. Her father blinked and tilted his head to the side, as if he didn't quite understand.
"Did you hear me?" she asked, waiting for a response and growing anxious again.
"There is no way on this earth that you will join the Order of the Phoenix," he finally replied, sounding resolved.
She had been expecting protest, but the harsh tone took her by surprise.
"Why not?" she asked indignantly.
"You're too young," he began.
"I'm of age."
"You're too inexperienced."
"So were we the first time we joined," Sirius threw out casually. It earned him a reproachful look from her father.
"You haven't even graduated yet," he went on, deftly ignoring his mate and referring to the fact that she hadn't yet taken her N.E.W.T.s., necessary for any witch or wizard who wanted to practice magic.
"I'm taking the test in a few days," she threw back.
He looked stunned. "Pardon?"
At those words, Sirius, who until that moment had kept his eyes glued to the newspaper, looked up, intrigued.
"I contacted Professor McGonagall last month," she explained, aware that all eyes were on her, "I was supposed to take the N.E.W.T.s with the seventh years but since…" she found she couldn't say it out loud.
Her father nodded a little impatiently, signaling he understood and beckoned her on. She noticed the other man avert his eyes.
"The N.E.W.T.S. were postponed," she went on, steeling her voice, "She sent me a note about it the day after… after the Triwizard Tournament." She watched her father for a moment as he shifted in the old wingback chair by the fireplace, which sat flameless and empty.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his tone calm and without emotion.
"It was supposed to be a surprise," she answered in a small voice.
Remus, looking agitated, crossed and uncrossed his legs, and looked like he was about to stand and say something then thought better of it. He sat back in the faded plush chair and sighed. She waited.
"It's too dangerous, Sophie," he finally spoke, adopting a gentler tone.
"I – " she began then reconsidered, "we're dangerous," she stated matching his tone.
"I just don't think you realize the sacrifice you'd be making as a member of the Order," he reasoned. His words smacked of condescension.
She scoffed and shook her head. "I grew up with you, didn't I?" she retorted a little more angrily than she had intended. "Our whole lives were affected by your sacrifice!" She immediately realized the harshness of her words.
Her father, looking hurt for only a second, sat expressionless in the wingback chair while his mate stirred just behind her.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling remorseful, "I didn't mean it to sound that way."
"No," her father interrupted, "It's true. I realize that it must have been difficult for you, being raised by a broken man." There was no bitterness or anger in his words, only resignation.
The words stung. "No," she protested, the words sticking in her throat, "don't say that. You're not broken." The words, which were probably the most honest thing he'd ever spoken in her presence, had set off a wave of conflicting emotions within her.
Remus looked up briefly as she stepped closer and took his hand in hers, his haunted eyes looking past her to Sirius.
"I think it's best I left you both to your talk," Sirius mumbled behind her. She didn't look back but heard him leave, rustling paper and light steps ascending the staircase and disappearing above.
Sophie stepped across the hearth and knelt by her father's chair, feeling relief at their sudden lack of an audience. She clutched her father's warm hand between hers. She loved the feel of her father's reassuring hands, large and rough yet gentle.
"Dad," she breathed, "please don't fight me on this." He opened his mouth to speak but she continued before he could protest. "I need your support. I need to know that you have faith in me."
He pursed his lips for a moment. "It's not about that," he explained, "I believe in you. I always have." He shifted once more in his seat, leaning forward and looking at her intensely. "I just don't want you getting hurt."
She lifted one of her hands from his and made a fist unconsciously. "You can't protect me from the world, dad," she said, stifling the emotion that gripped her as her thoughts turned back a year, "You just can't." She willed her voice not to crack.
The haunted look returned to his liquid amber eyes. "I know," he whispered in defeat.
"Look," she said, pushing away tears that threatened to fall, "I'm stronger now than I've ever been, I know you see it." She pulled out her hand from her father's grip and took hold of both his hands in hers. "You helped me to do that."
"I didn't," he protested, trying to pull away.
"You did," she said earnestly. She squeezed his hands tighter in hers. "You sent me to Ireland, you sent me to Kate. You knew she would understand, that she would help me."
This was the first time in a year they'd even approached the subject. Sophie could see guilt and shame swimming in her father's eyes, though he tried to mask it. It still hurt her to see the pain that fateful night had caused her father.
"I know you wish I would just, what – pack up and run back to Wicklow, hide out until the war's over?" His eyes flashed once again with shame, telling her she was on track. "While you risk your life doing what you know is right?" she went on. "No, I won't do it." She stood abruptly and moved away, then turned back towards him, her eyes ablaze with confidence. "We're a team, you and I," she stated, "It's always been us against the world!"
Her father gave a faint smile. It sounded foolishly sentimental out loud but they both knew it was true.
"There's more of us now," she went on, "your mate, for one," she gestured towards the ceiling, thinking of Sirius holed up in her father's bedroom, "Dumbledore," she added, thinking of the Headmaster fondly, " and all the others," she concluded, her mind on a roomful of faceless witches and wizards that had fought in – and survived – the first war. " – Including you."
"Sophie – "
"No, dad," she interrupted, determined to say what was on her mind now that she'd found the courage and conviction to say it, "I have to fight! I can't sit back and watch. You taught me better than that."
Her father was silenced by her words. She approached him slowly and knelt by his chair once more.
"I have to do something."
His eyes glimmering gold, he took her hands in his and looked her in the eyes. "I know," he whispered, his eyes echoing his understanding, "I know." He pulled her into a hug.
Sophie wrapped her arms around his neck instinctively, feeling relief wash over her. His large hands stroked her hair and back reassuringly, much like he used to do when she was a little girl, a signal that he wasn't angry, a hidden message in the gesture – "everything will be alright." Sophie closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of her father's cheap cologne, which lingered on his clean – shaven cheek, indulging in the familiar scent. The smell was comforting, his lean, muscular arms felt like home and she didn't want to let go.
After a long moment, her father gently loosened his grip and pulled away.
"We have to make sure you're ready for your N.E.W.T.s," he stated softly, a faint smile playing across his lips.
She could see the effort he was making to appear convinced in the tired lines around his eyes, making him look as weary as she was sure he felt.
"I'm prepared," she told him, smiling back with equal effort.
"You can never be too prepared," he said, standing up and moving towards the piles of books on the shelves by the mantle. "I have the perfect book for review," he went on, searching the spines. After a moment he abandoned his search. "I think it's upstairs. Don't go anywhere, I'll be back in a minute."
With those words, he raced up the stairs and she heard his footsteps overhead, racing around his bedroom. She imagined him toppling over stacks of books that sat precariously perched on every free surface of his room while his mate watched in wonder or, more likely, amusement. She knew it was his way of dealing with the situation. He didn't agree but he had relented because he knew he couldn't stop her – knew it was wrong to try.
Alone in the sitting room, she slid into the seat he had been occupying and let out a long breath that she only just realized she'd been holding.
It was really happening. The war.
She knew she should be worried, even afraid of what was to come and what she would have to face but she found, curiously, that she wasn't. In her relatively short life, she'd endured abandonment, excruciating and constant mind - numbing pain, self - mutilation, homicidal urges, prejudice, sexual assault and very recently, grief. Though only a week ago, she'd felt like she couldn't endure anymore, as she sat by the unlit fireplace in the tiny cottage she called home, she was sure that all that pain had served a purpose. It had prepared her for what was to come now that Lord Voldemort lived and breathed. If she could live through all that and come out more or less whole, than she could handle what was to come.
8888888
Remus climbed the stairs, his mind threatening to overload on the thoughts in his head.
Find the book, he told himself,just find the book, give it to her, make an excuse and go. Just go.
He didn't know how he found it, hadn't heard Sirius inquiring with curiousity, and didn't even remember handing her the book and saying the words before he found himself wandering through the woods towards the pond.
Sophie was going to join the Order of the Phoenix. She would be a soldier in the coming war, just like he had been in the former. He worried about whether her skills as a lycanthrope would be called on. Would she be asked to go undercover, just like he had the first time round? He couldn't even conceive of allowing his daughter to willingly place herself among the feral packs he'd encountered as a young man, let alone getting anywhere near Greyback. The thought of it made him cringe in disgust.
I'll just have to talk to Dumbledore, he reasoned to himself, make him understand that Sophie joining the Order only means that her heart's in the right place. It doesn't mean he has to send her on dangerous assignments.
He knew Dumbledore would understand, even agree that Sophie needed to be kept safe, yet something nagged at him.
She's not a child anymore, the low voice almost purred, she's not even altogether human. She's one of us – she's strong and ruthless and quick and cunning. Don't forget that, mate. She's a killer. Just like you.
Just like me, he thought as he stopped at a boulder by the edge of the clear azure pond. He gazed at his melancholic reflection in the still surface. Like me. The implication of what his lycanthropic side was telling him, something he always suspected, was not lost on him. The last thing he would want for Sophie was for her to be held down with the same feelings of guilt, shame and inferiority that he had struggled with all his life. Those feelings, coupled with grief, were enough to break the best of men, and he hadn't been immune all those years ago.
He sighed as a tiny fish skimmed the surface and dove back down into the murky coolness of the water, his reflection broken up by small ripples across the glassy surface. The quiet of the woods was comforting and gave him a chance to do what he hadn't been able to do for a week -- think. He stayed at the edge of the pond until resolve set in.
Remus admitted to himself that somehow he knew that she would always be a part of that world – that she would want to be a member of the Order of the Phoenix, not for the glory or danger but because it was the right thing to do. It was one of the things he loved about her - that she recognized and longed to do the right thing - and it was also the thing that made him worry. Sophie's conscience ruled her life, much more than his ever had. He'd known people like that before and he'd seen their fates. He didn't want her ending up the same way.
Though she wasn't quite like him in that way, he wasn't sure if she resembled him in others – or if being like him was better than not – but he was thankful to the gods everyday of his life that she was there – alike or not. She was his consolation in a world where evil like Voldemort could exist. She was his own private salvation. He vowed to himself that if she needed it, he would be hers.
He just prayed it that in the coming war, it would never come to that.
Okay, truthfully, how painful was it? - Good, bad, awkward?
I had to wrestle my muse to the ground for this one. I hope it isn't obvious. This was was more talk than action, the next chapter will, hopefully, reverse that.
The story will jump to Grimmauld Place, where Remus, Sirius and Sophie attempt to clean house and stumble across hidden secrets (and maybe even a dark creature or two)...
