Ch. 54 - Requiem

The water in the tub had chilled just below tepid, yet Emmeline remained.

Even a cleaning charm wasn't enough to make her feel truly clean. She needed to submerge herself in water. Maybe she'd come out of the bath feeling different; new.

Remus sat with her in the bathroom, but propped himself up against the door and kept his distance. Just being near her while she was bathing was the most intimate act they'd shared in ages, and silence was just about all they could muster in the meanwhile. For a long time, they just sat next to each other, Emmeline in the tub and Remus against the door, staring straight ahead.

"I thought you were dead," he rasped after a half hour or so. His gaze did not waver from the cabinets in front of him.

She brought her knees to her chest, whispering: "...I'm sorry."

"You can't leave me to wonder like that. Not after everything that's happened."

"I was so focused on Alice and Frank, I wasn't thinking-..." of you. She stopped herself just short of it, but not soon enough.

Remus concealed his hurt.

With her eyes drifting back to the tub, Emmeline changed the subject. "I think…I'm the reason they're…" she trailed off.

But Remus had heard this sort of talk before, with Marlene. "You always think you're to blame when something goes wrong."

"You don't understand," she breathed.

"I'm sure I don't," he shot back, his words sharpened with an edge of bitterness.

She rubbed her eyes with her palms. "I disobeyed orders. I fell for a distraction, and the aurors were so preoccupied with me that nobody was there to keep tabs on the perimeter. Frank walked right into a trap. If I'd just stayed put like I was supposed to, maybe he wouldn't have been taken," she explained, her voice coming out toneless and fragile. "And if he hadn't been taken, maybe Alice wouldn't have been either…"

Remus huffed an aching sigh and lowered his head. "I know what that feels like, believe me."

Wrong thing to say apparently.

Emmeline's lip curled up in revulsion. "This is not the same."

"Fine," he growled back, rising to his feet. "I wouldn't understand. You haven't been here. You don't talk to me about your training. You didn't tell me you were in the field now, or that you wouldn't be coming home, or anything. How could I know?"

"The Longbottoms have lost their minds, and you're whining about how I've not been around!?"

"Oh, excuse me madame auror, I must be such an imposition," he snapped, ripping the door open. "Clearly you're too busy with important Ministry matters to speak to me. Forgive me for trying to understand one thing about what's going on with you."

He stormed out and slammed the door - not a wise choice considering he was still recovering from his recent transformation. A pain shot through his shoulder and he grabbed it, muffling an expletive.

Then, disconcerting stillness.

Remus sat on the edge of the bed, huffing and puffing from the exertion. He waited for when she'd burst through the door to keep arguing; to tell him he was an arse, and that he was a useless sod, and that he was the reason their friends were dead, and that, and that, and that…

But she didn't. She remained in the bathroom for several minutes. It was so quiet, he wondered if she'd apparated, and he'd simply forgotten.

Guilt began to swell within the void that the pained silence had left. He'd barely slept, was upset about her no-notice absence, and still in an incredible amount of pain - physical and otherwise. Emmeline hadn't slept much either, even before the Longbottoms went missing. Even before the Ministry. She could have told him she didn't care for the brand of tea he liked, and they probably still would've been at each other's throats…

One thing he did know from their few-and-far-between conversations was that Frank and Alice had been incredibly supportive of Emmeline ever since she'd been hired at the ministry. And now, two more people they cared for were gone…

Just when he thought to go back into the bathroom, he heard the splish of the bathwater and footsteps on the tile. She came out in a robe moments later, looking exhausted beyond measure, but not upset.

"I'm sorry," she apologized for the third time that day, her eyes on the carpet.

No. He wanted for her to scream at him. She had every right to. This resignation only made him feel worse. "You don't have to-...I shouldn't've-..." he stumbled over the words. "It wasn't-...it wasn't fair of me to say those things."

Searching for the right words herself, Emmeline folded her arms. "You're right, I haven't been here. And I didn't-...At first it was because I was angry with you. I mean, I'm still-...but, it's not-...I think…I think there's something wrong with me," she concluded, her voice trembling. "I'm different."

Remus' stomach dropped. The way she said it made it sound like she was about to…no. No, she'd told him he was all she had left. Unless…had she changed her mind?

"Different how?" he asked apprehensively, trying to catch her gaze.

Recalling Bellatrix's crazed face, and words Mad Eye had said once about the difference between them and the death eaters, she attempted to surmise the shift she felt in herself. "I don't feel…good…anymore."

Her eyes remained fixed on the floor, try as Remus may to get her to look at him.

"It's like everything that I thought was good about myself went away. I can't feel sympathy, I can't feel remorse…I don't think I hear my conscience…now, where those things used to be, there's this…something else. Something worse. I had Travers in my hand, like this," she snarled, miming her grip around an imaginary collar. "Bellatrix Lestrange too. And everything around me just went red. All I wanted to do was hurt them. I wanted to watch the life leave their eyes; more than that, to be the one to take it from them. That's what I wanted. And the only reason I hesitated…it wasn't Mad-Eye, or honor, or anything like that. I just…I got scared of how it all made me feel…the only thing it made me feel…"

Remus swallowed. "...How did it make you feel?"

"...Alive," she confessed in a deep, gravelly tone.

She met his gaze then, and as if he could see it there in her eyes….

He'd gone numb and put his emotions behind a wall, but Emmeline had hardened into something else. She became the wall.

"I've got this black, ugly thing inside of me now. Like part of me rotted," she continued wearily. "I'm not good anymore, Remus. And Lily…I keep thinking how she'd hate the person I've turned into…"

After she said this, Remus couldn't help feeling partially to blame. She may not have been there physically as of late, but he hadn't been there for her before the funeral. Not only that, he'd kept that awful secret hidden. Maybe if he hadn't focused on his self preservation…maybe if he'd just let himself break with her, things would be different…

Having searched herself down to the marrow, she closed with this: "I think I lost a part of myself to the war that I'll never get back. And I think if I continue in this direction I'm headed now…more of me will rot away." Emmeline's blank stare softened ever so slightly, as if she were about to cry, but she didn't.

Her words resonated with him more than she knew, but Remus wasn't sure what to say to her. He didn't know if he could say anything…

Maybe he needn't say anything at all.

"...Get dressed," he urged. "There's…something I need to show you."

…

Snow crunched under their feet when they landed. Instantaneously, Emmeline realized where they'd apparated as soon as she smelled the juniper on the air.

It was nearly Christmas time in Godric's Hollow.

Remus began to walk out of the wooded area, but Emmeline could not bring herself to take a step. "Why have you brought us here?" she questioned anxiously, recalling the taste of smoke and tears.

"It'll be better to see for yourself," he assured, turning back. "We won't go past their house. We don't have to pass any of it." Then, cautiously, he took her hand and led her from the woods out to the road. It felt unfamiliar as if he'd never done it before, though he knew he'd done it a thousand times.

Every so often as they walked, he'd check Emmeline's face in his peripheral vision. She always loved the snow. She used to stare and stare at it with a childlike wonder that gave him a strange sense of hope and calm. He recalled how beautiful she looked as she beheld a fresh, glittering layer of it cloaking this village…

But with each step Emmeline just looked down at her boots, the flicker of awe and amazement extinguished. Snow held nothing for her anymore. Now, it was just something that covered her friends' graves.

Remus kept his word; making a point not to walk past theirs or the Potters' houses on their way to the village square. Just one more row of shops, and she'd see it…

"Just a bit further," he encouraged.

She hated being here. She hated the snow. She hated the cottages. She hated the juniper. She hated how strange Remus' hand felt. She hated the-

Obelisk.

There in the main courtyard of the town stood a large, stone obelisk that Emmeline had never seen before. Pausing their journey for a moment, Remus took a good look at the statue. It was inscribed with names, perhaps of muggles lost in one of their past wars. He was quite impressed with how they'd hidden the sculpture's true nature.

Emmeline shifted her weight. "This is what you wanted to show me?" To say this was hardly worth the trip was an understatement.

Still holding onto her hand, Remus began to approach the stone. "In a moment you'll see it," he explained. "It was enchanted so that it only appears to wizarding folk. The muggles just see a war memorial."

She wasn't sure what he meant; not until the obelisk began to shift in her vision as if it were a hologram.

Remus must've recognized what it was first, stopping to marvel at the new memorial before them. "She really did a marvelous job," he said under his breath.

It was then that Emmeline realized what the figure actually was.

The obelisk had gone. In its place now was a stone statue, out of which a man, a woman, and a baby had been masterfully crafted. James, Lily, and little Harry sat before her.

Emmeline could hardly believe her eyes. "How-…when-….?" she stammered.

"I wrote to the board of trustees in town and had it commissioned. Yesterday an owl arrived with a note from the artist saying she installed it. Told me it took her ages to get James' hair right..." He cracked a small smile, perhaps for the first time since Halloween.

She stood there speechless, feeling something she thought was long gone stirring inside of her. "It looks just like them," she mused in astonishment, enraptured by the masterpiece.

He withdrew a photo from his pocket and showed her what he'd given the sculptor for reference. She rubbed the photo between her thumbs, glancing between it and the stone faces a few times. Marlene had taken this; in the Potter's house, maybe during Christmas a year ago. Harry was only about five months old at the time. Marley had thought they looked so sweet, just sitting on the sofa as a family…

"It was in your box. I probably should have asked your permission for it, I didn't mean to be secretive," he clarified, acutely aware of his past transgressions.

"Remus," Emmeline whispered. "I can't believe you did all this…"

"I know you felt as though I didn't think it was important to honor them…I had to do something. A headstone in a graveyard is a drop in the ocean. They were so much more than that."

After their deaths, Remus feared that James and Lily would just be gone from the world forever as if they'd never been there; as if they'd never enriched his life beyond anything he ever thought possible. Even their son, the last remaining piece of them, was going to be taught to forget them. Now, as long as this statue stood to commemorate their lives, no dust could erode away their memory. He'd just needed to see them set in stone.

Emmeline ventured a few steps closer, drawing the photograph close to her chest. With her free hand, she reached out slowly until her fingers were brushing the stone of Lily's cheek. Goodness, the artist had paid attention. Even in stone, you could see the kindness radiating from her face. She quickly wiped away a tear, ashamed that she'd shed it. She hadn't cried in ages.

Remus met her where she was, looking almost apologetic. "...I'm different too," he offered. Not an admonition. Not a lecture.

An olive branch.

Emmeline exhaled and she turned to face him. "I know you are," she acknowledged. "It's stupid for me to pretend I'm the only one…" Ever since the funeral she'd been so angry with him that she had disregarded how broken he was too, and how much he blamed himself for what had happened. "I wish they were here to see what an incredible thing you've done for them…"

A lump rose in Remus' throat. Though he was thrilled with the statue, he didn't feel that he was incredible in the slightest, and a nagging voice kept reminding him of his negligence. "The fact that I get to grow up and they don't is utterly unfair," he whispered as his tears fell into the snow.

Understanding his meaning, Emmeline shook her head. "Don't say it like that. Imagine if they heard you say that…"

Despite everything she'd told him back at the flat, despite her residual anger, and despite feeling like she was different now, Emmeline tipped forward and embraced him. Remus was unsettled by how foreign her arms felt; but even though he was different now too, he squeezed her back tightly.

"...Do you think either of us will ever go back to how we were before?" she murmured into his neck, trying to remember who they used to be before Halloween.
"It's hard to say," Remus answered honestly. "Sometimes when things break they can't be mended…" Feeling her chest collapse the slightest bit against him, he released her from their embrace and tried to conjure a more comforting answer, even if he didn't really believe it himself. "...but I suppose whoever made this had to break away bits of the stone to get to the sculpture. And it turned out beautifully."

He observed the statue again. It was beautiful. They were beautiful. "I just thought that maybe someday Harry could come to see them here," he shared aspirationally.

A small smile escaped the supervision of Emmeline's hardened heart. "...I think he'll be very grateful when he does."

They lingered at the foot of the statue until the cold became too much, and even longer after that. Remus found it difficult to bring himself to leave, even though he was shivering.

"I'm not ready to let them go," he lamented, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I don't know if I ever will be."

"...Then let's not," Emmeline reasoned. "Let's not ever let them go." She harkened back to what Alastor had said to her in the tunnel. Maybe, eventually, she could let go of the anger and just hold on to them without it.

"...If I don't, it'll just hurt forever."

"...I'll be hurting next to you."