A/N: Sorry for the delay! I was going to post yesterday, but I spent the night in the ER because my friend fell after a night out and dragged me down with him, resulting in a good layer of my skin peeling off on the bottom of my foot! Had to get a few stitches, and now I've got a weird, chunky bandaged up appendage, a very sore bloody knee and palms.
But here is the most difficult chapter I've had to write thus far! I've actually been writing the next like 5 chapters for 3 weeks now, but I've hated them and kept rewriting over and over again. This is a big commitment for me to post this. Be gentle.
Lovirosa: Thank you SO much for the amazing reviews! To clear the confusion, you wrote a "guest" review first, which means I had to read over it first before it shows up with the other reviews. But it really touched me, more than I can properly express. I'm very humbled that you've enjoyed the story so much thus far to read it in a single day! Your observation about Remus being too protective is spot on, and it will become a major focus soon! As for the "leak" you mentioned, I don't like giving spoilers, but if you're really dying to know, you can shoot me a PM, and we can discuss it there. Thank you again, and I look forward to hearing from you soon! ^^
misslak: THANK YOU! I really like writing these action-packed chapters, though they always tend to end badly, don't they? Lots of Remus this chapter!
sarahmichellegellarfan1: I KNOW, RIGHT?! I'm so freaking happy! Thank you for being here through it all! My first reviewer ever, and you're still with me! Thank you again and again!
TheStarCalledVega: Hahaha no babies anytime soon, but maybe some action...? Kind of... I hope it appeases your hunger a little!
missalex3030: Thank you so much! I love these kinds of chapters too - they're definitely the most fun for me to write, even though they get dark. I really wish I could write more of them, but the story would get really heavy really quickly that way... MORE REMUS NOW!
REVIEW MEEEEEE!
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Chapter 32: Of Crashing Waves
When they arrived on Rowan's front stoop, she felt herself being pulled into her building in a frenzy of hands and force. Remus gripped her wrist tightly, dragging her up the stairs and into her apartment. She noted that it hurt slightly, but it almost seemed like a distant dream. Had she really just been in a battle? The blood on her face was cold now. It was soaked into the shoulder of her black shirt. She knew it was staining her skin beneath.
When he finally pushed her through the door, his hands were a flurry of movement. He was yanking off the Death Eater robes violently, throwing them onto the floor with disgust. The mask was gone, and she was very glad for it. Then he fell on her again, fingers prying at her clothes, tugging at edges and the fastening of her trousers. He pushed the fabric down her legs, peeling them away from her feet with a quick yank. She stumbled slightly from the force of it. Her skin suddenly felt very cold at the exposure.
She watched him blankly as he started to make do of her gloves. She heard a slight ripping noise and knew he'd torn one of them. Then his hands were frantically pulling her shirt, but his fingers and limbs were jolts of clumsiness and panic. He fumbled shakily as he groped for the edge of her shirt, pulling messily but unable to remove it fully.
A calm sort of pity spread through her slowly. She reached up and grasped his wrists lightly. The small touch jerked his head upward. He finally met her gaze, and she felt a small wave of grief wash over her, like she was lying in a pool of lukewarm water. His eyes searched hers frantically. His breath came in rushed bursts from his nose. She kept her gaze steady and exhaled slowly. He seemed to breathe in the air from her lungs. She squeezed his wrists lightly.
"I can do it," she whispered.
His lips twitched, and a flare of anger flickered through his eyes. She wondered why vaguely. But he slowly pulled his hands away from her shirt with what seemed like great effort. There was a tension in his arms, as if it was taking all of his willpower to keep them there. The pool of grief lapped around her gently.
She reached for the hem of her dark shirt and saw how irregularly it had been stretched in Remus' panic. She pulled it gently over her head, strangely unabashed by her nakedness and threw it gently towards her laundry hamper. She noted how detached she felt despite being in her underwear in front of her former lover, covered in patches of drying blood and sweat.
He stood in front of her, deathly still. His eyes scanned over her body heatedly, not with lust but with anger. His gaze burned over her face and then her scars where Evan Rosier's blood was now dried and painted over her skin. The white swirls of her scars blended with the coating of red almost elegantly. It seemed strangely appropriate in a way.
"You should take a shower," he whispered stiffly, eyes still fixed on her form, but not her face.
She nodded weakly and started towards the bathroom but stopped to look at him. She hesitated for a moment but spoke anyway.
"You have blood all over your arms," she said quietly, gesturing at his skin.
He looked down at his hands, which were coated in a mixture of Marlene and Evan Rosier's blood. Beneath his nails were caked crescents of rust and dirt, and his forearms were stained with large splatters of red and brown. He frowned, as if surprised to see it all there. He looked incredibly lost, confused. The pool rose to submerge her further, but she pushed it back. She took one of his hands gently, and before he could protest, she pulled him quietly towards her bathroom.
In the harsh light and bright white tiles, Rowan had to squint slightly. Her eyes had been so adjusted to the dark that it was painful. She moved to turn on the shower. When she turned back around, Remus was looking at the running water with confusion. She noted how odd it was that he looked more dazed than she at all of this. He'd been so certain before she'd interrupted him. Why was he so lost now?
He didn't move, just continued to watch the water, so she moved forward and began to make work of his clothing. As she reached for his trousers, his hands seized hers impulsively. She froze and looked up at him. His eyes were wide, nostrils flaring. She could almost see the fear trickling through his veins.
"I can't," he choked out. "This is- this isn't… We can't…" he babbled nonsensically. The pool submerged her again, lapping at her face. It splashed roughly against her, but she did her best to ignore it.
"Remus, it's just a shower. We've done this hundreds of times. It doesn't have to mean anything," she said quietly.
But it will always mean something.
She pressed herself against him slowly, gently, so that their hands were held between their chests with a light pressure. His grip on her wrists loosened. She stepped away from him, and his arms fell back down slowly. She paused a moment and assessed him. The lines in his face were deeper than ever. He looked strangely small.
She ignored the pang in her chest and moved back to his clothing. She pulled his shirt gently, standing on her toes to pull it over his head and tossing it out of the bathroom gently. His arms were coated in red, which shown brightly against his pale skin and the white tiles of the bathroom. It stained all the way up his forearms. Next, she made a move to remove his pants but then realized that he still wore his heavy leather boots and started to lower herself to his feet, but he grabbed her shoulders suddenly.
"Don't," he whispered. She looked at him with slight panic, but then he stooped down low and began to remove them himself. She watched him awkwardly as he untied and loosened the laces of his boots before realizing that she still wore her underwear. She suddenly felt strangely self-conscious but tried to push the discomfort away. She moved her fingers to the edge of her sports bra and peeled it over her head. She noticed the bloodstains caked at the straps as she held it, thick and congealed and already browning. There was no way she would be able to get those stains out.
As she threw it into the trash bin, she noticed that Remus had finished removing his shoes and was staring at her with such a pained expression that her skin seared. His eyes trailed over her longingly, and she wondered for a moment if this was a good idea. But she was too tired to second-guess herself. She'd worry about it in the morning.
She looked away with mild embarrassment but hooked her thumbs into the sides of her underwear and began pulling the small article down her legs. Remus didn't move, and she knew his eyes were following the simple gesture. Her face burned slightly at the knowledge but made no indication that she noticed it. She pulled the elastic from the end of her hair and let the tight braid unravel slowly. Her scalp ached slightly.
As Rowan moved to enter the shower, she paused to look at Remus. His pants were still on. His bare feet poked out from underneath the black fabric. It seemed strangely intimate. He seemed to wake from a trance and looked down at his remaining clothing and began working on it quickly. Her mouth twitched, and she moved into the water.
It was hot, searing. She almost hoped it would burn her skin away and take all of the sins of the night with it. She looked down at her skin and saw several small streams of red and brown dancing through the water and down her legs. They flowed smoothly against the white tub and down the drain. The implications of the blood seemed to weigh down on her slowly.
She had killed someone.
Her hand hadn't been the one to drive the dagger into Evan Rosier's back, but she'd beaten him, tortured him. She'd had every intention of killing him before Bellatrix's attack, hadn't she? She flexed her hands experimentally and felt a sharp ache shoot through her fingers and knuckles. It seared up her arms, and she knew they'd be sore in the morning. She could tell her hands were extremely swollen. She was afraid to look at them.
The memories of Rosier's bones breaking beneath her fists suddenly came rushing back with a wave of nausea. His cheeks had cracked against her knuckles. His skin had torn open as she'd slammed his face into the dirt. She'd shattered his ribs, relished his screams like a symphony. She'd tortured him, watched him writhe in agony without an ounce of regret.
Shouldn't she regret it?
The pool of grief surged forward violently, seeping into her mouth and nostrils. It forced its way into her lungs, and she swallowed it down, forced herself to not choke. The answer was surprisingly clear, like a sliver of light cutting through the dark: She didn't.
She was suddenly exhausted. She felt absolutely no remorse, no horror at her own actions. There was a vague, abstract fear of what it implied of her, but as she thought of Evan Rosier's bloodied broken face, the sounds of his shrieks, she only felt emptiness. There was no longer any anger, no satisfaction. It all seemed very meaningless. What did it matter? He was just another Death Eater, and she was just another soldier. Neither of their lives held much weight in the great scheme of things. The war and the world would continue on without them.
Murderer.
She watched as Rosier's blood trickled down her arms and dripped onto the tub from her chin. The feeling of his mouth against her cheek seemed to sear itself into her flesh, and her skin crawled at the memory. She thought numbly of the laughter in his eyes even as he laid dead on the ground. She thought of poor Marlene McKinnon's body, which laid so close to his. Had the Ministry found them yet? It was hard to believe that she'd watched them both die in a dark street not even an hour before.
The shower curtain shifted behind her, and she knew that Remus had finally joined her. He didn't move to touch her, not that she'd expected him to, and they stood in silence for a few moments. She kept her head downward, back facing him. The dried blood on her shoulder was still peeling away slowly. She wondered if it still remained on her face too. She saw a new large stream of red flowed past her feet from behind and knew that it came from Remus' arms. Her hair stuck wetly to her skin. She suddenly wanted to cut all of it off.
Finally, she felt a warm hand grasp her arm gently, and she let Remus turn her slowly. His hands held her shoulders firmly. She kept her gaze on his chest, which glistened from the water. He had a new large scar across his sternum that she didn't recognize. Her eyes burned over it, memorizing its angle, its shape. Her fingers itched to touch it.
They stood in silence for a while. Rowan kept her focus on his chest. She wasn't sure where he was looking, but the electric tension in his arms remained. She finally met his gaze then stooped down and picked up the bar of soap. His eyebrows furrowed with confusion as she handed it to him wordlessly. He took it cautiously and just stared at it for a moment before she offered her arm to him.
He looked at her with a firm expression for a moment, but she just gazed back softly. Finally, he seemed to understand and lowered his gaze to her arms, scrubbing her skin with the bar of soap. He started tentatively but eventually worked into a hard rhythm.
His hands worked over her body mindlessly. She watched his face as he moved – the hard look in his eyes remained but it wasn't as pained as before. There was a sort of emptiness behind them. She wondered what he was thinking, if he was thinking at all. His hands paid special attention to the scars on her right shoulder, eyes softening with grief as they trailed over the milky white flesh.
She knew he needed this, and though it made her uncomfortable to have his hands on her in such an intimate way again, it also comforted her to know that she could still offer him something. It was sort of sick, she supposed – their entire relationship. He kept her at arms' length when it was safe, and yet, as soon as she got hurt, he'd be there with frantic hands and eyes. Was it wrong to even let him near her? Wasn't it sort of abusive in a way?
But then he was leaning forward, and before she realized what was happening, his lips were on hers. They grazed her gently, like a whisper. She was hesitant to even call it a kiss. She closed her eyes, blind, deaf. The water hit her back rhythmically. It was almost numb. But she felt his hands grip her shoulders tightly and her chest constricted painfully. His lips trailed up her cheeks, over her eyelids. He pulled her in closer to him gently, and the heat between them seared through her chest and spread through her ribs. His lips pressed against her temple firmly. She tilted her head to give him access. He then closed the gap and pulled her against him tightly, wrapping his arms around her. His skin burned against hers, achingly familiar. She felt his breath come shakily, trembling against her.
"Why?" he whispered into her skin. "Why can't I let go of you?"
The grief crashed against her roughly. She weakly let it sweep her away. "Maybe you were never supposed to," she said. She didn't understand her own words. They simply fell from her mouth without thought.
His grip on her tightened almost painfully. Her arms hung limply at her sides though they ached to touch him. She was afraid he would dissolve away with the blood and water.
They stood in silence beneath the water for a small eternity. Rowan felt her grief wash her onto the sharp rocks of the shore. She laid broken at the jagged edges.
Finally, he shifted against her, and she moved slightly to let his arms fall away. She kept her gaze on his chest, careful not to look down at his nakedness or up at his face. She was afraid of how her body would react to either. He reached behind her carefully and turned off the water. She shivered.
He moved out of the shower first, looking around for a towel. She realized vaguely that she only had one out – it was not like there was anyone else bathing there anymore, she thought rather sadly. She saw him slip out of the bathroom quietly and then return with another from her closet. He wrapped her gently in it, wiping away the droplets of water tenderly. His gaze remained on her face, pained but almost resigned. When he was satisfied, he guided her out of the tub. She moved awkwardly, suddenly very aware of his exposed form and her jerky limbs. He pushed her gently out of the bright light of the bathroom, and her eyes worked with great effort to adjust to the darkness of her room. It seemed odd – hadn't she been more comfortable in the dark before?
As she stood in front of her bed naked, wet, and wrapped in her towel, she felt awkward again. He had dried himself off quickly with the second towel but then abandoned it, stalking towards her completely bare. His pale form was illuminated with the light of the bathroom, hair glowing. She noted how gray it had become over the past year around his temples. She had also found quite a few recently in her own dark locks. She'd felt sort of empty at the discovery, almost as she had when she'd first looked at her scars.
His hands were on her again, and before she had time to react, his mouth was pressing against hers insistently. His fingers tangled almost painfully in her wet hair, and his tongue pushed past her lips hungrily. Her lungs clenched painfully as the water crashed into her violently. It pushed down her throat, and as it hit her stomach, she knew it was fear.
But then he pulled away from her, and she stumbled slightly with the recoil, clutching to her towel almost desperately. Her eyes dazedly focused on the sliver of light pouring from her bathroom. Remus was gone.
She looked around frantically then realized he was at her wardrobe, pulling drawers open quietly. He had a pair of her underwear and a baggy t-shirt in his hands. He'd also been able to find a pair of his old boxers that she'd stolen from him while they were at Hogwarts - she'd always loved wearing his clothes. He looked at the articles in his hands with a hard expression. She wasn't sure if she trusted her voice.
He moved back towards her without meeting her gaze. She limply let go of the towel as he pulled it away from her slowly and dropped it to the floor. He tossed both pairs of underwear onto her bed as he pulled the shirt over her head, gingerly pulling her hair from the collar and smoothing it around her face. His hands were so gentle, his expression pained. She wondered where the rough man from just a few moments before had gone. His shifts were still so confusing to her, even after all their years together.
He picked up her underwear from the bed then knelt down next to her. She thought painfully of their old rendezvous in the Hogwarts library study rooms as she stepped into them carefully. But instead of grazing his fingers up her legs as he used to, he was careful not to touch her until he reached her hips. The space between his fingers and her skin resonated loudly. He adjusted them securely but chastely around her then turned and began pulling on his own.
He didn't seem at all perturbed by his nakedness. He moved with an eerie sense of calm that only seemed to heighten her own anxiety in contrast. As he pulled the article over his hips quietly, she admired his long limbs and the wiry tendons in his chest and arms. He was still nearly as thin as he had been as a teenager. She wondered if he'd ever really fill out as James and Sirius had begun to.
When he turned back to her, she stood still, returning his gaze silently. Once again, she couldn't read him. She realized distantly that he'd always been able to read her expressions almost faultlessly and yet she still found herself grasping for straws around him. It didn't seem fair.
But then she found herself being pushed into the bed with him crawling in next to her. The sheets felt cool against her still-wet skin, but her hair stuck unpleasantly to her face. A part of her wondered if she should tell him to go home, but as she felt his hands grip her back, his chest pressed against her cheek, the water crashed into her again. She tiredly let it sweep her painfully over the rocks of the shore. Perhaps he was the wave. Perhaps the white scars that lined his chest were the jagged edge of the rocks. Her eyelids felt very heavy, her hands very sore. She mused that if she were to drown there, it might not be such a bad way to go.
Her breath came evenly, heavily, as he held her. She noted that he was very awake, but she couldn't find it in herself to keep her eyes open. She tried to focus on the small sliver of light that still cut through the darkness from the bathroom, but it all began to blur together. She couldn't find the light, and as she lost her hold of it, her swollen fingers ached dully.