Another Marauder's fic but focused on Remus this time. I heard this song and thought it fit perfectly with Remus' story after Halloween '81. Hope you guys enjoy it!
Disclaimer: Credit to JKR and Taylor Swift.
Evermore
(Gray November/I've been down since July/Motion capture/Put me in a bad light)
Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs.
Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, and James Potter.
They were infallible, immortal, inseparable.
At one point, at least.
In all honesty, Remus Lupin hadn't really seen his friends since July.
He wanted to pretend that it was Order business that kept them all apart but now, on the first day of gray November and in face of it all, he couldn't lie any longer.
It was July that Peter was starting to become nervous all the time. He had been losing hope in the Order, in their fight, Remus could see it in his eyes. He couldn't blame Peter, everyone felt the same way, but Peter had his own way of showing it. And his nervous tics and anxiety would wash over Remus who couldn't manage it on top of the secrets he had to keep for himself. Though he felt cruel for doing so, he had begun to keep his space from one of his closest friends so that he could find the room to breathe.
It was July that James and Lily had become busy with their own and their child's safety, and Remus would never blame them for that. Especially, not when they still found the time and the heart to support him. He had popped around every so often to make sure that little Harry knew his Uncle Moony but never wanted to burden the new family. He might have stopped visiting completely - James was getting moody being trapped in the house and perhaps, influenced by Sirius - except Lily showed him unfailing kindness every time he visited.
And it was July when Sirius…Sirius had put him in a bad light. Never explicitly and never specifically - at least not in front of Remus - but Remus had known Sirius too damn long and too damn well. So he could see exactly what Sirius was doing when he was talking, articulating, in that...way towards Remus - saying one thing when he meant another. And it was all too easy for Remus to figure out what Sirius was insinuating about him and it had felt like a hex to the chest.
Remus knew he should've stood up for himself. But...the boys had been his brothers for so long and to have started a fight then, in the midst of war with tempers flared, felt like it would have only widened the cracks that already existed between them. So he had reverted back to his old self, quiet and withdrawn, letting the motion capture make him look even worse to avoid the mirage, the façade of friendship, that at least still stood between them, from disintegrating completely - in hope that one day, they would return to their comfortable friendship.
Because somehow, somewhere along the way, the accusation of being a spy hurt Remus Lupin less than the idea of losing his friends.
And now, despite it all, he had lost them anyway. Forever.
It had taken them one night - the night of marauding and mischief, ironically - to become fallible, mortal, and separated forever.
Moony. Wormtail. Padfoot. Prongs.
(I replay my footsteps on each stepping stone/Trying to find the one where I went wrong/Writing letters/Addressed to the fire)
Remus couldn't help himself from replaying every moment he had been at Hogwarts - every step they had taken, every stone staircase they had climbed, and every hallway they had walked across.
Would it all be different if he had gone backward instead of forward. Had climbed down instead of up? Had turned left instead of right?
It was their glory days. The age of Quidditch and House Cups and pranking in the dark. And somewhere in that dark, it had all unraveled right before their eyes, leading them all down the wrong path. As if they had pulled a prank that had gone terribly awry.
Which wrong step had led him far away from James and Lily and Peter while they were butchered by the hands of their closest friend - by his closest friend?
Which wrong staircase caused him to receive two letters that gray November morning - one celebrating the downfall of the Dark Lord and the other harboring news about the deaths of his three friends?
Which wrong hallway had caused him to be so alone?
He tried to write replies to the letters he received.
But all he could think of was Sirius laughing maniacally as he was captured. Of little Peter, so shy that he could barely mumble a word around the girl he fancied. Of James and Lily with their midnight laughter and stolen kisses.
And he realized everyone he wished to write to was gone. Dead.
And so his letters became addressed and delivered to the fireplace in front of him instead. And when he had finished, he burned them - hoping the warmth of the fire would seep into him as he sat frozen in place as time ticked on without him.
And when the flames extinguished, just like his friends had, he was left wondering if every step, every staircase, every hallway he had ever taken was the wrong one.
(And I was catching my breath/Staring out an open window/Catching my death/And I couldn't be sure/I had a feeling so peculiar/That this pain would be for/Evermore)
Remus didn't know what made him come here. He had travelled here immediately, not stopping anywhere in between. The place where it had all fallen apart.
Godric's Hallow.
And though he simply stood there, Remus felt his breath catch, his chest tighten, and his pulse rise. He hadn't gone in yet, couldn't bear to. He simply stood at the broken gate, staring at the light blue cottage from afar. It seemed so dark and gloomy, so far from the brightness it used to be filled with. And Merlin, it was so cold.
The house was in ruins, half collapsed from whatever powerful magic had been used that fateful night. Despite that, Remus could still see into a window - the glass from it half shattered leaving only jagged shards around the frame - the same window that looked into the Potters' family room.
How easy it was to look into that window and see James' sprawled dark hair, Lily's bright green eyes, and baby Harry's tiny smile. And beyond that, he could hear Peter's quiet laughter and Sirius' rowdy jokes. He could even smell the smoky firewhiskey he had shared with James after a rough night, the freshly picked flowers that Lily insisted on during warm summer days, and the sweet scent of maple and cinnamon from the fresh plate of french toast they would make in the rare moments they were all together. The easiest of all was seeing himself, full of color, as he sat with his family.
And it hit Remus, then, that those moments would never occur again. It was like he was catching a glimpse of his own death. The death of his happiness, peacefulness, liveliness. Life of color turned to muted grays.
He didn't know how long he stood there in front of the house - knowing he would never be able to go in, that he would never be able to face that pain.
He didn't want to believe it before he came here. He thought he knew in his heart that there must be a misunderstanding- there had to be another reason he suddenly remembered the Godric's Hallow cottage when it had been elusive to him all week.
But standing here now, the evidence was irrefutable.
He had been wrong, so wrong.
Sirius had betrayed them. James and Peter and Lily were dead.
There was no misunderstanding. No other reason. No other explanation.
Betrayed. Dead.
He suddenly felt a feeling so peculiar. Something he knew was right. He didn't need evidence to prove it - it was a feeling he innately knew to be true.
This way he felt, as if he were witnessing his own death, would last a lifetime.
This pain would be for evermore.
(Hey December/Guess I'm feeling unmoored/Can't remember/What I used to fight for)
Gray November turned to cold December.
Some days Remus wouldn't get out of bed. He couldn't find a reason to. He felt so out of touch, so ungrounded, so unmoored. The Wizarding community thought the war was over and Remus couldn't argue that. The Dark Lord was dead and, for most, better days had finally arrived.
Everywhere he turned, it seemed as though everyone were happy. They finally had safety to live their lives, to be with their family, to find happiness.
But not Remus. He was still…himself.
And for him, it was all gone - slipped out of his reach before he could make a grab for it. Extinguished in the dark before he could turn on the light. He couldn't remember what he used to fight for. Was it for happiness? Was it for safety? Was it for his friends who were now dead? Did it even matter?
Why had he cared so much for something that had torn up everything he had ever cared for?
For everyone, the war was won. But for Remus, everything was lost.
(I rewind the tape but all it does is pause/On the very moment all was lost/Sending signals/To be double crossed)
Remus decided to move.
Find a new location, a new country, to help him forget the past.
It didn't help. At every new apartment, every new job, he couldn't help but want to rewind the tape. Think about the jokes his friends would crack, the drunken crusades they would venture on, and the way they would fall asleep on the couch because they were up too late just talking.
He just wanted to remember times when it all didn't hurt so much. When the idea of betrayal and death seemed so foreign to them - all of them.
But all the tape would do is pause.
It would pause on the moment that he heard the news. Or on the moment he heard of Sirius' betrayal. Or the funeral.
The beautifully tragic moment which cemented the very moment all was lost to Remus.
Remus wondered if he should have been able to see it. The brother in disguise. The twin spirit that was only faking. The shining star that had been sucked into a black hole.
Where were the signals Sirius sent that he would double cross them?
It haunted Remus. Everyday.
He should have caught it. He should have known when Sirius became more reckless than ever - should have known it was a sign of his own sure safety. He should have known Sirius' insinuation that Remus was the spy was his own way of deflecting suspicion from himself. He should have known Sirius better than he knew himself, because damn it he thought he did, and if he had then this all would have gone away.
But it didn't.
And now it plagued Remus that Sirius was able to do it. To play them for fools knowing that his actions would result in the death of his friends, all of them. That he was able to laugh like a fool when he had caused James' death. That he could kill Peter heartlessly with a flourish of his wand. That he could feel no remorse at sending Remus to a fate worse than death.
It broke Remus to know that Sirius was able to face such pain or worse, feel no pain at all, from the aftermath of what he did.
And Remus couldn't help but feel it was all so ironic that Padfoot had been the best Black of them all. He had been the most cunning, ambitious, and deceitful to play such a long prank on the Marauder's. To ensnare them so perfectly before delivering to his master - loyal to the core.
He didn't hate Sirius for it - he didn't. Perhaps, only because he was resigned to it.
Remus should have known from the moment those three eleven year old boys stood in front of him promising friendship and camaraderie and brotherhood that it was all too good to be true. That a werewolf like himself would never, should never, be able to find things like that.
Because it could only end like this.
With him never being able to rewind the tape again.
(And I was catching my breath/Barefoot in the wildest winter/Catching my death/And I couldn't be sure/I had a feeling so peculiar/That this pain would be for/Evermore)
Remus was trying to catch his breath - every bone, every muscle, every inch of his being was in pain. Just as it always was after transformations.
No. That wasn't true.
There had been a time when transformations weren't as painful. When the excitement of the full moon night and the beginning stages of planning a new excursion had dulled the pain of the transformation itself.
It was a time when a stag, a dog, and a rat kept him company on each full moon. They could make Moony tame - control him from the urges that Remus hated.
Though Remus always felt guilty for his excursions - he could never stop them. Their faces would be glowing as they reminisced about the trip the next day and Remus' would glow too. They would sit up a little straighter as they planned which area of Hogwarts grounds they should explore next, and Remus would sit up too. They would practically bounce through the hallways the day of a full moon, even though they would sleep through classes the next day, and despite the exhaustion Remus would have a little hop in his step too.
They had made Remus a little less afraid of Moony and a little bit more comfortable in his skin. They had taught Remus that perhaps he needn't be afraid of Moony. That maybe it was all just a different side of him that didn't have to be viewed as negatively as the Wizarding World had deemed it.
But no. Time had told him that wasn't true either.
It was as if Moony had noticed that his friends were gone. Because now, Remus was lying barefoot on the ground in the wildest winter.
He thought he was catching his death.
The dulled pain had turned sharp again. The suffering was constant and the discomfort everlasting.
The worst part was that his full moon adventures were no longer full of life and exploration, but of Remus' fear. He was more uncomfortable in his skin and more afraid of society's stigma of him than ever.
After all, Prongs, Padfoot, and Wormtail were no longer there to protect him from hurting an innocent. No longer there to ensure he wouldn't end up jailed or killed. They were no longer there.
And they never would be again.
Remus wasn't sure, but he thought Moony could feel it too - feel that peculiar way that Remus did.
That this pain would be for evermore.
(Can't not think of all the cost/And the things that will be lost/Oh, can we just get a pause?/To be certain we'll be tall again/Whether weather be the frost/Or the violence of the dog days/I'm on waves, out being tossed/Is there a line that I could just go cross?
At first, he visited often. He would sit and talk and mostly cry. It was the only place he felt comfortable. Perhaps, that was ironic or sad or even just pathetic. But those first few years, he couldn't not think of all the costs of the war. And no one could understand the costs more than they did. So he sat and talked and talked until his voice was hoarse and raspy and hoped they could hear what he had to say.
After he moved the visits were still frequent, but not as often as he would've wished. Still, it always comforted his heart to go back. Sometimes he talked, sometimes he reflected, sometimes he reminisced. No matter what, he always bought firewhiskey and flowers. He thought, hoped, no matter what he did they would be smiling at him.
The frequent visits turned to rare ones. It was becoming so hard to be there. Now when he visited, it just reminded him of all the people he had lost, all the things he still had yet to lose. Of how things never got better. He never said anything anymore, never did anything, never even brought anything. He simply stood there and stared.
And then one day, somewhere along the way, he stopped going.
He needed a pause. He needed a break from the unbearable pain that was threatening to break him every damn day.
Until today. When he had heard rumors that Voldemort could return to power and then, he apparated without a second thought. After all this time, this was where he wanted to be - needed to be.
The graveyard where James and Lily were buried.
The eerie quiet, the whistling of the trees, the barely visible incandescent lights glowing in the distance. It was familiar and it was a stranger at the same time. How did his life come to this?
What he wouldn't give to see the Marauders standing tall and proud before him. Crooked glasses, immaculate hair, and a shy smile. Prongs and Padfoot and Wormtail. What he wouldn't give to go back to easier days where everything was brilliant, fitting, perfect without them even trying.
He didn't care what moment it was, he just wanted to go back.
Whether it was cold, frost filled days they were running to Herbology class because they were late (they were always late) or the violence of the dog days where they were fighting for their lives and sleeping with one eye open.
He just wanted to live one more moment while they were still alive.
Everyone had told him that time could heal all wounds, but here he was - more broken than the day he had heard the news. Disbelief turned to shock turned to anger turned to sadness turned to pain - unbearable pain that would never leave him.
He fell to his knees by the tombstone, hand brushing over the words carved there.
"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death."
Remus had chosen it in those blurry days after where death seemed like a curse, an enemy. To most, it likely still was. After all, it was the worst possible outcome, the one thing they would never be able to defeat.
But today, when Remus felt he was drifting in the water, the waves simply tossing him wherever they willed, he knew he had crossed some line. Because today, death felt like a gift. A way, the only way, he could escape this life of loneliness and tragedy and pain. No more loss and betrayal and heartache.
It hit him hard - this line he crossed - made him so aware. That death was not an enemy, but a passage, a barge, a friend, that would reunite him with everything that had been destroyed.
(And when I was shipwrecked/I thought of you/In the cracks of light/I dreamed of you/It was real enough/To get me through/But I swear/You were there)
In his hardest moments he thought of James.
The moments that he felt most like there was no hope, no saving grace, no rescuer to his shipwrecked self, he thought of Prongs - strong and brash, dependable and loyal, witty and charming.
James has been there for Remus in the roughest of times - had saved him time and time again from a life of loneliness and self hatred without a second thought.
James had never mentioned Remus' lycanthropy with the stigma Remus had learned to accept. James had been the one who could make him laugh - whether it be long, rainy nights or warmth-filled days. James had been selfless enough to give his money, his home, his companionship to Remus when he had no one to turn to.
It was in the hardest moments he missed James the most.
He missed the way James stood, tall and proud with an arm clapped on Remus' shoulder, as he told Remus there was nothing to worry about. He missed the trademark crooked smile on his face as he gave a smart mouthed response to Remus ensuring everyone knew that he would easily take care of whatever problem they were facing. And James did - he always did. It didn't matter whether the problem was slipping out of a detention or facing death eaters. James was always there to face it head-on.
Until he wasn't.
And then the world turned gray for Remus without the vibrant burst of color James Potter brought with him no matter where he went. The world slowed down as the unlimited energy James Potter had - dissipated by the thrum of fingers on a table or the twirling of his wand through his fingers or the brush of his hand through his hair - died with him. And worst of all, the world turned bleak without the endless laughter, the animated voice, and infinite amount of hope James Potter could fill a room with.
And Remus was forced to face his hardest moment, and the ones to follow, tragically alone - haunted by the memory of failing a brother who had never failed to save him.
In the cracks of light, he dreamed of Peter.
It was inevitable, he supposed. For seven years he had spent mornings with Peter. They had always walked to breakfast together even when their other friends slept in. They had always partnered together in the early morning classes when they were still too tired to cause chaos with their James and Sirius. They had spent lazy Saturday mornings doing the Daily Prophet crossword, walking through Hogsmeade, and cheering at Quidditch matches.
In the year immediately after they graduated Hogwarts, it had been easy to forget those mornings. There was always something to be worried about - missions and fighting and death. But when the war was done and gone and past, the memories slowly began to seep back into Remus like a tea bag in hot water.
And now it was those memories that came to him in the mornings. The consistency and stability of having Peter by his side.
In the cracks of light he wondered what Peter would be like now. The war had hit him hard - constantly nervous, almost in tears at the thought they were simply mortal beings fighting a lost war.
But now in the quietness, under the lull of false security, Remus thought the old Peter could make a reappearance. The Peter that laughed unrestrained and too hard at unfunny jokes, the Peter that could give as good as he could take and always left Remus with a smirk with his sarcastic commentary, the Peter who could relax enough to fall asleep anywhere despite it getting him in trouble time and time again. Remus missed that Peter more than anything.
And when the sun rose and the light slipped through the blinds into his room filling Remus with warmth and serenity before it all inevitably sunk in and turned to nostalgic sadness and tragedy, it was Peter's face that would always leave an imprint in his mind.
In every other moment, there was only one person who was a constant in Remus' thoughts.
The twitch of his eye before he said something snarky that he knew would hit Remus harder than a curse. The reek of alcohol coming off his body after a particularly rough night. The feeling of his tightened fist connecting hard with Remus' jaw sending them both reeling.
The war tore them apart and left them in pieces. Glass shattered on the floor that even reparo couldn't fix. A flower withered and dead, petals flying in the sky. A building collapsing in minutes leaving nothing but a shamble of bricks and wood and concrete in its wake.
But Sirius Black had been there. He had been real enough to get Remus through his Hogwarts days.
And in those days it all made sense to him.
The snarky commentary was endearing to Remus and what Sirius thought he needed to protect himself. The reek of alcohol was something they both shared after throwing raging parties that lasted till the sun rose - a way to celebrate that they were the Marauders. The fights were friendly competitions of wrestling on the dorm room floor that ended with laughs to show off the fact that they could survive through anything.
Until it slipped through their fingers. Broken glass. Wilted flowers. Dust and ash and wind.
But Remus swore, no matter how hard he tried to forget him, Sirius was always there.
His phantom arm wrapped warmly around Remus' shoulders, the scent of his cologne wafting to him even in underground tunnels, his ghostly face with that roguish smile and that glint in his eye appearing in massive crowds and empty rooms, no matter the location.
There was no escape. There was no fleeing.
There was no solace from Sirius Black.
There was just the bare reminder of incomprehensible betrayal - of a brother you won't stop loving no matter how much he hurts you.
(And I was catching my breath/Floors of a cabin creaking under my step/And I couldn't be sure/I had a feeling so peculiar/This pain wouldn't be for/Evermore)
Years later, Remus was at the only place he had once considered home, Hogwarts.
Despite the insistence of the old Headmaster, Remus had almost turned down the offer. He didn't know if he could face the pain of being at Hogwarts without them. And in all honesty, it didn't really feel like home without them.
Sometimes, during an especially rowdy lunch time or an eventful class or a nighttime walk around the castle - he thought he would quit. The memories would become too overbearing, too overwhelming, too overcoming. He would live entire moments of a different lifetime because he would smell the smoky scent of firewhiskey from an after-hours party in an empty classroom just like before, because the taste of pumpkin juice with scrambled eggs was associated with that memory of them, and because the sun reflected off the castle just the right way as it had on those days. And it would seize him, make it hard to breathe, until the memory had passed and he could come back to the present and catch his breath. And in its wake, there would lay the everlasting feeling that he just couldn't do it anymore.
He couldn't live these memories without them.
But as soon as the idea of quitting came to him, he would remind himself that he couldn't. Because if Sirius was here - if he was coming to Hogwarts, then there would be no other to greet him than Remus. Not as a friend, but as the cruel curse of death for what he had done to Wormtail and Prongs.
And because he was here for James - James and Lily who had given themselves up for Harry - who had turned out exactly like his parents. And Remus would be damned if he let Sirius get to Harry after everything the boy had already been through, after Remus had already failed the rest of his family.
It had been a shock seeing the young man he had only known as a baby. So like James he was, with all of Lily's beautiful traits woven into him. Somehow seeing Harry had dulled Remus' throbbing heart just a little. Seeing Harry reminded Remus of why he had to stay.
And what a surprise it had been to see Harry with the Marauder's map. He had never thought he would see their old creation, from their days of mischief and chaos, again. But there it lay, in Harry's hands. It had taken everything in him not to grab the parchment from Harry's hands and sit on the stone floor right then and there and watch his friends' little notes spread across the page. But from somewhere, he found the restraint to bring it back to his office before spending hours staring at the map.
And it was during one of those staring sessions, he had seen their names on the map. It didn't make sense. It couldn't be - but it was. The map never lied.
Before he knew it, Remus was sprinting. Sprinting for the Whomping Willow - the home to his pain - because they had to be there. It was all too familiar, sliding through the entrance, listening to the floors of the cabin, the Shrieking Shack, creak under his step. He had heard it so many times in his life now, but this time was different. This time he wasn't here to transform, he wasn't here to see the ugly side of himself. This time he was here for the truth. He was here for the why's and the how could you's and revenge for the thirteen bitter, lonely years.
And as soon as he cursed the door open, his eyes fell upon three fierce looking children (who reminded him all too much of his friends) before finally falling to the floor where he was.
And despite it all, despite the fact that he looked more haggard and ragged than Remus had ever seen him, there was that moment from another lifetime seizing him once again - pulling him under.
The room changed, dust and claw marks lifting from the furniture - time reversing. Where Remus could see Sirius Black with his victorious smirk after the final transformation at Hogwarts knowing they had successfully never been caught, Sirius' glowing face after they found a new part of the Hogwarts grounds to add to their ever-growing map, and Sirius' bright twinkling eyes after the first time he ever transformed into a dog.
It was as if not a day had gone by that they had all been here together.
It was all right there, as it had been during his transformations, - Remus and Sirius and Harry was James and, "Where is he, Sirius?" Where was Peter?
He was staring at Sirius, he could still read him like a book after all these years. Sirius pointed at the terrified ginger boy, and Remus finally understood.
They had switched. Switched and not told him. And it didn't matter now because he had his brother by his side. After thirteen years, he was no longer alone. James and Lily would finally be avenged. And Remus had another moment to live with at least one of them by his side.
A Marauder. His brother. His family.
And Remus couldn't be sure, but he had a feeling so peculiar.
This pain wouldn't be for evermore.
His brother who he had never stopped loving stood in front of him.
Everything and everyone he had cared about hadn't been destroyed.
This pain wouldn't be for evermore.
He could finally rewind the tape again.
Everything wasn't lost.
This pain wouldn't be for evermore.
Every step, every staircase, every hallway he had ever taken hadn't been the wrong one.
Prongs, Padfoot, Wormtail, and Moony.
This pain wouldn't be for evermore.
Hope you all enjoyed - let me know your thoughts in the reviews!