A/N: Another sad anniversary, but it also ends on a lighter note. Also THANK YOU to everyone who's been reading! I can't tell you how happy I am whenever I get a review/favorite/follow!
nessafly: Hahaha thank you! And you're welcome, but [unfortunately?] this is another angsty one. I promise the next couple will be lighter!
MajestyLove56: Hello! Thank you so much! I can't tell you how happy I am to hear from another reader, and I'm so glad you're enjoying my story. Please let me know what you think in the future! Thank you again!
lovirosa: Thank you as always ^^
casualmoose: I definitely get what you're saying, and I'm really glad the last chapter helped assuage some of those doubts. This one is a little slower, but I promise the next couple of chapters will be happier. And thank you about the Weasleys! Gred & Forge are up high on my list of favorite characters, so I was pretty psyched to write about them, even if it was kind of short ^^
missalex3030: Thank you, thank you! I also really loved writing about the Weasleys. I'm a little afraid I'm going to start rushing things a bit, but I'm glad the tempo up to this point seems appropriate!
sarahmichellegellarfan1: Thank you! I'm actually not sure about how long this one will be... We're coming up to the last stretch soon, but it's packed with a LOT events, so I think it'll probably hit close to 70 chapters, maybe. I think that's an overestimation though. I'm really hoping it won't be that long...
snuffles95: Thank you as always! Sorry for the wait!
WRITE ME A REVIEW PLEEEEASE!
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Chapter 43: Of the Constant Companion
Rowan stood beneath a large clear blue sky. The sun seemed particularly yellow. It seemed to flicker and fall and shatter against the branches of the trees above with the wind gently rustling its fragments. She felt like if she were to look into it for too long, she might fade away into the light. She could nearly pretend that she stood at the top of the canopies.
The Lupins, Marauders, and friends walked through the cemetery in which Leanna Lupin had been laid to rest with somewhat light hearts. Despite the frigid chill of the November morning, Rowan felt surprisingly warm with her hand in Remus'. She could almost hear Leanna's bright laughter in the clattering leaves.
But she still felt the tension in her stomach as she hazarded a glance up at Remus. His face held dark shadows, and she understood that he still carried the guilt from his mother's death. In the week approaching her passing's one-year anniversary, Rowan had realized in his increasing silence that he'd never discussed it with her, and she'd never bothered to ask. It had been the same with her father's – they'd both felt the line drawn between them and hadn't dared to breach it. It seemed too intimate, inappropriate for "just friends" to really discuss. Had it been difficult for him to carry all this time? Had he shared his guilt with even his father?
No, she knew he'd most likely kept it locked away within him. Lyall was a stern man, and Rowan knew Remus had felt much more comfortable discussing his private musings with his mother. She'd at least had Alfred with whom to share her feelings of guilt and shame regarding her father's death. Had Remus been able to confide in anyone?
No, and even if he had, he probably would have reacted the same way. Even if she and Remus had still been together at that point, he would have undoubtedly pulled away from her again. She cringed internally as she thought of all of his dark expressions, her silent ache to have him confide in her. Perhaps this was finally the moment she'd been dreading - the moment he'd fall away from her again. Perhaps it would finally convince him that she'd been right all along. She breathed in the cool air deeply, bracing herself for the blow.
As they approached Leanna's grave, their friends stepped back discreetly to allow Lyall and Remus a private moment. Rowan loosened her grip on Remus' hand, and she felt him let go without protest. Something inside her pinched painfully as she watched him walk on without her, and she silently berated herself – today wasn't about her feelings of insecurity.
The Marauders all turned away and quietly basked in the flickering light beneath the trees. The air was crisp and clean in their lungs, and the grass was unusually green for so late in the year – did the groundskeepers enchant it? A strong breeze breathed through the trees, and a soft cascade of yellow and brown leaves floated around them. Rowan thought of her happy conversations with Leanna in the fall sun a little over a year before and smiled faintly. Even the stark chill of the hospital had been warmed by the older woman's presence.
They heard the soft crunching of cold grass and turned to see Remus and Lyall walking back towards them. Lyall seemed surprisingly light, a serene expression on his face. He gazed around the grounds with the gentlest smile, and Rowan realized with some awe that perhaps Remus had inherited his from his father, and not Leanna like she'd always thought. She assessed the older man with his distinguished graying hair and kind eyes and wondered if Remus would age the same way. She fought the amused smile that threatened to break through – she kind of hoped so.
However, as she turned to Remus, she saw the fatigue, the dark shadows still there. His eyes were dry, but his mouth held a twisted line. She saw the muscles strain in his jaw, at his brow line. Her suspicions were correct – he still blamed himself.
But then Lily's hand snatched Rowan's, and she felt herself being pulled along to pay her respects with their friends. She stole a glance at Remus as she moved past him, but he didn't meet her gaze, eyes unfocused and averted. The pinch was felt again.
They offered flowers and soft words, and though Lily's eyes filled with tears, they remained unshed. Instead, there were small smiles and even a few quiet giggles as they shared their funny stories about Remus from the past year to their friend's late mother. Rowan hoped desperately that she could hear them.
As they said their goodbyes, Rowan lingered. They shot her a few worried looks, but Lily released her hand to allow her a moment alone with Leanna. She gazed upon the engraved name on the tombstone. It seemed very cold, very unlike her. She pushed away the sickening guilt that threatened to emerge again.
She'd reasoned over the past year that Leanna's final stroke had not been her fault, but the nauseating shame still returned from time to time. She forced back the memory of her body falling limp in the Lupins' kitchen and tried to think instead of Leanna laughing with her and her mother in the hospital and the way her voice seemed to sing through her familiar bubbly handwriting. She'd kept all of her letters from the woman in the box that contained all of Remus' and had cried quietly over them just days before when she'd realized the approaching date. They left a bittersweet feeling in her heart.
"I miss you," she thought silently. "I wish you were here."
She wanted more than anything in that moment to speak to her again, but she just stood quietly and listened to the soft breeze. There was no use talking to a deaf tombstone, and Leanna couldn't speak to her from the grave. She gazed longingly upon the gray stone, wondering how it could be the last remainder of her dear friend, and then turned away to rejoin the group. She felt her diaphragm spasm with grief momentarily, but her eyes remained dry – she felt strangely accomplished.
As they walked back towards the entrance, Remus didn't retake her hand, and she didn't seek his. The deep pinch hollowed out emptily at the pit of her stomach and she felt the rift slowly pulling again. She tried desperately to not think so bitterly – she was being petty, and she should be thinking of only Leanna this day. She shoved hard at the dark thoughts and looked back up at the sky between the trees. It was so blue she could fall into it.
"Rowan, you don't need to do that."
Rowan looked up from the soapy dish in her hands to see Lyall standing next to her at the kitchen counter of the Lupin household with a concerned look. She could hear her friends in the living room chatting animatedly. She grinned sheepishly.
"Oh, I know," she said, shrugging, "but I kind of enjoy doing it by hand to be honest. It helps me relax."
Lyall smiled. "Well, thank you all the same. It's nice to see you around the house again," he said warmly. "How have you been?"
"I've been well – studying for my potioneer exam in January. How are you?" she responded as she rinsed off the plate in her hands and passed it off to a dishtowel she had enchanted. It enveloped the plate quickly and efficiently placed it in the drying rack with a soft clink.
Lyall's eyes crinkled fondly as he watched Rowan move onto the next plate in the sink. "I can't complain," he said lightly. "Work is good, Remus is good." He paused and gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment. "I see he took my advice and asked you to take him back," he said quietly.
Rowan's mouth twitched in conflict – to frown or smile?
"That was you, was it?" she said thoughtfully. She watched the bubbles float down the smooth surface of the plate. It was strangely comforting.
"Well, not just me – apparently Lily said something to him too," he said amusedly. He assessed her again. "You don't seem entirely pleased," he noted knowingly. A strand of hair fell from the messy bun on top of her head and into her eyes. She jerked her head awkwardly in frustration to fling it from her face.
"It's that obvious, huh?" she responded sheepishly.
Lyall nodded and smiled somewhat ruefully. "I imagined as much. It must be hard to trust him after everything you two have been through."
Rowan hummed in agreement and nodded, handing the plate to the towel and moving onto the couple of teacups that remained. As she grasped the cold tinkering handle of one, she remembered the delicate blue patterns on the white porcelain and the way its sibling had shattered against the floor. She subconsciously leaned off of her left foot as she recalled the sharp pain from the fragment that had embedded into it.
"You are giving him another chance though, right?" Lyall pushed gently.
Rowan felt her throat tighten slightly. Was it right to discuss this with Remus' father? It had never seemed as significant when talking to Leanna – the woman had been the epitome of maternal instinct. It had always simply felt natural confiding her concerns in her, even when they'd involved Remus. But Lyall wasn't the kind of man who easily fell into topics like these. She could talk to him for days about things of higher virtue, but her relationship with his son? She felt uneasy.
"I suppose," she admitted slowly. She sighed and decided it'd be rude to brush the conversation off after Lyall had sought her out in private. "I'm not really sure how to feel about it though." She worked her hands and fingers through the soap and water, gliding them over the smooth surface of the teacup.
"To be honest, I'm not expecting much from him. I'm sort of just waiting for him to leave me again," she said quietly. She'd said it several times before, but even now, it still stung deeply to hear the words aloud. She smiled bitterly to herself. She rinsed the teacup of its soapy bubbles and passed it off to the towel gently – just one more teacup to go.
"I can understand that," Lyall said knowingly. He took the floating towel into his hands as he saw her rinse off the soap of the last cup and grasped it gently, sliding over the dips and curves the cup. Rowan admired the long fingers of his hands and recognized the lines, the movements, as Remus'. She felt her heart ache.
"I feel like I should apologize to you actually," he said quietly. He set the cup down onto the drying rack, wiping his hands off on the towel before hanging it over the sink faucet. He raised his gaze to Rowan's, and she saw his eyes flicker with remorse. She didn't know what to do.
"I think a large reason for Remus' martyr-complex is because of me," he explained steadily. "I was always so worried when he was growing up. I was obsessive over his protection and taking measures to make sure no one knew about his condition. I'm sure it took a toll on him. We only wanted to make sure he was safe, but in the end, I think we might have overdone it. I think he developed his guilt because he saw how guilty we felt. But it's not his fault. It's mine."
Lyall's expression had darkened, and she could nearly see the barrage of angry thoughts spread through him. She wished she could hear them. The similarities between his face and Remus' were suddenly startling. She felt a surge of painful affection for this future projection of Remus.
"How was he bitten?" Rowan asked suddenly. Her face burned as the question left her mouth. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind – how had the words formed on her tongue without even thinking them? She was mortified. How could she ask this of Lyall?
Lyall's eyes widened with horror. "He's never told you?" he asked.
Rowan's face screwed up with confusion. That certainly wasn't the reaction she'd expected. He was surprised that Remus had never shared the story with her? She supposed that after all that they'd been through it might be strange, but he'd always been so uncomfortable discussing the darker aspects of his condition – she'd just assumed that it was too painful to discuss and she wasn't going to push him. She suddenly felt very awkward. She shook her head slowly.
Lyall frowned deeply with heavy remorse and confusion fighting in his expression. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but then he thought better of it. She watched him waver back and forth, back and forth, until finally, he shook his head minutely.
"I shouldn't say anything. It's his story to tell," he said sadly. "Just…" he paused, fighting some silent battle in his head. "… Don't think too poorly of me," he said quietly.
Rowan frowned as well. "I could never," she said fervently.
Lyall smiled thinly. It was a bitter expression. She'd never seen it on him before. It was unnerving.
Suddenly, there was a soft pattering of footsteps and creaking as the kitchen door swung open. Remus came in with a few dishes in hand but paused at the sight of Rowan and his father talking alone. He frowned.
"What's going on?" he asked carefully.
Lyall smiled warmly. Rowan tried to follow suit but knew she looked stiff. She kicked herself mentally – how was she still so bad at lying?
"I was just helping Rowan with the dishes and catching up with her," he responded casually. His eyes flickered up to the clock on the wall. "It's getting quite late. Shouldn't you all be getting back to town soon?"
Remus eyed his father suspiciously. "Yeah, I think we're going to head out soon," he said. He placed the dishes in the sink then flicked his wand, starting an efficient assembly line of soaping, rinsing and drying.
"Well then, let me see you lot out," Lyall said kindly. Remus nodded and headed back out to the living room, shooting Rowan another glance but not saying anything. She felt the tension leave her stomach slightly. She looked back up at Lyall, who was smiling down at her.
"Thank you for hearing out this old man," he said warmly. "I know it's hard to believe in him, and I won't pretend to give you any answers, but I can truthfully say that he loves you."
Rowan's chest tightened painfully, but she smiled back. "Thank you, Lyall. And if it helps at all, I can honestly say that you have nothing to feel guilty about. You've raised an incredibly strong man, and you deserve all the praise in the world."
Lyall smiled sadly, and the pain constricted further. She felt as if all the tears in the world were cradled in that one expression. He patted her on the head gently and smiled.
"You sweet girl," he said. His eyes seemed to scan over her face, as if trying to memorize it. "Thank you."
Rowan mustered all the warmth she had into a smile and hoped that her feelings would reach him. He smiled back and then let her go. He followed her back to the living room where her friends had all already put their coats and shoes on. Remus had her coat in hand, holding it up for her with that careful expression of his. She pushed away the feeling of discomfort that remained lest their friends notice.
She slid into her coat, trying to ignore the pressure of his hands through the wool, as Lyall said goodbye to the rest of them. There was a cluster of chatter and warm regards, and as she and Remus stepped out at the end, Lyall squeezed his son's shoulder tightly with that heartbreakingly sad smile again and swiftly hugged Rowan goodbye. He stood out on the front porch waving goodbye as they each Disapparated for London, and as she fell into the void alone – Remus' hand didn't reach out to her once again – she tried to memorize Lyall's lean form in that warm doorway with the orange setting sun in his eyes.
When they arrived on her doorstep, Remus was still quiet. She hadn't been able to bring her gaze to meet his during their brief walk down the street, and she couldn't be sure if he had even looked at her at all either. She kept trying to push her feelings of inadequacy aside for this one day, despite the quiet whispers in the back of her mind. He needed comfort today, regardless of whatever conflict remained in her heart regarding their relationship. She grabbed his hand and led him into her building before he could protest, and though she felt him stiffen, he followed without a word.
As she guided him into her flat, the tension in her chest tightened slightly. She wasn't sure what to do now – he didn't look like he wanted to discuss anything [not that he ever did], and she wasn't sure how else to comfort him. She decided lamely that making tea would be a good start. She moved towards the stove quietly to put a kettle on while he wandered in sort of listlessly, sitting down at her table. She heard the chair creak slightly as he sat, but beyond those few sounds, he was completely silent. The tension emptied out hollowly into her stomach.
As the water boiled, she moved quietly to her dresser and pulled out comfortable clothes for herself. She saw Remus' old t-shirt and sweatpants in her drawer and thought hard for a moment. She hadn't touched them since that rainy September afternoon, but she'd caught herself staring at them from time to time. Was this the right thing to do?
She breathed deeply and mustered her courage forward. It doesn't mean anything. She was just being a good friend. She pulled the clothes from her drawer with determined hands and turned back towards the table.
Remus sat silently, staring out the window at the quickly setting sun with an empty expression. The red light glinted off of his light hair and seemed to stain his skin. It'd been so long since she'd allowed herself to really look at him carefully, but as she noted the angle of his jaw, the long line of his neck, her heart ached painfully. He looked like he might fall beneath the earth with the sun, and she thought she might melt under its glare. Her decision suddenly seemed like a grave mistake, but she willed herself forward, gripping the soft cotton in her hands.
She placed the clothing in front of him on the table softly, and he seemed only to vaguely understand where he was, turning and looking at it with a confused expression. He gazed at it as if it were scripture in a foreign language, and then looked up to assess Rowan in the same daze. Her stomach lurched, breath short. She couldn't believe she was doing this. She must be a masochist.
"Stay here the night," she said quietly.
Remus held her gaze evenly, thoughts flickering across his face slowly. She struggled to give what she hoped was an encouraging smile, but her chest still remained painfully tight. She turned away to return back to the kettle, which was emitting the first whispers of a shriek, thankful that she didn't have to face him for a moment. It was too much. She needed to think about something else before her heart imploded with anxiety.
She waved her wand at her cupboards, and a floating line of teapot and teacups danced down to the counter as she pulled out her tealeaves. The teacups continued on to the table as she poured the steaming water into the teapot, watching the leaves swirl chaotically in its depths. She'd never had an interest in Divination – it wasn't in her nature to be superstitious – but the dark mass tangling and contorting left a hollow ache at the pit of her stomach. She gazed at it a moment longer before closing it with a light clink of china, wondering dully what the leaves spelled out in the dark when no one could see them.
She turned back towards the table and placed the teapot between her cup and Remus', carefully making sure not to meet his gaze. He was holding the clothing now with stiff hands. They seemed tense yet lifeless, like wooden appendages unable to bend.
"Should let it steep for a moment," she murmured quietly before turning back towards her dresser and the clothes that she'd set out for herself before.
But a hand shot out to grab her wrist, pulling her back. She let out a surprised squeak as she staggered backward, stumbling slightly into a pair of waiting arms. Rowan's lungs seized as she realized that Remus had stood from the table, pushing it slightly in his sudden movement with a loud shriek of wood and clinking dishes, and had yanked her against him. She collided with his chest with a dull thud and was quickly enveloped tightly in a pair of long arms.
Remus trembled slightly, breath ragged. She felt his heart pounding against his chest, thrumming wildly against her own. Her instinct was to pull away, but he held her so tightly against him that it muted any protests that sprang to her mind. His heat overcame her in a searing wave, and all she could do was accept it, feeling it spread through her limbs like fire. It was nearly too much to bear.
"Rowan," he whispered. Her name sounded like a prayer on his lips.
His arms were like a vice, tight and rigid around her. She could barely even move her arms to hold him back, though she wasn't sure if she could even find register over them. Her cheek was pressed against his chest, and she could hear the rapid echo of his heart thrumming against his ribs. For several moments, he didn't speak, and she didn't know how to respond to all of this. She simply let herself go limp, listening as the tempo of his heart slowed steadily.
"I'm sorry."
His words shot through her quickly but painlessly like a thin beam of light. "For what?"
He paused and breathed deeply, face buried in her hair. "I don't know."
He held her against him in silence. The shadows the setting sun cast were long and heavy, black against the red light that shone in blindingly. As she raised her arms, sliding her hands up his back, their shadows seemed to bleed together seamlessly. She felt every familiar plane and cord of his back through his robes. His scent filled her lungs almost painfully. He was with her – here.
Finally, he pulled away slowly, and for the first time that day, she felt as if he was truly looking at her. His eyes glowed in the dim light of the evening. She could see every flicker of brown and gray and green as they combed over her slowly, and despite the long shadows the sun cast on his face, she couldn't remember the last time he'd looked at her so brightly. His hands reached up to her face, cradling it gently. They seemed much larger than usual, like he could crush her with a flick of his thumb and fingers. His face was so close to hers. She was overwhelmed.
"I'm always making you wait, aren't I?" he murmured. His gaze was so warm. She didn't know how to respond, but her lips trembled unwittingly. He smiled softly. Her gaze flickered to his mouth as the small scar there stretched. Her lungs constricted at the small movement.
"You've always been here," he whispered, "but I never seem to notice."
His words seeped into her warmly, pulling at her veins. Realization washed over her slowly, and before she could stop herself, her lips had quirked upward slightly. "You did today," she replied.
Remus' brows furrowed before his face melted with understanding. He smiled gently.
Rowan felt something inside of her break. Her head swam heavily. She clutched at the material of his robes at his waist, afraid that if she let go, he'd fall away back into the depths of her mind. He was here – here. He hadn't disappeared, hadn't pulled away. She was breathing his air, sharing his heat. He had stayed.
But she was suddenly jerked from her momentary reprieve as she recognized the dark tone of his robes – today wasn't about her.
"Are you okay?" she whispered.
Remus' smile faltered, the troubled look on his face returning. Her throat tightened.
"Yes. Maybe," he answered hesitantly. His eyes took on a harder look. "Yes, I am okay. Today was just... difficult," he said firmly. His eyes blazed then softened. "Thank you for being with me."
Rowan nodded. Always, she thought instinctively, but she couldn't say it – wouldn't it be a lie? She spread her fingers against his waist, feeling his mass beneath her hands. He was so solid, so substantial. He felt real for the first time in ages.
"It's okay to miss her," she whispered. "But you know it's not your fault, right?"
Remus grimaced slightly. His grip on her tightened, and he leaned against her a bit. The pressure of his weight had never felt so comforting.
"I know," he whispered. "Thank you."
His thumbs brushed at her cheeks. He slid a hand into her dark mass of hair, tangling them there securely. A look of deep satisfaction spread across his features.
"I love you," he whispered.
Rowan didn't respond, but the feeling in her chest wasn't tight with panic. Warmth spread through her slowly, calmly. She felt her lips spread into a smile and her fingers pushed from his waist to his back. She slid into him, pressing herself against his form, feeling the curves of her body melt into his. She held him tightly to her, imagining that she could meld her bones into his. The tension in his arms tightened almost minutely for the briefest of moments before wrapping around her enthusiastically, nearly crushing her. She felt his breath hot against her neck, his fingers gripping her desperately. She could nearly taste his disbelief, his joy. It felt like hope.