The Memory Remains
Heavy rings on fingers wave
Another star denies the grave
See the nowhere crowd
Cry the nowhere cheers of honor
Like twisted vines that grow
Hide and swallow mansions whole
And dim the light of an already
Faded prima donna
"Was that-"
"I think so." She tugged on Grant's sleeve, "Let's follow them."
"Vala, I don't know--I mean, think about it," he hesitated.
"Honestly Grant, it's only a memory," she exasperated, pulling him along.
He swung her to face him. "No Vala, it's not just a memory… It's Remus' memory and we shouldn't be here."
She breathed a sigh of disbelief. "Be real Grant," and turned away. She stepped over a root, glanced behind her, and saw Grant standing still. Fine, suit yourself, she fumed silently. Her pace quickened and soon she was running after the streaming wolf. Occasionally she saw its tail flick in and out of the trees. She climbed over an upturned tree, ducked under some vines, and nearly tripped over a root.
Vala skidded to a halt. The boy, tears streaking his cheeks, stood against a tree. The wolf, a low growl rolling from it, cornered him.
The nine-year-old memory of Remus pushed against the tree. "No, no, no…" he repeated, shaking his head.
Vala knew that expression; it was the look you got when you were pleading for a change of events. It was the look you got when you asked for forgiveness, assuring you'll never wrong another soul. Pleading and begging of an unseen force to help you, to take you away. To suddenly wake up in your bed and find you've only been dreaming.
But as all things, it was real, and there was no escaping that.
He squeezed his eyes shut. No, he'll still be there when you open your eyes… He's not leaving until he's played his part.
The wolf jumped forward, Remus threw his hands up in defense, an arm shielding his face. Vala closed her eyes, she knew what would happen next; he'd be bitten on the arm, and he'd turn into a werewolf.
All women love animals, Vala, but they can do without the fur. And that's why Remus is popular with the ladies.
Not all women like animals, Sirius.
Yes, but the ones that don't are scary feminists, and it's better not to get mixed up with that type.
Both the memories in Vala's mind and the one unraveling in front of her faded.
The air thickened and bright street lamps lit up the damp cobblestones.
She heard voices behind her.
"Where are we?" a man squeaked.
Vala turned at it and recognized a short, chubby man she'd learn to call Peter.
The man to his right inhaled the air. He slapped the shorter man on the back. "Welcome to Rue de Maitresses."
"Roo duh what?" he attempted to pronounce.
"Rue de Maitresses," a man with downcast eyes echoed. "It's a street of hookers."
The memories walked through Vala. That was-
"Street of Mistresses, Remus, street of mistresses," Sirius corrected.
She spun around to watch them.
"What's the difference?" he replied. "Mistresses, hookers, whores… They're all the same."
"And that's where you're wrong, Remus," Sirius said wisely. He swung an arm across Peter's shoulders. Vala followed more closely. "Here's a little lesson for you," he shot a look at Remus, "And you'd do well to listen in."
Remus smiled faintly. "Sure, Sirius, whatever you say…" Though he didn't look as though he wanted to be anywhere near Rue de Maitresses. Neither did Peter, but he had the more confused, unsure what to expect expression as opposed to Remus' tired, and yearning to go home one.
Sirius pointed at an unattractive woman who wore next to nothing. "You see that tramp? And I call her a tramp because that's exactly what she is. She's not pretty, but she makes that up with revealing clothes. She prances around half naked hoping someone will take an interest in her and give her a bed for the night. She gives you half the enjoyment and charges you twice the price… And she's still there when you wake up in the morning."
"And that's bad?" Peter half-guessed, half-asked.
Vala rolled her eyes. Yes, straight from Sirius' book: The Discovery of Women.
"Yes." He pointed to another woman across the street. She was fairly attractive, and covered more of her body. "Over there we have what I like to call a hooker. She'll caress your skin and breathe your name, but she's only interested in the money. She doesn't enjoy her work, but she needs the money… And so she acts playful, but don't let yourself be fooled. She's not quite as low as a tramp, but she still believes fewer clothing makes a happier man. Nonetheless, her biggest fault is her urgency to leave. She'll only let you keep her for a few hours, then she takes her money and leaves."
"Oh," Peter said.
Poor chap, she thought, He always filled his head with such lies. She shook her head, but continued to follow.
The three walked further down the street. Two women stood together, leaning over and posing for passing men and the occasional woman. Vala briefly glanced around. Save the prostitutes, or whatever Sirius wished to call them, there really weren't that many women around. Though she used to live a fairly sheltered life, she could guess why.
Vala followed in the slow steps of the men, listening to Sirius' lesson. "Those are whores," Sirius explained. "They come in groups of two. Sometimes more. And they only sell in groups, so if you're not in the mood to spend a pretty sickle, steer clear of them. However, if you're feeling down and need extra love, they're right up your alley."
Peter's eyes were slowly growing larger and rounder. Sirius grinned. They continued to walk.
"What about her?" Peter whispered, pointing at the shadows of an alley. Both Remus and Sirius gently swung their heads in the spoken direction. Tilting their heads back, Remus rose an eyebrow, and they both looked forward.
"That would be a dominatrix," Remus answered.
"Remus!" Vala expressed in disbelief. "And how would-" Oh yeah, they can't hear me, she remembered when no acknowledgment of her was hinted.
"Yes, you don't want to mix with that bunch." Sirius shook his head. "They're for the more kinky types… leather, whips… pointy shoes… sharp teeth."
Remus shot a glance at Sirius. He bit his tongue and continued to walk.
"I thought you said they were mistresses," Peter pointed out meekly.
"No, no," Sirius said, "These are not mistresses--those are mistresses." He bent slightly to stand at Peter's height, pointing towards a small group of women surrounding a lamppost. Vala squinted. One stood against the lamppost, her arms crossed and a thoughtful expression on her face, another rested against the back of a bench, staring up at the stars, a third sat on the bench, daintily smoking a cigarette. They were all fully dressed, but with a few gaps and opening their more interesting features were hinted and exposed.
"Several things make a mistress, but the main factor is that she is French."
"French?" Peter asked, looking up at Sirius.
"Yes, French… She's thoughtful in conversation, gentle in bed, and damn gorgeous."
"Doesn't sound like the French I grew to know," Remus commented, peering at the women.
Sirius waved a hand at him. "They wear full dress gowns, smoke cigarettes… but mostly, they have charm. A sense of manners. They wear you out then they let you sleep in. But they're never sleeping on the job. They'll give you an experience you'll never forget… It's like a dream, and there's no other way of explaining it."
"Because they're gone when you wake up, or because you can't remember if they existed or not?" Remus asked innocently.
Normally, Peter would have snorted at the comment, but he was too transed by the women.
"Monsieur Black!" one called friendly. "Vot a pleasing sight vor the eyes you are," she greeted in a thick French accent.
Sirius smiled, and stepped up to meet his familiar.
The memory began to slip. Vala glanced around and noticed another memory taking place. She moved so she could watch.
"Why didn't you tell us?" Sirius demanded. He had one hand placed on the table and the other open to his friend.
Cornered to a chair, Remus only stared at him. "I--I um," he stuttered, biting his lip.
James stood behind him, his hands on the chairs back, his eyes fixated on Remus.
"All the lies, Remus, don't you trust us?" Sirius asked.
Remus glanced up at James, then back to Sirius, and finally to his hands. "I… I didn't know how'd you take it," he admitted. "Who wants a werewolf as a friend?" he asked, looking up.
Vala stepped closer.
Sirius sighed, and moved back. He rested against the table.
"You're my first real friends," Remus said quietly, his gaze dropping to his hands again. "I just didn't want to lose you… And well, I thought if you didn't know then you'd have no reason to-"
His own brother disowned him over it, why wouldn't his friends? Vala added silently.
"We wouldn't have defriended you over something like that," Sirius interrupted politely.
Remus looked shocked. "You wouldn't? But I thought, I thought since-"
James leaned against the table as well, smiling. "No, it's not like that."
"Look," Sirius began, "You're our friend. It's going to take a lot more than that to get rid of us." A smirk splashed across him.
Vala smiled faintly. Boys are so simple…
A grin grew across Remus' face. "Really?" he asked, wanting to hear it again.
"Of course," James assured.
"Now," Sirius started, standing up. "Let's go find that git Snape and celebrate with a few smile-cracking pranks."
The memory flickered and was replaced by another one.
Four teenage boys sat around a room. A black haired one sat on the floor, looking up at a light haired boy. Another black haired boy with tousled hair sat on the other end of the couch, and a fourth, more heavy and meek in appearance sat in a chair.
"What's it like?" James asked, slightly curious but completely serious.
"Well, it's…" Remus began, shifting forward. He sat on the edge of his seat, his legs spread and his elbows on his lower thighs. He turned his hands over, examining them, weighing them. "It's like keeping a kitten in your bottom drawer." He looked up and around at his friends.
Sirius tilted his head slightly, a somber expression on his face.
"You can't always handle it alone, but you're still convinced you can… And you're constantly worried someone might find out about it. So you hide it away, but it gets restless and it wants out, but you won't let it. You try to control it, but sometimes it escapes."
Remus avoided Peter's eyes, who leaned back in his chair, and appeared to be uncomfortable with the conversation.
"It's a horrible experience and it's not something you brag about… I just hope none of you have to go through it."
That's Remus, constantly thinking about someone else, Vala noted.
"I've got an idea! Why don't we-"
"Maybe we should go," a voice said behind her.
Now I wonder who that might--"Oh," she said, meeting Grant's eyes.
"We've seen enough already, let's go."
"Yeah, fine, fine…" She glanced over her shoulder one last time. "I guess I was caught up in old memories of myself. They do look so innocent, I wonder what happened…"
~+~+~+~
It was 11:30. Grant was curled up on the couch; Fae sat against the sofa, staring quietly into the fire. She'd wondered faintly if she should stop Vala, but knew she must decide for herself.
Vala stood on the front porch, her arms crossed, a piece of chalk in one hand, and the potion weighing down her right pocket. She thought about what she'd seen. The image of Remus shielding his face from the werewolf flashed before her.
"-I didn't know how'd you take it-Who wants a werewolf as a friend?"
And she was having second thoughts.
"-It's like keeping a kitten in your bottom drawer-"
"-It's a horrible experience-I just hope none of you have to go through it-"
"-Not to anyone, but certainly not to you-"
She was having a lot of second thoughts.
She lifted the potion from her pocket.
"Spirits from the deep, who never sleep, be kind to me… Spirits from the grave, without a soul to save, be kind to me…"* This is stupid, she thought, dropping the bottle back into her pocket, and tossing the chalk unto the lawn.
"It's a quarter till," Fae pointed out, stepping out unto the porch.
"I'm not doing it," Vala replied, staring forward.
"Oh?" Fae shut the door gently, and leaned against the wall. She took a cigarette from her inner pocket and continued to light it. "And why not, if I may be so bold."
Vala sighed. "Because I was doing it to get closer to Remus, so I could know and understand him better." She paused for a moment. "Then I realized I didn't know him at all. It wouldn't help him; it'd only upset him. All he does is worry, and this would increase it by ten."
Fae exhaled and nodded. "Yes, the man's seen enough misery in his life, let him go without this one."
Vala picked up the potion again. She uncorked it. "No use in keeping this then," she said, tilting it sideways.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Fae warned, sucking on her cigarette.
She looked at her curiously, uprighting the bottle. "Why not?"
Fae shrugged. "You never know when something like that might come in handy," she said, staring at the moon.