When the moon waned, Remus took the glass jar and returned to the Serpent's
Tail. He had to wait for almost an hour before Persephone floated inside.
This time, she expressed no surprise at all that he had come.
"Do you have the ashes?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied.
"Don't look so glum, Remus," Persephone said, "Just think of how you'd feel if you had to kill someone innocent."
"I'd rather not," Remus said. But he couldn't help but think that he would, if that was what he had to do.
"Come home with me," Persephone said.
+
She put the ashes in the cauldron where -- presumably -- his finger was. He didn't look inside to check. Instead, he sat down among the red velvet pillows and stared into the eyes of the strange, unidentifiable skull.
"It's a Thestral," Persephone said, following his gaze.
"I thought it looked familiar," he replied.
"I find them quite beautiful," she said, "Don't you?" "I'm afraid not," he said apologetically.
Persephone shrugged. "To each his own."
He watched her stir the cauldron in silence.
"Well?" he said after a pause.
"Well?" she echoed.
"There's something else, isn't there?"
She stopped stirring, and made her graceful way to where he was sitting. She knelt on the floor in front of him and took both his hands in hers.
"Poor Remus," she said softly, "You seem so tired."
'Spit it out," his voice a trace of the wolf's growl, "I've already killed. What more must I do?"
"Tell me about him."
He blinked, as if startled with a flash of light. "Pardon?"
"Tell me the story of your life together. And apart, if need be, but tell me what sort of man he was, what kind of man he made you."
"And that's all?"
Persephone said, "That's all. More or less."
So Remus leaned back against the red velvet cushions, and began to tell his story.
+
He told Persephone about the day he had met Sirius Black on the train to Hogwarts, how they had fought off two bigger boys who were making fun of Remus' tattered clothes, and how they had decided to be friends forever.
He told her about the night they had taken Waldo's Wake Up Pills to study for an exam and ended up spending three sleepless days together laughing uncontrollably.
He told her about how Sirius' eyes had looked when he had cornered Remus during the first day of the new moon and murmured, "Remi, I know what you are."
And he told her about the joy of the wolf and the dog as they wrestled each other in the tall grass.
And afterwards, lying in each other's arms while the morning squeezed past the distant hills and Sirius saying, "Moony, I think I'm falling in love with you."
+
He told her about the prank in the Shrieking Shack, and how Sirius had begged for forgiveness. And how, after a night alone in his bed, unable to sleep without the other's warmth, Remus had given it to him.
He told her how happy Sirius had been when James and Lily had named him as godfather to their son.
He told her about riding on Sirius' bike with the wind and the moonlight flowing through their hair, how it was like being the wolf without the pain and fear.
And he told her about the night that James and Lily had died, how he had gone searching for Sirius and wept for all he'd lost.
+
Remus told Persephone that in the moment he had realized that Sirius was innocent was the most beautiful moment of his life -- that he was free because Sirius was free.
He told her about his clandestine visits to 12 Grimmauld Place and making love while Kreacher and Mrs. Black complained loudly that the family was going to hell.
And at last, he told her about the gaping hole Sirius' death had opened in his heart, how life without the bright, burning flame of their love was like no life at all, how he would rather die than exist in this in-between place where death was all he had to look forward to. And for the first time since Sirius had died, Remus allowed himself to cry -- great, wracking sobs that shook his thin body. Persephone reached out to him, folded him in her arms, and kissed the top of his head.
"Sleep now, Remus," she whispered, "You've done well."
He looked up at her. In the haze of his tears, she looked like an angel.
He leaned in to kiss her, and tasted fire.
+
Persephone Dell'Arta waited for Remus to fall asleep. It didn't take long -- exhausted from the change to wolf-form and the stories he had told.
Her heart heavy, she made her way to the cauldron. The spell was nearly ready. She stirred together the blood, the flesh, the bone, the ashes, and finally, the single tear that rolled down her cheek.
It was always like this, she thought. The final step, the one that was hard for her. Remus Lupin would never know -- and just as well. The world did not need more necromancers.
She stirred, and she thought about bodies, and death, and sacrifice. She also thought of love, of life, and of longing.
And when she was finished, she bent down and placed one last, lingering kiss on the face of the man who she had come to love, to lose.
+
"Moony."
Remus fought to open his eyes against the weariness that demanded more sleep. He knew that voice. He knew...
"Paddy?"
A barking laugh -- he opened his eyes and found himself staring straight into the face of Sirius Black.
"Who else calls you Moony? Have you been drinking?"
Remus was afraid to look away, to blink, to discover that this was a dream or some absinthe-induced hallucination. "Where...what..."
Sirius waved a hand, a gesture to stop babbling. "You're at my house, mate. I found you passed out in Knockturn Alley -- care to explain what you were doing there in the first place? And what happened to your hand?"
"You were dead."
"You have been drinking, haven't you?"
"No...Paddy, you have to listen to me." And he told Sirius everything that had happened.
Sirius was silent for a moment, and then said, "Well, that does explain some things. Why don't we go upstairs?"
At a loss for words, Remus followed his lover up the creaking staircase.
Sirius was standing in front of the old tapestry, pointing at a name embossed with golden thread.
"Persephone Dell'Arta," Remus read, "1840 to 1875." He touched Sirius' arm with his good hand, trying to reassure himself that the other man was there, alive. "I suppose if I can believe in your resurrection I can believe that the necromancer who did it has been dead for several centuries."
"Oh, Moony," Sirius sighed, "I'm sorry about your hand."
He'd forgotten the pain -- it seemed so trivial, really, next to the warm, living body beside him. "Don't be," Remus said, "I'd cut off my head."
"Mmm," Sirius pulled him in for a searing kiss. "That wouldn't be any fun now, would it?"
"Are you really here?" Remus asked, "I mean, you're not going to...go away again?"
Sirius held him for a minute at arms' length. "I can't promise you much," he said, "I didn't exactly expect to die the first time, did I? Now don't cry, Moony," and he reached out to touch Remus' cheek. "As long as I'm here -- as long as either of us are here, I'm yours. I can promise you that."
Remus nodded. He wouldn't cry -- not now. There had been too much lost already, too much to make up for. He wouldn't cry when he could be kissing Sirius.
So he kissed Sirius, as the names of the dead fluttered on a fading tapestry behind them.
"Do you have the ashes?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied.
"Don't look so glum, Remus," Persephone said, "Just think of how you'd feel if you had to kill someone innocent."
"I'd rather not," Remus said. But he couldn't help but think that he would, if that was what he had to do.
"Come home with me," Persephone said.
+
She put the ashes in the cauldron where -- presumably -- his finger was. He didn't look inside to check. Instead, he sat down among the red velvet pillows and stared into the eyes of the strange, unidentifiable skull.
"It's a Thestral," Persephone said, following his gaze.
"I thought it looked familiar," he replied.
"I find them quite beautiful," she said, "Don't you?" "I'm afraid not," he said apologetically.
Persephone shrugged. "To each his own."
He watched her stir the cauldron in silence.
"Well?" he said after a pause.
"Well?" she echoed.
"There's something else, isn't there?"
She stopped stirring, and made her graceful way to where he was sitting. She knelt on the floor in front of him and took both his hands in hers.
"Poor Remus," she said softly, "You seem so tired."
'Spit it out," his voice a trace of the wolf's growl, "I've already killed. What more must I do?"
"Tell me about him."
He blinked, as if startled with a flash of light. "Pardon?"
"Tell me the story of your life together. And apart, if need be, but tell me what sort of man he was, what kind of man he made you."
"And that's all?"
Persephone said, "That's all. More or less."
So Remus leaned back against the red velvet cushions, and began to tell his story.
+
He told Persephone about the day he had met Sirius Black on the train to Hogwarts, how they had fought off two bigger boys who were making fun of Remus' tattered clothes, and how they had decided to be friends forever.
He told her about the night they had taken Waldo's Wake Up Pills to study for an exam and ended up spending three sleepless days together laughing uncontrollably.
He told her about how Sirius' eyes had looked when he had cornered Remus during the first day of the new moon and murmured, "Remi, I know what you are."
And he told her about the joy of the wolf and the dog as they wrestled each other in the tall grass.
And afterwards, lying in each other's arms while the morning squeezed past the distant hills and Sirius saying, "Moony, I think I'm falling in love with you."
+
He told her about the prank in the Shrieking Shack, and how Sirius had begged for forgiveness. And how, after a night alone in his bed, unable to sleep without the other's warmth, Remus had given it to him.
He told her how happy Sirius had been when James and Lily had named him as godfather to their son.
He told her about riding on Sirius' bike with the wind and the moonlight flowing through their hair, how it was like being the wolf without the pain and fear.
And he told her about the night that James and Lily had died, how he had gone searching for Sirius and wept for all he'd lost.
+
Remus told Persephone that in the moment he had realized that Sirius was innocent was the most beautiful moment of his life -- that he was free because Sirius was free.
He told her about his clandestine visits to 12 Grimmauld Place and making love while Kreacher and Mrs. Black complained loudly that the family was going to hell.
And at last, he told her about the gaping hole Sirius' death had opened in his heart, how life without the bright, burning flame of their love was like no life at all, how he would rather die than exist in this in-between place where death was all he had to look forward to. And for the first time since Sirius had died, Remus allowed himself to cry -- great, wracking sobs that shook his thin body. Persephone reached out to him, folded him in her arms, and kissed the top of his head.
"Sleep now, Remus," she whispered, "You've done well."
He looked up at her. In the haze of his tears, she looked like an angel.
He leaned in to kiss her, and tasted fire.
+
Persephone Dell'Arta waited for Remus to fall asleep. It didn't take long -- exhausted from the change to wolf-form and the stories he had told.
Her heart heavy, she made her way to the cauldron. The spell was nearly ready. She stirred together the blood, the flesh, the bone, the ashes, and finally, the single tear that rolled down her cheek.
It was always like this, she thought. The final step, the one that was hard for her. Remus Lupin would never know -- and just as well. The world did not need more necromancers.
She stirred, and she thought about bodies, and death, and sacrifice. She also thought of love, of life, and of longing.
And when she was finished, she bent down and placed one last, lingering kiss on the face of the man who she had come to love, to lose.
+
"Moony."
Remus fought to open his eyes against the weariness that demanded more sleep. He knew that voice. He knew...
"Paddy?"
A barking laugh -- he opened his eyes and found himself staring straight into the face of Sirius Black.
"Who else calls you Moony? Have you been drinking?"
Remus was afraid to look away, to blink, to discover that this was a dream or some absinthe-induced hallucination. "Where...what..."
Sirius waved a hand, a gesture to stop babbling. "You're at my house, mate. I found you passed out in Knockturn Alley -- care to explain what you were doing there in the first place? And what happened to your hand?"
"You were dead."
"You have been drinking, haven't you?"
"No...Paddy, you have to listen to me." And he told Sirius everything that had happened.
Sirius was silent for a moment, and then said, "Well, that does explain some things. Why don't we go upstairs?"
At a loss for words, Remus followed his lover up the creaking staircase.
Sirius was standing in front of the old tapestry, pointing at a name embossed with golden thread.
"Persephone Dell'Arta," Remus read, "1840 to 1875." He touched Sirius' arm with his good hand, trying to reassure himself that the other man was there, alive. "I suppose if I can believe in your resurrection I can believe that the necromancer who did it has been dead for several centuries."
"Oh, Moony," Sirius sighed, "I'm sorry about your hand."
He'd forgotten the pain -- it seemed so trivial, really, next to the warm, living body beside him. "Don't be," Remus said, "I'd cut off my head."
"Mmm," Sirius pulled him in for a searing kiss. "That wouldn't be any fun now, would it?"
"Are you really here?" Remus asked, "I mean, you're not going to...go away again?"
Sirius held him for a minute at arms' length. "I can't promise you much," he said, "I didn't exactly expect to die the first time, did I? Now don't cry, Moony," and he reached out to touch Remus' cheek. "As long as I'm here -- as long as either of us are here, I'm yours. I can promise you that."
Remus nodded. He wouldn't cry -- not now. There had been too much lost already, too much to make up for. He wouldn't cry when he could be kissing Sirius.
So he kissed Sirius, as the names of the dead fluttered on a fading tapestry behind them.
