A/N: A little sadness and then a little understanding? The next is happier.
nessafly: Ahahahahahahahahahaha... ahaha. hah.
Your review might be my favorite of all time, just because it's so long and silly. I did wonder where you'd gone [and admittedly was a bit lonely T-T], but I figured you were busy. There are definitely other stories to read and things to do besides humor me with this silly thing, but I'm SUPER HAPPY you're back! ^^
That being said, I totally get what you're saying about your frustrations, and I'm sorry I'm making you so angry with Remus... This story is much darker than the last and the next will be lighter, but it definitely is necessary, like you said. Not to give spoilers, but I see this as kind of a dark transition or set up for all the cool shit that happens with Harry. It's like they have to suffer now to develop into the people they need to be when the real star shows up so they can support him best. And yes, I agree that he hasn't understood fully, and I am cruel and terrible and will be bringing more angst in as a result of that. But there will be some fluff and happiness along the way...?
But THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for coming back, even if you're totally hating Remus right now! [Is it weird that I'm super proud of myself for making the readers like my OC more than the character they came here for?] I'm so happy you're back, and I hope you like the next few chapters a little more.
missalex3030: Thank you, thank you! I was quite proud of that one haha. And they're on their way... slowly...
sarahmichellegellarfan1: Thank you always! ^^
casualmoose: Hahaha thank you! I find it very interesting how people's opinions on the Remus x Rowan relationship have changed. I hope Remus can eventually convince you too.
lovirosa: Once again, you are spot on. I don't think Remus has done anything yet to win Rowan back, and you've predicted where I'll be going with this.
WRITE ME A REVIEW! YES, YOU!
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Chapter 41: Of the White Seams of Scars
The rest of September passed quietly, and October was soon upon them with a light chill. It was October 2nd – exactly one year had passed since Dorcas Meadowes, Edgar, and Wisteria Bones had died, and the Order decided to pay their respects to their fallen comrades' graves together.
As Rowan pulled her black robes on again, she assessed her scarred arm in the mirror. She remembered the raw redness and bloody bandages that had wrapped her skin just a year before, and though the pain was gone, she could nearly feel the burning there just from the memories that the sight of the milky markings evoked. The scars still snaked up the back of her neck from the collar of her blouse and were certainly visible when she wore short-sleeved shirts, but she no longer felt as compelled to hide them from the cautious stares of passerby. She couldn't say that she felt proud or even at ease with them yet, but she was slightly comforted with the knowledge that, one day, she would.
Remus was waiting on her doorstep when she stepped out of her building with a handful of flowers for their friends' respective graves. He smiled encouragingly at her as he took her hand, and though she wanted to feel the bond between them as they shared these sad memories with each other, she couldn't help but also remember the darkness that had enveloped them both after their friends' passing. She couldn't help but wonder when it would return.
When they arrived at the cemetery, they found that they were amongst the first few. Rowan had insisted that they come early – she wanted to pay her respects to their fallen comrades in privacy first. Remus nodded at her quietly and handed her the flowers, gazing after her as she walked into the cemetery alone. Remus stayed behind with Kingsley and the Prewett brothers at the entrance.
Rowan stopped to see Dorcas first. She was buried apart from the Boneses beside her late parents. Rowan laid a bouquet down on her grave and quietly said hello. She hadn't been close to the older woman, but she'd been very fond of her. She had been the one to recruit Lily to St. Mungo's and had been a brilliant Healer in her own right with an excellent sense of humor. Lily had been quite devastated at her loss, and Rowan mourned that she'd never have the opportunity to know her better. She tried desperately to push the memories of the courageous woman's body illuminated with green light from her mind. She remembered the older woman's jovial laugh and the fluidity of her movement in battle and hoped that she laughed just as much on the far plane.
As she next searched for Edgar and Wisteria's graves, she felt her chest tighten painfully. It was a chilly morning – it seemed as if the earth was whispering reminders of their cold night in the woods – and Rowan's lungs stung with the frost. The Bones family had a large private section of the cemetery for their late members. Various grand tombstones and sculptures decorated the area, like a forest of gray stone. The cold faces of the statues around her only seemed to emphasize the chill in her muscles, and the sight of a particularly large mausoleum made her feel incredibly miniscule. Her arm stung bitterly, and as she found the names of Edgar and Wisteria carved into a pair of large stone tombstones, her eyes burned.
"Hi, Edgar," she whispered, kneeling slowly to the cold ground. "It's been a while."
Her voice trembled, and the tears threatened to fall. She reached up quickly to wipe them away. She remembered the man's loud laughter and his wife's demure smiles. He'd always been fearless, even in his last moments in those dark woods. She could still hear her harsh breathing, the burning in her lungs, as she'd run through the darkness with the couple. She could still see the green flames as they overtook her, the way her body had slammed and crunched into the earth. She bowed her head and tried desperately to balance her lungs.
"Rowan?"
Rowan looked up suddenly to see a tall, thin older woman with dark hair in a tight bun. She held the small hand of a little girl, maybe five years old, and her other arm held a sleeping toddler, perhaps three. Heat shot through her limbs as she swallowed down her grief.
"Amelia!" she greeted softly, scrambling to her feet quickly to greet her.
Amelia Bones, Edgar's younger sister, had always been a silent member of the Order. She didn't participate in missions or meetings, but she'd always been a great supporter of Dumbledore and a dear friend to her father. She was quickly rising through the ranks of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry, and she frequently passed critical information on to Dumbledore from the Ministry. She had also recently filled her late brother's position on the Wizengamot, which had been greatly advantageous in securing convictions for the Death Eaters they brought in – she was hoping the older woman's voice would sway the rest of her peers in regards to Igor Karkaroff. Rowan had nothing but the greatest respect for her. The older witch smiled graciously and let go of the little girl's hand to hug Rowan.
"Rowan, it is so good to see you," she greeted warmly. She took the little girl's hand again and gestured to her. "Beatrice, this is Rowan. She was a friend of Mummy and Daddy," she said gently.
The little girl had long brown curly hair and looked very much like Wisteria with large pale eyes. She clung to Amelia's leg shyly but assessed Rowan openly.
"Hi, Beatrice," she said warmly, kneeling down to be level with the small girl. "You've gotten so big. You were still really little when I last saw you."
Beatrice continued to stare at Rowan warily, clinging to her aunt's leg. Rowan smiled again, and the little girl gave a very shy smile back but didn't respond. She was suddenly reminded of Percy Weasley, who was about the same age. Rowan gazed at her warmly and stood back up.
"How have you been?" she asked Amelia. "I hear you're up for the next Head of the M.L.E. Department if Crouch gets Minister of Magic. Congratulations," she said sincerely. Amelia smiled graciously.
"Thank you very much," she responded. Her face fell slightly with frustration. "I don't know if that's going to happen anytime soon though with the way things are going."
Rowan frowned with concern. "You mean the fugitive murders?" she asked quietly. Amelia nodded gravely.
The big news in The Daily Prophet from the past couple of weeks had been about a string of deaths amongst the prisoner Death Eaters, particularly those who had struck deals with the Ministry. They'd been posed as suicides, but the M.O. and victim profiles were too consistent to be a mass suicide. Mina, Alice and Moody had been looking into it, but they'd been coming up dry so far.
"I'm sure that's making prisoner cooperation very difficult," Rowan said sullenly. She thought of Karkaroff, heat rising up her neck with anger. Amelia seemed to read her face and grimaced.
"Yes, all of the Death Eaters who had been talking have completely stopped. Someone is obviously trying to keep them quiet," she said.
"Well, I'm sure if anyone can figure it out, it's you," Rowan said encouragingly. Amelia smiled thinly then looked down quickly to see Beatrice tugging on her pant leg with an urgent face.
"Ah, yes, okay, let's see Mummy and Daddy," she said softly, smiling gently down at the little girl. She looked back up at Rowan. "I suppose it's time to pay our respects," she said.
Rowan smiled sadly. "Yes, of course. I'll give you some privacy. Good luck with the case at work," she said, stepping aside. Amelia nodded.
"Thank you – for everything you've done for our family really. Please tell your mother to drop by for tea sometime. I miss her company," she said warmly. Rowan nodded and smiled before turning on her heel and walking out of the stony labyrinth. The air seemed a little less cold.
Rowan found her friends quickly after her quiet conversation with Amelia and Edgar's children. They spent the next hour or so paying their respects to their friends, and Rowan appreciated the coolness of the October morning sun. Remus held a firm grasp on Rowan's hand, rough fingers laced between hers, and she couldn't find it in herself to pull away. As she stole a glance at his face, she could see the deeply troubled look there and realized that this was just as difficult for him as it was for her – it might have been a year since she had acquired those injuries, but he'd been the one to watch her burn. She remembered the way he'd cried and clutched her fingers when she'd come to in the hospital and the frightening darkness that had overtaken him in the aftermath. She wanted to resent him for the way he'd left her after, but in the presence of her friends' final resting places, she couldn't find it in her. She squeezed his hand back.
After, a portion of the party decided to sit down at the Leaky Cauldron together for lunch and drinks to celebrate their late friends' lives, which Rowan found was a wonderful way to end such a solemn morning. They sat around in the private parlor sharing happy memories and catching up with one another, basking in each other's warm presence. Lily told everyone the funny story of how Dorcas had personally cornered her at a Seventh Year recruiting event to convince her to train as a Healer after hearing about her from Dumbledore, and Gideon and Fabian shared silly tales of their pranks on Edgar and Wisteria when they'd first begun dating during their Hogwarts days. They toasted to their friends' memories with lighter hearts than they'd had at the beginning of the day, and Rowan felt slightly hopeful.
Towards the end of lunch, Rowan excused herself to use the toilet. Despite the lightness of the group's conversation, she still felt a heavy sadness in her stomach as she thought of how little she'd really known Dorcas or the Boneses. Her time with them had been short, to say the least, almost dismal. It was painful to think of how briefly her life touched those of her friends.
"Oof!" a voice squeaked.
Rowan ran into a sturdy form and staggered, grunting ungracefully as her forehead slammed into someone else's. Both groaned in pain, and she rubbed her forehead and panicked.
"Oh, shit, I'm so sorry! I wasn't lo-," she started and then looked up to see Peter Pettigrew's watery eyes wide and staring at her, face pale and startled. There was a slightly pink spot on his forehead from where they'd slammed into each other.
"Peter! I'm so sorry. I'm such a klutz," she laughed ruefully, rubbing her forehead. "Are you okay?"
Peter stared for another moment before seemingly snapping from a trance. "Oh, R-Rowan! Sorry, I wasn't paying attention! I'm so sorry! So sorry! Did I hurt you?" he blurted nervously.
Rowan laughed. "I'm fine, Pete. Sorry for assaulting your face. My forehead is just too damn big," she said jokingly.
She assessed him for a moment. She realized suddenly that she hadn't really seen him at all over the past couple of months. His presence at Order meetings had been sparse, but James had said his mother had been ill. As she looked him over, she thought that he looked quite unwell also – he was looking much thinner, but not like a man who had been eating healthier or exercising. His skin was slightly sallower, his face a little gaunt. There were very dark rings beneath his eyes, and the nervousness she usually associated with him seemed tenfold.
"How have you been?" she asked concernedly. His eyes widened, mouth open slightly. She thought he looked very much like a cornered mouse. "I heard your mum's sick. I hope she's doing all right," she elaborated.
Peter let out a shrill, unnatural sounding laugh. Rowan tried hard not to flinch at the sound. She kept her face as straight as possible, an awkward smile on her face – she wasn't sure what the appropriate expression was in response.
"Yeah, she's fine!" he said shrilly. He cleared his throat. "She's fine," he said again, a little more normally. He breathed deeply. "She has, um, rheumatoid arthritis. It's been acting up a lot recently, so I've been spending a lot of time at home with her," he explained quickly. He gave her another nervous smile – a strange twitch of the mouth.
Rowan nodded slowly, taking in the sudden verbal barrage calmly. She hadn't seen him so nervous in ages. Over the past couple of years since graduating, she'd thought their relationship had relaxed significantly, so his sudden nervousness in her presence again gave her pause. What had changed suddenly?
"I see," she said carefully. His eyes darted around her face shiftily, but not actually at it. She tried to not let it bother her. "Well, if you and your mum need anything, please let me know. I know a potion or two that are supposed to help a lot with the joint swelling from rheumatism, so I can brew you up a batch, no problem," she offered warmly.
Peter's eyes shot back to hers, and she was shocked to see him looking intensely at her, like he could cry at any moment. He grabbed her hands quickly and gazed at her in the same way he had when he'd first seen her and Remus together again. She felt her face burn with embarrassment.
"Thank you, Winnie," he said softly, sincerely, as if he were pouring all of his heart into those simple three words. She felt her throat constrict and was shocked to identify the feeling as pity. Why though?
"Of course," she said quietly. He held her hands tightly for a second longer then let go and quickly excused himself without another word shared between them, scurrying back to the table. She stared after him, dumbstruck and lost. What had just happened?
After lunch, Rowan and Remus waved goodbye to their friends and headed back to her flat. It felt like it had been a long day already, despite being quite early in the afternoon, and Rowan just wanted to peel her robes off and curl into bed. They strolled down her street quietly. He hadn't reached out to touch her again, and she held her hands in her pockets. She wasn't sure if it was to prevent him or her from doing something uncomfortable.
When they reached her door, she half-expected him to kiss her on the cheek and say goodbye, but he made no indication that he had any intention of leaving. She turned back to the door awkwardly and pushed inside. He followed quietly.
When they entered her flat, she quietly took her socks and shoes off and shiftily looked around for some sign of what she was supposed to do. He slowly removed his own shoes without saying anything, and she slowly hung up her coat in her closet. She wanted to change her clothes but didn't know if she should just strip in front of him or go into the bathroom to change. Frustration sparked in her chest.
"Winnie, your gears are showing."
She looked up quickly to see him gazing at her with mild amusement. He stood right beside her – how had he snuck up on her so quietly without her noticing? She felt her face screw up with a strange mixture of confusion and amusement – he smiled – and decided on honesty.
"I was trying to figure out how to change my clothes," she admitted sheepishly, face burning. Remus' smile melted into something gentler with an indiscernible flare in his eyes.
"May I…?" he asked quietly, gesturing to her blouse.
Rowan's eyes widened with shock. She knew she should be offended, but there was no lust, no hunger in his face. His expression remained gentle, unassuming. Her confusion doubled.
"I won't try anything. I promise," he added. "I just… need to see something."
Rowan gazed at him for a moment and saw his face soften – sadness. She suddenly understood with a tight constriction of her lungs. She nodded almost unnoticeably and lifted her arms hesitantly. His fingers grasped the hem of her black blouse and gently pulled upward.
The cool air hit her skin like a deep breath. Her hair fell about her in a dark wave as the material moved over her head slowly. She shivered lightly and nervously raised her eyes to meet Remus'; however, she saw that he seemed completely unaware of her nakedness – his gaze had already fallen upon her right shoulder with pained eyes. She smiled sadly and realized that perhaps she hadn't been the only one left with scars that terrible night. Her stomach clenched, and she pulled her courage forward. She turned slowly to present her marred skin to him, his eyes crinkling with guilt. She kept her gaze downward and swept her hair over her left shoulder so that he could see the full extent of her wounds.
For a moment, all that touched her was the heat that gathered between them. Then she felt him raise his hand hesitantly to her shoulder, and when she didn't pull away, callused fingers whispered against her skin. She suppressed the shiver that threatened to vibrate up her spine. She could nearly feel his guilt wash over her back with his nervous fingers. She realized slowly that, while he'd seen her bare on several occasions since she'd been injured, he'd never been able to truly assess the damage that had been done. Had it been haunting him all this time?
His fingers traced over the thin seams of her scars, along her shoulder blade and up to her neck. She felt him linger upon the spots with the worst damage where the scar tissue was thickest, and she noted that her breath was terribly shallow.
Suddenly, his hands settled firmly on her arms, and her stomach clenched at the feeling of him leaning against her, forehead pressing into her shoulder. She staggered slightly under his weight, but he didn't let go, and she didn't push him off. She felt his ragged breath at her back and allowed him a moment of silence. She wondered sadly for what he was mourning.
Finally, he pulled away, and her shoulder ached strangely without his weight. But he began to turn her slowly so that she faced him. She felt her face burn slightly at her nakedness and kept her gaze on his chest. He'd taken the dark jacket of his suit off and wore only his pants and a crisp white shirt. She'd always loved the way he looked in white. It reminded her of clean sheets and bright mornings.
"Thank you," he said quietly, smiling gently. She searched his face – for what, she didn't know. His eyes scanned over her features slowly with an endearingly crooked expression. But then he let go of her and averted his gaze awkwardly.
"I should… You should change. I need to use the toilet anyway," he said uncomfortably, gesturing towards the bathroom. Rowan felt her face redden and turned away.
"Yeah, um… yes, I'll do that," she said awkwardly.
She heard the door of her bathroom close quietly, and she let out a long breath, the muscles in her back suddenly relaxing. She pulled a clean shirt over her head and quickly pulled her stockings and skirt off, throwing them into her hamper with her blouse. She changed into sweatpants in nearly record time, and by the time he poked his head out again, she was sitting on her bed in what she hoped looked like a nonchalant position despite feeling anything but.
Remus smiled somewhat amusedly, obviously aware of how strange of a situation they were in, and she smiled sheepishly back. The sudden shift made her relax back into her skin. They shared a soft laugh, and he sat down on the bed with her. He'd rolled up his sleeves so that his sinewy forearms were exposed, and she secretly admired the lean muscles and tendons that extended into his long fingers.
"I realized recently that we never really talked about, well, everything that happened between us… a year ago, I mean," he said slowly. Rowan nodded, her throat tightening nervously.
"I... well, I'm not really sure how to start," he said sheepishly, hands gripping his knees. "But I know that if I'm going to earn your trust back, we should probably be on the same page."
Rowan nodded again and watched the small gesture. The muscles in his arms flexed and slackened rhythmically. She remembered the way she used to spend hours in bed with him, trying to memorize all the subtle ways his body moved. A dull pain rang through her chest.
Though he'd been wonderfully attentive and patient with her for the past two months, she still was waiting for something terrible to happen that would spark his anguish again and cause him to leave her. She didn't even feel comfortable using conditions like "if," but rather continued to think of their situation as a long "when": when he left her; when he withdrew again. She didn't voice her negative thoughts to him out of consideration for his feelings, but it didn't change the way she felt.
But she humored him all the same. After all, it might help for her to receive some closure before he left her again.
"I should apologize first, I suppose," he started slowly. He kept his gaze downward, a sad smile on his lips. "I'm sorry for the way I left things between us. You at least deserved an explanation."
Rowan felt his words bounce between them as she remembered the fury in his eyes as he'd looked at her all those months ago. She suppressed the shiver that threatened to creep up her spine at the memory – she was still frightened at the mental image.
He had been a mess of anger and chaos. She'd seemingly lost him, and then he'd simply reappeared without explanation, as if the dark presence she'd seen walking in his skin had never existed. As she looked at him now, she could barely even remember what that man had looked like, and yet the memory still sent ice through her limbs.
"I was afraid of you," she admitted quietly. Remus didn't look up, but she saw his grip on his knees tighten with shame. "You were so frightening. It was like you were a completely different person." She felt her own hands tremble slightly. She worked up her courage and pushed her gaze upward to his face. He didn't meet it.
"What happened back then?" she asked.
Remus exhaled slowly. She could see his mouth twitch as he thought. His expression, though hard, was still so kind. Was that frightening man still in there? Was it right to be afraid of him when she, too, had probably looked the same just a few weeks ago?
"I don't really know, to be honest," he said quietly. He frowned, seemingly upset with his own answer. "Before you woke, the Order had discussed the possibility of there being a traitor. And then when I saw your arm, I-"
He seemed to choke on his own words, and before Rowan could stop herself, she'd reached forward to grasp his hand gently. His eyes shot up to her face with startled eyes. She was nearly as surprised at her own behavior as he, but she kept her hold on him. His lips quivered.
"I think I understand," she said gently. His eyes blazed. "After all that's happened recently..." She paused. The dull memory of her fury lingered in her belly. Then a small wash of guilt - he'd been all alone. How tiring and lonely it must have been.
"I understand it now," she said firmly.
Remus seemed to swell like a tide. His gaze was so heated that she felt her face burn slightly. He took her hand in his and squeezed back.
"I snapped out of it because of you though," he said fervently. Rowan felt her stomach churn. "When I saw you at St. Mungo's after my mum… after she collapsed… It was like waking up from a long dream."
Rowan remembered her grief-filled trance after Leanna had collapsed. She recalled the startled look on Remus' face when she'd appeared at his bedroom door the day after and the way he'd held her so tightly as they'd both cried. Her chest tightened painfully at the memory.
"Why didn't you try to reconcile with me then?" she asked, almost bitterly. She probably would have taken him back more readily back then. Perhaps they wouldn't have had to go through this year with so much loneliness.
Wouldn't he have just left her again at some other point though?
"Honestly, I can't even tell you what I was thinking back then anymore," he admitted ruefully with a weak shrug. "It's mostly a blur – that entire month... After my mum died, I realized how stupid I'd been, but I figured that I'd hurt you enough already. I didn't feel like I had the right to even consider asking you to take me back. And then the longer I waited, the guiltier I felt until eventually it didn't even feel like an option."
"That's stupid," she retorted sullenly. He smiled weakly.
"I know," he said. "I'm sorry."
He squeezed her hand again, and she had to bite back the stinging at her eyes. She felt his hand trail up her arm hesitantly.
"I won't do it again. The next time I fuck up or things start getting hard, I promise I won't run," he said. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling in towards him. She wanted to fight him, a small surge of bitterness pacing through her, but she couldn't find it in herself.
"I know you still don't believe me," he said contritely, "but I mean it. And I'll convince you of it one of these days."
She felt his mouth press against her temple warmly. She didn't turn to embrace him back, but she didn't push him away either. She simply let his words wash over her slowly. She could feel the smallest of smiles on his lips and his grip on her tightened minutely. He sighed into her hair, and she closed her eyes. She tried desperately to believe him.