A/N ZOMG. I wrote this at about ten at night when I was in a hugely angstish mood. So I do hope it comes by that way. ) zomg there actually isn't any slash for a change. D
Disclaimer: GUESS WHO DOESN'T OWN HARRY POTTER!
It was late, and I shouldn't be up. I shouldn't even be here. But more lately I've been drawn more and more to this place; the place where he spent his last hours, the place where he had grown up. It seems like he's still here, lurking around corridors and hiding in shadows. I can still remember the summer when he invited us all around to his house and James got his hand stuck in a jar that refused to let go. Peter had laughed along with the rest of us; James had waved the jar threateningly and then laughed along with us. It was alright in those days when we were carefree. Of course, the idea that in later life there was something dark and cruel waiting there, hiding out of view for a while was there in the back of our minds, always heavy, always there, yet always carefully ignored.
Kingsley Shacklebolt comes into the kitchen and looks at me critically but doesn't say anything, which I'm grateful for. He sits at the other end of the table, ignoring me, and takes out a Firewhiskey. He's been working hard, as have the rest of us. It's hard for me to come here; Greyback and the others get suspicious sometimes and ask me questions. But I managed to escape tonight with a reasonable excuse.
Ever since Sirius's death people have been avoiding me, as if afraid I'd burst out crying over them. I don't blame them, though, nor do I mind. I want to be left alone. I don't think I can cope with the stress of it anymore. If they don't ignore me they bombard me with pity and sympathy, tell me I'm too thin, say I need to get out more….
I sit up and feel Kingsley glancing at me, but quickly look away so as to not meet his eye.
It's just hard to think that he's actually gone. First it was James. When James died I didn't know what I would do. I had been at my flat and Dumbledore had come himself.
"Remus?"
There was a banging at the door, and the old Headmaster's voice sounded anxious, stringed with sadness. "Remus!"
I opened the door and he stood there, hat in his hands, looking at me with sympathy. My stomach immediately dropped. I knew that look; I received it only too many times. I quickly moved away from the door to let him in. Dumbledore stood awkwardly in the small living room and I stared at him wordlessly. Nothing needed to be said, really, and nothing was for a while. Then Dumbledore spoke up.
"I think you ought to sit down, Remus," he said softly. I did automatically without the need for my brain to consult my legs in it first.
"What happened?" My voice was hoarse and quiet. "Sir… what happened?" Dumbledore looked at me again. "Is it…"
"James and Lily," Dumbledore said quietly. "It's… Sirius gave them away, Remus." I stared, brain numb.
"No," I said, voice full or sureness. "No, Sirius wouldn't do that." But something was happening; my brain was connecting to reality and a cold wave was washing slowly over me. "He…"
"He did." Dumbledore's voice was still as quiet and soft but it hit me with the ferocity of him yelling it. "Sirius betrayed them, Remus."
I stared at him, disbelief turning to shock. "Oh my god." My head found my hands somehow and I felt something crumble, something happen. A wall fell over somewhere and another one was put up. Hot tears pressed against my palms and I did nothing to stop them. James and Lily, dead…
Dumbledore wasn't moving at all. He was looking at me still. Then he took a breath and I knew it wasn't the worst of the news. Something else had happened.
"Sirius went after Peter," he said. "He blew the street up, Remus. Peter never stood a chance." I looked up.
Sirius couldn't do this. First he took James and Lily, he sold them to Voldemort, and then he went after Peter? Weak, defenceless Wormtail…
"What was he thinking? Where is he?" The latter of these questions was said with an odd ferocity.
"Azkaban. They've taken him to Azkaban."
I couldn't bear to believe it. James and Lily dead, Peter dead, Sirius in Azkaban, the reason for their deaths.
"I want to see him," I said quietly. Dumbledore shook his head and put a hand on my shoulders.
"You need to sleep, Remus," he said firmly. "Seeing Sirius won't do anything. They're gone now."
It had been a few years before I had actually seen Sirius in Azkaban. He hadn't actually said anything, and neither had I. We both looked different, and we both wanted to say hundreds of thousands of things, but the only thing that had come to my mind was 'This is the man who killed my friends; the man who I thought was my friend.' I couldn't say anything.
When I first saw Harry I immediately thought back to the first time on the Hogwarts Express and I met the jet black haired boy who had been one of my best friends. I had to remind myself it wasn't James, and Lily wasn't looking at me through those eyes. He looked exactly like them both, and it brought back so many memories, opened so many painful scars. But as the year progressed with Harry I learnt how much he really was his father's son.
It was that year when I saw Sirius again. It's funny how many words there are, but there isn't one word for old friends who've just met. Because that what it was like; meeting Sirius again.
He was thin and pale and looked as scary as he was made out to be. But I had seen Peter's name on the Map… I knew the truth now.
They had switched without telling me, without telling anyone. Peter had been the Secret Keeper. It was Peter who had betrayed James and Lily. Peter had framed Sirius, worked for Voldemort for over a year before it had all happened. Peter was the one responsible for it all. But I couldn't really be angry at him. It was like the shock, the cold numbness that I felt when Dumbledore told me James and Lily had died. I couldn't believe it. I had spent years and years thinking Sirius was guilty, building a wall carefully against my childhood, training myself not to think of any of it. When I saw Peter's name on that map so many memories came flooding back, so many walls were knocked down.
Peter was guilty. Sirius was innocent.
It all fitted carefully into place.
Kingsley stands up and leaves the room, nodding to me once and jerking me out of my thoughts. How I longed to have that childhood back, those teenage years. It would have been so nice just to relive it all again and again and it would never get boring. Sirius had hated Peter, detested him. He wanted him dead. So did I, but really… I longed for the friendship we all shared, the carefree thoughts and things we did. I still cannot believe the thing Peter did. I don't think he can either.
Whenever we talked about the old days, Peter was always left carefully out.
"Remember that time when James had gone to breakfast dressed as McGonagall?" Sirius said, tears of laughter running down his face. We'd been at it for over an hour now. "Oh, god, the look on her face..."
"And when you pretended to be Dumbledore, and you shook his hand. Oh, gods, Sirius!" Another gale of laughter died down and Sirius sipped at his Firewhiskey. "Oh, and that time when we enchanted the snowballs to fly at her window, and Peter said, Peter…" The laughter died down quickly, abruptly. Sirius set down his Firewhiskey.
"I'm going to bed," he said sharply.
"Sirius, hang on…"
"No. I'm off. See you in the morning, Moony." I swallowed hard. How stupid could I be? Every time Peter was mentioned he did this.
I had just got Sirius back. Our friendship was repairing itself and I was slowly adjusting to it all. Everything seemed to happen at once. Peter came back from the dead, Sirius was innocent… we had to take it slowly.
But we didn't have the time.
I was there when Sirius fell through that veil. I was there when Harry tried to go after him. I held him back because if I didn't I would probably go after Sirius myself. I wanted to go after Sirius myself. No, it couldn't be true. I had just got Sirius back and he was being taken away. I wanted to yell, to shout. He couldn't be gone, not yet, not after only such little time together. Instead I held a struggling Harry back. Eventually my hold had become weaker with cold disbelief and Harry tore away, doing what I wanted to do. He tore after Bellatrix. Sirius's cousin, his own cousin. They had never liked each other, but…. Thoughts had been spinning through my head like a tornado.
I had come here that night. Sirius had wanted to go, and no one had stopped him. I should have stopped him…
The ticking of the clock is loud in my ears, the only noise in the silent house. Kingsley must have left. I glance up at it, squinting to read the time.
But I didn't stop him. And now I'm the last one left, if you look at it that way. The last Marauder.
