Disclaimer: Do I have to give em back? Well, ok, JK does own em...I just like playin with em.
Author's notes: I had planned to have the epilogue done and posted at the same time I had this final chapter finished, but, alas, Harry and Remus aren't cooperating. This one...I think its going to be a definite tear jerker...I definitely had a tear in my eye while I wrote it, but I don't know if imagining it is the same as reading it. (Just to tell you, I haven't really been affected much by the story, besides the small bout of depression, so a tingle of a tear means something, I hope.) So, yes, this is the final chapter. I will have the epilogue up shortly, in a few hours at least. Hugs and kisses, children. I love you all, thank you for reading. (::divulges secret:: I got the idea for this story from Tuesdays with Morrie. Read the book, see the movie, enjoy life!)
After retching twice, I'm not feeling any better about the decision. In fact, even while I'm hanging my head over the toilet for a third round, finding my stomach empty, I'm starting to feel worse.
Sweat is beading around my forehead, my lips, trailing lines down my face and soaking through my shirt. Pulling off the already disgusting shirt, I wipe my face and mouth, moving to spit out the last of the diluted bile that has gathered around my teeth and burns at my gums.
I get no further than contemplating getting off the floor when I feel another warm body next to mine. Cool hands remove the shirt from my hands and swiftly dispose of it, touching on my brow and neck.
"Go back ta bed, Remmie," I grumble irritably. The hands pause, pulling back from my smoldering skin. Suddenly I'm wishing I hadn't said anything.
"Remmie is in bed, Harry," a cool feminine voice whispers. "Sounds like you have him on the brain...Godric, you're burning up."
"I just...Oh Godric, what have I done..." Heaving sobs break up my voice, reducing it to nothing more than the scratchy tone it held on for fourth and fifth year. I let my forehead fall to the edge of the toilet, resting there while I sob.
Gentle arms curl around me, moving my head from toilet seat to shoulder, a welcome alternative. Fingers fall down my back, while whispers sounding like the wind purr along my ears, not that I hear much of what is said. "Shh...Harry. You did what needed to be done."
"No! I've killed him! I've killed my last family...I've...Merlin, Tonks..."
Arms move under mine, half lifting me, half dragging me to my feet. "Are you done?" At my nod, she pulls me from the loo, tapping my lips with a cleansing spell that I can feel tingle throughout my mouth. Still half carrying me, she brings me back to the bed Remus fell asleep in. "Listen Harry, you didn't do anything wrong."
"I left his death up to a traitor..." I groan.
"Would you feel any better killing him?" she asks earnestly, laying me gently to the bed.
"I don't know. I don't know if...if I could..."
Tugging off my jeans, she sighs. "It may not seem like it, but you've done him a favor...Professor Dumbledore," she starts, staring at me thoughtfully. "Professor Dumbledore said that you asked if the blade of Godric had silver in it. Why? All the books suggest that any metal affects them badly by the end..."
"In 1897, a wizard by the name of Drapac performed experiments on lycanthropes in their final stages of the condition..."
"Tell me you actually listened to Professor Binns?"
"No, I got this from one of Theo's books." I pause for a grin. "Anyway, Drapac was later stopped in 1912 by the Ministry, when they realized the horrible experiments he'd been performing. When they invaded his home, they found several bodies, of course, and strangely enough, several children, who were, later, identified to be lycanthropes. Because Drapac was killed in the initial attack, they never found out how the lycanthropes were changed into children."
"What does this have to do with silver?"
"Well, later, when those children grew up, they had a strange affinity for silver."
"How? I thought they were lycanthropes."
"They were cured."
"Godric..."
"Don't get excited yet, it's a theory...One that may easily fall through. If it does, which it mostly likely will, Remus won't be reborn...he'll just die." I glance at the lump under the covers beside me. It looks far too tense, and I know he's been listening, I just don't know how he's processing my words. If I wasn't so certain that he'd be able to hear me just as well as if I were whispering in the loo as opposed to right next to him, I'd hate myself for saying such things so near to him.
"Will I go ta Heav'n?" Remus asks in a particularly childish voice, the same one he's been using since last night.
"Yep. Then you and P-paddy and your Mummy will all be happy, and nothing c-can hurt you ever again." My words are foreign in my mouth, whispered as if that will make them more real. Tears have trailed down my cheeks by this time, and even Tonks and Professor Dumbledore are looking a bit glossy eyed.
Snape excused himself from dinner a few moments ago, and I'm beginning to suspect he actually has emotions.
Remus taps the edge of his plate with his fork, looking bored, or confused, I'm not sure which. "What about your Mum and Dad?"
Oh. "Ye-yeah. They'll be there too. A-and you can play with Padfoot too."
Tonks gets up suddenly, strutting from the room, as if her legs were stiff. Closing the door behind herself, she suddenly screeches in the hallway, her footsteps echoing a moment later.
Remus stares wide-eyed at the door. "Is she okay?"
"She's a little sad," I mutter to my potatoes.
"Why?" he turns his aged, though childlike face to me.
"Because she will miss you. And so will I. Everyone will miss you a lot."
"Can you come too?"
"No. It's not our time yet. But we'll be there as so-soon as we can."
"Will it hurt?"
I can't answer that. I want to follow Tonks' example. I want to run screaming out of this room. I want to get as far away as I can from this man, who is no more than a child anymore. Dully, I look to Dumbledore for an answer.
"Why don't you finish your pumpkin juice, my boy? I hear there is French chocolate silk pie for dessert..." he says with a smile.
"Oh! I like choc'lot," Remus yelped and guzzled his pumpkin juice, shoving the remnants of his dinner into his mouth as well.
True to his word, moments after Remus finishes, the dinners that Professor Dumbledore and I barely touched, including Remus' clean plate are cleared for the pie. Watching him down the pie, I try to think back to my last words to him when he was normal...before this mess.
I doubt they are the words I want to speak now. 'Thank you' would be a good set, or 'I love you', but I'm nearly sure my words were as pointless as 'I'm sure everything will be fine.'
Where's the eerie music? I feel like a funeral march should be playing.
Remus is holding Dumbledore's hand, who is leading him to the cage we set up earlier. Snape is walking a few steps behind them, holding a smoking goblet. I have a feeling that's not the Wolfsbane potion. Tonks is clinging to me, sobbing softly into my arm every so often. Percy is walking behind us, silent and stiff. Hagrid follows up Percy, though I think it is only to make sure he doesn't take off. I can almost feel the redhead's eyes on my left hand. My left hand where I clutch the Sorting Hat, filled with the silver blade of Godric.
Strike what I first said. I know the Funeral March should be playing.
Gaze settling on the cage, I can feel my dinner try to revisit my mouth. I feel like I'm already looking at a bloody scene. I can almost see Remus sprawled, half wolf, eyes glazed with the look of death.
We all pause in front of the cage; Dumbledore shows Remus inside and start to help him undress. Still as statues, we watch in a sick fascination. When finally Remus is down to his skivvies, Dumbledore gathers the remaining clothing and returns from behind the bars.
Wriggling my arm free of Tonks, I grab Percy's arm and drag him along behind me. He follows without protest, though slightly hesitant in his steps. Good, he's not fighting.
Once behind the bars, Hagrid closes the front gate and locks it, mumbling, "G'luck, Harry."
I nod. I don't want luck with this. I hope we fail miserably and Remus mauls me to death before the deed is done. Silently, I draw the sword from the Hat, and push the Hat through the bars to Dumbledore, who takes it.
"Any minute now." Is that my voice? I sound so neutral. I sound so lost.
Percy watches me, trembling hands clasped in front of him. "H-Harry?"
"Shut up, Percy."
Minutes drag out, and then suddenly, the calm, almost bored looking Lupin leaps up from sitting. Eyes narrow, wincing in obvious pain. Skin looks stretched too tight over too large an area, every muscle, every tendon exposed and traceable. Mouth is gaping, though no sound is emitted, a silent plea.
I shove the blade into Percy's hand. "Do it now." When he refuses to move, merely staring blankly at the sight in front of him, I elbow him sharply. "DO IT NOW!"
Percy stumbles forward, dragging the sword slightly on the ground. After the few steps, he still refuses to move, knees bent slightly, whispering, "I can't, I can't, I can't..."
The beast that was Remus, howls inhumanly. Hands are curled, strained as the fur breaks in bloody gashes along his tendons. Skin is pealed away, as clawed hands start tearing in absent rage against his own body. Every cut reveals a new layer of fur underneath, as if the wolf was just waiting one layer beneath his skin. Strips of flesh fall away like torn bits of parchment, curling in upon themselves and shriveling away into nothingness. Screeching howls, moans and groans, growls and snarls, all now inhabit the air where silence once reigned.
If Percy isn't going to, then I will.
Lunging forward, I grab the sword from his limp hand, and raise it two- handed, just as I did second year with the Basilik. In the same upward thrust, I plunge the blade through the furred belly, sliding to a halt near his semi-human legs.
Silence again takes hold of the area, as crimson liquid trails down the edge of the blade. I gasp audibly as it hits my fingers, dripping in a splattering puddle between my legs. Gaze is wrenched away from the blood, and the sword, looking up into the wolf.
Teeth are bared, and eyes gleaming, though a scratchy and twisted version of a voice emerges from the wreckage of Remus Lupin, of his own voice, "Th- thanks."
I nod, mouth agape, not sure if it was shock or bewilderment that killed my voice.
The wolfman returns to his normal human state as his body crumples, plunging the blade deeper, a grunt the only response. I swiftly relieve the blade of its duty, unsheathing it from the body.
Folding myself around the body, I can feel the sting of tears, even the burning warmth of them as they trail down my cheeks, but nothing seems real. Slowly I turn, looking over my shoulder at Tonks, who has sought the solace of Snape.
"I-I guess it d-didn't work..." I mumble, my lips and tongue tingling with a numbness.
Tonks starts to nod, then stops abruptly, eyes widening considerably. "Harry!" is yelped about the same time a loud wail erupts into the air.