In the weeks that followed the mysterious downfall of the Dark Lord, left
and right, Death Eaters were being hauled into Azkaban. And just when the
fortress isolated on the sea seemed to be nearing capacity, more and more
kept showing up from the shadowy places of Britain.
Lucius stood among the scattered faces of his partners in crime.
"I've called you here... in the absence of our master." He swallowed.
"Some have not shown, I see."
The circle consisted of some fifteen people out of the original four hundred.
Bellatrix Lestrange, along with her husband, Rodolphus, stood up zealously. "Where has our loyalty gone?" Bellatrix cried heatedly.
"This is all that's left?" Rodolphus questioned angrily. "Avery, Karkaroff, Snape, Bagman? What do you think they're doing now?"
"Pretending to celebrate with the rest of those fools, that's what I say!" called their youngest, Barty Crouch.
Lucius smiled, satisfied. "And what will we do, now that the Dark Lord is not here to condemn them?"
"You!" Bellatrix shrieked, pointing her finger at Lucius. "You, Mr. Malfoy... how could you blaspheme so blatantly?" She was shaking, and her eyes bulged madly, grotesquely distorting her obvious beauty.
"Whatever do you – "
"Our master has not left us!" Barty claimed loudly. "You, Mr. Malfoy, who claims to be the second in command, are only one of the skeptics!"
"You accept him as dead, because that means you can take his place!"
Lucius held up a hand. "Hold on a minute. I'm only considering the possibility." Barty shot Bellatrix and Rodolphus a knowing smirk. "All we need to do is investigate."
"Surely, this is only a trick of Dumbledore's," offered Macnair.
"Smokescreens and tricks of the hand," Antonin Dolohov said maliciously. "Muggle's magic."
"No one could have killed the Dark Lord. They're hiding him."
"But who would know?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
"We can't attack Dumbledore!"
"Nonsense, you cowards! The gaffer's older than all of us combined."
"No, you sorry lot, the second in command. Who d'you think he'd confide in if he had to?" The young Crouch's eyes were penetrating, and wildly fanatical.
A breeze that swept through the Riddle house was the only answer.
"Frank and Alice Longbottom," he said. "Members since 1971."
Bellatrix's red lips curled. She'd grown to like this kid a lot. "The first," she said.
~~~~~~~~~~
Snape couldn't stand the thought of James Potter dead. Despite the times he'd fantasized about the almighty braggart's downfall, he'd learn to accept his guilt as something everyone experienced with such murderous thoughts.
He'd done good. In fact, in the end, he'd done all that he could without revealing himself, and others. But after all he'd done, the pride he'd surrendered, the way he'd risked himself for someone he hated so dearly – and what happens? He's killed, and once again, Severus Snape is the name everyone whispers behind their hands.
And then there was Harry Potter. The saint. The miraculous boy wonder. The savior of wizardkind. The son of a quidditch legend. Who didn't know his name? He was sure to be famous just like his father, only worse.
And Snape knew exactly what Dumbledore would ask of him. Why else would he keep him as Potions teacher when he so openly rejected the notion of him teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts? Snape was just another man at his post, patiently awaiting the day that Harry Potter would show his angelic face at Hogwarts so he could fulfill his duty in protecting the miracle of a child.
It was revolting to think of, but he knew without a doubt that come another ten years, this would be the old man's politely demanding request.
Snape continued his teaching, avoiding all of the students' childish questions, letting his bitterness grow – simmering like the bubbling cauldron before him – until it was all he could feel. He was numb to life, numb to love, numb to the compassion that had put him in this miserable position.
Though, the students continued to assume the man had always been this way. They laughed behind their hands, subconsciously accepting it as common knowledge that Professor Snape felt no pain.
~~~~~~~~~~
"You remember when Lily finally gave in to James? I never knew if she really meant it, or if it was just to shut him up. It was seventh year, wasn't it?"
Remus didn't answer.
"Try to think about it, Remus. How happy they were."
"He wasn't as desperate then," Remus admitted reminiscently. "He gave up until Lily actually started to miss the poor nuisance."
"She loved him, though."
Remus seemed to look through the wall, watching his own memories. "He was ecstatic – like a boy at Christmas."
"I heard he picked her up and carried her through the Gryffindor common room," Rebecca said.
A ghost of a smile passed over his face. "And then he tripped over a chair, dropped her unceremoniously, and started swearing."
Rebecca smiled. It was a start. "Sirius was actually impressed with the vocabulary he'd acquired."
The thread that had held Remus's smile together snapped in an instant. "He always did swear too much."
Rebecca, despite knowing how delicate the balance had become, decided to take it a step further – knowing she would regret it. "But that was just Sirius. He knew nobody minded."
Sure enough, Remus's face cried betrayal. "You're defending him again."
"Not at all," she said. "He just couldn't have been... you know... like that all his life. He was good once, wasn't he?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"But Remus, that's what you have to do. When something happened to me, you'd make me talk. Whether I liked it or not, you made me confide in you."
"This is different."
"It is not, and you know it. I'm hurting, too, Remus. I need you for reassurance."
Remus sighed. "I'm sorry."
"Talk to me, Remus."
"I'm sorry that I can't be who I've always been. If this is what you expect me to do – to talk calmly and rationally – then I beg you just to suspend belief for a moment and think that maybe I'm feeling worse than you could ever imagine."
"But you're not."
His head snapped up, incredulously irritated.
"I can feel it, Remus. It's torture. Not what I feel, what you feel. You couldn't care less because you think you're only hurting yourself, but there're Seers in this house. And not just me."
Remus blinked at her, his expression nearly vacant. "Then maybe I should leave."
"No," was her immediate response.
"Make up your mind, for God's sake. Do you want me around, or not?"
"Of course," she stopped, noticing her hypocrisy. "I'm here for you. Just... don't push me away."
Remus nodded his head, unsure that he could keep his promise. A warm feeling he hadn't felt for a while spread throughout him when he looked down to where Rebecca's robes were stretched over what would be his child.
"Do we have a name yet for him?"
"Her."
"For her?"
Rebecca bit her lip. "Actually, I do."
"Well, then?"
She glanced at Remus uncertainly. "I don't think you'll like it."
"Try me."
She pulled back the curtains to look at the night sky. "I don't think I like it, either."
"Then why should we use it?"
"Because... I saw myself, holding her, saying her name softly."
"In a dream?"
"In a vision."
"Why do you feel you have to – "
"Because. It's what I name her. It will be her name. I saw it."
"So, if you hadn't seen this, you wouldn't be naming her accordingly?"
Her eyes didn't leave the window. "That's right."
"You don't have to bind yourself to fate."
"You mean I should fight it? Change the future?"
Remus caught himself before saying something foolish. He knew dealing with time and vision was dangerous. "No."
"Then I must accept it."
"If it wasn't your idea, then who decided for you?"
Rebecca didn't answer.
Remus dropped the subject, feeling it ran deeper than only names. "What'd you call her?" he asked softly. She sighed.
Remus stepped forward to see what had caught her interest in the sky. The moon was shining overhead, rapidly waxing full. "What's the moon got to – "
"I called her Luna."
~~~~~~~~~~
Lucius stood among the scattered faces of his partners in crime.
"I've called you here... in the absence of our master." He swallowed.
"Some have not shown, I see."
The circle consisted of some fifteen people out of the original four hundred.
Bellatrix Lestrange, along with her husband, Rodolphus, stood up zealously. "Where has our loyalty gone?" Bellatrix cried heatedly.
"This is all that's left?" Rodolphus questioned angrily. "Avery, Karkaroff, Snape, Bagman? What do you think they're doing now?"
"Pretending to celebrate with the rest of those fools, that's what I say!" called their youngest, Barty Crouch.
Lucius smiled, satisfied. "And what will we do, now that the Dark Lord is not here to condemn them?"
"You!" Bellatrix shrieked, pointing her finger at Lucius. "You, Mr. Malfoy... how could you blaspheme so blatantly?" She was shaking, and her eyes bulged madly, grotesquely distorting her obvious beauty.
"Whatever do you – "
"Our master has not left us!" Barty claimed loudly. "You, Mr. Malfoy, who claims to be the second in command, are only one of the skeptics!"
"You accept him as dead, because that means you can take his place!"
Lucius held up a hand. "Hold on a minute. I'm only considering the possibility." Barty shot Bellatrix and Rodolphus a knowing smirk. "All we need to do is investigate."
"Surely, this is only a trick of Dumbledore's," offered Macnair.
"Smokescreens and tricks of the hand," Antonin Dolohov said maliciously. "Muggle's magic."
"No one could have killed the Dark Lord. They're hiding him."
"But who would know?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
"We can't attack Dumbledore!"
"Nonsense, you cowards! The gaffer's older than all of us combined."
"No, you sorry lot, the second in command. Who d'you think he'd confide in if he had to?" The young Crouch's eyes were penetrating, and wildly fanatical.
A breeze that swept through the Riddle house was the only answer.
"Frank and Alice Longbottom," he said. "Members since 1971."
Bellatrix's red lips curled. She'd grown to like this kid a lot. "The first," she said.
~~~~~~~~~~
Snape couldn't stand the thought of James Potter dead. Despite the times he'd fantasized about the almighty braggart's downfall, he'd learn to accept his guilt as something everyone experienced with such murderous thoughts.
He'd done good. In fact, in the end, he'd done all that he could without revealing himself, and others. But after all he'd done, the pride he'd surrendered, the way he'd risked himself for someone he hated so dearly – and what happens? He's killed, and once again, Severus Snape is the name everyone whispers behind their hands.
And then there was Harry Potter. The saint. The miraculous boy wonder. The savior of wizardkind. The son of a quidditch legend. Who didn't know his name? He was sure to be famous just like his father, only worse.
And Snape knew exactly what Dumbledore would ask of him. Why else would he keep him as Potions teacher when he so openly rejected the notion of him teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts? Snape was just another man at his post, patiently awaiting the day that Harry Potter would show his angelic face at Hogwarts so he could fulfill his duty in protecting the miracle of a child.
It was revolting to think of, but he knew without a doubt that come another ten years, this would be the old man's politely demanding request.
Snape continued his teaching, avoiding all of the students' childish questions, letting his bitterness grow – simmering like the bubbling cauldron before him – until it was all he could feel. He was numb to life, numb to love, numb to the compassion that had put him in this miserable position.
Though, the students continued to assume the man had always been this way. They laughed behind their hands, subconsciously accepting it as common knowledge that Professor Snape felt no pain.
~~~~~~~~~~
"You remember when Lily finally gave in to James? I never knew if she really meant it, or if it was just to shut him up. It was seventh year, wasn't it?"
Remus didn't answer.
"Try to think about it, Remus. How happy they were."
"He wasn't as desperate then," Remus admitted reminiscently. "He gave up until Lily actually started to miss the poor nuisance."
"She loved him, though."
Remus seemed to look through the wall, watching his own memories. "He was ecstatic – like a boy at Christmas."
"I heard he picked her up and carried her through the Gryffindor common room," Rebecca said.
A ghost of a smile passed over his face. "And then he tripped over a chair, dropped her unceremoniously, and started swearing."
Rebecca smiled. It was a start. "Sirius was actually impressed with the vocabulary he'd acquired."
The thread that had held Remus's smile together snapped in an instant. "He always did swear too much."
Rebecca, despite knowing how delicate the balance had become, decided to take it a step further – knowing she would regret it. "But that was just Sirius. He knew nobody minded."
Sure enough, Remus's face cried betrayal. "You're defending him again."
"Not at all," she said. "He just couldn't have been... you know... like that all his life. He was good once, wasn't he?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"But Remus, that's what you have to do. When something happened to me, you'd make me talk. Whether I liked it or not, you made me confide in you."
"This is different."
"It is not, and you know it. I'm hurting, too, Remus. I need you for reassurance."
Remus sighed. "I'm sorry."
"Talk to me, Remus."
"I'm sorry that I can't be who I've always been. If this is what you expect me to do – to talk calmly and rationally – then I beg you just to suspend belief for a moment and think that maybe I'm feeling worse than you could ever imagine."
"But you're not."
His head snapped up, incredulously irritated.
"I can feel it, Remus. It's torture. Not what I feel, what you feel. You couldn't care less because you think you're only hurting yourself, but there're Seers in this house. And not just me."
Remus blinked at her, his expression nearly vacant. "Then maybe I should leave."
"No," was her immediate response.
"Make up your mind, for God's sake. Do you want me around, or not?"
"Of course," she stopped, noticing her hypocrisy. "I'm here for you. Just... don't push me away."
Remus nodded his head, unsure that he could keep his promise. A warm feeling he hadn't felt for a while spread throughout him when he looked down to where Rebecca's robes were stretched over what would be his child.
"Do we have a name yet for him?"
"Her."
"For her?"
Rebecca bit her lip. "Actually, I do."
"Well, then?"
She glanced at Remus uncertainly. "I don't think you'll like it."
"Try me."
She pulled back the curtains to look at the night sky. "I don't think I like it, either."
"Then why should we use it?"
"Because... I saw myself, holding her, saying her name softly."
"In a dream?"
"In a vision."
"Why do you feel you have to – "
"Because. It's what I name her. It will be her name. I saw it."
"So, if you hadn't seen this, you wouldn't be naming her accordingly?"
Her eyes didn't leave the window. "That's right."
"You don't have to bind yourself to fate."
"You mean I should fight it? Change the future?"
Remus caught himself before saying something foolish. He knew dealing with time and vision was dangerous. "No."
"Then I must accept it."
"If it wasn't your idea, then who decided for you?"
Rebecca didn't answer.
Remus dropped the subject, feeling it ran deeper than only names. "What'd you call her?" he asked softly. She sighed.
Remus stepped forward to see what had caught her interest in the sky. The moon was shining overhead, rapidly waxing full. "What's the moon got to – "
"I called her Luna."
~~~~~~~~~~
