Echoes In The Darkness

Part Two

He had been watching Sirius Black for over an hour now. He watched as he stood on the doorstep to his friend's home, unable to enter. He did not join him at first, choosing to wait in the shadows to give Black time to prepare himself. The Animagus had not entered the home since Lupin had left it all those months ago. Severus did not feel like coddling him, so he decided he would just wait until Black had time to enter and compose himself. But Black never entered. Instead he stood paralyzed facing the door, not even moving his hand towards the latch. Snape decided enough was enough and walked over. He quietly moved in front of Black and opened the door, stepping aside to allow Black entry. He still refused to move.

With a small sigh, Snape entered first. As he walked over the threshold he was immediately surprised by the quiet he found in the house. It had been empty for months, so he wondered why the stillness startled him, why the silence was so unnatural and disturbing. Perhaps that was why Black couldn't enter-- because this house, entrenched in this horrid, deceiving tranquility, was supposed to be full of laughter and music and a soft tenor voice whose gentleness swathed the entrant in warmth and serenity.

For the most part the house looked as he anticipated it would. The home was simple in its décor and furnishings, which he expected considering Lupin lived for most of his life as a nomad. Everything was covered in a light layer of dust. A worn but comfortable looking armchair was situated by a hearth. Next to it stood a small table that held a framed photograph. Inexplicably drawn to it, Snape picked it up, only to find yesterday staring back at him in striped scarves and faded jeans.

Five young faces stared at him. James Potter and Lily Evans smiled; she clung to him lovingly and he pushed his unruly hair from his face. Snape was a little taken aback by how much their son resembled them-- both of them. It seemed only fitting that Harry would be a perfect combination of those two, whose lives where as intertwined as their fingers in this picture.

The image was reminiscent of the last time he saw young Potter-- weeks ago, when the Weasley boy proposed to Hermione Granger at St. Mungo's, where she was detained for two weeks. Potter unceremoniously slipped his fingers in between those of the youngest Weasley, who placed her head on his shoulder as they watched the other couple. Severus had been visiting Hermione at the time, as the two had formed an odd friendship over the last year. He had felt like an intruder then, and he felt like one now, staring at the couple caught in a moment of innocence and pure affection. Though he and James never got along, Lily was nice to him, and seeing her smiling face was almost as painful as it was comforting.

Next to Lily stood Peter Pettigrew, a small smile playing on his lips. Snape remembered a shy boy, seemingly happy to be in the shadows of his more outgoing friends. Yes, seemingly. Snape wondered, somewhat sullenly, if this photograph was taken before or after he turned. When exactly did this boy with the light hair and small eyes become the monster that would betray everyone else in this picture? Everyone he was supposed to have loved? He was once again thrust back to the moment when he had watched the little man die at the hands of the childhood friend who stood next to him in this portrait. And then the former Death Eater -- who saw butchery and inhumanity at its most primitive level -- shivered.

His eyes continued to scan the photo.

Sirius Black. An arm leaning on the shoulder of his young friend, the patented smirk on full rose-pink lips, long hair lightly swaying in a breeze, and clothes, as always, a bit too tight. His magnetism and charm leapt from the frame through that devilish smile. Severus wondered if this boy would ever return as he thought of the man still standing like a statue in the doorway. Those days were not always the happiest for Severus but it was so much easier to resent the man for his behavior than to pity him for his pain.

Finally, with some resignation and every ounce of courage he possessed, he allowed his eyes to wander the edge of the portrait. He allowed himself to look upon the seraphic face of Remus Lupin, who was holding his books and smiling shyly.

And time stopped.

Twenty years dissolved in seconds before his eyes. In front of him stood the image of Remus laughing with Sirius, tutoring a hopeless Peter in Charms, and teasing James and Lily about catching them in the common room -- again. Severus could see Remus studying under the elms with his books sprawled all around him. He could hear the gentle voice saying his name in that way that always sent shockwaves through his body. Unconsciously, Severus let his thumb glide over the image of the boy whose smile was burned in his memory, whose scent he could still smell… whose honey eyes would look at him and make his day brighter just because they were focused on him for a fraction of a second.

He told himself two decades ago that he was not in love. How could he be? The man was a werewolf, after all, a monster. Yes, a blood thirsty, vicious, monster -- not human. It wasn't without bitterness that he realized the same could be said about him. And what was worse: in his case, it was true. The boy in this picture was no monster and neither was the man he grew up to be. If Severus were truly honest with himself, he would only see the slightest of changes between the boy and the man. Slightly taller, greyer, a few more lines in his face, yes. But still as compassionate, still as kindhearted, still as intelligent… still Remus. He did not allow himself to know the boy, so he never fully understood the man. Now that man was gone and he might never get the chance.

And suddenly it became difficult to breathe again.

It was time to put the picture away. It was time to put the memories away. It was time to do what they came here to do. As if reading his mind, Sirius finally entered the room and stood next to Severus. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he spoke: "Come on, Severus. Let's look around and see what we can find out." His voice was steady but still betrayed his emotions. Severus knew they were feeling the same things but he wasn't sure if he found that as unsettling as he thought he would, as he thought he should. On the contrary actually, he was almost comforted by it.

They set about their task, searching the rooms for any sort of clue or hint that might tell them where Remus might have gone. They were both going on the assumption that Remus was alive but unable to come home. It seemed a stretch, and they both knew that, but neither would say so. It was the only life line either had and to break it would break them into a million little pieces… into dust… into nothing.

They checked inside drawers, underneath the bed, and inside closets. They leafed through books, working in complete quiet, as if any noise would be blasphemy. After nearly four hours they came up with nothing.

They stood facing each other despondently, both wondering what the next step was. After some contemplation, with nothing more than a nod they continued with what they considered the next logical step. Taking out his wand, Severus walked to the walls and started to scan them, looking for any hidden passages or compartments. Sirius started doing the same with the floors. Then the furniture. Then the grounds.

Another five hours and still nothing.

Exhausted and defeated, they sat at the kitchen table. Severus made some tea he found in Lupin's cabinet and they drank. They continued their rite of silence until Snape noticed Black closely examining his cup with a look of bewilderment.

"Is there something wrong with the tea?" he asked, trying to provoke the sardonic Sirius in an attempt to replace the dying one.

"What?" His eyes never left the cup.

"I said is there something wrong with the tea? You are examining the cup as if you expect it to say something to you."

"It is saying something to me."

Perhaps there were some after effects to years in Azkaban after all. "Ah, you have finally lost all sense of reason and are now communicating with dinnerware. Tell me, how long has this been going on?"

Ignoring his words, Sirius got up from the table, went to the cupboard, and started to examine all the cups in the same manner. He tore through all the cabinets until he had scrutinized every cup and glass. With a look of confusion, he sat down again and looked at Severus.

"This isn't his cup."

"Pardon?"

"I said this isn't his cup….Remus carried his life with him whereever he went. Everything of value he kept in his satchel and brought it with him from place to place. He had this cup from his grandmother's china set that he carried around. It was a remembrance of her. He never went anywhere without it." He leaned in to make his point. "It's not here. He took it with him."

"You just said he took it everywhere."

"Exactly. He took it everywhere, along with all the other things that he valued and cherished. The house hardly contains anything of any personal value, anything that he treasured. Except…"

And then he saw it too. "The photograph…"

"Except the photograph."

They both got up and ran to the table. Severus picked up the photograph and studied it again. It was an ordinary picture in an ordinary frame. "Maybe there is a clue in the picture itself, something he wanted us to see."

Sirius took it from his hands and inspected it himself. "Maybe it has to do with when we took the picture?"

"What do you remember?" He allowed the tiniest glimmer of hope to show itself in his words.

Sirius looked at the picture, trying to will something to jump out at him and give him the answers he so desperately needed. He started to speak, slowly. "It was sixth year. Fall. James had just sort of proposed to Lily. No rings, just words. It was the beginning of term. Just before Halloween. Just a few a few days before…" And he paused.

"What? Damn you, a few days before what?"

He let out a sigh. "A few days before the night in the Shrieking Shack."