Chapter 47 - A Study in Erosion, Continued

October 24th

A month had passed.

The leaves outside the beveled glass began to adopt autumn hues.

The flat was still small.

Exeter was still quiet.

But the mattress no longer felt like a death bed.

Emmeline must've taken whatever Alastor said to heart, and Remus watched as she slowly began to choose to live for Marlene rather than die because of her. First it was that she began getting herself out of bed earlier and earlier - one day back in September, Remus awoke amazed to find that she had risen before he'd even opened his eyes, and had already left a bowl of porridge next to his dose of Wolfsbane for that day. The second good sign came when she worked back up to eating her usual amount and getting seconds at dinner, building her strength back up for the day she was allowed to rejoin the fight. She missed her friends and little Harry terribly, and the sadness had not left her by any means, but at least it was no longer ravaging her.

This was not to say she had completely healed either, and Remus suspected they probably never would. Some nights she would wake up screaming, coughing even, having escaped a nightmare of the house fire. There was one particularly bad episode when it seemed no amount of shaking or calling her name could pull her from the flames in her mind. Remus had to put her in the shower, pajamas and all, just to bring her back to reality. But tonight was different; Tonight he found her awake, thankfully not screaming, and instead sitting on the floor with her knees tucked against her chest:

2:41am

Remus stirred from sleep, as his body had grown accustomed to waking up in the middle of the night. When he realized she was not next to him, he began to worry. "Emmeline?"

"Down here," called a voice from the ground. His concern was quelled.

Scooting to the other side of the mattress, he found her sitting with her back up against the bed and lowered himself down next to her. "Did you have another nightmare?"

"Not tonight, no," she muttered.

"What is it?"

"...I can't remember the last thing I said to her."

Remus sighed, laid a consoling hand upon her knee, and withheld any attempts to advise her. Instead, he just let her talk.

"I'm almost certain it wasn't what I would have said if I'd known it'd be the last thing...She came over after the operation in Knockturn. You were still gone and I was feeling a bit lonely and she just...spent time with me. Because she was a good friend. We opened a bottle of wine. I can't remember everything we talked about, let alone the last thing I said to her, but it wasn't...I wish…"

She trailed off for a moment, then started again. "It's just...I remember the last thing I said to my dad, you know?" Her mouth hinted at a smile. Remus was surprised; Emmeline rarely felt comfortable enough to speak about losing her father.

"He was dropping me back off at the train after Easter, and he told me he was proud of me for finishing school and studying hard for N.E.W.T.s and whatnot. I hardly left my room that holiday because I was preparing for exams, and I told Dad I was sorry that I hadn't spent more time with him and Mum while I was home; but he told me he was proud of me, and to say hello to you. And then I told him I loved him and I promised to spend more time with him once we were off for summer. Obviously I wish I'd had the foresight to get my head out of my bloody books, but I'm glad that the last thing I said was 'I love you.' I just wish I had said something more meaningful like that to Marley."

Remus nodded, as he'd felt similarly about his own mother's death; he couldn't remember the last thing he'd said to her, let alone the last time they'd spoken before she passed. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had the chance to speak to Marlene either. Because of this cross he bore for Dumbledore and the Order, he'd been absent for most of the last year. Now, with this realization, Emmeline's sadness began to creep into his own.

"So what would you say to her?" he asked.

"...What do you mean?"

"If you could go back and do it again, what would you say to her?" he elaborated, pondering this for himself as well.

Emmeline was surprised by his question, and thought very deliberately about her answer; but she eventually just shook her head. "Nothing I'm coming up with seems good enough now."

"Me neither."

A cold silence took over their conversation.

...

9:26am

Then came morning, and though he didn't know it yet, today would be the first day Remus would no longer be able to distract himself with Emmeline's pain, forcing him to reckon with his own. It took him by surprise - he was about to scramble eggs for breakfast, right in the pan, when he suddenly recalled Marlene and could not even bring himself to crack the egg he'd been holding. It slipped from his grasp onto the floor and he began to cry. Emmeline emerged from the bedroom to find the egg broken on the floor and Remus leaning up against the stove with tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I miss her," he sniffled, wiping his face with his forearm. "The stupid eggs."

Emmeline looked at him wistfully and flicked her wand over the mess so that it gathered itself into the rubbish bin. "She was very particular about them, wasn't she?"

"Too particular. They taste the same...It doesn't matter. I don't think I want them anymore."

"Toast and jam will suffice," Emmeline suggested, flicking off the stove and hugging him from behind.

After breakfast they ended up going back to bed, where Remus stared at the ceiling in somber silence for much of the day. Emmeline took a lesson from his patience with her, and made no attempts to console him. Though she hoped he might locate the end of the tunnel sooner than she had, she was prepared to wait for him should he get lost in the darkness along the way.

But what she could not see was that there was something else weighing on Remus: Somehow, Marlene's death seemed to mark the end of the Marauders, or at least the end of his place among them.

Wormtail was hiding in some unknown location, and his whereabouts were, for whatever reason, never disclosed to Remus. He assumed that Sirius must've poisoned Peter's view of him. Earlier in the year whenever Remus was home from one of his trips, he would try to pass a letter for Peter off to James as often as he could, but never once got a reply. He'd eventually stopped trying.

Padfoot hadn't spoken to him since long before the fire, and the loss of Marlene had not changed that; if anything, Remus assumed it had probably exacerbated their falling-out. Though Remus' heart ached for Sirius, he could not prevent himself from harboring a painful resentment towards him. Sure, the war had taken a toll on all of them, but if Sirius doubted where Remus' loyalties lie, he must've never known him at all. More cynically, Remus thought it all seemed too convenient; it's much easier to hide your own secrets when you have a werewolf for a scapegoat, and the Black family closet was bursting with skeletons. However, if he was being honest, Remus often found himself missing his friend - or at least how things used to be.

Prongs was the only member of the Marauders who seemed to still care for Remus at all. Undeterred by Sirius' distrust, James had stuck by Remus' side through everything as he always did. Before the events in July, he and Emmeline were always welcome at the Potters', and Remus had visited as often as he could between assignments (which, regrettably, was not all too often). He had never quite figured out how to act around the baby, which never failed to amuse James and Lily, and yet watching the Potters step into their roles as parents was immensely endearing to him. Remus had grown up with loving parents, but there was just something about the way James and Lily doted on Harry...Remus missed them terribly.

Little did he know that a conversation taking place in Godric's Hollow would alter the course of his and his friends' lives forever.