Chapter 48
"…It is my love that keeps mine eye awake,
Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat,
To play the watchman ever for thy sake.
For thee watch I whilst thou dost wake elsewhére,
From me far off, with others all too near."
- William Shakespeare [Sonnet 61]
Rose dragged her trunk down the hallway of the Hogwarts Express, trying to wait patiently for students in front of her to find their seats. The last week of term had been a blur—most of it involving a lot of crying and feeling sorry for herself. Additionally, the knowledge that Professor Lupin was a werewolf, and that Rose knew about it and had continued to work closely with him anyways, had thrown her into disrepute with many of the students—not all of whom were Slytherins. Mari had sworn she hadn't told anyone, and Rose supposed it wouldn't have been that hard for others to guess based on how she'd been acting at his departure.
She'd received a strongly worded letter from her parents giving their opinion on her not informing them about Lupin's secret immediately but had only skimmed it before throwing it in the common room fire; Rose would deal with one damn crisis at a time. She was thankful that her romantic relationship with Lupin remained a secret to all but Dumbledore—and, she suspected, Hermione—as she wasn't sure she could have handled the ire that would bring down on her especially without him there to support her through it.
She had mostly spent her last days at Hogwarts walking around the lake or sitting between a sympathetic Ava and Sam. Ava had the good grace not to say anything even remotely along the lines of 'I told you so' and Sam's normal exuberance had been tempered by her friend's pain. Rose didn't know what she was going to do without the two over the next few weeks. Mariko, though distant, had gone out of her way to be kind to Rose when they spoke and had even brought her breakfast from the Great Hall on days where all she wanted to do was lay in bed. Rose wasn't quite sure yet whether she was ready to forgive her oldest friend or not. Part of her knew that Mari had reacted in exactly the same way she herself had upon discovering Lupin's secret, but the other part of her was bitter and hurting and didn't give a fuck.
"I'll catch up with you in a bit," Rose told Sam and Ava, spotting a certain trio of Gryffindors in the compartment she was passing. The pair nodded their understanding, and she pushed open the door.
"Hey there, lion cubs," she said, stepping inside and swinging her trunk up onto the overhead rack, and falling heavily into a seat beside Hermione. She hadn't had a chance to be alone with the three of them since the night of the Shrieking Shack.
"Make yourself at home," Harry said with a bit of sarcasm in his voice. Old habits died hard it seemed.
"Don't mind if I do," she said, flicking her wand at the curtains to draw them shut over the window—the last thing she needed was Draco or one of his friends seeing her sitting with them. "Now, why don't the three of you fill me in on what happened."
And they did, making sure not to skimp on any of the details. Rose listened attentively while Harry and Hermione took turns telling her of their exploits with the time turner and rescuing Buckbeak as well as Harry fighting off the dementors and Sirius' flight to freedom. She realized the flash of white light she'd followed that night must have been from Harry's patronus.
"What form does your patronus take," Rose asked while she digested the story. She'd asked out of polite curiosity but received an uncomfortable jolt at his answer.
"A stag."
"A stag?"
"Yeah, I think it was dad's animagus form… Prongs, you know," he said, looking down at his feet. Rose nodded quickly at this. She'd been so distracted after Wormtail's appearance that she hadn't put much thought into what animal James Potter might have become.
"Mine is a doe," she said very quietly. The two stared at each other for a long moment before Harry said one word.
"…Mom…?"
"Yeah, I think so," Rose answered quietly, staring out of the window at the mountains racing by. She remembered her conversation with Snape that seemed to have occurred in almost in another lifetime. The bastard must have known Lily's patronus was a doe and hadn't told her.
His voice seemed to echo out of the depths of her memories: 'There are other theories that tell us that a person's patronus—because it is a guardian creature—is tied to feelings or memories of protection and safety.' Was Lily Potter still here, still protecting her after all of this time? Maybe because her emotions had been so close to the surface lately because of what had happened with Remus, Rose began to tear up at the thought. For years it had been so much easier to think of Lily as someone who had abandoned her—to hate the woman whose blood status and relationship to Rose had only ever been a hinderance in her life as a Malfoy. But it seemed Lily's love had withstood even that.
"I—I have to go," Rose said quickly, grabbing her trunk and running hastily from the compartment. She'd barely made it out into the hallway before a soft voice called after her.
"Rose?" She turned and looked down at the bushy head of Hermione Granger who was carefully sliding the door shut, leaving them alone in the deserted hallway together.
"What is it?" She tried not to snap at the young girl but also just wanted to escape.
"I'm… I'm sorry about Professor Lupin," she said, her brown eyes looking up at Rose with a sad sincerity. Rose felt a lump in her throat at these words and nodded her thanks.
Turning, she fled down the corridor to a compartment where she found Sam, Ava, and, to her surprise, Mariko. Mari hastily moved over so that Rose could sit down by the window. She took the seat and turned her face to look out, resting her head against the cool glass and trying very hard not to remember how it had felt to sit on the train with Remus' head in her lap and hand on her thigh. She felt one of Mariko's hands wrap tentatively around her own, and Rose gripped it tightly, taking deep calming breaths. She was incredibly grateful that the three continued whatever conversation they'd been having before she'd arrived rather than try to pry.
Sitting there holding Mari's hand, Rose watched the mountains recede into rolling hills and the sun creep across the sky. She thought about the fury she'd felt when Severus had called her Lily at the end of last year. She thought of Remus and his mischievous smile and bright eyes and the way she felt in his arms. She thought about the book of poetry—now buried somewhere in her trunk—and the taste of his lips when he'd left her. She thought about Sirius and his offer of family and freedom and Dumbledore's warning that Voldemort might soon return. She thought of dress shopping with her mother, and the warmth of her father's embrace, and how Draco was growing up so fast. She remembered the uncertain look in Harry's green eyes two years ago when they had stood in front of the Mirror of Erised and he'd asked, 'are you my sister?' She thought of her doe patronus and her fox animagus. And most especially she thought about the way her name had shown up on the Marauder's Map as 'Rose Potter Malfoy' and wondered if there would ever be a world where that reality was possible. One where she didn't have to pick between being a Potter or being a Malfoy but just live life as a little bit of both. And in that world, was there room for the love between that naïve, young woman and a handsome, jaded werewolf?
Epilogue
Remus Lupin sat alone in his home in Yorkshire, sipping at a glass of brandy—he'd decided something stronger than wine was needed and the expensive bottle had been sitting around in his house waiting for a special occasion. He wasn't sure this situation qualified as a special occasion, but it was certainly a momentous one. He now doubted he'd have much to celebrate in the future anyways, so he might as well drink it now. He'd had one too many glasses already and knew intellectually that drinking was not going to help with the ache in his chest, but every time he took a sip and the liquor burned its way pleasantly down his esophagus to his stomach it disguised the heartbreak as just a symptom of the alcohol.
He'd been trying to read some of The Faerie Queen, an old epic which had always done much to engage his mind in the past, but his brain was hardly focusing lately. On the rare instances in which he managed to digest a few lines they did little to help his desolate mood. Instead his reading was regularly interrupted by memories of a certain redhead. He wasn't sure what he had done to deserve his mind replaying their parting ad nauseum. He felt particularly sick to his stomach as he recalled the tears that fell from her normally playful eyes and the blood that trickled down her scraped knees onto her knee-high socks that had bunched around her ankles from her desperate run. And he hated himself for thinking how adorable she had looked wearing his oversized shirt beneath her robes and how much his body ached to wrap her tightly in his arms once again.
Remus ran a hand over his face, wincing as he encountered the still unhealed scars there. This was ridiculous. Surely, surely, he had done the right thing. Looking around the ramshackle cottage he had returned to, he knew she wouldn't have been happy to abandon everything and face public scorn all for a whirlwind romance that had lasted less than a year. It had been the right thing. Even if having her here would have made him happier than he'd been in longer than he could remember. He would have to get used to going back to his life of solitude. He had survived just fine like that for more than a decade—why did the thought of returning to it now feel almost unbearable? He would adapt, and she would marry Stefan Dolohov—a man of wealth and influence who could give her everything that he could not.
Looking down at the book, Remus realized that he'd gripped it so tightly that he'd wrinkled one of the pages. Giving the text an apologetic grimace, he carefully smoothed out the paper and read the words written there:
'For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.'
~ fin ~
AN: Our story will continue in "Rose Potter Malfoy Part 2: Bedsheets and Brandy". Read on for a sneak preview because I love you all and want to spoil you:
"Rose?"
She turned her attention from the giggling child on her hip to the speaker. The bright smile she'd been giving Kwesi died somewhat when she saw just who it was that had said her name. She could feel her heartbeat quicken traitorously when their eyes locked. It was her first time seeing him since he had left.
"Hello Remus," she said softly, looking him over just as he was doing to her.
"You look like you're doing well," he said.
"You too," she replied quickly, and he chuckled knowingly at the lie. It must have been just after the full moon because he was quite pale and had dark circles under his eyes. His robes were looking shabbier than ever, and he had a listless air to him she'd never experienced before. The scars that had been fresh on his face when she'd last seen him had healed to soft pink lines that stood out gruesomely against the long healed ones.
"I look like shit," he said, and she grinned.
"A bit," she agreed cheekily, and they laughed together. Her stomach squirmed at how much she'd missed talking to the man and listening to the sound of his laughter.
"I suppose I should congratulate you; I saw in the Prophet—"
"Thanks," she said quickly, hiking Kwesi higher up her hip with one hand. In a desperate attempt to change the subject, she gestured around Diagon Alley with the other one. "What brings you here?"
"Job applications," he said.
"How is that going?"
"Not very well," he said honestly and the two trailed off into an awkward silence. Rose had read the horrid article the Prophet had done on him and Dumbledore. She imagined that it was even more difficult to find work now that he had been publicly outed as a werewolf.
"Ouch!" Rose winced when Kwesi grabbed a lock of her hair and gave an unexpectedly hard tug. He giggled unabashedly at her reaction while she carefully pried her hair free of his little fingers. "Knock it off you little imp."
"And who is this?" Remus asked, stepping closer and smiling at the small boy. Kwesi gazed curiously at the man and giggled when he made a silly face at him, drool bubbles accumulating at the sides of his mouth.
"This is Kwesi, he's Sam's little brother. She's inside picking up some firewhiskey."
"Well it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Asare," Remus said politely, extending a finger to the little wizard. Kwesi reached out and grabbed for it, wrapping his fingers Remus' own. Remus gently moved his finger up and down in a simulacrum of shaking hands and smiled goofily at the child. Rose felt a lump rise in her throat. It was almost too much to be standing so close to him with a child on her hip. Too easy to imagine what it might be like if this were their own child and they were just out walking together rather than having a chance meeting. He seemed to be having a similar train of thought as he glanced at her with warm sad eyes. The smile slowly slid from his face and he straightened up, disentangling his finger from Kwesi's grip. Stepping back, he cleared his throat awkwardly, his eyes sliding over her once more as if he were trying to etch the image of her into his mind.
"Well, it was nice seeing you again," he said, not quite meeting her eye as he started walking away. Rose felt panic at his sudden departure and turned quickly to watch him go.
"Remus!"
"Yes?" He paused and glanced back at her curiously.
"Would you, uh, would you want to get a drink sometime? You know… as friends. It would be nice to catch up," Rose felt her heart pounding erratically in her chest while she waited for his response. He ran a hand uneasily through his graying hair, looking at the ground. He seemed to be having some kind of internal war with himself. Finally, he looked up at her and gave her a small smile that set butterflies loose in her stomach.
"I'd like that."
Rose looked down at Kwesi, letting her hair fall into her face to obscure the warm blush and wide smile that refused to be suppressed.
