~A Garden for Emi~
chapter 3
The fading black tea he took is his tea in was just like him. He held it the same way every day and the enamel was thin and grey where his fingers gripped the cup. There was a small chip in the rim just above the handle. He had other mugs, but he liked this one-it reminded him of himself.
Whenever he had black tea, he put some milk in to sweeten his bitter, hopeless day. As soon as the sun was up and his ominous tea leaves vanished, he gathered some of the flowers and seeds he was going to plant in the empty beds. With his wand, he floated them down the front steps and set them on his lawn. He closed the front door, turned around, and almost did a double take.
Sitting on the top stair was a girl about six years with bright green eyes, reddish-brown hair, and dark freckles painted across her face and neck. She smiled sweetly up at him. "Hello!" she called and waved up to him. Remus thought quickly.
"Hello," he smiled confusedly and sat down next to her on the step.
"What are you doing with those?" She pointed at the pile of assorted plants and tools lying on his front lawn.
"Planting a garden."
"Can I help?" Her voice was bursting with enthusiasm s her face lit up. He stared at her for a brief moment before letting his puzzled smile die down.
"Where are your mother and father? Won't they be worried about where you've gone off to?"
"No. Mum has to look after the little ones. She doesn't care what I do as long as I'm home for dinner. I used to have a daddy, too. Then one night the bad man in black came and threw green stuff at him with a stick, and yelled 'abera cadabra' or something really bad like that, and now I don't have a daddy no more."
She was still smiling up at him as his face fell. He did the math in his head as fast as it made sense. She was more or less three years older than the nephew who lived would be now. She would've been.four, then.
Four.
From what he had just gathered from her story, at the age of four she had seen Lord Voldemort kill her father. Sorrow flooded him again. The same sorrow he'd been fighting for three years now, mixed with the sorrow he now had for a little girl and her family. He thought of her a little bit differently now. They had more in common than she would probably ever know.
"My name's Emiliana, what's yours?" She stuck out a hand in greeting, and Remus noticed the freckles littered over her hands and arms. She continued beaming up at him.
"Remus." He shook her hand and put on a genuine smile.
"That's a funny name." she wrinkled her nose at him.
"I like it!" His smile widened as he defended his name.
"Well, I think it's funny. I'm going to call you.Gus. It's just like Remus, but without the Rem." He chuckled and she continued smiling.
"Then I will call you Emi. It's not fair that I should have to pronounce such a big, long name."
"That's okay," she said as she stood up, "I didn't like it very much anyways." Remus had thought it was a beautiful name.
She skipped down his steps and leaned over a pot full of red poppies. "What are these?" She pointed at the largest blossom.
"Poppies. Pretty, aren't they?" She leaned down with her nose in one of the flowers and took a deep breath. She wrinkled her nose and giggled. "Can you bring all the flowers like those over to me?" She nodded enthusiastically and picked up the pot.
"Now, how on earth did you get on my front steps?"
"I sat down." She placed the flowers at his feet, and he sat down on the bottom step.
"How did you get in?" She brought over another pot and shrugged.
"When I touched the gate it flew open, so I came to sit down. You always come out that door, I know, so I waited."
"How long have you been here?
"Since before the sun came up. It's easiest to see the sunrise from your house. I like the sun. I think it's pretty."
"So do I." He sighed and looked at the sky.
"Why were you on my porch?"
"'Cause I wanted to meet you."
"Why? Didn't your mother ever tell you not to talk to strangers?"
"Well, because.they think you're scary, but you aren't and Sam dared me to, so I did because you aren't really strange and mean." She spat the last part out so quickly he could barely understand what she was saying.
She picked up another pot of poppies, and he grinned. He was vaguely amused by the idea that an entire neighborhood of small children thought he was the local frightening crazy old hermit man. Well, maybe he was a bit of a hermit, but he couldn't stop himself from chuckling. At the age of seven he had met Albus Dumbledore for the first time. He spent twenty minutes hiding behind his father's leg afraid that he would be turned into a toad, or cooked and eaten for supper. He had been pleasantly surprised when he emerged for a peak at the man's face. "Care for a lemon drop, son?"
"Why do your eyes always look like they're crying." He suddenly realized she was standing at his side and staring into his grey-blue eyes, squinting. The smile dropped off of his face. Remember, the inner voice said, you promised never to lie to a child.
"The bad man came to my friends, too." He swallowed hard. "He said bad words, and stole one of them. The others are all gone. Nobody likes me very much now, and I have no friends but the sun and my garden and my memories."
"Yes you do!" She put a hand on his shoulder. "You have me."
He was about to cry, and wished he could hug her. The day that his best friends had told him they had finally worked out the Animagus spell and would be coming with him on full moons, Sirius had said almost the same thing. He began to play his favorite movie over again in his mind.
"You didn't have to do this, you know."
"Of course we did, you're our friend!"
"Really?"
"What kind of friends would we be if we didn't figure it out?"
At this point, Remus had tried to thank Sirius who said, "We don't deserve thanks, it took us too long to figure it out, it's all our fault. Just remember, you'll always have me." He stared at memory Sirius for several moments longer than he had at the time. Next he grabbed Sirius in a one armed hug and nearly ran out of the dormitory to the hospital wing.
That Sirius was his best friend, not the one that murdered a family of desperate, innocent friends. He wanted to know why, wanted to talk to Sirius, find out how long he had been a traitor. Had anything Sirius ever said been true? Right now, all of his friends were dead in his eyes, or as good as. He hated all of them because he didn't know what had happened that night to make him so miserable. He had had nothing to comfort him for three years, not even Harry. He would probably never see Harry either.
This was what he had thought about night and day for three years in his dark house. He had come to the garden to forget.
Suddenly something jabbed his arm. He snapped back into real time.
"Why are you crying now?" He couldn't think of what to tell her. He swept the back of his hand across his face to see if he was really crying. He flushed and placed his wet hand on his knee, thinking desperately.
"You cry a lot, don't you?" He smiled and felt his cheeks cool back down.
"Only when you're here to remind me..."
The fading black tea he took is his tea in was just like him. He held it the same way every day and the enamel was thin and grey where his fingers gripped the cup. There was a small chip in the rim just above the handle. He had other mugs, but he liked this one-it reminded him of himself.
Whenever he had black tea, he put some milk in to sweeten his bitter, hopeless day. As soon as the sun was up and his ominous tea leaves vanished, he gathered some of the flowers and seeds he was going to plant in the empty beds. With his wand, he floated them down the front steps and set them on his lawn. He closed the front door, turned around, and almost did a double take.
Sitting on the top stair was a girl about six years with bright green eyes, reddish-brown hair, and dark freckles painted across her face and neck. She smiled sweetly up at him. "Hello!" she called and waved up to him. Remus thought quickly.
"Hello," he smiled confusedly and sat down next to her on the step.
"What are you doing with those?" She pointed at the pile of assorted plants and tools lying on his front lawn.
"Planting a garden."
"Can I help?" Her voice was bursting with enthusiasm s her face lit up. He stared at her for a brief moment before letting his puzzled smile die down.
"Where are your mother and father? Won't they be worried about where you've gone off to?"
"No. Mum has to look after the little ones. She doesn't care what I do as long as I'm home for dinner. I used to have a daddy, too. Then one night the bad man in black came and threw green stuff at him with a stick, and yelled 'abera cadabra' or something really bad like that, and now I don't have a daddy no more."
She was still smiling up at him as his face fell. He did the math in his head as fast as it made sense. She was more or less three years older than the nephew who lived would be now. She would've been.four, then.
Four.
From what he had just gathered from her story, at the age of four she had seen Lord Voldemort kill her father. Sorrow flooded him again. The same sorrow he'd been fighting for three years now, mixed with the sorrow he now had for a little girl and her family. He thought of her a little bit differently now. They had more in common than she would probably ever know.
"My name's Emiliana, what's yours?" She stuck out a hand in greeting, and Remus noticed the freckles littered over her hands and arms. She continued beaming up at him.
"Remus." He shook her hand and put on a genuine smile.
"That's a funny name." she wrinkled her nose at him.
"I like it!" His smile widened as he defended his name.
"Well, I think it's funny. I'm going to call you.Gus. It's just like Remus, but without the Rem." He chuckled and she continued smiling.
"Then I will call you Emi. It's not fair that I should have to pronounce such a big, long name."
"That's okay," she said as she stood up, "I didn't like it very much anyways." Remus had thought it was a beautiful name.
She skipped down his steps and leaned over a pot full of red poppies. "What are these?" She pointed at the largest blossom.
"Poppies. Pretty, aren't they?" She leaned down with her nose in one of the flowers and took a deep breath. She wrinkled her nose and giggled. "Can you bring all the flowers like those over to me?" She nodded enthusiastically and picked up the pot.
"Now, how on earth did you get on my front steps?"
"I sat down." She placed the flowers at his feet, and he sat down on the bottom step.
"How did you get in?" She brought over another pot and shrugged.
"When I touched the gate it flew open, so I came to sit down. You always come out that door, I know, so I waited."
"How long have you been here?
"Since before the sun came up. It's easiest to see the sunrise from your house. I like the sun. I think it's pretty."
"So do I." He sighed and looked at the sky.
"Why were you on my porch?"
"'Cause I wanted to meet you."
"Why? Didn't your mother ever tell you not to talk to strangers?"
"Well, because.they think you're scary, but you aren't and Sam dared me to, so I did because you aren't really strange and mean." She spat the last part out so quickly he could barely understand what she was saying.
She picked up another pot of poppies, and he grinned. He was vaguely amused by the idea that an entire neighborhood of small children thought he was the local frightening crazy old hermit man. Well, maybe he was a bit of a hermit, but he couldn't stop himself from chuckling. At the age of seven he had met Albus Dumbledore for the first time. He spent twenty minutes hiding behind his father's leg afraid that he would be turned into a toad, or cooked and eaten for supper. He had been pleasantly surprised when he emerged for a peak at the man's face. "Care for a lemon drop, son?"
"Why do your eyes always look like they're crying." He suddenly realized she was standing at his side and staring into his grey-blue eyes, squinting. The smile dropped off of his face. Remember, the inner voice said, you promised never to lie to a child.
"The bad man came to my friends, too." He swallowed hard. "He said bad words, and stole one of them. The others are all gone. Nobody likes me very much now, and I have no friends but the sun and my garden and my memories."
"Yes you do!" She put a hand on his shoulder. "You have me."
He was about to cry, and wished he could hug her. The day that his best friends had told him they had finally worked out the Animagus spell and would be coming with him on full moons, Sirius had said almost the same thing. He began to play his favorite movie over again in his mind.
"You didn't have to do this, you know."
"Of course we did, you're our friend!"
"Really?"
"What kind of friends would we be if we didn't figure it out?"
At this point, Remus had tried to thank Sirius who said, "We don't deserve thanks, it took us too long to figure it out, it's all our fault. Just remember, you'll always have me." He stared at memory Sirius for several moments longer than he had at the time. Next he grabbed Sirius in a one armed hug and nearly ran out of the dormitory to the hospital wing.
That Sirius was his best friend, not the one that murdered a family of desperate, innocent friends. He wanted to know why, wanted to talk to Sirius, find out how long he had been a traitor. Had anything Sirius ever said been true? Right now, all of his friends were dead in his eyes, or as good as. He hated all of them because he didn't know what had happened that night to make him so miserable. He had had nothing to comfort him for three years, not even Harry. He would probably never see Harry either.
This was what he had thought about night and day for three years in his dark house. He had come to the garden to forget.
Suddenly something jabbed his arm. He snapped back into real time.
"Why are you crying now?" He couldn't think of what to tell her. He swept the back of his hand across his face to see if he was really crying. He flushed and placed his wet hand on his knee, thinking desperately.
"You cry a lot, don't you?" He smiled and felt his cheeks cool back down.
"Only when you're here to remind me..."