A-woo-hoo! Another chapter! Hope you're itching for a long one, 'cause that's certainly what it is!
DISCLAIMER: Everything belongs to J K Rowling except: Alexander, Cassius, Roxane and Sarissa Malfoy; Raoul Snape; Jacqueline and Gustave Romuald. The poem is from "Kings Quest Six: Heir Today, Gone Tomorrow" – am I the only person who remembers that game? I learnt the poem off by heart ten years ago and have never forgotten it… see, I was obsessive even then! : )
By the by, I'd like to clarify the ages of the respective Malfoy/Lupin children (this is in dd/mm/yyyy format). Lucius (03/07/1955), Sarissa (14/03/1957) and Remus (17/07/1959) – just in case anyone was wondering! Plus, just so you all know, this is a FIVE-PART SERIES with NINE CHAPTERS in each part (not including prologue/epilogue). So, we're almost at the end of PART ONE: Early Years…. Yay! I'm sure you're all glad about that, too.
I hope you all enjoy the latest chapter of… BY THE LIGHT OF THE MOON! Yeah! : )
***
Separation
That November, when the moon waxed and my patience dwindled, I heard my mother weeping late at night in the study that was now shared by my Grandfather and Uncle Cassius, and in my brief memory the only time a woman had been allowed in there for any reason other than a scolding (Sarissa locking Evan Rosier in the hall cupboard that summer was the most recent example). I dared not enter the dusty chamber that doubled as my Uncle's lair; but I knew that through the family grapevine the things of which my mother wept would soon come to my attention.
When I descended the stairs the next morning, my mother sat motionless at the foot of the stairs, her black Wizarding robes hung loosely about her thin, frail body. It was the first time I had ever seen her face so shrouded in grief, her body so fragile and useless when compared to the strength of her soul. She lifted her eyes to meet my own as my pace quickened to be at her side. Her eyes were red and tired, as if she had cried all night and never known any consolation from it. My own heart ached to comfort her, but I knew that my arms were not the ones she craved instinctively; I cursed my father for leaving her thus, to face a painful life alone.
Cassius appeared, exiting the parlour, and as he saw me I noticed that his normally cool, calculating blue eyes were tinged with scarlet also. He beckoned me to follow him into the parlour, where he sat me down in my Grandfather's chair and stood, hesitantly, above me. I pursed my lips and waited for him to speak.
"Remus," he began, his speech slow and deliberate, and my lips began to tremble as I listed all the possibilities in my mind. But I had never been prepared for the words my uncle uttered next. "Severus' father has died, last night, in St. Mungos."
Involuntarily my jaw slipped out of place and I sat there, gaping at my Uncle like a dead fish while he shielded my gaze from the tears in his eyes. "Mother…" I murmured, and it was as if the past year flooded through me with new force – Raoul's pained, haggard face each day of the summer, and Severus' growing distance from me. Little did I know exactly how the separation would lengthen shortly, forever, at my own weakness.
Cassius gasped as he held back his grief, and I felt my heart being crushed within my body as I thought of our pain when compared to his own; certainly, I had lost my own father but not to the grim hands of death, and he was not to be called a father by any account – I bore his name, and that of his family, but as a man he was not the sort I would have wished upon anyone. Kind, gentle, loving – these were words I attributed more so to my mother, and the Malfoy's than I could have to Archibald Lupin. As I thought more on the subject I felt as if, in comparison to my own life, Severus had been torn from a person as precious to him as my mother, or my Grandmother were to me. I sighed deeply at the thought of Severus' loss.
"You should head upstairs and change, Remus," Cassius whispered softly, so as to not let my mother hear him. "We shall visit the Snape's later this afternoon. Take one of Lucius' old black robes from the linen basket – they should fit you well enough."
As I left the room and ascended the stairs solemnly, every step feeling like a vein flattened in my best friend's heart, I heard my mother's low voice speaking softly:
"Raoul…"
When I reached the second floor I quickened my step, but my enhanced hearing, due to my transformations and the close proximity to the rising moon, left the last line coherent, without any doubt as to its meaning.
"My… love."
***
Dearest Father,
My heart feels heavier than my head at this grief-stricken news. My condolences to the Snape Family; Raoul was always a good man, and a true friend to our family, I see that now. I know he was pure in blood, and in name, despite his lack of claim to wealth or title.
I understand that Roxane is taking the news heavily. Give my love to my dear sister; my pain is undoubtedly but a shadow of her own. Allow her to be strong in her grief; tell Remus that his friendship with young Severus can only grow stronger through this grim event.
My trivial school life seems petty and incongruent to this terrible bereavement. I am sad, my father, at the loss of such a competent ally in these, the darkest days I have ever seen. The shadow is rising, and the whole of Hogwarts mourns the passing of an Auror such as Raoul Snape.
Give my love to Cassius also; the death of his friend will undoubtedly have affected him also. I shall be home at Christmas, father.
Affectionately,
Lucius.
***
November 18th, 1968, 2:16pm
The wind blustered around the funeral procession as we walked, in time with the beat of a single drum, toward the sunken cemetery that lay in the valley below the church. Its touch was warm and dry; unusual for the cool morning that had preceded it. My mother's black veil shrouded her face and the blank stare that I knew was hidden beneath it; unlike Raoul's wife Jacqueline, who wept profusely during the entire ceremony inside the church and I was sure would continue as the coffin was lowered into the ground, my mother preserved her dignity now that the initial shock had passed.
Our ebony cloaks moved as one down the hillside, and as we reached the grave site I smelt the warm earth as the hot breeze attempted to blow us back up it. The smell was pungent, as if the soil so long accepting the bodies of the decomposing dead had become fused with the acrid stench itself. As I write these words, I can still taste it in my mind; intermingling with that of the ink and paper I see before me.
As Cassius and my Grandfather stooped to lower the coffin into the grave, the other pallbearers – mainly Raoul's fellow Aurors from the Ministry – held it level on the top, I noticed one of the men staring at me curiously. His hair was wild and unkempt; streaked with grey and his eyes – or, rather, I should say eye, since one of them was glass and this was the one which held my attention – glowed at the sight of me. As the coffin settled and the Priest began to speak, I looked away and grasped my mother's waist, knowing the back of my mind that this man's eye was still focussed on my face; boring into me as I struggled to listen to the benediction.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…" I heard the Priest proclaim; my attention still diverted by the unusual man. I glanced back at him quickly and saw his mouth contort in a grim, but comforting smile that flooded my entire body with calm. He held my gaze by his eye that was now turning bright blue! Terrified, I tried to look away but found that I was transfixed by him; I knew that with charisma such as this he must be a powerful man and one who was not to be trifled with. Smiling weakly back at him I managed to break his concentrating and gripped my mother tighter than before. Her hand lowered to stroke my hair softly, and out of the corner of my eye I noticed her nod to the mysterious man in greeting. The Priest had my full attention now; and I realised that my prediction had been correct – Jacqueline Snape was on her knees now, crying into the grave of her husband, Severus' arm hanging uncomfortably over her broad shoulders.
"The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away; He gave his only Son so that we too might have everlasting life in Heaven at our passing –" I noticed that several of the other Wizards surrounding the grave smiled at this, and wondered in the back of my mind why Raoul had requested such a strange ceremony for himself. Later, with the knowledge given to me by my Grandfather, I learnt that as a child, he had been a Muggle – that he had been known as a Mudblood, a term which has only recently gone out of our common usage due to a new government enforcing it. In the days of my childhood, and all those before me, it was as flippant a word as Sarissa had used it at my Grandmother's deathbed – like American novels from the nineteenth century condemned those with black skin to the term of Nigger, so did the Wizarding world condemn those not of pure blood through Mudblood. Those who use it now are ill-bred, ignorant wizards and witches; just as the men and women who use the other in America. It was through this word that I understood the burial to be a Muggle custom.
"– and may the love of God be with us all, evermore. Amen."
The ceremony over, a line of Wizards formed to offer their condolences to the widow and her son. I stood with my mother at the end, knowing that through our friendship with Raoul that our words would be the most important. My mind was in a tumult; as I looked into the afternoon sky my mind told me that the full moon would rise that night, and that I needed to speak to Severus most of all, to repair our friendship that was dwindling for reasons unknown to me. As the line shortened I caught Severus' eye, and he glanced away quickly. Confused, I looked around me and saw that Cassius had seen the interchange between Severus and I. His hand patted my shoulder reassuringly as he strode forward to speak to Jacqueline, my mother and Grandfather following.
Severus darted aside and towards me, his black eyes cold like I had never seen them. I was startled by both the movement and his gaze, and jumped as he approached. He stood before me, his hands tucked behind his back and waited for me to speak.
"I… I'm sorry about your father, Severus."
His eyes softened and lost the iciness of their previous glare; and he pursed his lips as he nodded, directing his stare to the ground. "Yes. So am I."
My heart tore within at the simple pain of his words. "Severus… I understand." I reached forward and clasped his cold hands in mine, noticing that his skin had lost its former glow and his hair was greasy and unwashed. "My father… he isn't coming back either. And, even though our fathers weren't anything like each other…"
"I know, Remus. You don't have to say anything." His eyes flickered up at me and I saw tears gleaming in the corners, threatening to break free. "It's just… my mother…" he trailed off and I glanced over to Jacqueline, who was looking at me as if I were some type of deadly caterpillar, biding my time before jumping and poisoning her son. "She says I can't see you anymore."
I felt the tears gather in my own eyes, and I exhaled slowly. "What? Why?" The situation became apparent: this was the reason for Severus' coolness over the last few months – his mother had told him that when his father died, our friendship would be over.
Jacqueline appeared behind Severus and took his arm roughly. He gasped in pain as she pulled him up the hill, our family trailing after her, my mother's veil flung back over her head and her eyes flaming in anger.
"Jacqueline! You can't do this – he's already lost his father, and now he has to lose his best friend too? You're heartless… you can't mean it!"
With a sneer Jacqueline turned and spat at my mother. "Raoul is dead, Roxane – and so are my ties to your family. Soon Severus will be at Hogwarts, and he won't need a…" she lowered her voice venomously, her face filled with utter hatred, "…werewolf for his friend. Severus needs to be accepted, not ostracised! And, what with everything that's happened… I don't need an alliance with people like you."
Cassius' face curled up in anger. "Take him, then! We'll watch how you fare without us at your side during these times, Mrs. Snape… friends will be very hard to come by for a woman whose father died defending Grindelwald!"
My tears broke free as I watched Severus being dragged away from me; and I fell to the ground as my blood grew hot, my skin grew cold and the needles threatened to push out of my skin in rage. I couldn't bear it! I couldn't! "Severus!" I cried pathetically, my Uncle picking me up off the ground as my world went black.
***
My loss of Severus awakened in me a feeling of terror that day. What could I – a werewolf – really do without friends at my side? I've often wondered about that November day, and whether the real reason for my separation from Severus was my affliction – or my mother's, or even my family's later demise.
Roxane Lupin, my mother, is a self-confirmed packrat. Going through her things always yields information about the past; no matter how long is takes for you to dig it out. Over the years I've searched for something to confirm the words I heard her whisper in the hallway the day Raoul Snape died; but to no avail. Recently, however, I found a new box of trash and treasure left over from her days at Hogwarts, and a photograph caught my eye in the midst of old homework and sweet wrappers.
I dug it out and stared at the two people, smiling and laughing into the camera, for hours on end. That's the worst part about moving photographs; they not only capture the moment but also part of the soul of the subjects – just like the native Aboriginals of Australia believed in their religion. Watching my mother, only sixteen, dressed in her Slytherin Quidditch robes with her arm around who could only have been Raoul Snape, both grinning at the lens, then poking each other mischievously with their broom handles, I knew that I had heard correctly that day almost thirty years previously. When I tired of their never-ending happiness I turned the photograph over to reveal a poem, scribed by a hand I didn't recognise, the dedication plain at the top.
For Roxane:
What was it when I looked at you?
What pow'r has chained me through and through?
And binds my heart with links so tight
O, I cannot live without the sight
Of you.
What nameless thing has captured me
And made me powerless to flee?
What thing is it without a name
That brings my heart 'ere back the same
To thee?
The name of love cannot apply;
Its commonness does not descry,
The haunted, hunted, painful cry
That my heart makes for you.
That 'ere my soul eternal makes
For you.
I understood why they had never married; Snape was simply a poor Muggle-born without any claim to fame or wealth, and my mother was heiress of one of Britain's largest fortunes, daughter of not only an entrepreneur and philanthropist in the Wizarding world, but the eighteenth generation of the Malfoy family, whom could trace themselves back to Normandy in 1066. Still, in my heart of hearts I do believe that Grandfather might have permitted it; he loved Snape as if he were his own son and Cassius like his brother – if my mother had ever approached them about it. She married my father, a rich and pompous fool instead; and Raoul married Jacqueline Romuald during his stint in Switzerland as an Auror, daughter of Gustave Romuald, the French exile and right-hand man of Grindelwald, the famous Dark Wizard.
As I think of the sacrifices my mother made not only for her family, but for her name, I wonder at how people can be led so astray from the hearts and minds by such trivial things. But I respect them for it, despite these thoughts, for I have faced the same trials as them only in a different generation. Those who have suffered, have done so willingly; those who have sacrificed, have faced the future without apprehension – and who in this world of ours can claim such a thing? Many say that power corrupts, and that equal wealth and esteem should be the way of a modern world… but as the past has shown us, there will always be inequality, no matter what package it is sold under, whether it be communism or capitalism. We should, instead, acknowledge those who allow themselves to be dictated by their position for the good of the world; not those who try to rise above themselves. For, in our modern world, it is the sacrifices of the privileged that are ignored, not those of the proletarian.
For, what is Good, and what is Evil? To be good is to think of others; to be evil is to think only of oneself. Who knows what the world would be without both Yin and Yang…? None, for it is everywhere, and it is merely our duty to define it, and uphold it as doctrine, and for others to obey it.
My mother sacrificed the love of a husband for the love of a family – in the modern world, if it were your choice, would you thinking of others, or only of yourself? I lost Severus, my first real friend, at the age of nine… and gave him up unwillingly. My history is testament to the horrors I would suffer later for my own selfishness, and for that of many others, just like me, around the globe.
***
I know Remmie is whining a bit, but you'll all understand it later… like he says… when more of his life is revealed. Now, review and make me write some more, okay? : )