Ploty, ploty, here we go! Angsty chapter, though not as dark as it'll eventually get (I so can't wait for that...) Hope you like it, and reviews are better than chocolate. :)
Memento
By: Nekare
Beneath a night no longer May,
Where only cold stars shine,
One glimmering ocean spreads away
This haunted life of mine;
And, shattered on the frozen shore,
My harp can never wake,--
When will this night of death be o'er?
When will the morning break?
- William Winter, "The Night Watch"
Night falls, and the candles beneath his father's portrait become a ghostly path of light that shines in the recently-fallen snow outside the windows.
The four boys sleep in Remus' room together, James and Peter making silly jokes as they feel the tight silence between him and Sirius, who is huddled against the door (a heated memory to remember, a thorn built out of guilt buried in his skin) with his back to the rest of them.
Remus doesn't laugh, doesn't speak; and James and Peter share concerned looks over his shoulders, through the thick darkness, and he feels somewhat guilty of making them part of his grief, but for once he decides to be selfish and remain silent.
(He has enough in his mind already, voices screaming and clawing at his brain, mixed signals and advices and a thousand future scenarios for every single thing he chooses).
The night in which Snape almost died (but didn't; he still breathes, and so does Remus; and yet his father doesn't.) replays again and again in his dreams, and amidst the mist of dream, made of sand in his eyelids, he can recognize the tiniest of resolution, and he suddenly knows he has already forgiven Sirius, although he just doesn't know when.
Remus wakes up, and the reality is worse than his nightmares.
---
Peter praises Mrs. Lupin's breakfast the nex morning, and she smiles tiredly, dark bags under her eyes, feeding them as if that's the only thing that makes any sense right now.
(Remus doesn't know it, but that's exactly how she feels).
Remus finds the food too tasty, too colorful, and he wonders why did he ever thought the little details fade to gray when one's world collapses. He eats, nevertheless, and a bit of his sweet thoot for life returns with the meal. He kisses his mother on the cheek when he's done, and the gratefulness in her eyes tastes bittersweet on his tongue.
The term starts that day, and the three boys take turns to hug Mrs. Lupin before going to the backyard to create another of their illicit Portkeys. Remus has been allowed to stay until tomorrow, and he watches the old dog toy (the same one Sirius chewed two years ago) come alive and brimming with magic, the little wind vortex that always come with the creation of a Portkey messing his hair. He doesn't want to let them go, he wants to hug them close and tell each of them all the things he's kept quiet all his life, because there's a war just waiting to happen out there, and nothing can prove they'll still be alive in some days time.
i Thank you. /i that's what he wants to say the most. I Thank you for accepting me as I am, thank you for laughing with me and not at me, for having broken the law just to help me. Thank you, and I love you all so very much. /i
That's what he wants to say, but instead he lets Peter and James hug him and put chocolates in his coat pockets, patting his back like mates do, telling him what kind of marvelous pranks they can all do when he gets back to Hogwarts, a feeble attempt to cheer him up.
Then Sirius steps ahead to say goodbye, and Remus' stomach deserts him.
Sirius doesn't speak, doesn't smile, doesn't wave. Instead, he pulls him close with a hand curled around Remus' coat collar. He kisses him on the lips, softly, almost chastely, and Remus' world i stops /i . It only lasts a second, and Remus hasn't quite breathed when Sirius turns around, eyes still closed and lips bright red in sharp contrast with his pale skin.
James looks mildly amused, and Peter's eyebrows are quite raised, but time is ticking (ticking life away), and there's no time for explanations as the three boys held onto the chewed toy while waving and wishing him well.
Another gust of wind, and Remus is alone with his questions once again.
---
Both Remus and his mother search through his dad's stuff that day, caressing twenty-year-old memories and pieces of a man's soul.
Remus stills at a photograph, glimmering ocean up and down in dreamy waves until the horizon and her mother smiling as her hat is flown away with the wind time and time again. He's heard the story a thousand times, the trip to southern France they took when they find out she was pregnant with him. Her mother is smiling in that radiant way that died in a full night when he was six.
"I want to know how it happened," he says with his eyes still fixed on the photograph, and he can feel more than see the sharp intake of breath his mother takes on the bed. She surrounded by his dad's life too, old ties and the lame love letters he had used to woo his wife.
"I knew you would," says his mother with a sigh, and turns to look at him, sitting on the floor. Remus looks up to her, not knowind whether he actually wants to know. Wanting, and having, are very different things, though. "I was in Marjorie's house, that's how I-" her voice breaks for a moment, and she swallows before continuing. "escaped. Professor Dumbledore says the Death Eaters entered through the kitchen. Your dad had been watching the telly, almost asleep when I left him – he was only supposed to go back to work on the third – and well."
Remus climbs into the bed, taking her hand into his. She nods, eating back the tears, and she keeps on talking. "I don't know exaclty what happened. Or just i who /i sent them to us. The Order isn't very strong yet, and it wasn't like we were such important members-"
"Wait, what order?" Remus asks confused, and wondering if there was a side of his parents he hasn't known about.
His mother looks reclutant to tell him, but she bites her lip, and Remus knows he's won. "The Order of the Phoenix. It's just getting started, we're trying to fight against Voldemort. We haven't been succesful so far, but-"
Once again, Remus interrupts her. "What? Mom, Dad was a Muggle, how could you allow him to mix in this?" his tone sounds far more with more reproach that he intends too, and his mother winces a bit.
"His son is a werewolf, Remus, how do you think he cannot be involved?" her voice is tense, but the edge goes away almost immediately. "He was helping from the inside of the Muggle society, covering up things as much as he could with burocreacy and law matters. It- it wasn't supposed to end this way."
Remus hugs her, and the last of her strenght goes away. "Everything was supposed to be all right, everything was supposed to be all right…" she repeats amidst sobs, a prayer, a mantra, the search of an absolution. Remus clings to her, sobing himself.
They hug each other, crying and hurting and in i pain /i ,while the mementos of Remus' father surrounds them.
When they finally let go of each other, the sky is dark, and a thin layer of dust has covered the photos.
Remus finds it quite propheticall.