June 1992
Remus Lupin moved about his former "home." Former because he had resigned from his post as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Things were a right mess, something he wasn't quite used to. Ever since his school days, he'd always been used to being surrounded by what a dear friend had once referred to as "organised chaos".
He sighed as he sifted through some parchments. Essays from students, really, that had yet to be returned to them. He supposed they wouldn't be getting them back, as the stack promptly found itself in the rubbish bin with an abundance of other school-related things.
Remus, you're used to this. That's what was getting him through the subtle but persistent pain that came with yet another job lost. The worst part was that he had rather enjoyed teaching. He'd never really considered it before, but he had come to find that it was something he was passionate about and found joy, albeit sometimes fleeting, in.
He turned to his trunk, at the moment a rather empty thing, deciding where he ought to put his rather pathetic and threadbare robe. He squatted, wrenching open the bottom drawer and would have been quite satisfied with where he placed the sorry excuse for fabric had he not noticed a small trunk.
"That's odd," Remus said to himself. His brow furrowed. He hadn't remembered it being there when he had first unpacked, but, in all honesty, he was more concerned about removing articles of clothing and books than he was about small, curious cases in the bottom drawer of his trunk. He pulled it out from its spot at the back of the drawer and placed it atop his desk. He lightly ran his hand over it, brushing away dust that had begun to gather on it. As soon as he did so, Remus instantly recognized the dark chestnut leather of a once very familiar thing.
He took a step back, regarding the small trunk hesitantly. He knew very well what it was, who it had belonged to, and had a fairly certain idea of what was inside it. Of all the memories from his tumultuous past that had wriggled themselves free from the fabric of things long since happened, this was one memory, or rather a collection of many, that he wasn't sure he was ready to revisit.
For much of the rest of the day, and well into the evening hours, the trunk remained on Remus' desk. What to many would appear to be a completely unoffending thing seemed to Remus more of the likes of a full moon, as far as full moons go for werewolves who didn't particularly care for their "situation".
This is entirely silly, Remus. You shouldn't be afraid of an inanimate object! For Merlin's sake, you taught Defense Against the Dark Arts for a year. You've dealt with much worse than some bloody trunk, he thought.
He pulled his desk chair back and took a seat, staring down the small trunk with worn handles and brushed brass buckles. He drummed his fingers anxiously against the arm of the chair, internally battling his desires to open the trunk that no doubt was full of familiar and beautiful things. And, although it took him the better part of an hour, he finally did resolve to just open the damn thing.
"It's just a trunk, Remus, stop acting like a fool," he said in an effort to prepare himself. Lot of good that did him because his hands clearly were shaking as they reached forward and lifted the latches which came with a pronounced click. He felt his stomach sink. Sure, the thing was open, but did he really want to lift the lid?
To Hell with it, he thought. Why not delve into the past one last time- just for good measure?
The lid moved back with a creak, causing Remus to wince. It was as though the thing was telling him he really wasn't ready to face its contents. That he needed more time. That even after all these long, lonely years, he still wasn't ready to accept what had happened.
He was relieved to find that at the top were photos, all featuring a happily bobbing and smiling Lizzie. He looked at the fading photos carefully. The first she was standing before the pyramids of Giza with an equally happy-looking Arab man who he knew to be the former Secretary of the Board of Antiquities of Ancient Egypt. The next she was in Greece, overlooking a Grecian sunset, the cerulean blue waters far below the balcony she leaned against. Then a trip to the United States, her face painted in red and blue, sitting in the stands amoungst her cousins at a Quidditch match. Then a trip to Peru, where she was wearing local clothing and perusing a marketplace, a journal he'd bought for her in hand. There were many more photos like these, all featuring a beaming Elizabeth Reynolds who, although at first glance didn't appear to be so, was an explorer and documenter to her very core.
She'd written many books, usually short, but he'd never been permitted to read them. And he abided by this rule because he feared what everyone had jokingly called the Wrath of Lizzie. He had, however, read a few of the articles she'd published in various journals and newspapers. He'd never told her how brilliant she was at writing, and he wasn't sure that, even if he had the chance, he could do it today. Remus shook his head, attempting to clear his thoughts of regrets and mistakes he couldn't remedy.
The next layer was of small trinkets, each of different origin. There were writing utensils, arrowheads, beads, small whistles and pipes, pottery sherds, and jewellry. These things were of little consequence to him: he didn't know where they came from or why Lizzie had bought them. But somehow he knew that these odds and ends defined her, or rather were related to her in some way.
At the bottom, there were three small books. In between two of the books was a carefully folded letter. Before turning his attention to the parchment, he thumbed through the books. One was a sketchbook, full of small doodles and stuffed with photographs of places, people, and things. The next was a small, hard-bound journal, the one he'd bought for her travels to South America. The last was her journal- the one he knew all too well. The one she'd carried around with her all of sixth year. Its binding cracked as he opened it, and he was bombarded with an overwhelming draft of a distinctly Elizabeth scent that taunted his senses. He knew he shouldn't read it. Nor could he. He knew it would be far too much to bare. If he started, he wouldn't be able to stop. And once he had finished, he would be terribly sorry that he had started. He bit his lower lip and gently closed the old journal, placing it aside with the many other things that had been removed from the trunk.
Tenderly, Remus unfolded the letter. It was over a decade old, and he had no desire to have his guilt added to by accidentally ruining the most precious bit of parchment that existed on the Earth.
He took a deep breath before he began to read the letter.
Dear Remus, it read. Her voice filled his thoughts, and he made no attempt to silence it.
I hope this letter finds you well and in lovely spirits- mainly because you are indeed receiving a letter from me! I'm terribly sorry that I couldn't be in England at the moment, but Roman autumns are less snippy than English ones are!
Right, well, I hope that even though I missed Lily and James' anniversary dinner, you passed on my congratulations and best wishes to them which, by your incredible Sixth Sense of Knowing Lizzie-ness, you already knew I would want to convey.
In any case, I found this lovely little pan-flute type thing for Harry, the little bugger. Please assure Lily that the kid will not choke and die on it. It's completely young child-proof. (Trust me, if I didn't choke on one, there's no way a baby would... At least I don't think so...)
So, how're things? I feel bloody awful about you losing your job because of your "furry little problem". I truly wish I could be there for you, literally, as you have so often been there for me. I just want you to know that if I had any political prowess, even just an inkling, I would have become a politician who argues for the rights and acceptance of werewolves (and other such people). You know that, right? However, since I am as I am, I lack such skills. Ah, I digress. To get back on topic, I promise that as soon as I'm back, we'll get to finding you the perfect career.
Or, better yet, you could come travel with me! I'm thinking about writing a sequel to my book, (yes, I'm already considering the future possibilities- don't laugh!), which would mean another sojourn to Rome. I think you would find Rome quite beautiful, Remus. I know I certainly do. And, I know all the sites as though they were mapped out on the back of my hand! I think I'm definitely shaping up to be quite good Tour Guide potential... Do I see a future career on the horizon? (Pfft, yeah, right, and my mum's the Queen of England!)
Well, perhaps this news is a comfort to you: I'm almost done with this silly book of mine, and I expect to return to England in the month. Does that make you happy? I'm smiling like a barmy cow just thinking about it!
Ah, sadly, this letter must come to a close. Duty calls! Send my love to everyone (except Peter since he saw fit to cheat and take five galleons from me last time we played poker with him). Know that I love you above all things and that I miss you more with each passing day.
Always, LR
PS: Don't feel as though you need to wait for me. Start job-hunting, maybe you'll find something you like without my help!
Remus read and reread the letter several times, tears coming to his eyes and threatening to spill. After a time, Remus gently refolded the letter and placed it between the two books once again. He had intended to refill the trunk until he noticed the newspaper clippings that seemed pasted to the trunk's bottom. He passively glanced at one that lay in the very center, reading the headline. Immediately, Remus Lupin felt his stomach drop.
Author Reynolds Found Dead in Home, Suspicious Circumstances.
His heart wrenched, or so he felt. He knew he shouldn't have read it. All the horrid memories came flooding back. It'd been a full moon the night she returned, so he couldn't see her. He was in hiding, somewhere remote and desolate, where he couldn't hurt anyone. He'd known she would understand. As daft as Lizzie could sometimes be, she always knew when the full moon was and when to just leave things to be as Remus wished. He had planned to see her at the Order meeting, the first one she'd be attending upon her return. The full moon passed and Remus returned to his own flat. A day of recovery later, Remus found himself approaching Headquarters, a smile on his face and a bounce in his step, eager to see her.
However, as the door opened and Remus was met with the solemn-faced James and a grim-looking Sirius, he knew something was wrong. His smile faltered. His bounce dropped.
Everything seemed to go by in a blur. James put his arm around Remus' shoulders and led him to a sofa. Sirius followed closely behind, muttering nonsense about Merlin knows what. It seemed everyone was gathered in the parlour, and they all turned to Remus when he entered the room. Lily, looking particularly distraught, was the first to approach him once he sat down. She knelt in front of him, took his hands in hers, bit her lip, and met his confused stare.
The look in her eyes was all he needed in order to know what had unfolded.
Remus blinked, attempting to bring himself back to reality. Stop it, he told himself firmly. He didn't want to revisit that. He couldn't. He knew the horrid truth. He hadn't been there for her. Had he just gone to her house, even if it were just for dusk, he could have prevented everything. Merlin knows, he could be at a cozy home right now, sitting next to her while she worked on another book.
However, since the world hadn't worked in such ways, he wasn't. For days, weeks, months after what had happened, Remus had been consumed in loneliness and despair. He put on a front for his mates, sure. They couldn't see how distressed he really was. Lily knew. He could always tell by the way she looked at him. She knew what Lizzie had meant to him. Lily understood that to have Lizzie quite literally torn out of his life so suddenly was difficult, but she also knew he had no desire to talk about it. Not to anyone. Not Lily, nor James, nor Sirius. Not even his own parents.
Remus stood, the chair scratching the floorboards beneath it as he did so. Furiously, he looked again at the bottom of the trunk. He couldn't help himself. He knew that if he didn't finish what he'd begun, he would toil about it for months.
Investigators Say Reynolds' Death Possibly by Muggle Murderer.
Reynolds Family Grieves Loss of Only Daughter.
Reynolds' Body Autopsy Results Lead to Confirmation of Torture Pre-Mortum.
Reynolds' Books Flying Off the Shelves.
Reynolds Murdered by Death Eaters, Says Order.
Further Investigations Confirm Death Eater Involvement in Reynolds' Murder.
Suspects Named in Reynolds' Murder: Lestrange and Rosier.
Many Wonder Why Efforts Were Made to Make the Reynolds Murder Appear to be Muggle.
Reynolds: A Martyr of Our Times? Her Life and Legacy.
No One Brought to Trial for Reynolds' Murder.
Memorial Service to be Held Saturday at One O'Clock.
What Remus had found the most torturous of the whole ordeal was that the press had a field day and pounced upon Elizabeth's untimely death as lions in a den would if a prime cut of meat were thrown at them. Even months after she was murdered, there were still articles being published about her. He hated opening his paper in the morning to find gruesome images and detailed articles that only served to remind him of what he hadn't done. He had worked so hard to protect her from himself that he had forgotten to protect her from the real threat.
He couldn't take it anymore. Remus quickly replaced everything he had removed from the trunk to where he had found it. He slammed the lid shut and urgently pulled the latches down, locking away the past once more.
He knew what he had to do with the trunk. He couldn't possibly keep it. No, he had to give it to someone who would take good care of it and not be terrified to open it and shuffle through its contents every now and then. Remus hurried down the corridors, his footsteps echoing off the walls. He stopped in front of a large, wooden door, banging loudly on it, hoping Minerva was still awake.
The woman opened the door, "Oh, Remus!" She tugged at her night cap. "I, er, what can I do for you at this hour?"
"I need you to keep something for me."
"Oh?" She glanced down at the small trunk he held in his hands. He offered it to her.
"Please, Minerva. It was Elizabeth's."
At that, she looked up at Remus, shocked to learn of the trunk's owner.
"You were her favourite professor. I know you two were close," Remus trailed off, shifting his weight anxiously. "Please," he begged.
"Of course I'll keep it for you, Remus," Minerva said softly, gingerly taking the trunk from him.
"Thank you," he said in a hushed tone before turning to leave. Minerva stared after him for a time before returning to her chambers.
Remus stopped, sitting down on a stair. He cradled his head in his hands. To his great dismay, Lizzie's voice quietly echoed in his thoughts.
Don't feel as though you need to wait for me.
Startled, Remus stood and hurried back to his room. He needed to rest. He had a few books left to pack, and he wanted to get a good night's sleep as soon as he had done that.
As he shifted under his covers, her voice once again came to mind.
Don't feel as though you need to wait for me.
He sighed in defeat. He knew he couldn't hold onto her any longer. He had loved her with every fiber of his being, yes, but she wasn't going to come back. Elizabeth Reynolds was dead. She'd died over a decade ago. He should've been over it by know. Yes, he missed Lily and James dearly, but he wasn't plagued by memories of them as he was of her!
Remus knew he wouldn't get much sleep fretting over it, so he decided to just think it through as he lay in bed. Upon reflection, Lizzie's letter, at least certain parts of it, held true today. He was once again unemployed, somewhat due to discrimination against his kind. His "Sixth Sense of Lizzie-ness" seemed to have magically reappeared in the span of a few hours. And he knew that she had loved him with all of her heart, and, were she alive, she probably still would.
However, he realized that the time had come to move on. He couldn't spend the rest of his life ignoring his past. So many aspects of it had arisen again in the past year, what with his return to Hogwarts, Harry, Sirius, and Peter (the rat). He likely should have moved on a long time ago, as he had done when James and Lily were killed, when Peter had disappeared, and Sirius had been thrown into Azkaban. But it seemed that losing Elizabeth had been so much greater than all of those losses combined.
Don't feel as though you need to wait for me.
The first line of her postscript haunted him. Perhaps at the time she had meant it one way. But now it was a reassurance and an encouragement. She would always be waiting for him, somewhere. He couldn't wait for her when she was the one who could only do the waiting.
Don't feel as though you need to wait for me.
Remus realized he didn't need to wait any longer. He was free. He was alive and well. Perhaps not the happiest person in the world, but he couldn't ask for more than what he had in this life right now.
He loved her. He would never let her go, he knew, but he didn't have to wait any longer. If anything, he was the one who was far behind. He needed to catch up.
Remus let out a deep breath, rolled over onto his side and closed his eyes, hoping for peace and a new beginning in the morning.
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And there it is, my most beloved readers. The epilogue. If it was a disappointment, I'm terribly sorry, and I beg of you not to judge the rest of the story based upon your dislike of the epilogue. If you liked it, thank you. It took a lot of time and work, but it's honestly just the way I've imagined it to be these many, many months writing the story. Usually, I show no emotion whatsoever when I write, or even when I'm reading my works, as odd as that may seem. But this chapter, both writing and reading it over again, brought tears to my eyes. :( I want you all to rest assured that the years Remus and Lizzie were together before her death were wonderfully blissful. Lizzie was her barmy self, and Remus was just happy to be with her. Lizzie did become an animagus, however Remus was never truly comfortable allowing her to stay with him during his transformations. Elizabeth enjoyed great success as an author, and, no, her published books were not as crazy as her journal entries! As it were, this is the end of their story. I won't be writing a sequel documenting Lizzie's seventh year or her world travels, as some of you have asked for-- I'm sorry!!! I will, however, be continuing to add delightfully barmy characters to the Harry Potter universe (created by JK Rowling who I love and adore). As always, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW!! Let me know what you thought- any criticisms or lauds. I must say it's been amazing writing this story, and the reviews and faithful readers have made this experience absolutely amazing. I love you all and owe you many, many thanks for reading "True Confessions". It means a lot that so many people have returned to this story despite my terrible skills at updating in a timely manner. Thank you for everything, dearest readers! Most humbly yours.
