# Unrequited

Il Duce

Rating: PG
Genres: Drama
Relationships: Lily & James
Book: Lily & James, Books 1 - 6
Published: 18/05/2005
Last Updated: 22/04/2006
Status: In Progress

BEFORE NYMPHADORA TONKS, THERE WAS LILY EVANS. All his life, the only kind of love which Remus Lupin felt was the one-sided type. Always loving but never loved, enduring years of fevered worship in silence. But when Lily announces her marriage to James, he resorts to soaking his liver in alcohol. Upon almost dying, he wakes up as the 11-year old newly besotted with an unreachable angel; in his hands were the time and opportunity to change everything, even for whom the bells will toll in the future! Bitterness, thine ship is R/L/J.

## 1. Pathetique

The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return."

-Christian, Moulin Rouge

.

.

.

.

And there she is: a sparkling vision, smiling despite the fact that her clothes are already soaked through and through. It’s easy to spot her, even from afar, in the midst of the usual Diagon Alley crowd. Her wine-colored tresses traced her alabaster skin in ornate curves. He always believed that she was a lady filled with a special kind of light.

Today, as he looks at her, unconsciously absorbing her, he remembers the time as he spoke to her of the stars that lay beneath her emerald eyes, telling her that she could not glow any brighter than she did then. Yet, the way she looked today readily made him eat his words.

She edges nearer to him through the rapidly thinning sea of people, smelling of rain. That intoxicating scent of her seeps through his heightened senses, maddening his own pulse into an erratic running. Suddenly, his whole world comes into a flat line as she embraces him, her laughter trailing in his ears.

And that world disappears as she presses her lips against his cheek, heedless of the two-day stubble he had neglected to shave.

But she only hugs and kisses him as a brother. That much he knew—painfully so—that the sobering thought pulls him back to reality with such a resounding thud he could almost taste the dirt between his teeth.

Then he realizes she was talking to him.

‘...so sorry. I knew it was so sudden and unexplained but…’ she paused, those fathomless orbs piercing his own. She gently cups the side of his face with a surprisingly warm palm. His hands almost cramped in holding back the abrupt, insane urge in him to hold her hand and tell her—tell her now!—what he had been keeping back all those years.

‘I really, REALLY, need to see you, Remus. I wanted to say something to you.’

The palm settles on his shoulder and he notices that unsettling void her hand had made on his cheek, one more permanent imprint of her. His voice was hoarse when he finally opened his mouth, wanting to say ‘So do I’ but he shifted it into a curve and told her to go on.

‘James proposed last night. And—Remus, you’re such a dear to listen to my blabbering but I know you understand my need to say SOMETHING to SOMEBODY…oh! What am I saying!—I told him yes. And, it’s a surprise for all of us, honestly and I also know there are little things that are bound to get in the way—well, not just little, you know that—and…’

All of the sudden, the girl part-embraces, part-strangles the boy, jumping up and down, up and down, screaming like words of massacre in his ears.

‘I’M GETTING MARRIED!!!’

She shouts, laughs, cries, throttling him as if it was the only manner how she could share her happiness with him.

What she didn’t know was that in that same moment, the entirety of the universe had fallen down on the boy’s shoulders, ripping the wind off his throat and his stomach along with it. He was so sure his heart stopped for one whole minute in her during her ecstatic squealing. He couldn’t feel a single thing.

!!!BREATH YOU FOOL!!!

A rational neuron hollers at the remaining conscious part of his brain. And so he does, and his nerves sizzle every single muscle fiber he possessed as lightning courses through his veins with the incoming wind.

He couldn’t get enough air in his lungs, considering that an invisible herd of elephants was using his diaphragm as their trampoline for setting a Guinness World Record for Most Elephants Jumping in a minute. Violent blots of pink obscures his eyes and his brain was mashing itself in a psychosomatic blender.

‘Remus!’ he hears her shout from another reality, as the cobblestones met his face none to gently. She whips something from her coat pocket and shoves it under his nose.

It was a brown paper bag. He despairingly clings to the fragile brown material, his breath almost tearing its paper walls. It is the only thing keeping him alive, refraining his soul from leaving his frozen flesh.

Impossibly, after ten centuries in ten minutes, he does get through, breath still ragged, though. Eventually, his breath slows down. But the two-ton pachyderms refuses to stop, or at least slow down in their murderous bounding. Worse, they had donned killer stilettos on their rear feet too. The absence of blood in his head filled his ears with a thunderous white noise. The presence of too much of it in his chest clogged what path there was for breath and rationale.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked faintly, nudging him by his shoulder when he grew frighteningly still.

‘I’m dead.’ He declared. Seeing he stooping over him, he weakly asked ‘Am I in heaven?’

‘Don’t be silly, Moony! ‘Course you’re not!’ she gave an unladylike snort but blushed nevertheless.

‘And you’re not dead. As a matter of fact, you’re so alive, you are going to be the one who will walk by my side on a plush red carpet in—no, not in robes’ her eyebrows knit for a moment to erase the unwanted detail in her dream and wove on ‘—but in a black tux and give me away on my wedding day.’ She nods emphatically at his traumatized, wide-eyed stare.

‘That is,’ she adds, ‘if you’ll agree.’ She gives him a wink and a smile as if everything is so bloody all right.

The abruptness of which he stands up catches the girl unaware. With her jaw open, she watches him furiously striding away from her that she had to run to keep up with him.

‘Iccantdothis.Iccantdothis.Iccantdothis.’ He mutters at her as she breathlessly held him back.

‘But—Remus! Stop walking, would you!!!’ A desperate note swims for two seconds after she spoke. And only after those moments does the desperation reach his mentally corked ears.

‘I can’t do this either. Not without you!’

Two mercurial orbs searches her own. Perhaps seven hundred people have already died as he seeks uncomprehendingly. Finally, the boy relents and he stops his efforts on tugging his hand away from her alarming grip.

‘Why me?’

The question was merely a whisper. He did not mean to really direct the inquiry at the girl. Yet she takes one bewildered backward step.

‘Why not your father, or …or Dumbledore or someone else, just not me!’ His own query found a voice, newborn-frail, trembling and afraid, but it wounds surprisingly deep her unsuspecting dreams.

‘Because you know as much as I do that my dad and mum disowned me the moment I left them to live in the wizarding world and become a Healer and be with—‘ she does not finish the sentence and turns away from him.

‘It’s because you’re the closest thing I had as a brother, if not my da right now.’

Silence invades the spaces of peace before his awkward words stumble out. ‘I’m so sorry, Lily. I…I forgot. I was shocked. I still am and I don’t think I can do this.’ He finishes politely, careful not to spill his guts as he screamed and spliced himself inside.

!!I can’t do this because I—

Even his consciousness was too cautious for him to accept his inward cries.

‘Never mind. If you don’t want to, I’ll go to somebody else. Dumbledore might even agree.’ She mumbles, but an audible sniffle comes immediately after the statement.

Was she crying? Out of disappointment?

He settles on her shoulders both of his hands and makes her turn around.

‘You are.’

‘Are what?’

‘I mean,’ he sheepishly joins his fragmented thoughts, ‘you are crying.’

‘No, silly. I just got something in my…eye.’ The last word is muffled as he reels the miserable, sniffling girl.

His quicksilver eyes were suddenly withdrawn and tired but at least he was smiling down at her.

‘I hate it when you pull that act on me.’

Another sniffle replies to his comment.

‘Fine. I’ll walk you to James. Happy now?’

A relieved laugh bursts from her and she throws her weight at him again, arms flung to his much higher neck.

‘I knew it! I knew I could count on you!’ she squeals triumphantly. ‘You always make me the happiest girl in the world.’

He attempts to swallow the enormous lump in his airway but nearly choked. Biting back the bitter saltiness, he couldn’t tell her that someone else already did that before him.

James was her sole reason for true happiness. Not ever, in this life or the next, will he be ever able to change that.

Closing his eyes to Lily’s beaming grin, the elephants begins using jack knife pogosticks while double-somersaulting their way up his ventricles.

He doesn’t know if he would still be alive tomorrow.

## 2. Wine, a Woman and a Song

UNREQUITED

.

.

.

.

My name, if you haven’t figured that out by now, is Remus John Lupin; a proud marauder, and a less-than-as-proud-as-I-can-get lycanthrope. By exactly the same day next week, maybe you’ll find that I won’t be as sane or as the same as I am now. No, I am not talking about my transformation. Bite and scratch myself as I probably would, that is the least of my worries. That’s because next week, Lily Evans would be walking down the aisle with me by her side…

…unfortunately, I am not the groom in this wedding.

Of all the things that I could be in the wedding, I am the one to give her away, as a sort of substitute for her absent father, muggle and estranged as her family is.

And of all the people to whom she would wed, it is to one of my best mates who is none other that James Potter.

Shakespeare would’ve gotten a bloody grand time writing a play after me would he have known me, if unrequited love truly is the greatest tragedy of all.

If how I feel is any indication of the gravity of my situation, it probably is.

However, I don’t seem to be a Romeo. You see, I’m still living when I SHOULD be dead, like all tragic heroes do.

But Romeo got Juliet to die with him. At least they’re both dead, and they died in mutual affection. That cannot be tragic. I don’t see what’s so sad about that. I mean that’s already frigging happy! Crappy, giggling, tra-la-la-dance-with-me, deliriously rose-tinted happy.

I’m still living. A pity, really. That, ladies and gentlemen, is a tragedy. THE tragedy.

Compared to love, everything is just so fucking happy. Even death.

Maybe I really should get a play named after me; soliloquy, drama, drapes and all that. That would be great. Then I kill myself at the very end WITHOUT the girl, I’d beat the bard at his eloquent weavings that he meant to make people weep with.

…

‘Shut the door, will you?’ A portly gentleman seated near the doorway shouted at Sirius as he walked in the Leaky Cauldron. Now, shouting at Sirius Black when one is a stranger is not really the way to catch his attention or his obedience. The only thing one would court is a purplish-black spot on one eye and a bleeding nose, if circumstances were usual and would allow him to be violent—which is most of the time the very circumstance in any tavern. Punch someone, ah! who the hell cares?

Yet today was not included in the most of the time, for it, as he recognized a few hours ago, was the day that his best friend, only very recently monogamous, announced himself ready and ABSOLUTELY WILLING to settle down. The very idea! Indeed, he thought of it a bit too early for its likeliness to occur but it happened today, and the day must be merited with its Unusual Day label of recognition, definitely exempted from the label of Most of the Time days.

It being unusual, Sirius simply opened the door far too open for the early fall draft and the heat escape far too much before striding down the counter and let his thoughts meander.

‘Hmm.’ The innkeeper acknowledged his presence with this curious sound. It wasn’t an I’m-thinking-really-profoundly-hmm, nor was it the fine-whatever-hmm, but it was a immeasurably-intriguing-something-must-be-up-and-I-should-know-why-hmm.

As the man opened his mouth, Sirius spoke up and answered him before the former began to inquire. ‘James’ walking down the aisle.

‘Oh.’

‘You understand now?’

Bushy eyebrows flew up and made an odd seesaw motion that reminded Sirius of delirious caterpillars. ‘Not really.’

A deft movement, the satisfying thud of a pint and a piping hot butterbeer steamed right in front of the young wizard even without a single word pertaining to asking for a beverage. ‘You know your customer.’ He gratefully gathered the pewter mug to his frozen hands.

‘Ah. I do, indeed, and not just their usual orders.’

Sirius stopped drinking and frowned. ‘And what are you implying?’

The owner went on working, cleaning glasses, and let a pregnant, thoughtful pause linger. ‘If my memory serves me correctly, as I know the four of you—young masters Potter, Black, Lupin and…’ The eyebrows bunched in recollection.

‘Pettigrew. All right, go on.’

‘Yes, Pettigrew. Well, you ought to be happy for Master James.’

Too quickly did Sirius retort, ‘Who said I’m bloody unhappy?’, only to elicit a knowing look from the man.

‘Your expression, and how you barge in…not enough arrogance in them, if you know what I’m saying.’

‘Bollocks.’ Came from behind the other end of the raised mug.

Refilling the emptied mug, the bartender could only raise his shoulders. ‘If you insist, then I won’t push it. But I won’t deny that how the other one down there is drinking is a mite too strong to ignore.’

For an entire minute, Sirius’ eyes bored hard at the man’s apron-tied back, mulling over the words. Then they swiveled at the very end of the drink-stained counter where firelight alighted as gingerly as possible. He did not exactly know if he said aloud the plethora of vulgarity in his mind or that he saved his dignity by keeping it underneath his palate. What he did know was that he never could rip his agnostic stare off the bent shadow lingering on the said spot. Reaching the familiar visage, he boldly swung the man to face him and proved the veracity of what his eyes saw.

‘Bloody weeping hell! If it isn’t Remus John Lupin sitting here AND with booze at hand! Damn it! If I’m not mistaken, the world’s end will come before I could even greet tomorrow!’

If it wasn’t the abrupt pull that disgruntled the werewolf, it was the crude, gaping expression plastered all over the very slightly canine face. He was grinning! Hell’s sake! For a moment, Remus wished that grinning and staring, separate or together, should be banned from civilization—or at least civilization’s watering holes.

‘I’m over 17 now, Padfoot. I am allowed to drink so shut up.’ He attempted to swig from his pint but the other would have none of it and drank from it.

‘But until now, my dear shapeshifter, you have not indulged in that privilege. Never before.’ He pulled up a chair and continued grinning.

‘Stay away from me, Sirius Black. Please.’ Remus warned but, strangely, there was hardly a real threat in his sodden voice, meaningfully though he said it.

‘And what are you going to do with me? Curse me?

‘Yeah.’

‘Mate, you have never cursed even a single person in your entire life, self-defense reasons excluded.’

‘And so? You’d be the first.’

Sirius placed his pint over his chest and batted his eyelashes. ‘I’m touched and honored, really. But no, thank you very much. So…’ once more he surveyed Remus and stifled his amusement quite unsuccessfully. ‘…what’s with all this dolorous sentimentality? Family wiped out? Cancer in your bones? The apocalypse, maybe?’

‘You know the news. I suppose James told you.’

Sirius gave a mock-comprehending ‘Ah…’ However, the menace in his grin was not to be taken lightly. ‘What news?’

‘Bugger off, Sirius. We both know what I am talking about.’

‘Assuming that I don’t, enlighten me. I have my suspicions but I want to embarrass you further by hearing the reason of your very visible misery from you lips.’

Typical of him, Remus thought but cannot avoid but offer a slight smile at the predatory inquisition. At least something was unchanged.

‘Damn you, Padfoot.’

‘You’re very welcome.’

Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps we was driven mad, so he welcomed open arms the other’s offensive banter.

‘James and Lily for all eternity getting hitched? Rings a bell?’

Sirius’ barking laughter rose above the haze of chatter and metal clinking. Patting Remus at the back, he said, ‘Now shame was not so bad, was it?’

Pat, pat, pat. Remus felt the gesture echo in the hollows of his ribcage. The glint in his companion’s eyes foretold of agony on the way.

‘Something tells me,’ Sirius continued, ‘that we should be happy for James. And then I see you here and I see wounds so raw inside you that you’re choking in blood.’

‘And you are not helping.’ Remus shot back. The comment slid off unheard. He toyed around with the pewter handle, trying to find words. ‘It’s about Lily…’

‘waitwaitWAIT! Stop!’ If Sirius’s smile was not manic before, it sure was now. There were far too many teeth in the gesture. ‘I think I know where this is heading. You’re going to tell me that you’ve loved little Miss Evans from the very moment you saw her and you want to kill James for popping the question before you did, is that it?’

The look on Remus’ face was alone worth all those years of reading his heart. Naturally, it was an added incentive to hear the disbelief in his voice. ‘How did you—‘

‘Dear boy, I know you far too well. I’m not Sirius for just about anything. Ears and eyes would suffice.’

A thoughtful smile dappled across Lupin’s face. Then, Sirius was puzzled what that was about. Later, he registered it as relief. He expected the boy to be aflutter, red-faced and sputtering. But not at peace.

‘Was I so obvious?’

‘uhhhsortofkindofmaybeslightlyperhapsYEAH.’ Sirius seemed delighted at his confession. ‘Yeah, really. Positively. One hundred to the infinitestimal per cent.’

‘You all right with the idea?’

Raising his hands, he replied, ‘Look. I’m not James and Lily is not my girl so I’m completely fine with it. I mean, you don’t have enough evil in you to be a bastard and kidnap her on the very day of the wedding or poison James in his sleep, so okay. I’m good.’

The werewolf bit his lower lip. ‘Do you think James knows?’

‘Ahh. You know James. Maybe he has a very faint inkling. But sometimes, the reptilian hide of his can be so scaly, not even the loudest of professions of love would penetrate. Remember Hogwarts?’

Remus chuckled silently.

‘The fact is,’ Sirius sank his chin on his hand, ‘he wanted to appear so appealing, he’d probably die first then before admitting that he preferred one girl above the rest. That’s why he did all those stupid things in public.’

‘That’s why she abhorred him back then.’ Remus put in and sighed. ‘But you’re wrong, Padfoot.’

‘Wrong about what?’

‘About me wanting to kill James.’ Lupin rubs his face and blankly empties his pint. ‘It is not his fault if he fell for Lily. Plus, she’d murder me first if I ever did something to him.’

‘Lucky bastard.’ He stretched his hand for another refill. The owner waddled to them and gave them another round. The door opened again and several long-locked wizards garbed in formerly sumptuous garments, now weather-worn and patched, entered, heralding their arrival with a song and a burst of drunken giggles.

Behind Sirius, someone commented, ‘Great. Minstrels.’

Cramming themselves in the narrowest table, they hailed for the bar maid. She sauntered there, where she was met by gallant gestures and air kisses. Yet she met it with an icy demand for their orders. Walking away, one of them stepped up on a stool and made a little speech.

‘For a lovely lady with stones for a heart, a muggle song!’

He gave rapid commands to his fellows. Immediately, a companion of his produced a fiddle and struck a note.

‘Now you say you’re lonely, you cried the whole night through…

Well you can cry me a river, cry me a river…

I cried a river over you…

The trilling baritone of the man’s voice, echoed by the shrill fiddle, touched a few heartstrings in the crowd, as more than a few were listening in total attention.

‘You drove me, nearly drove me out of my head…

But you never shed a tear…

Remember, I remember all that you said…

You told me love was too plebeian…

Told me that you were through with me.’

Sirius took a moment to glance at Remus. Not once, since he met the lycanthrope, did he think of Remus as the weeping kind. He hid his feelings too well behind a smile. Even in anger, he was sober. If there was anyone that had his head over his heart, it was Lupin.

‘Remus…’ he touched the boy’s shoulder.

He startled, cringed when he realized that he had shed tears. He smiled, nevertheless.

‘I…Sore spot I touched there?’

He stood up, laid a sickle and several knuts on the wooden counter. ‘Nah. It’s nothing. Just the drink getting the better of me. I’d better go, mate.’ Raising his eyes to the ceiling, he asked, ‘Suppose if I said something to Lily, like she was more than a friend to me or something, do you think all this would change?’

He strode off without waiting for Sirius to answer. The door swung after him.

‘Just don’t throw yourself at the Thames, alright?’ Sirius called after him, recovering from his amazement, but the boy was nowhere already.

‘Now you say you love me…

Well, just to prove that you do…

Come on and cry me a river,

Cry me a river…

I cried a river over you.’

‘He won’t throw himself at the Thames,’ the bartender’s voice shook Sirius from his reverie. Applause for the minstrel had erupted and he failed to catch what the man said.

‘Pardon?’

‘Young master Lupin would not throw himself at the Thames. But he might fall asleep on the street and get run over or something. Best to look after someone who can’t carry his liquor well, won’t we?’ A wink, then he bustled off to another corner of his tavern.

Dropping his coins, Sirius into the cold, hoping to find him before the ominous words could come true.

It never occurred to him how fast Remus’ loping strides were until then. Several hefty meters were between them, but even so, he could mark the broken, shaky walk of his friend.

Reaching the pedestrian walk, he crossed, unheeding. A faint, very faint voice pulled at his ear. It said something, calling his name. What was it?

‘REMUS! LOOK OUT!’

Look. That he did. And he saw bright lights and a screech, alike a banshee crying, women screaming, announced his sudden ascension into thin air.

Remus Lupin learned two things right then and there.

One. You could die in two ways: eyes closed, like the old people, or eyes open, like those who get their innards impaled without warning.

He chose to die eyes closed.

Two. Regret is a sad thing to remember when you die. Then you don’t want to die.

He remembered Lily, and his eyes flew open.

But, the thing was, he was not in London anymore.