Disclaimer: Similar situations and characters are all property of
J.K.Rowling, Warner Bros., Bloomsbury Publishers, Scholastic Books, and all
related indicia. I am gaining no profit from this publication.
Author's Note: I've finally gotten to write this chapter. Whew. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this bit of bonding - or should I call it that? I guess you have to figure that out on your own. Enjoy this part and please review.
Chapter 5 Remembrance and Regret
"I couldn't have done it. I just couldn't have," Remus murmured to himself reassuringly. He needed assurance and security, and he didn't possess either. Being alone (well, almost) has many cons. He needed to find a Daily Prophet - and fast. Lately, such a luxury was too costly for him, so he gladly went without. His entire outside news came from Dumbledore, and he trusted him enough to believe that whatever Dumbledore thought necessary to mention to him was in fact important. Sometimes he'd even mention some tips on the Werewolf Rights Committee, which he obviously was interested in. But Dumbledore - as much as he may have wanted - didn't have enough time to owl Remus every day.
Reluctantly Remus went to the kitchen window to owl Dumbledore, feeling that he was being a nuisance. But he just had to make sure that the dead Muggle man wasn't too significant. He only would be if the wizarding world knew about it.
For now, he was just going to try to forget all about the entire thing.
* * *
Moeris swaggered in, all sleepy-eyed. He wasn't a very early riser. "What's up?" Remus managed to say through his meager breakfast of a solitary biscuit.
"What is up?" Moeris was evidently searching for something he could do to keep himself occupied for the day. Without warning, he was gifted with a more acute awareness to it presently being day and not still night. He scurried away rapidly.
What is it with him? "Look, I don't want anymore surprises today," he called out teasingly after him and turned to follow him wearily.
Moeris was in his room - which was really the old dusty guestroom. He had fixed it up rather nicely since he moved in Remus noticed. In the right hand side stood his twin-sized bed and to it's right was the dresser. An ancient quaint wardrobe occupied the left side of the small room. The torn, ripped, and leak-stained moldy flower wallpaper was all pulled off revealing a much better scene of plain gray paint. It wasn't dusty anymore either. Moeris had scrubbed the wooden floor himself the previous day. He always had nice - not to mention useful - ideas for his events of the day.
"Wow. This is great." Remus wished he would do this to his own room and told Moeris so.
Smiling, the fifteen-year-old didn't comment for he was too thrilled by something he was looking for in his dresser drawers. Finally, from underneath one of the too-big T-shirts Remus had lent him, he pulled out a single picture with an unnaturally enticed bright look in his dark eyes.
"Here, this is for you. I want to know who she is though," he ordered.
Confused and reasonably a little worried, Remus grabbed the photo. With the background of the Westminster Bridge on a lovely sunny afternoon, stood a beautiful slender girl with crimson hair pouring down past her shoulders like sanguine rain. She smiled happily revealing perfectly white teeth as she draped her arm around an equally joyous boy maybe an inch taller with light hair and a comfortable twisted grin. Yes, a real smile. It was him. With Lily.
Remus didn't know what to say. At first he had no reaction other than the sadness of the reality that he'd never be able to see or touch or talk to the person next to him in the photo again. But for some reason, the grief turned to anger.
"How," he whispered in awe, "- how did you get this?!" Sensing that maybe this wasn't the best idea after all, Moeris took a step backward just in case. Remus was no to be messed with.
'I, uh, found it in your st-stuff. I thought it'd-"
"Be nice to see how I'd react to seeing my dead best friend's dead wife again?" Remus finished without raising his voice, but his feelings were not concealed at all by this.
Trying to make up for his mistake, Moeris sought forgiveness. "I'm s-sorry. I didn't know." He was sincere. Who am I kidding? He honestly didn't know. I have no right to take out my anger on him. That would be lowering myself to Sirius's standards. As if I'm not low enough. "True. How would you?" he agreed, sitting down on the bed for he felt standing would occupy some of the strength he needed at the moment. Moeris kept silent. He brought this up and didn't want to make it any worse than it already was.
'Like I said," Remus began again, "she was my best friend James's wife. She died two years ago. We were in London at the time - as you can see." He lifted up the picture and handed it to Moeris. "Too bad it doesn't move," commented the boy with a sigh. Remus nodded. If only. It'd be a just a little closer to the real thing. How I miss her. I how miss them. "It was taken by one of my other best friends, Peter, with this girl's - Lily's - Muggle camera. She got it from her parents on her birthday." Fighting back tears, he went on. "We went to London because she and James had just had their son, Harry, and we wanted to celebrate. I think Sirius was holding Harry so he wasn't in the picture. You want to see a picture of him?" he offered with sudden kindness. I guess talking about this with someone else helps.
Hesitantly Moeris uttered a soft "Yes" and pretty soon, he found himself barraged with album upon album that held Remus's past, love, and life. He really was really blessed after all. In a way. Moeris had finally found a friend, and so had Remus. They were a family. A pack. And they were going to go through the world together.
Moeris excused himself by saying he had to go to the bathroom. Little did he know that Remus was crying while he was gone, and vice versa. Moeris felt really grateful for finally having had Remus show him his life. But he himself wanted to be with his family again. He loved them so much, even though they wouldn't accept him at all if they knew who he really was. Why couldn't he have friends like Remus's? Sure, all of his friends are gone, but that was only because of one of them. The rest weren't all bad. He resented Remus. He had begun to love him as a father, but yet, he was jealous. Something is wrong with me. Look at all he's done for me. and I'm envious of him?
After his hateful thoughts had fully penetrated his body, he willed himself to leave the restroom and join Remus once more. He was still in his room, but he seemed to have forgotten all the memories spread out all over the bed. A huge barn owl was bashing about with a letter and rolled up parchment at its feet and Remus was struggling to get it off. Finally, Remus won and the owl flew to the dresser lazily, expecting a little payment for its voyage and previous struggle.
"It's a letter from Dumbledore and the Daily Prophet," said Remus in a barely audible voice. The look in his eyes wasn't right, Moeris noted. Remus turned his heel and not saying a word nearly sprang out of the guestroom. Stunned, Moeris just figured he could stare longingly at the photos - this time some moving ones - of Remus and his old friends. It was better than having to face Remus. He wanted to hide his blameworthy selfish self out of his guardian's sight.
Meanwhile, Remus fought the band bonding the newspaper together and ended up ripping it in half from anxiety. He flipped through rapidly. It was shocking that the Daily Prophet wasn't in shreds yet. He skipped most of the articles or columns he saw: "Chudley Cannons Shot Out of Winning Possibility," "Old Witch Opens Muggle Bank," "Band of the Banshees In London!," "Thanatos Questioned as Psychic,' and finally, "Muggle Man Killed but Not by a Muggle." Remus gasped. This was just what he was expecting. He proceeded to read the article.
The news of the murdered Muggle Richard Ellings has rapidly reached the wizard community - and for good reason. Our wizarding sources, such as Barty Crouch Sr. who examined the crime scene himself has commented by saying, "This was surely not done by a Muggle. Such defacement could not even be attempted by a Muggle. This definitely has something to do with the magical world. Arnold Peasegood, Homer Diggory, and myself have all witnessed the damage created here. We believe that this may have been done by a magical beast, but are yet to be sure." Because of this, the Beast Division has been contacted, and the Ministry of Magic is high on the case. Meanwhile, Peasegood is hurriedly working on erasing the Muggles' memories. Any possible clues to the culprit are happily welcomed.
None of this means anything, Remus reminded himself. It could have been anyone or anything else. As long as I stay quiet they won't even bother with me. Remus forced himself to slow his breathing and lightly tossed the Daily Prophet to the coffee table as he sunk back into the couch. All was silent. Wherever Moeris was, he was being very soundless himself. I have got to figure out that I should relax more often. He got up, stretched, and went back to check on Moeris.
He practically floated down the hallway - he did it so agilely. He craned his neck around the side of the doorway. Moeris was cleaning up the albums, neatly stacking them up in three columns with a separate stack for photos in picture frames. Moeris finally saw his visitor. He kept his eyes floored uncharacteristically. "Oh, you forgot the note." Remus saw the boy hold up the parchment from the Headmaster. Forgetting to question Moeris about his abrupt misery, he took the letter. "Thanks."
The shabby man pulled at the envelope as frustrated as a child trying to tie its shoelaces did. He managed to take out the paper within by the use of a wand. He certainly wasn't keeping to his own promise of remaining un- worried at these types of situations. Damn. I thought I was supposed to be calm about this.
Dear Remus, If you want a subscription, just ask. Don't worry; I find time. (Time- turners have turned out to be quite useful. But don't tell anyone that.) For some reason, I have the feeling that you're worried about something. You can always talk to me, boy. It's no trouble at all. Plus, I need a good excuse to get away from all this work. I have a lot to with the anxiety of Death Eaters. Now that Voldemort is gone for good, as we all hope, many of his followers are on the run, and I've been working with a select group of people and the Ministry of Magic to capture them all. Since we need all the help we can get, I am willing to offer you an opportunity. If you feel like you're up to it and you don't mind facing the past, I ask if you'd like to continue a new type of Order of the Phoenix, like the one you joined with Lily, James, Sirius, Peter, and some others. Instead of fighting Voldemort, we're just eliminating his remains. I'm not forcing you to do anything, but the job is open. Think about it. -Albus
Remus re-read the letter five more times to make sure it was real. He didn't know what to think.
Author's Note: I've finally gotten to write this chapter. Whew. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this bit of bonding - or should I call it that? I guess you have to figure that out on your own. Enjoy this part and please review.
Chapter 5 Remembrance and Regret
"I couldn't have done it. I just couldn't have," Remus murmured to himself reassuringly. He needed assurance and security, and he didn't possess either. Being alone (well, almost) has many cons. He needed to find a Daily Prophet - and fast. Lately, such a luxury was too costly for him, so he gladly went without. His entire outside news came from Dumbledore, and he trusted him enough to believe that whatever Dumbledore thought necessary to mention to him was in fact important. Sometimes he'd even mention some tips on the Werewolf Rights Committee, which he obviously was interested in. But Dumbledore - as much as he may have wanted - didn't have enough time to owl Remus every day.
Reluctantly Remus went to the kitchen window to owl Dumbledore, feeling that he was being a nuisance. But he just had to make sure that the dead Muggle man wasn't too significant. He only would be if the wizarding world knew about it.
For now, he was just going to try to forget all about the entire thing.
* * *
Moeris swaggered in, all sleepy-eyed. He wasn't a very early riser. "What's up?" Remus managed to say through his meager breakfast of a solitary biscuit.
"What is up?" Moeris was evidently searching for something he could do to keep himself occupied for the day. Without warning, he was gifted with a more acute awareness to it presently being day and not still night. He scurried away rapidly.
What is it with him? "Look, I don't want anymore surprises today," he called out teasingly after him and turned to follow him wearily.
Moeris was in his room - which was really the old dusty guestroom. He had fixed it up rather nicely since he moved in Remus noticed. In the right hand side stood his twin-sized bed and to it's right was the dresser. An ancient quaint wardrobe occupied the left side of the small room. The torn, ripped, and leak-stained moldy flower wallpaper was all pulled off revealing a much better scene of plain gray paint. It wasn't dusty anymore either. Moeris had scrubbed the wooden floor himself the previous day. He always had nice - not to mention useful - ideas for his events of the day.
"Wow. This is great." Remus wished he would do this to his own room and told Moeris so.
Smiling, the fifteen-year-old didn't comment for he was too thrilled by something he was looking for in his dresser drawers. Finally, from underneath one of the too-big T-shirts Remus had lent him, he pulled out a single picture with an unnaturally enticed bright look in his dark eyes.
"Here, this is for you. I want to know who she is though," he ordered.
Confused and reasonably a little worried, Remus grabbed the photo. With the background of the Westminster Bridge on a lovely sunny afternoon, stood a beautiful slender girl with crimson hair pouring down past her shoulders like sanguine rain. She smiled happily revealing perfectly white teeth as she draped her arm around an equally joyous boy maybe an inch taller with light hair and a comfortable twisted grin. Yes, a real smile. It was him. With Lily.
Remus didn't know what to say. At first he had no reaction other than the sadness of the reality that he'd never be able to see or touch or talk to the person next to him in the photo again. But for some reason, the grief turned to anger.
"How," he whispered in awe, "- how did you get this?!" Sensing that maybe this wasn't the best idea after all, Moeris took a step backward just in case. Remus was no to be messed with.
'I, uh, found it in your st-stuff. I thought it'd-"
"Be nice to see how I'd react to seeing my dead best friend's dead wife again?" Remus finished without raising his voice, but his feelings were not concealed at all by this.
Trying to make up for his mistake, Moeris sought forgiveness. "I'm s-sorry. I didn't know." He was sincere. Who am I kidding? He honestly didn't know. I have no right to take out my anger on him. That would be lowering myself to Sirius's standards. As if I'm not low enough. "True. How would you?" he agreed, sitting down on the bed for he felt standing would occupy some of the strength he needed at the moment. Moeris kept silent. He brought this up and didn't want to make it any worse than it already was.
'Like I said," Remus began again, "she was my best friend James's wife. She died two years ago. We were in London at the time - as you can see." He lifted up the picture and handed it to Moeris. "Too bad it doesn't move," commented the boy with a sigh. Remus nodded. If only. It'd be a just a little closer to the real thing. How I miss her. I how miss them. "It was taken by one of my other best friends, Peter, with this girl's - Lily's - Muggle camera. She got it from her parents on her birthday." Fighting back tears, he went on. "We went to London because she and James had just had their son, Harry, and we wanted to celebrate. I think Sirius was holding Harry so he wasn't in the picture. You want to see a picture of him?" he offered with sudden kindness. I guess talking about this with someone else helps.
Hesitantly Moeris uttered a soft "Yes" and pretty soon, he found himself barraged with album upon album that held Remus's past, love, and life. He really was really blessed after all. In a way. Moeris had finally found a friend, and so had Remus. They were a family. A pack. And they were going to go through the world together.
Moeris excused himself by saying he had to go to the bathroom. Little did he know that Remus was crying while he was gone, and vice versa. Moeris felt really grateful for finally having had Remus show him his life. But he himself wanted to be with his family again. He loved them so much, even though they wouldn't accept him at all if they knew who he really was. Why couldn't he have friends like Remus's? Sure, all of his friends are gone, but that was only because of one of them. The rest weren't all bad. He resented Remus. He had begun to love him as a father, but yet, he was jealous. Something is wrong with me. Look at all he's done for me. and I'm envious of him?
After his hateful thoughts had fully penetrated his body, he willed himself to leave the restroom and join Remus once more. He was still in his room, but he seemed to have forgotten all the memories spread out all over the bed. A huge barn owl was bashing about with a letter and rolled up parchment at its feet and Remus was struggling to get it off. Finally, Remus won and the owl flew to the dresser lazily, expecting a little payment for its voyage and previous struggle.
"It's a letter from Dumbledore and the Daily Prophet," said Remus in a barely audible voice. The look in his eyes wasn't right, Moeris noted. Remus turned his heel and not saying a word nearly sprang out of the guestroom. Stunned, Moeris just figured he could stare longingly at the photos - this time some moving ones - of Remus and his old friends. It was better than having to face Remus. He wanted to hide his blameworthy selfish self out of his guardian's sight.
Meanwhile, Remus fought the band bonding the newspaper together and ended up ripping it in half from anxiety. He flipped through rapidly. It was shocking that the Daily Prophet wasn't in shreds yet. He skipped most of the articles or columns he saw: "Chudley Cannons Shot Out of Winning Possibility," "Old Witch Opens Muggle Bank," "Band of the Banshees In London!," "Thanatos Questioned as Psychic,' and finally, "Muggle Man Killed but Not by a Muggle." Remus gasped. This was just what he was expecting. He proceeded to read the article.
The news of the murdered Muggle Richard Ellings has rapidly reached the wizard community - and for good reason. Our wizarding sources, such as Barty Crouch Sr. who examined the crime scene himself has commented by saying, "This was surely not done by a Muggle. Such defacement could not even be attempted by a Muggle. This definitely has something to do with the magical world. Arnold Peasegood, Homer Diggory, and myself have all witnessed the damage created here. We believe that this may have been done by a magical beast, but are yet to be sure." Because of this, the Beast Division has been contacted, and the Ministry of Magic is high on the case. Meanwhile, Peasegood is hurriedly working on erasing the Muggles' memories. Any possible clues to the culprit are happily welcomed.
None of this means anything, Remus reminded himself. It could have been anyone or anything else. As long as I stay quiet they won't even bother with me. Remus forced himself to slow his breathing and lightly tossed the Daily Prophet to the coffee table as he sunk back into the couch. All was silent. Wherever Moeris was, he was being very soundless himself. I have got to figure out that I should relax more often. He got up, stretched, and went back to check on Moeris.
He practically floated down the hallway - he did it so agilely. He craned his neck around the side of the doorway. Moeris was cleaning up the albums, neatly stacking them up in three columns with a separate stack for photos in picture frames. Moeris finally saw his visitor. He kept his eyes floored uncharacteristically. "Oh, you forgot the note." Remus saw the boy hold up the parchment from the Headmaster. Forgetting to question Moeris about his abrupt misery, he took the letter. "Thanks."
The shabby man pulled at the envelope as frustrated as a child trying to tie its shoelaces did. He managed to take out the paper within by the use of a wand. He certainly wasn't keeping to his own promise of remaining un- worried at these types of situations. Damn. I thought I was supposed to be calm about this.
Dear Remus, If you want a subscription, just ask. Don't worry; I find time. (Time- turners have turned out to be quite useful. But don't tell anyone that.) For some reason, I have the feeling that you're worried about something. You can always talk to me, boy. It's no trouble at all. Plus, I need a good excuse to get away from all this work. I have a lot to with the anxiety of Death Eaters. Now that Voldemort is gone for good, as we all hope, many of his followers are on the run, and I've been working with a select group of people and the Ministry of Magic to capture them all. Since we need all the help we can get, I am willing to offer you an opportunity. If you feel like you're up to it and you don't mind facing the past, I ask if you'd like to continue a new type of Order of the Phoenix, like the one you joined with Lily, James, Sirius, Peter, and some others. Instead of fighting Voldemort, we're just eliminating his remains. I'm not forcing you to do anything, but the job is open. Think about it. -Albus
Remus re-read the letter five more times to make sure it was real. He didn't know what to think.