Chapter 12 – Paradise

Important note: Some of the lines in this chapter are almost direct quotes from Prisoner of Azkaban.  I did not make these up and I do not claim to, I am merely using them for effect. Thank you.

* * *

So James and Peter were gone, and Sirius, but Remus was still there and he wished he could thank them for casting him out, for if they had not, he might have gone down with them.  As it was, he was the only one of them still in the world and he had paid his blood-price for it.  Werewolves had a marginal place in society at best and Remus soon toughened himself against the inevitable, the life of his kind that he had learned first from a textbook.  Then he moved to France.  It was not exactly the one he'd pictured all his life, but no country was free from squalor and vice and besides, he could see the Eiffel Tower from where he slept.  That, at least, was just as he'd imagined.

Remus had been there nearly a year when a miracle happened: He applied for a teaching position at Beauxbatons and was accepted.  So he spent his final franc on three sets of presentable robes and arrived in Poitiers with nothing else, except a packing case to carry them that was labeled Professor R. J. Lupin.  It had been mysteriously delivered to him several years back, after he'd been turned down by three or four American wizarding schools.  The enclosed note had read, in an unfamiliar hand, "The J stands for jackass."  Remus used it to carry his things with him from town to town.  It had served him well; Remus wished he knew who had sent it, so he could thank him properly.  Or her.

So Remus taught la Défense contre les Forces du Mal, and he ate and slept and graded papers and smiled every so often.  It was paradise, and he would have stayed there forever if he had not stopped by the library one day to read The Daily Prophet (Beauxbatons had a subscription), and he had not flipped to the help wanted section, and he had not seen an advertisement for a Defense against the Dark Arts teacher.  Apply in person, Hogwarts Castle.

Remus went, and learned several things he had not known.  Primarily what had become of Harry Potter.  No one in the wizarding world had seen or heard anything of The Boy Who Lived for ten long years, except of course for the occasional witch or wizard who claimed to have spotted him on the Underground, at the zoo or on the street.  Then Harry started at Hogwarts, perhaps the only first year in the school's history whose Sorting merited a front-page article in the Prophet.  That was most of what Remus knew about James's son, but Dumbledore brought him up to date.  Remus also learned about a recent discovery called the Wolfsbane Potion, which would allow him to keep his mind when he transformed, and which Severus Snape the Potions master would prepare for him.

And there was Sirius, shining once more for him.  "Remus," he said, "I'm going to make you a potion to cure lycanthropy, and I'm going to name it after you."

"Liar," Remus said.  "Traitor," and he shoved Sirius away, hard, so he could hear Dumbledore.

"We need you here, Remus," he said and Remus realized he could not remember the last time someone had said those words to him.  "You probably hadn't heard, but – you know Gilderoy Lockhart?"

"I knew him at Hog – at school," Remus said.  "He published some books, didn't he?"

"Well, he certainly didn't write them," Dumbledore said.  "Not only could he not banish a banshee to save his soul, he was a rather poor teacher as well."

"He taught Defense?" Remus said, stunned.  "He must have been a real asshole."

Dumbledore smiled brightly.  "It's going to be a pleasure working with you, Professor Lupin."

So Remus was back at Hogwarts, and it was paradise.  He drank pumpkin juice for the first time in ten years, and he had not one but two rooms all to himself with windows that closed, and he got to meet Harry.

There was no mistaking him, not for someone who'd lived with James, done his homework and listened to him snore for seven years.  But the look on Harry's face when he'd awakened – it was Lily, God help him, and Remus had just blown the world out from under her feet.  Remus didn't know if he could do it, stand in front of the class and watch James and Lily live and die twice a week.

But it was easier than Remus had feared, because Harry wasn't James and he wasn't Lily but somehow, miraculously, more than both of them.  And Ron and Hermione, bless their hearts, were nothing like Sirius and Peter.  Only, when Harry got too close to the dementors, he could hear them.  It was the first Remus had known about that day, and how it had happened.  James had tried to take on Voldemort himself, to give Lily time to run for it.  Remus pictured them in that saggy cardboard box they called a house, James standing in the absurdly narrow front hall, pulling his wand out of the faded old Hawaiian-print boxers he always used to wear to bed.  God, how Voldemort must have stared.

"You heard James?" Remus asked Harry, trying valiantly not to laugh.  Harry might not appreciate the humor of the situation, after all.

"Yeah," Harry said.  The kid's eyes were so green they looked like go on a stoplight.  "Why – you didn't know my dad, did you?"

"I – I did, as a matter of fact," Remus said.  James held out a piece of parchment for him to read.  "We were friends at Hogwarts."

It was funny, really.  If it hadn't been for the hair, Remus might have suspected Lily of running around on James.  As it was, the fact that his friend the arrogant bastard was the father of such a humble, appealing kid was already straining credibility.

So it wasn't hard for Remus to forgive Harry his parents.  There was something about his diffident heroism that stirred faint echoes of the way things used to be.  That was why Remus saved his ass from Snape.  That, and the fact that Snape was a relentless bastard and getting one up on him was worth every one of Snape's slurs about Remus's ancestry and abilities.  And there were a lot of them.

But there, too, was the Map.  A piece of his past sitting on Severus Snape's desk – could he have done anything that meant leaving it there?  Snape had no right to it, though he plainly had some idea of its virtues.  Neither did Harry, no matter how he'd managed to purloin his dad's masterwork.  But Remus thought, over and over, that he should have left them to Snape, the map and Harry both.  Harry had to learn that his life was purchased at a higher price than the others, regardless of what Remus thought of James, and getting him off scot-free didn't seem quite the way to go about it.  But Remus knew, in some place beyond his personal illusions, that Harry had a kind of respect for him, however little he'd done to merit it, and a word from him would do more good than five hours scrubbing the floor of Snape's dungeon with a toothbrush, or whatever sorts of antiquated torture Snape inflicted on the students unlucky enough to receive detention from him.  So Remus told himself.

Then one night Remus forgot to take his potion, and he saw Sirius again.  He caught all the wands without even looking at them because his eyes were fixed on Sirius.  Who somehow had not killed Peter after all.

"Where is he, Sirius?" said Remus.

Sirius pointed at Ron, but Remus did not take his eyes from Sirius's face.  Then Remus realized how it had really been.  And Sirius nodded.

That was enough to make it all worth it.  His confession, his resignation and Peter's escape together did not mean more than Sirius did.  It was a paralyzing thought.

After that, Remus left the country.  He went back to Beauxbatons, but they had already found a better candidate for the Défense position, so Remus became the groundskeeper.  He could see why Hagrid had stayed on at Hogwarts so long; it was far less demanding than teaching and he had a hut all to himself.  It was paradise.

Then one midnight in early July, a year after he'd left Hogwarts, Remus was mopping the floor when he heard a knock on the door, and he went to answer it.  It was Sirius.

"Are you doing bloody housework?" Sirius said.  "Merlin, don't you ever sleep?"

"Come on in," Remus said.  "Just be careful where you step."

Sirius was a stranger now.  He was not the Quidditch water boy and he was not the spy that Remus had brought himself to hate.  Remus supposed that he, too, was no longer the bright-haired golden boy of Hogwarts.  Too much had happened since then.

"Er," Remus said.  "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Okay," Sirius said.

They sat down at Remus's miniature table with identical mugs of steaming tea and tried not to look at each other.

"So," Remus said at last.  "I don't mean to be rude, but why are you here?  You don't just come by to chat at midnight."

Sirius smiled sadly.  "What have you heard about the Triwizard Tournament?"

"Only what was in the Prophet," Remus said.  "I can't believe Harry won, that's incredible."

"You're right," Sirius said, and told Remus everything else.

Remus closed his eyes.  "Oh God," he said.  "Cedric.  And Voldemort, and – oh God."

"That night – after Harry got back, Dumbledore told me – he wanted me to get the old crowd together."

Remus frowned.  "You mean the Gryffindor gang our fifth year?"

"That's right," Sirius said.  "Of course, the only ones left now are you, me, Arabella, and Mundungus."

Remus nodded, thoughtfully.

"But I don't know what he expects us to do.  I mean, what use could I possibly be?"

Sirius said it with a touch of bitterness that Remus had thought uniquely his own.  But he could think of no reply, so the silence stretched out, and they fiddled with their mugs for a while, and then both of them tried to talk at once.

"You first."

"No, you."

"Just say it, okay?"

"Fine."  Sirius sighed.  "I treated you like shit seventh year –"

"Yes," Remus nodded, "you certainly did."

Sirius scowled.  "Thank you for not making the truth any easier on me.  So I was an immature little twerp and I – I can't believe I did that to you –"

"Sirius –"

"No," he said, "if you stop me now I'm never going to say it.  I couldn't see it then, but I was throwing away the best thing I ever had and then I thought that you – that you were –"

"In bed with Voldemort," Remus said dryly.

"Er," Sirius said, looking nonplussed.  "Yeah.  Remus, I am so sorry for everything I've done, will you please try not to hate me?"

Sirius looked so contrite, so like the Sirius of yesterday that Remus grinned.  "Sirius, I could never turn you down, you know that."

Sirius smiled, slowly.  "Good, because I need somewhere to sleep tonight and I see you have a stretch of floor that you aren't using."

Remus laughed.  "I'd hug you, but you know how that goes."

"Well," Sirius said.  "It didn't seem to matter much to you before."

Remus froze, his brain buzzing.  Before what?

"In the Shrieking Shack, you dolt," Sirius said and Remus was relieved to see that he was smirking.  "You hugged me in front of Harry, Ron, Hermione and Peter, who need I add used to think we were as gay as the eighteen-nineties."

"As I recall," Remus said, "it was you who hugged me in the Shrieking Shack, not the other way around."

"Was it, you shameless liar?" Sirius said.  "Face it, Remus, you've wanted to get your hands on me for eighteen years, and God knows I looked good enough to eat, that night."

Remus got up, went around the table, and gave Sirius a hug.

Sirius jumped at his touch and Remus thought incoherently, there was the touch of Azkaban on him.

"I missed you," Remus said into his shoulder.

Sirius hugged him back.  "I missed you too," he said in a strangled voice.  "You louse."

"Oh, stop it," Remus said.  "You're going to make me cry."

* * *

Sirius stayed at Remus's place for another month or so, and just as they were learning to live with each other again, Dumbledore summoned them, along with Arabella and Mundungus, to Hogwarts.  He had some news for them.

"Remus," said Dumbledore, "you have just been appointed interim headmaster of Beauxbatons."

Remus scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand.  "Excuse me, sir, I think I drifted off for a minute.  Could you –"

Sirius jabbed him in the ribs.  "You heard him perfectly well the first time, you fool.  Now thank Dumbledore for getting you such a cushy job."

"The Beauxbatons board of directors, not I, deserves your thanks," said Dumbledore blithely.  "But they will be more likely thanking you instead.  After all, with Madame Maxime on an indefinite leave of absence, a qualified replacement really will be necessary.  And Sirius –"  Dumbledore fixed him with gimlet eyes.  "I assure you that there is more to this job than eating candy and counseling troubled adolescents."

Arabella bit down a giggle.  Mundungus began twiddling his thumbs.

"But," Sirius said, "if you promote Remus, then which poor schmuck is going to get saddled with the gamekeeper job?  No offense, good friend," he added to Remus, who was still looking stupefied.

Dumbledore gave Sirius an evil, curly smile that would have swelled the Grinch's shrunken little heart with pride.  "Why, you are," he said.

Sirius gawped.  Arabella finally gave up and started giggling wildly.  Mundungus shifted in his seat.  Remus finally regained the use of his senses.

"I can give you lessons," he offered but relapsed into silence at the look Sirius gave him.

Sirius turned a milder version of it on Dumbledore.  "You mean he's my boss?" Sirius demanded, jerking his thumb at Remus.

"Well," Dumbledore said, "I suppose so."

"How is he any more qualified than I am?"

"Let me see."  Dumbledore turned his eyes up to the ceiling.  "He has spent four years as a teacher, and an excellent one at that.  Also, he speaks French.  You don't."

Sirius now looked horrified.  "I have to learn French?"

"I can give you lessons," Remus offered.

"Unbelievable," Sirius said, shaking his head.

"Arabella," said Dumbledore, "the Defense position at Hogwarts is vacant once again and I would like for you to fill it."

Arabella shut up laughing promptly.  "Of course, Albus."

"Mundungus, with Hagrid gone, we will need a gamekeeper and a Care of Magical Creatures professor.  I trust the task won't offend you too much?" Dumbledore inquired, his lips twitching.

"Not at all," Mundungus said stiffly.

"Very well.  Mundungus, Arabella, your tasks are fairly obvious.  But Remus and Sirius, you two must be my liaison to the French Ministry of Magic."  They were expecting a visual X-ray, but Dumbledore just sighed and looked at them.  "France and Britain have fought each other often enough in the past.  I have no wish to see it happen again."

When Dumbledore dismissed them, Sirius and Remus left together.  They were halfway down the hall when Sirius kicked the base of a statue and said, "I don't believe it."

"Sirius, being gamekeeper isn't so bad –"

"He trusts me," Sirius said.  "Me, a convicted criminal, the biggest screw-up ever to come out of Hogwarts, he gives me France and says here, I know you can do it." 

Remus was horrified to see tears shining in Sirius's eyes.  "You're innocent," he said harshly.  "Remember?  And I think Hogwarts has seen bigger screw-ups.  Two that I know of."

Sirius put his hand on the wall and turned his face from Remus.  "Will you teach me how to speak French?" he asked in a thin voice.

"Ouais," Remus said.  "Ouais, je le lui apprendrai." ¹

Sirius looked up at him with misty eyes.  "I have no idea what you just said, but I don't think it was no."

"Sirius," said Remus, "you're going to be brilliant at this."

* * *

In April of Harry Potter's seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he disappeared.  So did Voldemort, on the same day.

Remus had known something would happen.  He had never taken Divination, never even looked twice at the dregs of his tea, but it was April thirteenth, and he had a history with that date.

Sirius went off the deep end, godfather-style, when he heard.  He Flooed straight to Hogwarts, presumably to storm around Dumbledore's office and assure Ron and Hermione that Harry was just off fighting the forces of evil somewhere, and of course he'd be back for the last Quidditch match.

Ravenclaw beat Gryffindor soundly, but neither team seemed to care.

Graduation day was miserable.  Dumbledore had not hired a weather-mage and even the sky was weeping for Harry Potter.  Dumbledore was reading off the graduates' names as they trooped across the stage alphabetically for their bit of parchment.  After Sally-Ann Perks had clomped down the steps, Dumbledore gave a petite cough and announced, "Harold Joseph Potter."

Five seconds went by, then ten.  One of the graduates stifled a sob; it sounded like Hermione.  Remus wondered viciously if Dumbledore expected Harry to come prancing across the field with a magical sword in one hand and Voldemort's dripping head in the other.  Sirius, next to him, was rigid as rotting metal.  Remus wanted to put his hand on Sirius's arm to make sure he was still alive, but he was afraid that Sirius might disintegrate under his touch.

At the end of a minute, Dumbledore picked up the scroll and recommenced reading in that sonorous death-chime of a voice.  It felt like the last sunset.  Sirius hid his face in his hands and now Remus did touch him, gripped his shoulder and whispered, "If you cry, I swear to God I'll kill you with a kitchen appliance."

Sirius's laughter strangled his sob and he sat up again.  "Bastard," he whispered, trying to regain control of his face.

Remus transferred his hold to Sirius's forearm.  And smiled.

"I love you," Sirius said quietly.

That caught Remus by surprise.  "What did you say?" he hissed, so loudly that three rows turned around to glare at him.

"You heard me."

"But you…"  Remus gulped and tried again.  "You mean you weren't lying?"

"When?"

"When you said you loved me."

"I never said I loved you," Sirius said, "and I never wanted in your robes.  I still don't, so you can stop looking like that."

"Good."  Remus relaxed a bit.  "But then…"

"Love?" Sirius said.  "I don't know.  But you've been there for me forever, and I…"

"Shh!" said an old crone with blue hair two rows back.  "Show some respect, you mongrels."

Sirius and Remus exchanged slow smiles.

Up on the stage, Dumbledore rolled up his parchment and winked at them.

"I will never understand," Sirius said irritably, "why he didn't teach Divination instead."

* * *

Peter Aurelius Pettigrew went on trial before the Ministry on June 17, 1998.  His testimony cleared Sirius of any wrongdoing, which was doubtless the last great injustice of Peter's life.

Now that Sirius was a free man, he and Remus moved back to England.  For convenience' sake, they decided to share living quarters.  Otherwise, as Remus pointed out, Sirius would never do the housework if left to his own devices.  They lived in relative peace for about a month, at the end of which twin owls arrived chez Black and Lupin, and their lives changed once again.

That fall at Hogwarts, there were some considerable changes in the faculty, as follows: Remus Lupin was teaching Ancient Runes.  Severus Snape was teaching Defense against the Dark Arts.  And Sirius Black was teaching Potions.

Several of his female students promptly fell in love with Sirius, who rather hoped he had not been so obvious about the same malady in his own student days.  Also, staff meetings had become vastly more entertaining.  At one point, Dumbledore actually suggested selling tickets to them, a suggestion that was unanimously voted down.

"Alas," Dumbledore sighed.  "We might have made such a killing."

* * *

THE END

¹ "Yeah, I'll teach it to you."