Aftermath
Fandom: HP
Genre: Drama, Angst
Ratings: PG-13
Pairings: none
Warning: OotP. My beta said sad. I'll add writing this was draining.
A/N: Many thanks to my beta for correcting my mistakes. I often forget to say this but I appreciate your help very much.
After Sirius' death, three days before the end of term, Molly confronts Remus at 12, Grimmauld Place.
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It's late and I'm worried for Remus. I haven't seen him all day. And I haven't found the time or the opportunity yet to talk to him since the showdown at the ministry.
"Remus?" I've looked everywhere but in this room. It's pitch dark inside apart for the light entering though the doorframe so I stay at the entrance. Please, I plead mentally, whatever deities have allowed You-Know-Who's existence, please do not let him be in this room. You owe us at least that. Please spare him this pain.
But the gods don't hear me. A soft sigh comes from a dark corner and my heart sinks. "Here, Molly." His voice is flat. This surprises, relieves and worries me at the same time. It's a relief from the mask of normality he has put up for the last days. It worries me because Remus has one of the most expressive voices I've ever had the pleasure to listen to. I've heard him go through most of the tones known to human range. Sad, happy, pleading, arguing, soothing, angry, warm, cold and in between. But never, ever has he sounded so – dead.
It scares me, mostly for selfish reasons. Remus has been here each time I worried for my children and Arthur. He has been my anchor and I don't want to lose it. I don't want to lose him.
"Are you all right?" I ask. It's a stupid question. We both know that. Yet, it has to be asked and he asked it of me time and time again with a derisory little smile that made the question bearable. Had it been anyone else, I would have bitten their head off.
There is no response.
"Remus?" I take a few steps forward and lit the candelabras with a flick of my wand. He was sitting in a chair, staring sightlessly in the direction of the bed. He blinks at the sudden light and turns towards me. He looks so old, so tired. And yet, I know he is younger than me.
"How are the children?" he asks conversationally, back to normal.
I want to scream, frustrated, "The children are fine! It's YOU I'm worried about!" But pushing does not lead one very far with Remus Lupin. It is the small actions, the unexpected gentleness that wears him down and gets to him. I know very few people have managed to get past this formidable emotional shield of his. Remus is so controlled that I have been scared sometimes. Scared for me, for those he calls enemies and, above all, scared for him.
Today, I want him to let go of his control and show his grief.
"They're fine. Ron has left Poppy's care today." Taking a deep breath, I brace myself to throw the first probe. "But he is worried about Harry. Because of –," brusquely, the words fail me. No! Frantically, I wrack my brain for something to say and, "- you know…"
No, no, no! That was not what I was supposed to say! But it's too late.
"I know."
A shiver runs through me at the coldness in his voice. But I don't flinch and I don't look away. I wanted a reaction, I got it. And what was it that my DADA teacher told me all these years ago about werewolves? Do not show any sign of fear before these beasts. They will take advantages of your weakness at the first occasion.
He was only part right. A very small part. Do not show any sign of fear before werewolves. They're also human and need you to see them as such. I learned this lesson this past year with Remus but Arthur, bless his heart, applies it more faithfully than I. I recoiled at St Mungo before the other werewolf. My husband didn't. Thank Merlin Remus wasn't there that time. I would not have been able to stand the disappointment and hurt I would have seen in his eyes. I didn't care how the other man felt but Remus is my friend.
It shames me to be so selfish by caring only about my little bubble of the universe sometimes. But then, I look into a picture of my family and of my friends and I know I would do anything to keep them safe, even let the rest of the world head to its ruin. And I would regret nothing. Yet, I'm powerless to keep Arthur or the older boys safe. They're of age, free to make their own choices, risk their lives and I can't stop them. It frightens me to be that impotent. But I can and do watch over Ron, Ginny and sometimes, Harry. And I can take care of the older boys when they let me.
Suddenly, I realise Remus is staring at me. His eyes are cold, calculating. Enervating. He seems alien to me and I suppress another shudder.
I know he has not cried. Not one tear. Moody told me he tried to take care of Harry first then helped secure the Death Eaters before coming back here and allow shock to numb him. I took over from there. The shock lasted a day or two before he came back to himself. More or less. He acknowledges Sirius' death, talks about him in past tense. I know he isn't in denial. But he has not cried and he is drawing away from everyone. Even Dung has remarked this and he is far from being the most sensitive and intelligent man I've ever met.
Nobody seems to have an idea as to what Remus is actually feeling or doing. And I don't know what to do to help him; he has always been the strong one, the dependable one on whom everybody relied to rectify an awkward situation. He doesn't lose his temper even when he's deliberately provoked. I would know, I accompanied him once to the werewolf registry and in the end, I was angry on his behalf because of the behaviour of some employees. But he still acted calmly as if the jerks' comments didn't touch him. That control of his. Today is the first time he lets me see an indication that all is not right. But I didn't expect this coldness and it's scaring me.
I'm afraid of him.
He is watching me in silence, still as carved ice. It's his eyes that disturb me. He is coldly assessing me as a predator would watch its prey. Of course he is! He's a werewolf, for Merlin's sake and you're his prey! The thought rises unbidden and I try to squash it immediately. It's Remus. But then I look at him and my breath quickens. He is not in his normal state. Did Sirius' death push him over the edge? How much pain can one man take before his mind snaps?
Panicked, I look over my shoulder. I'm in the middle of the room, at equal distance between Remus and the door. Why did I come here alone? But even as I berate myself mentally, I know the answer. Remus has never seemed threatening to me. I never thought him dangerous. My mistake. Or was it? My DADA teacher also said werewolves deceived you to gain your trust. A gasp escapes me when he rises.
"Afraid of the big, bad wolf, Molly?" His harsh laughter doesn't reach his eyes.
"Remus…" My voice is shaking.
"Go rejoin Arthur. You can't do anything for me," he sounds tired and vulnerable suddenly and it has the effect of a bucket of cold water on me. This is Remus. It's the man who soothed and consoled me when I broke down. And I'm here to return the favour.
"Yes I can. Talk to me, Remus," I ask kindly, using the same tone than he had on me.
"Sirius is dead. There is nothing else to say." He is harsh and cold again. I didn't expect him to react like that. This is Remus but I've never seen him like this. He's frightening me.
"Don't… Don't do this, please…"
"Don't do WHAT?" he roars in anger and I take a step back.
"You're hurting yourself. Stop." I don't know where the words came from but once they've left my mouth, I realise they're true.
"Would you rather I hurt you?" I'm frozen. Merlin, he's speaking with such a detached tone! He sounds almost curious and that's chilling in itself. But he can't mean this. He can't.
"Your family is safe this time, Molly," he resumes and cocks his head. Inappropriately, I'm struck by the fact that he looks just like a schoolboy this way, despite the grey hair. And then he smiles bitterly and I don't know what to think. "Sirius is gone. You never liked him very much."
Is that amusement in his voice? Goblin's balls, Sirius. What were you thinking you were doing? I realise I've spoken out loud when Remus answers.
"Rescuing Harry."
He is looking at the bed again and I follow his gaze. Oh, Merlin. The sheets are still rumpled and Sirius' clothes are streamed across the surface of the bed as if he had just left this morning. I always said he was a slob.
"But I don't think he realised how recklessly he acted," Remus continues, his voice taking on a reflective inflection. "He spent one year cooped up in this madhouse, you know," he spreads his arms and makes a full turn, slowly. "He hated it. Be careful what you wish for, they say. He was dying to act, to do something, anything. He got his wish. Excitement got to him, he got careless, and he got killed. End of story."
Remus turns back towards me, head bowed. He doesn't seem to know what to do with his arms but wraps them finally around his midsection. He is shaking. I take a step towards him but I stop when he raises his head. He is shaking with laughter.
"Bloody ironic, isn't it? A few minutes later and Fudge would have caught sight of Voldemort and Sirius could have been cleared and free to go wherever he wanted."
"It's not funny, Remus." I'm starting to become angry with him. I don't understand his changes in emotions. I'm trying to help, damn it!
"No? I've got a better one. Did you know I used to think I could have helped if that night hadn't been a full moon? The height of the ridiculous."
"What are you talking about?" I snap. Remus looks startled then studies me attentively. A long moment passes and I don't think he's going to answer. But then, a wild glint appears in his eyes.
"Halloween 1981."
The day Harry was orphaned. Pettigrew betrayed James and Lily Potter that night and then he framed Sirius for murder. I'm shocked beyond speech. Remus smirks in response.
That's it, I've had enough. I'm leaving. Yet, I pause at the door, hit by a sudden presentiment and I look back.
"Go away, Molly," he says pleasantly, almost in a sing-song voice.
"Trying to chase me away?"
"Why, I'm not doing anything you're not allowing me to do," he tilts his head again, intrigued. "And this brings us back to my question. Afraid of the big, bad wolf, Molly?"
Silence.
I… Maybe I am.
And as tears stream from my eyes, I realise he is right. I'm a hypocrite that only calls him friend when he is calm and collected. I am afraid of him when he doesn't take care to hide his strongest emotions. I'm scared he will lose control. At the smallest hint of temper, I think about the bloodthirsty beast. It's just - all my life, I have been told that werewolves were dangerous. It's hard to think otherwise.
He sees my tears and his expression softens just a little. "Go rejoin your family, Molly." I'm not yours and you're not mine. Spend time with yours because you don't know when you'll lose them. Like I lost mine. This time, I get the message.
I flee.
Fin?
Note: This fic may be continued one day, when I'll be in the mood for angst and hurting Remus again.
