Remus rushed up the chilly marble staircase, his aching legs protesting the pace. The glaring white all around burned his overly sensitive retinas after so long a time spent in the dark. Protective wetness rushed forward, offering relief, but Remus blinked it away needing clear sight to find what he was seeking.
It was late and the normally bustling hallways were deserted offering up to him no soul for guidance or assistance. But it was no matter; unfortunate times placed him in the position of knowing this place too well for his own liking. The floor was only one more flight up and once there all he would need would be a flash of red to signal he'd reached his destination.
A stitch in his side bowed his back and slowed his speed momentarily, but Remus continued doggedly forward, glancing down every corridor that veered away from the main hallway, his keen eyes needing only a second to know to keep looking.
A few meters more, another corridor and his steps were already shifting, leading him down it, a sixth sense alerting him before his eyes did that he was finally there.
Red greeted him, but far less of it than he'd expected. Molly Weasley stood alone, staring unblinkingly at a closed door. Her right hand rested against the knob, to open it or keep it shut he couldn't tell.
It struck him, as it did every time he saw her, how diminished she was. Another year of the war gone and her once matronly figure was collapsed. She was thinner than she'd been during the last time of strife, the last time they'd fought together.
The loss of build only accentuated her short stature, though the defeated stoop to her back and neck didn't help. As she was she could not look through the slim window to the occupants of the room without standing on her tiptoes, but Remus had a feeling that looking into that room was the last thing Molly wanted to do.
He came up softly behind her and placed a hand upon her shoulder, bracing himself for what he was about to see. More red now, adorning the top of two thin frames, tied as gently as possible to two lone beds. One had all the appearance of peaceful sleep though his blue Weasley eyes were frozen open in a state of perpetual terror. His mirror image thrashed upon the bed next to him, his mouth agape with endless, silent screams.
Silent to human ears anyway, which was all that mattered as far as current silencing charms went. Remus couldn't stop from wincing as the highest notes reached his ears, making his tired heart bleed.
"They were gone for so long. Away from me so long..." Molly choked out, her hand moving from the knob to cover his of comfort. The cold from the metal seeped into him from her skin.
"I yearned for them to come back for me, it was all I wanted in the world," she laughed shortly, bitterly, "I was foolish! Selfish. I should have prayed for their deaths, it would be better than this."
Was the cold from the metal, or from the pain that had frozen her soul, he began to wonder? He ignored her words, he ignored his thoughts, "Molly, where is Arthur?"
"Not here," she answered, "Still gone."
"Still searching for them?!" Remus was astounded, "Merlin, Molly! You can't just leave him out there. You have to let him know you've found them, you have to let him know they're alright."
"Alright?" she asked.
He pushed on, "What about Ron and Ginny? They could be here from Hogwarts in minutes. And Bill could be here in an hour. Charlie is still undercover, but we might be able to get through to him if we tried. You need your family, Molly."
Her hand dropped, and an air of pity clouded the space between him. Her mind worked for a moment to find the words she needed and when she began to speak she used her best motherly, superior tone. As if she was talking to one of her children that was still to young to quite grasp what she was trying to tell them.
"My family no longer exists, Remus. It's in pieces, shattered now beyond repair thanks to Lucius Malfoy. I know this, but let the others to their ignorance. It's better that way," she spoke again to finalize her words, "It's better that way."
Remus stepped back as her voice died away, absorbed into the wood of the door. He studied her, her shivering body not matching the steel strength of her statements. Her red hair quivered in waves as it cascaded down her back, no time or care had been spent to confine it to its usual coil. The tresses were still vibrant and the streaks of silver that had invaded shone like the very metal that was poison to him. Even her grays were a force to be reckoned with, but he couldn't let himself retreat.
He reached out and turned her. Tilting her head to meet his gaze, his coarse fingertips slipping along her tear tracks. She was anguish personified but her eyes were ice.
He moved them to the visitor's bench opposite the door. He took her frigid hands between his own and rubbed them vigorously, desperately trying to force the warmth he was so used to her being imbued with back into them. Where was her Weasley fire? Lost forever with the two that used to bring it out of her the most often?
"Molly, you mustn't speak like..." he began, but his words were silenced by her gasp. Shame filled him as he realized he was the reason for new pain. He should have taken more care with himself before leaving headquarters so hastily.
Remus could no longer hold her gaze, guilt weighing him down. She extricated herself from his grasp and her shaking hands came up to skim and smooth the hundreds of angry scratches that marred his fatigue-lined face. Just like years before her touch brought him relief and a bit of the tension left him, but not enough for him to forget where they were, unlike last time.
"Remus, with all that's been happening, I totally forgot it was time for a transformation. I'm so sorry," she whispered.
Keeping his eyes back-and-forth between the threadbare state of his own robes and hers he forced an unaffected tone, "It's not your fault, Molly, and it's something I can deal with. There are more important things than me going on in our world."
She sighed heavily and moved away from him, leaning back into the encompassing cushions of the bench, nearly disappearing into their black depths. He hoped he'd got her back on topic and they could get Arthur and the others here, to drag her out of the abyss she was falling through. His hopes were dashed when she continued.
"You are important, Remus, even if you've never believed it. I wish we could find another trusted source to make up the Wolfsbane for you," her tone remained beaten, latching onto another hopeless circumstance.
She picked at her robes where several buttons had come unattached. Every time she pulled it away from her body, the faded orange of her Weasley jumper teased him, showing itself determined to remain hidden, buried under the folds of shadow, like her spirit.
"Snape's been gone for so long, months of pain for you. And you act as if it's some punishment you deserve. Divine retribution, or some other nonsense," her voice was bitter with disapproval, "You've always been this way. Even when it was your friends betraying you, starting this damn chain- reaction we're still ensnared in. You stayed in silent suffering then also, never standing up for yourself. It's ridiculous, Remus, snap out of it."
"Damnit, Molly, you're one to talk. A bit hypocritical to sit there and try to force me to face my failings while you drown in your own," his anger rose quickly to the surface, against his better judgment, but uncontrollable as it was apt to be at this time of the month.
"You want to protect your family from the harsh truths, it's always been this way. You wouldn't allow Arthur into the Burrow all those years ago without him first magicing away all his visible battle wounds. At times he couldn't even pop quickly in to kiss his children good night because he had no time for the complex spells before going out on another mission. Back then you never once opened their eyes to the dangers that were all around them," his chest heaved with his words, more tears fell from her eyes but he pressed on.
"For Pity's sake, Bill was in his fourth year at Hogwarts before he learned you and Arthur were involved in the war at all. And the truth was revealed only then because of the newly revised history books," here his tirade was interrupted as Molly sat up straight with her own anger, her leg jolting his own as she moved. He was pleased to see a bit of her fire return even if this wasn't exactly the way he'd hoped to bring it about.
"And that was all Dumbledore's fault," she rasped, her fist hitting the palm of her other hand, "I've always thought he did that on purpose, our names could have been left out!"
"Now who's being ridiculous, Molly?" he looked at her with something akin to disgust, though hers was a soul too kindred for the emotion to reign freely, "You'd have rather been a suspect in the trials, then? That would have been a better truth for your children? Your were either vocally against Voldemort back then, or you were silently for him, there was no halfway. Your family deserved to know you and Arthur both as courageous fighters. Just like they deserve to know Fred and George as the same."
"You can't deny them respite from their constant worries, they know Fred and George are missing and they're scared, you're only prolonging their pain and delaying their healing. The truth of everything is you're not protecting your family, you're protecting yourself and it's cowardly," his words began to calm and he again reached for her hand, unclenching it from the fist that beat randomly against her thigh, soothing the crescent-shaped welts that broke the white skin.
"I can help you, Molly, if you'll let me," his other hand moved to tuck away an errant strand of hair behind her ear. His eyes regarded her with patience, waiting for her decision.
Her tears splashed on their joined hands and she swallowed, her throat moving with the effort, "You want to help me, Remus? Help me like you helped me so long ago? Help me like I helped you?"
He finally noticed that the ice in her gaze had melted away and was replaced by something else. Something that sparked a long repressed memory and as he stared the lines around her face seemed to melt away. The gray in her hair disappeared and he looked at the ghost of an image from a hidden past.
His hoarse voice growled deeply as he forced words past his chapped lips, "Why are we doing this again? Here? Now?" he gestured helplessly to the closed door across from them, "Always at the worst time, always in the middle of destruction. Selfishly thinking only of ourselves."
Her free hand moved quickly to his lips, ceasing his words, "It's because once again our worlds have collapsed. Back then I'd thought I'd lost Arthur and you, you'd lost your friends. We had nothing to hang on to but each other, like now."
"But you do have Arthur," Remus spoke against her fingers, "It's you whose keeping him away this time, not Malfoy." Her hand dropped to rest on his shoulder.
"It's always Malfoy," she said, "There's a gaping hole between Arthur and me now, between the rest of the children and me."
She moved closer, filling his vision, her cookie spiced smell surrounding him, singed with burnt edges once more.
"We must not," Remus protested, though it was a feeble attempt at best, "We must not..."
Her breath washed over him and her lips bumped his own, "Shhhh, just kiss me. Make me feel something other than misery, you were the only one that could do it last time. Do it again, please, Remus."
He did. They burned with the passion and the fire of their sin. Their tears mingled, their souls chained together with their crime.
His mind was assaulted with the memory of their one night together, hurried and sweet on a dark cot in a dark corner of the protective seclusion he was forced to inhabit once a month back then. She'd been a woman giving and he'd been a young boy taking. It was still the same. Still right and very wrong.
When they finally pulled back from their embrace her eyes were no longer cold, but that was hardly a surprise, his heart was no longer cold either. He clasped her to him tightly, enfolding her in an embrace that was slipping away, impossible to hold on to.
Hurried footsteps caught their attention, but they didn't pull apart. It was just a hug after all, just a hug.
Then his voice broke in, more invasive than a knife through the heart. Soft and unsure, but still full of warmth and containing no suspicious glint.
"M-M-Molly," Arthur stuttered out, "You've found them, right? Say they're not dead, say they're not dead!"
His voice had ended with tormented grief at seeing them clasped so tightly together, not moving upon his arrival. He knew something horrible had happened.
Molly had stiffened in Remus' arms as Arthur's last words died away. She pulled back, going to her husband. He hadn't been able to see her face, he couldn't tell what was inside her anymore.
"Arthur," she spoke quietly, leading him to the boys' room, "Arthur, it's worse than death. So much worse."
They went inside and Remus shuddered as Fred's screams once again assailed him, pouring forth from the momentarily opened door. He stood and crept toward the pain, feeling no better than a Dementor but needing to see Molly's eyes once more to know her heart.
Arthur sat on a chair between the two beds his body wracked in sobs and Molly stood beside him. Her body was Arthur's but her eyes were his. But they were no prize, for they were once again filled with ice.
She'd speak the words, she'd play the part. Their family would re-coup but it would all be an act and Remus didn't want to stay around to watch it. Damn this war, he thought for the thousandth time. Damn this war.
It was late and the normally bustling hallways were deserted offering up to him no soul for guidance or assistance. But it was no matter; unfortunate times placed him in the position of knowing this place too well for his own liking. The floor was only one more flight up and once there all he would need would be a flash of red to signal he'd reached his destination.
A stitch in his side bowed his back and slowed his speed momentarily, but Remus continued doggedly forward, glancing down every corridor that veered away from the main hallway, his keen eyes needing only a second to know to keep looking.
A few meters more, another corridor and his steps were already shifting, leading him down it, a sixth sense alerting him before his eyes did that he was finally there.
Red greeted him, but far less of it than he'd expected. Molly Weasley stood alone, staring unblinkingly at a closed door. Her right hand rested against the knob, to open it or keep it shut he couldn't tell.
It struck him, as it did every time he saw her, how diminished she was. Another year of the war gone and her once matronly figure was collapsed. She was thinner than she'd been during the last time of strife, the last time they'd fought together.
The loss of build only accentuated her short stature, though the defeated stoop to her back and neck didn't help. As she was she could not look through the slim window to the occupants of the room without standing on her tiptoes, but Remus had a feeling that looking into that room was the last thing Molly wanted to do.
He came up softly behind her and placed a hand upon her shoulder, bracing himself for what he was about to see. More red now, adorning the top of two thin frames, tied as gently as possible to two lone beds. One had all the appearance of peaceful sleep though his blue Weasley eyes were frozen open in a state of perpetual terror. His mirror image thrashed upon the bed next to him, his mouth agape with endless, silent screams.
Silent to human ears anyway, which was all that mattered as far as current silencing charms went. Remus couldn't stop from wincing as the highest notes reached his ears, making his tired heart bleed.
"They were gone for so long. Away from me so long..." Molly choked out, her hand moving from the knob to cover his of comfort. The cold from the metal seeped into him from her skin.
"I yearned for them to come back for me, it was all I wanted in the world," she laughed shortly, bitterly, "I was foolish! Selfish. I should have prayed for their deaths, it would be better than this."
Was the cold from the metal, or from the pain that had frozen her soul, he began to wonder? He ignored her words, he ignored his thoughts, "Molly, where is Arthur?"
"Not here," she answered, "Still gone."
"Still searching for them?!" Remus was astounded, "Merlin, Molly! You can't just leave him out there. You have to let him know you've found them, you have to let him know they're alright."
"Alright?" she asked.
He pushed on, "What about Ron and Ginny? They could be here from Hogwarts in minutes. And Bill could be here in an hour. Charlie is still undercover, but we might be able to get through to him if we tried. You need your family, Molly."
Her hand dropped, and an air of pity clouded the space between him. Her mind worked for a moment to find the words she needed and when she began to speak she used her best motherly, superior tone. As if she was talking to one of her children that was still to young to quite grasp what she was trying to tell them.
"My family no longer exists, Remus. It's in pieces, shattered now beyond repair thanks to Lucius Malfoy. I know this, but let the others to their ignorance. It's better that way," she spoke again to finalize her words, "It's better that way."
Remus stepped back as her voice died away, absorbed into the wood of the door. He studied her, her shivering body not matching the steel strength of her statements. Her red hair quivered in waves as it cascaded down her back, no time or care had been spent to confine it to its usual coil. The tresses were still vibrant and the streaks of silver that had invaded shone like the very metal that was poison to him. Even her grays were a force to be reckoned with, but he couldn't let himself retreat.
He reached out and turned her. Tilting her head to meet his gaze, his coarse fingertips slipping along her tear tracks. She was anguish personified but her eyes were ice.
He moved them to the visitor's bench opposite the door. He took her frigid hands between his own and rubbed them vigorously, desperately trying to force the warmth he was so used to her being imbued with back into them. Where was her Weasley fire? Lost forever with the two that used to bring it out of her the most often?
"Molly, you mustn't speak like..." he began, but his words were silenced by her gasp. Shame filled him as he realized he was the reason for new pain. He should have taken more care with himself before leaving headquarters so hastily.
Remus could no longer hold her gaze, guilt weighing him down. She extricated herself from his grasp and her shaking hands came up to skim and smooth the hundreds of angry scratches that marred his fatigue-lined face. Just like years before her touch brought him relief and a bit of the tension left him, but not enough for him to forget where they were, unlike last time.
"Remus, with all that's been happening, I totally forgot it was time for a transformation. I'm so sorry," she whispered.
Keeping his eyes back-and-forth between the threadbare state of his own robes and hers he forced an unaffected tone, "It's not your fault, Molly, and it's something I can deal with. There are more important things than me going on in our world."
She sighed heavily and moved away from him, leaning back into the encompassing cushions of the bench, nearly disappearing into their black depths. He hoped he'd got her back on topic and they could get Arthur and the others here, to drag her out of the abyss she was falling through. His hopes were dashed when she continued.
"You are important, Remus, even if you've never believed it. I wish we could find another trusted source to make up the Wolfsbane for you," her tone remained beaten, latching onto another hopeless circumstance.
She picked at her robes where several buttons had come unattached. Every time she pulled it away from her body, the faded orange of her Weasley jumper teased him, showing itself determined to remain hidden, buried under the folds of shadow, like her spirit.
"Snape's been gone for so long, months of pain for you. And you act as if it's some punishment you deserve. Divine retribution, or some other nonsense," her voice was bitter with disapproval, "You've always been this way. Even when it was your friends betraying you, starting this damn chain- reaction we're still ensnared in. You stayed in silent suffering then also, never standing up for yourself. It's ridiculous, Remus, snap out of it."
"Damnit, Molly, you're one to talk. A bit hypocritical to sit there and try to force me to face my failings while you drown in your own," his anger rose quickly to the surface, against his better judgment, but uncontrollable as it was apt to be at this time of the month.
"You want to protect your family from the harsh truths, it's always been this way. You wouldn't allow Arthur into the Burrow all those years ago without him first magicing away all his visible battle wounds. At times he couldn't even pop quickly in to kiss his children good night because he had no time for the complex spells before going out on another mission. Back then you never once opened their eyes to the dangers that were all around them," his chest heaved with his words, more tears fell from her eyes but he pressed on.
"For Pity's sake, Bill was in his fourth year at Hogwarts before he learned you and Arthur were involved in the war at all. And the truth was revealed only then because of the newly revised history books," here his tirade was interrupted as Molly sat up straight with her own anger, her leg jolting his own as she moved. He was pleased to see a bit of her fire return even if this wasn't exactly the way he'd hoped to bring it about.
"And that was all Dumbledore's fault," she rasped, her fist hitting the palm of her other hand, "I've always thought he did that on purpose, our names could have been left out!"
"Now who's being ridiculous, Molly?" he looked at her with something akin to disgust, though hers was a soul too kindred for the emotion to reign freely, "You'd have rather been a suspect in the trials, then? That would have been a better truth for your children? Your were either vocally against Voldemort back then, or you were silently for him, there was no halfway. Your family deserved to know you and Arthur both as courageous fighters. Just like they deserve to know Fred and George as the same."
"You can't deny them respite from their constant worries, they know Fred and George are missing and they're scared, you're only prolonging their pain and delaying their healing. The truth of everything is you're not protecting your family, you're protecting yourself and it's cowardly," his words began to calm and he again reached for her hand, unclenching it from the fist that beat randomly against her thigh, soothing the crescent-shaped welts that broke the white skin.
"I can help you, Molly, if you'll let me," his other hand moved to tuck away an errant strand of hair behind her ear. His eyes regarded her with patience, waiting for her decision.
Her tears splashed on their joined hands and she swallowed, her throat moving with the effort, "You want to help me, Remus? Help me like you helped me so long ago? Help me like I helped you?"
He finally noticed that the ice in her gaze had melted away and was replaced by something else. Something that sparked a long repressed memory and as he stared the lines around her face seemed to melt away. The gray in her hair disappeared and he looked at the ghost of an image from a hidden past.
His hoarse voice growled deeply as he forced words past his chapped lips, "Why are we doing this again? Here? Now?" he gestured helplessly to the closed door across from them, "Always at the worst time, always in the middle of destruction. Selfishly thinking only of ourselves."
Her free hand moved quickly to his lips, ceasing his words, "It's because once again our worlds have collapsed. Back then I'd thought I'd lost Arthur and you, you'd lost your friends. We had nothing to hang on to but each other, like now."
"But you do have Arthur," Remus spoke against her fingers, "It's you whose keeping him away this time, not Malfoy." Her hand dropped to rest on his shoulder.
"It's always Malfoy," she said, "There's a gaping hole between Arthur and me now, between the rest of the children and me."
She moved closer, filling his vision, her cookie spiced smell surrounding him, singed with burnt edges once more.
"We must not," Remus protested, though it was a feeble attempt at best, "We must not..."
Her breath washed over him and her lips bumped his own, "Shhhh, just kiss me. Make me feel something other than misery, you were the only one that could do it last time. Do it again, please, Remus."
He did. They burned with the passion and the fire of their sin. Their tears mingled, their souls chained together with their crime.
His mind was assaulted with the memory of their one night together, hurried and sweet on a dark cot in a dark corner of the protective seclusion he was forced to inhabit once a month back then. She'd been a woman giving and he'd been a young boy taking. It was still the same. Still right and very wrong.
When they finally pulled back from their embrace her eyes were no longer cold, but that was hardly a surprise, his heart was no longer cold either. He clasped her to him tightly, enfolding her in an embrace that was slipping away, impossible to hold on to.
Hurried footsteps caught their attention, but they didn't pull apart. It was just a hug after all, just a hug.
Then his voice broke in, more invasive than a knife through the heart. Soft and unsure, but still full of warmth and containing no suspicious glint.
"M-M-Molly," Arthur stuttered out, "You've found them, right? Say they're not dead, say they're not dead!"
His voice had ended with tormented grief at seeing them clasped so tightly together, not moving upon his arrival. He knew something horrible had happened.
Molly had stiffened in Remus' arms as Arthur's last words died away. She pulled back, going to her husband. He hadn't been able to see her face, he couldn't tell what was inside her anymore.
"Arthur," she spoke quietly, leading him to the boys' room, "Arthur, it's worse than death. So much worse."
They went inside and Remus shuddered as Fred's screams once again assailed him, pouring forth from the momentarily opened door. He stood and crept toward the pain, feeling no better than a Dementor but needing to see Molly's eyes once more to know her heart.
Arthur sat on a chair between the two beds his body wracked in sobs and Molly stood beside him. Her body was Arthur's but her eyes were his. But they were no prize, for they were once again filled with ice.
She'd speak the words, she'd play the part. Their family would re-coup but it would all be an act and Remus didn't want to stay around to watch it. Damn this war, he thought for the thousandth time. Damn this war.