amanuensis1 | For the ask-my-characters meme...

...

fabularasa asked a toughie. She had questions for No Happy Memories's Remus Lupin.

Dear Remus,

Please forgive me if someone has asked you these questions before, but since you so rarely talk about yourself, I'm hoping you won't mind even if you have to do it again.

In No Happy Memories, when Sirius told you what was going to happen -- that he would receive the Kiss under a time-stasis spell and spend the day with Harry, what was your reaction? Was there a part of you that was hurt becasue he chose to spend those final twenty-four hours with Harry rather than with his oldest living friend? If so, could you bring yourself to say anything at all? Was there a part of you that knew exactly what Sirius was hoping would happen that day, and was there part of you that had wanted that to happen for the two of you?

Please forgive me for this next one, but when you picked up that still-warm body in your arms and carried it down those stairs. . . how, how did you do it?

My warmest regards, and my deepest sympathies,
Fabula Rasa

P.S. You may have got the impression I don't pay much attention to you, since I spend so much time writing about your rather more. . . attention-seeking acquaintances. Rest assured, I notice. Oh yes, I certainly do.

So because it was too big for a comment reply, here's the answer. Not a ficlet, no, not connected to anything... just Remus's answer.

Remus stares at the letter in his hands: Please let me know if you can answer this, it begins, I owe this lady much.

When he is done reading, he is aware of how sweaty the waterglass in his hand is, and thinks he had better set it down before it falls. And perhaps he should sit down as well.

It is late afternoon. Bad, bad time for this. It always hits him in the afternoons.

He remembers how Sirius looked on that day. He'd been shaved, and had had his hair trimmed as well. Thin, yes, not bone-thin as he'd been when he and Remus had first been reunited, but still rangy.

Sirius had forbidden Harry to visit him in Azkaban. Harry had pitched a fit at that; cursed and ranted and pleaded. Kept saying that the Dementors didn't frighten him anymore, that he'd withstand anything for Sirius, that he didn't want to be protected that way, until Remus had had to seize Harry by the arms-- the only time that Remus ever laid an ungentle hand on him-- and had had to hiss, "That is nothing to do with it, dammit! He doesn't want you to see him like that! Not everything is about whether you can be a hero, Harry!"

He'd hated saying that. But hadn't regretted it. Sometimes the wolf said it better than he could. And Harry had taken himself, and presumably his tears, elsewhere, and not asked again.

So on that day, then, it was only Remus who had come to see him. Only Remus that Sirius had asked for.

"I get twenty-four hours," Sirius says. "The day before. Out of Azkaban."

Remus says nothing.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

Remus chooses his words carefully. "I'm finding it a little incredible, yes."

"Twenty-four hours. At the house. I asked for it. Told them what I'd do in return for it. I got it." He leans forward. "I'll tell you that part later. I need you to listen to this now."

Remus waits.

"I want to spend that day with Harry." A pause. "Just Harry."

It almost sounds like a name to Remus, the way it's said: Just Harry. Because it fits the boy it describes, one who has never wanted to live up to his legend.

"I'm sure he'll be all right with that," Remus says in such a neutral voice.

"Shut up, Moony. You can't be there. Not on that day. You can't."

A short exhale of a laugh. "You trying to protect me now?"

"You have no idea what I'm about to ask of you."

Again, Remus waits.

"I want to teach Harry about animagi. I owe that to him."

"There's only one thing you owe him, Padfoot."

"You think I don't know that?" It's said between clenched teeth. "You think I...fucking christ, Remus. Yes, he would want to know. Yes, he would hate me for keeping that back, at the end, I know it, he's just like me. Like you." Remus notices Sirius doesn't say Like James, even though he should be part of that litany. "No, I don't know how I can find the courage. Except like this. Except by spending every minute of that last twenty-four hours with him. Every goddamn minute, looking at him and wanting him to know and feeling every one of those minutes press on us until it finally bursts out of me. That's the only way it's going to happen, and christ forgive me, I want it to happen. I just want him to know."

Again, Remus is careful with his choice of words. "Why do you think he doesn't already know?"

Sirius stares at him like he's speaking in tongues.

"You owe it to him to say the words. That doesn't mean he doesn't already know."

"Don't talk nonsense."

Remus is silent. My poor Padfoot, he thinks, it's supposed to be your dog form that can't see very well.

Sirius takes a deep breath. "And you can't be there. Because I need you to be there after."

"Why?"

Sirius tells him.

Sitting on the couch in the living room on this late afternoon, the letter still in his hands, Remus remembers how Sirius revealed the bargain he had wrought from his captors. Remembers how he, Remus, did not protest. Remembers how he bit back every word of denial, of horror, that wanted to explode from him as Sirius told him, very calmly, just why he would be allowed to spend the last twenty-four hours of his life outside of Azkaban.

And what he wanted from his best friend.

"They'll bring the living shell back here. To verify. Don't let them, Moony. Take care of it for me before they do that. They'll usually release the shell of the Kissed back to the family if a claim is filed, but I can't risk it, what with everything else that's been fucked up for me with this. Probably make some noise about how you and Harry aren't legally family. Don't let me linger on like that. I'll make a point of transforming into Padfoot, staying like that, just before...I don't want you, or Harry or anyone, to see me like that...like this. You know."

And now Remus understands why Sirius will not let him be with him on that day.

"Poison would probably be best. Ask Snape. He'll love it, helping to poison me under the guise of helping me."

If he is to do this... they will have to say their goodbyes before. Long enough before, so that Remus will be able to act quickly, seeing the Kissed almost-corpse of Padfoot, and administer a killing poison to it before the authorities can arrive.

"The solicitor checked. Aiding in the death of a Kissed victim isn't in any legal way a crime."

Not something he would be able to do if, moments before, Sirius had been his talking, scowling, smiling, snarling, joking, typical self.

Or even a yipping black dog.

"Well." Remus remembers those next words of his very well. "You'd better make sure it's not a full moon, then."

Sirius stares at him, and then his barklike laugh escapes him. "No, it's... not a full moon that night... I don't think...oh, god, wouldn't that be...

And Remus finds himself chuckling. "Wouldn't that be..."

Still laughing, Sirius brings up his hand to cover his eyes. "Bloody bugger."

Remus can still hear that laughter.

He can still remember counting down the minutes, refusing to allow any of the others to stay in the room with him, on that morning.

Remembers telling the others to give him a few minutes at the house before they followed him. Because he had no idea what he'd find.

Remembers hearing the moaning coming from upstairs and following it.

And seeing, not Padfoot first, but Harry, Harry in the bed, curled over the shell of Padfoot, sobbing, stroking one hand over the black fur.

Harry, whom Sirius had not been able to keep from loving that much.

Harry, who was going to have to keep on living now, after that...with nothing more than memories.

And when he'd sent Harry downstairs, trying to hurry, thinking that maybe if he poured the poison into his hand and held it out for Padfoot to lick, that would work, but even those doggy instincts were gone, or perhaps it was that Padfoot no longer had even memory of his scent, and he'd had to end up draining the vial into the black dog's unresisting mouth, crawling in next to him on the bed, in the same spot where Harry had lain, feeling Padfoot's breathing become slower, and shallower, and fainter...

Remus thinks that when he stares at the late afternoon sun through a blur like this that it's beautiful. Like the windows of the house have become stained glass.

He uses one hand to clear his eyes and dries the hand on his trouser leg. Then he stands, moves to the writing desk in one corner of the room.

Dear lady, he writes, Please express my regrets to your friend. I am simply not able to talk about this yet.

Regrets, Remus Lupin

He crosses out the signature and instead writes:

Moony

Current Mood: zen
Current Music: R.E.M., "Nightswimming"

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You made me cry. Again.

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Semolina Pilcher, Pornographic Priestess

For the ask-my-characters meme...

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