Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, I would be working on the Official Fifth Book. And if I'm working on this, I must not be J.K. Rowling. This means I don't own Harry Potter & Co., so please don't sue me. I would like to add that I am now the proud owner of Goblet of Fire, paperback version.
I don't own "Rhythm of the Rain" by The Cascades either.
A/N: So I told you about doing this. And so many people asked me to do them. I pulled the setting from a ficlet I read on Fiction Alley, where Remus was reflecting on James and Lily the night they died. I'm sorry that I don't remember the title…
I also bring up Snape for the last paragraph or so. Sorry: I needed to show you how he turned out, and I made a vow to myself to make only THREE epilogues. Not four. This is also why I'm including the explanation to Harry and Ron at the end of the third. If there's any other character I've left hanging that I seem to have forgotten about (besides James - I'll take care of him in a separate, one-chapter fic), let me know.
The poetry written by Severus is my own original work.
I bring up God in this chapter, so if you're an atheist, it's your problem. I won't listen if you try to flame me. I tried not to bring up Christ, as not to offend my Jewish friends. But I simply want to point out that it's a church, not a synagogue.
Anyway, here you go!
Time Is A Pretzel
Epilogue One:
She Took My Heart
"Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain,
Telling me just what a fool I've been.
I wish that it would go and let me cry in vain,
And let me be alone again."
That smell. He hated that smell. It was like a punch in the stomach, or worse yet, the guts. It made him want to throw up. But for all the horrible pretense, he never thought it could taste so wonderful.
'So this is why people like to get drunk,' thought Remus as he tipped back the bottle of Firewhiskey. The last sweet drop moistened his tongue, and he raised his hand in the air. He fished another coin from his pocket, placed it on the growing pile, and waited for the waitress ('Ruby, was it?') to return with a new bottle.
…
"Hermione, you look…"
"Stunning? Gorgeous? Beautiful?" she replied hopefully. In an effort to add emphasis, she twirled around in the deep red dress. (A/N: I went back over my chapter and decided, that apart from sleeves and color, I want this dress to look like the one that Padmé wears in the scene where she and Anakin first kiss - you know. Practically no back…)
"Shakespeare himself would be lost for words." He caught hold of her spinning arm and pulled her to him. Lips upon lips took his breath away, and he hugged her closer.
"I'm glad you had this idea of our own Christmas party. It's peaceful being with only you for a change. It's like I emptied my mind of every thought but you." She kissed him again, standing slightly on tiptoe, even in high-heels, to reach his mouth.
He popped his wand towards a wizarding wireless (A/N: to make my job easier, it comes equipped with a CD player. ;D), and "The Christmas Song" by Nat Cole filled the room. They began to sway gently to the crooning music.
And so I'm offering this simple phrase
To kids from one to ninety-two
Although it's been said, many times, many ways,
Merry Christmas to you.
Remus held out a wide but thin box wrapped in deep blue paper. Hermione cautiously took it off, and wasn't very surprised to see a jewelry box, like the kind a necklace comes in.
"It took me a month and a half to save up for it," Remus added as she gasped at what was inside.
Indeed, it was a necklace. But it was beyond what Hermione normally would buy. Remus lifted it from the box and fastened it behind her. A thin braid of solid gold wound itself around her neck with tiny rubies dripping from the metal like rain. As it moved towards the center, the rubies progressed in size until at the very heart, a ruby the size of her ear rested an inch below her collar bone. "Thank you," were the only words to escape her lips, but the emotion more than made up for it.
…
A drunken man doesn't wait with his hands folded neatly in his lap, slowly going over the thoughts of stock investments.
Before that branch spreads out, it must be established that there are two kinds of drunken men. The first kind gets drunk to party and ends up center stage, singing the worst songs in the history of rock 'n roll. People like these sometime go by the name of Sirius Black, James Potter, or Bill Weasley. The second kind gets drunk because they want to forget something, but actually end up soaking themselves in memories. These people resume the titles of Severus Snape, Harry Potter, or Remus Lupin.
…
Lily was out that night with James, Peter had disappeared again, and Sirius had promised to come back sober, so Remus and Hermione was lounging on her bed (fully clothed, you pervs!). Hermione's nose was buried in a spiral notebook filled with something she refused to let Remus look at. He was trying to distract her by playing with her feet.
He was done with the massage, had repainted her toenails seven times, and given a serious rubdown with plumeria-scented lotion. There was only one thing left to do…
He took a long finger and ran it slowly down the center crease. She snorted, and kicked him in the jaw.
"OW!" he howled.
"Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry, Remus!"
He spat out a molar and growled. A large, greenish-purple bruise the size of Snape's nose was starting to take hold of his face.
"I'll go get some ice! Lay down; I'll be right back!" She scrambled off the bed and out the door.
He lay down, but felt something poke into his back. A dark green with silver binding greeted his eyes as he pulled it out from underneath him. Ignoring the impish voice that told him to respect Hermione's privacy, he opened it up and submersed himself.
"As dark as the Evil that lurks in shadows,
The darkness in the human soul
Is just as foul and more potent
Than any dragon, werewolf, or beast
On earth.
The potential of Evil is the thing that all men fear most."
"Wow…" whispered Remus, and flipped to the front page to try to discover who had written something so stunning.
"Property of Severus Snape."
He snapped it shut, eyes wide. What was Hermione doing with a book full of poetry written by that greasy git?
One thing was certain. Hermione would have a lot of explaining to do when she got back.
…
All but one of the aforementioned people did such at least once for one person. One girl, to be more precise. She was designated as Hermione Granger.
Remus let his head fall forward onto the table. There was a smooth dip in the wood, presumably from people like him doing the same thing before, and he rested there. 'God? What have You done? Why did You take her away from me? I loved her… I'll never love anyone as I loved her again. You took that away from me.'
A tiny voice in the back of his mind, a voice more patient, yet more sad, echoed. 'You may have loved me, Remus, but you refused to admit it. I would have loved you beyond what I thought was capable.' And in a small glow from the dark corner of the seat beside him, a peregrine falcon spread its minute wings and fluttered up to perch on his quivering hand.
'Are you an angel?' he thought in awe. At this point, he was drunk enough to believe anything.
…
"Come on, Remus! I promise, they won't shoot you."
He still tried to resist her grasp. If he had really been pulling however, they would be on the other side of town by now.
He gave up and passed through the enormous wooden doors. Stained-glass windows filtered the light into splashes of color all over the room. A magnificent organ rose to the ceiling, and people were already kneeling behind the pews.
"It's a beautiful church," he found himself murmuring.
"Told you so," she replied with a hint of snootiness, but led him to a bench in the back just the same.
Without a sound, she lowered the kneeling rail covered in red velvet and stooped on it, hands folded in prayer. Remus, clueless as to how this really worked, followed suit.
"Listen to what they're saying and concentrate on it," whispered Hermione from the side of her mouth.
Remus tried to clear his head and listen. The words seemed to float quietly through the air and into his ears.
In nearly half an hour, the service was over, and Hermione was sitting quietly, gazing at the images of angels. Astonishing wings and golden halos surrounded their heads, as the white robes floated gently on an imaginary breeze. He sat down beside her and took her hand in his.
"Angels don't look like that," she whispered after a few silent minutes.
Remus started, and turned to look at her. "What do they look like, then?"
"I'm not sure. I've only seen one. It was silvery-grey, and it looked like a mix between a ghost, dust, light, and very soft clay. And it didn't look like a human. It was a swallow, and when it spoke, it had the most beautiful voice…"
A lone tear slowly found its way down her cheek, and Remus didn't press the matter further.
…
'No, dear heart. Angels get to stay. I'm only here to give you a nudge in the right direction, and then I'll disappear… well, not forever. But you won't see me for awhile.'
'I'll see you again?!' pounded in his brain. His heart leapt and seemed to burst from his very chest.
'Yes. I have been shown everything by Him. I know where I came from now. But when I see you again, it will hurt. You'll understand when the time comes.'
'I want to understand now…'
The tiny falcon screeched, but not a head stirred.
'You want to understand! What do you think I went through? Everyday, I wanted to know where I came from, why no one was looking for me over the summer! EVERYDAY, REMUS! To the day I died, I didn't know who my parents were! They were bloody dentists, for Christ's sake! And they loved me…'
"Then why didn't they come looking for you?" The waitress wiping the counter looked up at him, and then returned to her rags, muttering, "I'll never get used to this…"
'I can't tell you that, dearest. But all in good time…'
'If you can't explain things to me, why are you here? You don't seem to be doing any nudging…'
The falcon sighed. 'Remus Jade Lupin, I want you to listen to me. This is the last time I'll get to talk to you as the Hermione you knew. I know you were fired from the Ministry two days after I died. Your Patronus helped immensely in the battle, but Crouch wasn't ready to admit a certain werewolf is worth more than an Auror. It's his fault, arrogant bastard. Not yours. You must keep working. You'll find a job work. You'll survive the world and all its cruelties. But listen to this Remus: You can't run away from your problems. I don't care if you found them or vice versa. Whatever the obstacle, you have the strength to conquer it. You have the intelligence to outwit it. You have the heart to show the world love. So get out there darling, and do what I ask. It may not matter how exactly you feel me. I may be what some people call "inspiration", or their "conscience", or even some stupid piece of horse shit stuck to your boot. But I'll always be watching you. Prodding you. Trying to help you. And I want you let go of me. Don't cling to me, Remus. I'm not a spirit if you do that. I can't help anyone else. I've freed myself from you. Now you have to let go of me.'
'What if I don't?' he thought miserably, but not quite as miserably as before.
'I'll be trapped with you in this world and the next. And then you'll drag us both down to Hell. Don't do that to me, Remus. If there's a reason to let me go and love again, say it's because you don't want me to go to Hell.
'Here's where I leave you, love. I can't take this anymore. I'll miss you. And don't forget to keep living.'
'Hermione…'
'Yes?' she replied. Her wings were outstretched, as if ready for flight.
'Did you love us all?'
'Down to the very last molecule. But for different reasons…'
…
Privacy at last…
She pulled out one of the photo albums given to her for Christmas along with her best quill and a bottle of fresh ink.
"Hello, Marauders."
"Mr. Prongs wishes to inquire if Ms. Granger feels all right?"
"I'm fine, Prongs. I'm just tense. How's Mr. Padfoot?"
"Mr. Padfoot is hungry and annoyingly sober, but otherwise fine."
"And Moony?"
"Mr. Moony expresses his frustration that Mr. Wormtail won't stop whining about his homework."
"What's the problem Wormtail?"
"Professor Trelawney told me I would owe my life to my enemy, and if I can't tell her who the enemy is, I fail Divination! It's my favorite subject!"
"Mr. Prongs is unwilling to make this suggestion, but You-Know-Who seems quite obvious as Wormtail's enemy."
"Yeah, Prongs, but if Professor Trelawney meant him, it wouldn't be homework!"
"Maybe it's Snape," suggested Moony.
"Do not mention his foul name here!" Padfoot exclaimed.
The arguing continued amongst the four, when Hermione broke in and wrote, "I love you guys."
There was an enormous pause, then Padfoot wrote, "Why?"
"Well, I love Prongs for his intelligence, his humor, his bravery, and his foul moods. I love Padfoot for his wit, his charisma, his artistic nature, and his thoughtfulness. I love Moony for his patience, his tenderness, his temper, and his sensitivity. I love Wormtail for his common sense, his privacy, his innocence, and his silence."
Prongs was the first to reply. "And we love you too, Hermione."
…
She stepped off his shaking finger and onto the table. Her ghostly pale Patronus turned around to look at him one last time.
An amber-brown bottle was pressed down on top of her. A tear came to his eye. He hadn't gotten to say good-bye…
"I'd never thought I'd say this, mate, but you've drunk every drop of whiskey in the house. This is the very last bottle."
He reached out a hand and knocked it over. The foul, syrupy liquid streamed over the deep wood and down onto the floor. "I changed my mind. I don't want to taste another drop of it ever again."
"Can I get that in writing?" shouted the other woman across the bar. Ruby chuckled and grabbed the nearest towel. "Don't mind Elise, Mister. She's bitter about everyone. We've had far worse drunks. The only trouble we've had out of you is a complaint from customers about inhaling a good bit of liqueur and a little bit of mumbling to yourself. Hell, that isn't much at all."
Remus lifted his head and smiled. "Thank you, ma'am. Well, now that I've thrown away my savings, I suppose I'd better go get another job."
Ruby frowned. "That was your savings?"
He nodded and blushed. It hit home at last how foolish he'd just been.
"Well consider all that stuff on the house. I don't want someone ruining himself for a few barrels of alcohol."
She pushed the pile back at him. He considered his options. He could either graciously take back the money, or have her throw it at him. He chose the former.
"Thank you." He scooped the mound of coins into his pockets and walked out of the bar. The limp from four years ago suddenly returned, and Remus bore it as a sign of honor into the streetlight.
He wavered in and out of the street as he stumbled towards home. Every once in awhile, he would come close to falling, but an invisible force would stop him in midair only to help him back on his feet. He didn't question this, no passer-byes noticed it, and he later forgot about it.
As he forgot about the tiny bit of Support that visited often, the Support began to fade, until it was no longer there. The Support was transferred to a crumbling man with no more than a cauldron, ink and parchment, and the Dark Mark burning on his left arm. She stayed with him and comforted him for eleven long years. Until September first, nineteen-ninety-one, she was no longer perching on his fireplace, watching him wake up from the recurring nightmares. That very morning, a girl named Hermione Granger was sorted into Gryffindor, and a very confused faculty received explanation from Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.
That night, Professor Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin House, wrote his last poem.
I thought you were dead,
But it was all in my head,
Because nothing could kill your spirit.
And now you're back to taunt me,
Haunt me,
Drive me mad with restriction.
Why couldn't you leave this poor beast to die?
Why couldn't my dreams simply tell me a lie?
But my soul craves you more with every last taste
And my addiction will, in the end, kill me.
A/N: One down, two to go.
I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I wanted to create more of a background for Remus and Hermione. Little anecdotes that wouldn't exactly fill the plot. But here, I got a chance to place those things in. I want to point out (if you hadn't noticed already) that each flashback was related to something I had mentioned before it. That's how I want Lupin's mind to work. Like the movie Brigadoon, he'll be having a conversation, someone will mention the most innocent word, and he'll be back to Hogwarts with Hermione… Also, how Hermione described herself: I pulled that from Always, directed by Steven Spielberg, and starring Richard Dreyfuss and Holly Hunt.
Thank you to: Agurl, Under the moon's Influence, Nataly Ravenlock, animegirl-mika, Moony's Nymph, AJ, Katarina*Elise, tickle the dragon, dragonqueen*aratthond, Iggie, tigerlily, CAITLIN MALFOY, Katie Weasley, VenusDeMilo, angered.fairy.the.CoRrUpTeD, and Mayleesa. Your reviews meant a lot to me!
Oh, and if you printed this out, please go back and review it… *cough cough*
