34. Sun

February was drawing to an end, and there was still no word from Remus. My fear for him was what began to thaw the numbness which had gripped me since the full moon.

I understood that I should have given up on him by now. Fred had said so himself, and I had begun to equate his voice with my own internal wisdom. But the dream had worried me.

I believed that by now, after a month and so many patronuses, Remus would have at least told me that he was safe. The fact that even the Ministry's owls hadn't been able to find him was very concerning. I had an awful gut feeling that he was not alright.

Besides all that, I was hanging on because I still loved him.

I worked up the bravery and sent him another patronus, finally telling him about the miscarriage. I decided I wouldn't say anything about Lucius, however. Knowing about that, and knowing it was partly his fault, would have kept him away forever.

I conjured my raven once I had my words in order.

"Remus. I lost the baby last month. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. The Ministry says I have to be remarried if I don't see you again before the fifth of March. I know it will be right after the moon. If you are somewhere far away, and you can't get to me, then tell me where you are and I will come to you. Are you safe? Nobody knows where you are."

It felt too late for words like 'I miss you,' and 'I love you,' so I ended it there. The raven absorbed my message and fizzled away into a haze, and then into nothing.

Molly had a letter which she took to worrying absentmindedly in her hands. She kept it with her always, and sometimes I would catch her reading it. Only in moments when she didn't seem to realise I was watching. The paper soon became quite frayed, and I couldn't help but be curious.

"Who's it from?" I asked her, after she'd held onto it for three days. I was helping her to make the pies for dinner, and nodded my head towards her apron pocket, where the letter was presently folded.

"It's nothing important, dear," she said, folding over a soft crust.

"You keep it with you all the time, and you read it over and over. Seems important."

I shouldn't have minded, but there was a kind of suspicion in me which I didn't yet understand.

Molly shook her head. We worked in silence for a minute.

"Don't you think you should take that off?" Molly said at length. I saw that she was talking about my ring.

I felt an unpleasant weight in my throat. "No," I said quietly.

There was another terrible moment of silence.

"What, do you think I should?" I asked.

"As a matter of fact, yes." Molly was still focusing on her pie, and I could tell that she really meant it, because it seemed like she didn't want to look at me.

I felt a bit of fire in myself, a bit of resistance. "Well, I don't want to."

She shook her head. "Why are you keeping it on? It's been weeks now."

"I know it has."

Did she think I didn't know how long it had been? Why was she saying this? It was the first intense tension I'd felt between the two of us since I'd come home. I felt tears rising quickly to my eyes. I had become accustomed to being tiptoed around, and I felt guilty for my extreme sensitivity.

"I'm not criticising you, dear," she said. "But I don't think it's healthy, keeping it on anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't think he's coming back."

I was speechless. I felt the tears slip over the edges of my eyes.

Molly was stirring the filling rather gruffly. "And even if he did, I wouldn't condone you giving him a second chance."

I wiped away the tears. "I'm waiting," I said, keeping my voice controlled.

"I don't foresee you taking it off after the fifth of march, if you won't take it off now."

"I'm keeping it on, Molly."

She looked up at me for the first time, her eyes hurt. I'd been calling her mum, and calling her by her name was probably a bit insulting. I hadn't done it intentionally, and I felt bad.

"I'm not going to rip it off your finger," she reasoned. "But I think you should give up the wishful thinking and start considering someone new."

"I don't want to."

She set the wooden spoon against the rim of the mixing bowl and turned on me, her hands on her hips. "Wilma, have you seen yourself? As well as you're doing… You must notice how much weight you've lost. And you have grey hairs on your head."

I had noticed both of those things, but I didn't care. I certainly didn't blame them on Remus.

I suddenly had a terrible thought. "Mum," I said. "Is that letter you've got from Remus?"

She looked deeply offended. Her voice softened, and I felt a bit less like I had to steel myself against her. "Wilma, I would never keep such a thing from you."

Finally I dissolved into tears, and sat down in one of the nearby chairs. My anxiety from waiting in vain for Remus to respond to my patronus overflowed now.

"I'm afraid for him," I confessed, through my tears. I saw that Molly was listening, but there was an expression in her eyes that told me she still wasn't seeing my side. "I know he's a difficult person, but he's not a cruel one. I know he would have sent me some news by now, if he was okay. Even just to tell me he was alive, even if he still didn't come back…"

"All of that may be true," Molly said. "But I don't think he's been harmed. I think if he were going to come back he would have done so by now. It's time for you to move on."

I shook my head not wanting to accept it. My stomach ached from how much I missed him.

"It was only three months, darling," Molly said, her voice finally warm and motherly again. "You have a long life ahead of you."

Her words stirred more resistance in me, but I didn't say anything more. I allowed myself to be given tea and biscuits, allowing my tears to dissipate. I sat there while Molly finished the pies, put them in the oven, and cleaned the kitchen. As I set the table for the two of us and Arthur, I knew she was right. Maybe not about Remus being completely safe, but about him not coming back.

Arthur came home from the Ministry just as the pies were coming out of the oven. We sat down to a very quiet dinner. Arthur seemed to sense that something had passed between Molly and me, but made no comment. He was too exhausted to speak about what his day had been like.

"I was thinking," Molly said, after a time, "of inviting Andromeda for a visit. She'd bring Teddy with her, of course. But I wanted to ask you first, Wilma."

"Of course," I said, trying to keep the numbness from my voice. "I'd love to see them both."

I never had gotten an answer about Molly's letter, but after that night I didn't see it again.

They arrived on a breezy afternoon towards the end of the month. Andromeda had drained since I'd last seen her. Caring for Teddy must have felt very different, knowing that Remus wasn't around. She looked tired to the bone, and relieved at the prospect of being a guest for a little while.

I felt an unexpected response in myself when I saw Teddy. I felt almost wary of him, as though he would sense that something was deeply wrong with me, deeply ruined. But he came toddling right up to me when Andromeda set him down.

He was ten months old now. His hair took on a golden blond colour whenever he came into sight of me. He brought an undeniable warmth to my heart, and gave me a sense of hope and strength. Also, of course, he was a painful reminder of Remus. When I was watching him crawl through the garden, or holding him back while he dipped his toes into the river, there was a swelling in my throat, and I might have cried, if I wasn't afraid of worrying him.

After the second day, Molly declared that Andromeda needed a holiday. Some time to herself, with no responsibilities. "We've been very empty, here, with everyone off making their own ways. We'd be happy to keep Teddy for a while."

I felt my eyes brighten at the prospect of more time with the boy. I realised that it was what I wanted more than anything.

Andromeda beat around the bush for another day, but eventually confessed to wanting to go to France. There was an inn where she had spent time with Ted Tonks before having Nymphadora, and she wanted to walk along the old beaches again. It was the sight of my puzzle which seemed to remind her. "Those rocks are just near there," she told me.

"It sounds beautiful," Molly said. I personally thought that she deserved a holiday, but knew that it would have been maddening rather than comforting; all of the time and silence, nothing and no-one to take care of.

Andromeda packed her bags again, promising to send a letter or two, with photographs. Teddy cried when she left, but was soon happy again.

I cared for him with my whole heart. He made me briefly forget about that part of me which I'd feared was dark and irreparable. He spent all of his waking time with me, and I did everything he wanted. I'd never expected myself to like taking care of a young child, but I found myself deeply enjoying it. Teddy's gentleness, and the gentleness that was required of me when I was with him, drove from my mind the violence I'd suffered.

I returned to sleeping on the couch. Arthur had set up the old family crib near the fireplace for Teddy to sleep in, and I wanted to be near him at night.

I remembered how much he loved David Bowie, and went into Fred and George's old room for some of their old muggle records. There was Let's Dance, which Teddy had danced to at Andromeda's house, and The Beatles' Abbey Road, which I knew he would like.

The record player at the Burrow had played more Celestina Warbeck than anything–since that was practically all Molly ever listened to. But it remembered the muggle records well enough, and seemed happy to be playing them again. Teddy laughed and cheerfully wiggled to the familiar sound of Bowie's voice, and I soon had him hooked on "Here Comes the Sun."

"Don't spoil him too much, dear," Molly said. "He'll get accustomed to it."

But I saw in her eyes a kind of nostalgic warmth, and didn't take her words too seriously.

But there was another side to my time with Teddy. Having him there made my worries about Remus grow deeper and darker.

Soon it was the first of March, the eve of the full moon.

I'd decided to give up sending patronuses since the last one. Molly's words had stuck and there was a small part of me that really did want to move on. But after putting Teddy to sleep that night, anxiety filled my body, and without thinking it through I was conjuring my raven.

I felt myself trembling, a sudden coldness in my blood. When I spoke it was my deepest self, praying for his safety.

"Please don't leave me like this. I know you made a mistake, but I forgive you, and I still love you. I don't even care if you come back anymore. I just need to know… I'm afraid for you. I don't think you would be so silent if you weren't… I can't save you if you don't help me."

I felt my throat close up from emotion, and my raven waited for me to continue. Teddy had woken again, and was watching the raven. He rolled over with a questioning warble.

"Go on," I said, stroking his shy blue hair. "Say something to your dad."

Teddy's eyes opened a bit wider, and then grew sad. He warbled again at the raven.

I felt guilty. I didn't want Remus to think I was using Teddy against him. But I also didn't know how to cancel a patronus.

"Please," I said, when Teddy had gone quiet. "Please, tell me what's wrong."

And then the raven flapped away.

Teddy reached up to me and I lifted him out of the crib, hugging him for a while. He cooed against my neck and I hummed until he had fallen asleep again.

I worked on my puzzle by lamplight for a while. It was nearly finished now. Then I made up my bed on the couch. I laid down and looked at the clouds and the stars in the sky through the window, listening to Teddy's gentle breathing and holding my arms around myself. It was a long time before I fell asleep.

The fifth of March came and went, and I finally had to face reality. I had to think about a new husband. It was no easy feat, as the mere thought of Remus still made my body cramp with heartache. I had another bad dream about him. He sat in a very dark place in the ground, the blue light of my endless patronuses showing against his exhausted grey face. I didn't know why, but I knew he couldn't leave, couldn't answer.

But there was nothing I could do. I had to start letting go.

I finally took off his mother's ring on the tenth of March. I put it into my small drawstring pouch and put the pouch into the bottom of my drawer, underneath Fred's clothes. This didn't mean I had to forget Remus, or that I expected any of my complicated emotions to change or disappear. But I knew Molly was right. Putting the ring out of sight was the first step to releasing my pain.

The weather was changing. There were many days without rain, and the sun was out more often, a quick wind moving the clouds across the sky.

Andromeda returned from France looking well rested, and took Teddy back to her home. I went back to my routines, fighting emptiness.

NOTE

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