Present - In the previous chapter Sirius and Remus meet Tora Stuarts.
Enjoy, review and recommend x
I think I have returned to the writing mood, so this may not be as painful as the last. Although, the next will be death, I assure you - for it was my turn to start on the even chapters and I was very pushed, bored and tired.
Dearest Remus,
I hope you are well and sitting down. I don't quite know how to tell you darling, but your father died from Dragon Pox last night. Had he asked for you, I would have sent word, but he never mentioned a want to see you one last time. I have always felt he blamed himself for your condition and never quite accepted you, but now he is gone and I hope you can see it in your heart to attend the funeral or at least forgive him for his mistakes. I would love to see you and perhaps you could bring along any partner you may be with. We haven't spoken in so long I hardly know you and, with your father's passing, I think there would be no better time to get in touch again.
Hope to see you soon,
Mum x x
X
Remus grabbed at my scruff and pulled me into the green flames that licked from the hearth of 12 Grimmauld Place. Despite my upbringing in a purely magical family, something about throwing oneself headlong into a blazing fire disconcerted me – general human instinct, one might call it – and such feeling liked to intervene in moments of these sorts, before a greater force, being Remus or Reason, threw me into it without hesitation. And so I was wrenched, spinning, into the floo network, dim flashes of light flickering by from passing fireplaces, my fiancé's hand still gripping firmly to the back of my neck and preventing me from slipping away to some unknown destination as I battered about the tunnels, ungainly and awkward as any other four legged mammal when caught in the floo.
Soon enough, well beaten as I was, we were regurgitated upon his mother's carpet with a hand full of soot. The room was empty of any signs of Helen, for all but the delicate hums of song dancing from the kitchen and the ever intoxicating scent of her baking. In almost 14 years it had barely changed: the books were still immaculately lined in alphabetical order; above the mantelpiece still stood pictures of Remus, of us, of the happy bride; biscuits still lay in a clean arrangement upon the tea table as if constantly expecting royalty; all still perfectly captured, though the colour somewhat dampened over time, like the haze of a distant dream. Be that as it may, there was in fact, one very large chunk missing from the picture, being that of the stout body of Mr. Lupin huddled in the arm chair, glaring with curled lips atop his news paper and muttering in low tones. If I was to be honest, he may have been the sole being of whom I was afraid – he was certainly an intimidating man, standing at very least half a foot taller than me, but even more so that, at some point in time, however short it may have been, he had the key to my happiness, my everything: if I were to ask Remus round, on his answer I would be waiting; if Mrs. Lupin were to invite me in, on his acceptance it would be; if I were to walk Remus home and request a goodnight kiss, on his decision it would come, lest I reap the consequences of my impulse.
"Remus, darling," Helen beamed, meeting her son with a warm embrace and leading him unto the sofa. "It's been too long, you haven't forgotten about your mummy, have you? How have you been?"
"I've been good, I suppose... sorry about Dad..." he muttered, reaching down to scratch the fur on my underside.
"Oh, you don't need to be sorry, it's happened and we can't help that – life goes on. Now," she smiled, taking his hands and shuffling closer, "I've put the kettle on and you are going to tell me everything."
Remus stared at her nervously for a moment, gaze stiff and unwavering, locked upon the glistening blue of her eyes. Then, so quiet it was almost inaudible, a faint sigh penetrated his lips and his brow furrowed, flicking an anxious look across the room.
"Well, mum, I don't know what I should say... erm... you probably know Sirius escaped..."
Helen's face fell, or rather, her smile was left a vacant shell, no longer glowing with hope and great expectations of happiness, but awkwardly cast in form by the strings of toil.
"Oh, yes, are you ok? He hasn't come for you, has he?" Her eyes dawned into a scrutinising glare, "You haven't gone looking for him, have you? I can see it, it's just the sort of thing you'd do... No, no - I'm being stupid. I still can't believe it, though, he was such a nice young man."
He bit his lip. "Um, mum, me and Sirius are back together... and he's innocent – I swear it. He was framed! I know everything! He didn't do it!"
A sympathetic smile curled Mrs. Lupin's lips, pulling her hand from his and fiddling with the fine strings of his hair.
"You silly you. Stop messing about: you're giving your mother palpitations."
"I'm not joking! I know he didn't-"
"Now, Remus," she interrupted, cupping is face, "I know you've always loved him – to some extent I did too – but you need to know what's best for you. It's coming close to your time of the month, you've always been a bit temperamental around this time, perhaps it's just a delusion, your wishes coming to life because you're in a bad state."
He opened his mouth to protest, but she squeezed it shut.
"God, I wish your father were here – he would smack some sense into you," she sighed. "And if Sirius isn't part of your imagination, then he's obviously led you to believe some wild story because he knows you will."
At this point, I stood and wandered into the kitchen – I rathered not to be insulted in front of my very nose - albeit, I still kept my ear cocked behind me in case of some interesting gossip I might like to divulge in.
"No he hasn't! I've seen the proof: one of the people he supposedly killed is alive and he's the one that did it!"
I slipped back into my normal skin and explored the kitchen, wiping my finger around the edge of the mixing bowl and savouring the taste of the raw cake mixture.
"And who is that?"
"Peter Pettigrew," I growled, stepping back to the lounge with a air of ignorance in my stride.
Remus passed me a gracious smiled, pacing over and placing an arm about my waist. "Sirius isn't a death eater and didn't give up Lily and James to The Dark Lord: it was Peter all along."
"What else?" his mother chuckled, "that can't be it after all this time."
A broad grin flourished my fiancé's face and he drew his mother into welcoming arms. "You're going to be a Grandmother."