Waiting for the Moon - Three
Waiting for the Moon
Three
‘Memory believes before Knowing remembers.’
Her predicament would be quite comical were it not equally dangerous, concluded Minerva McGonagall as she attempted to drag a very human, very unconscious Sirius Black through the snow. It would likely have been easier were she not in the form of a cat and he not lacking the support of anything sturdier than her cloak. At least Albus wasn’t around to see it happening.
It had been negligent of her to forget how quickly the Restituere Humanus charm would work when used on a drugged Animagus. She’d barely had time to stash her broom and the crate among the trees when the spell took effect, changing the bony, scruffy dog into a bony, scruffy man. Forgetting it was easy, really, since it was hardly a thing she had to do every day.
Fortunately no other student, former or otherwise, has attempted to do anything quite as daft as becoming an unregistered Animagus, escaping from prison and roaming the planet until they slowly went crazy. If anyone else does, she decided, my money is on Potter or a Weasley. Maybe more than one.
A sound from the direction of the cottage made her drop her cargo. She swung around, ready to transform and to fight if needed. As the undefined shape moving toward them revealed itself to be Remus, she sighed with relief. The air shimmered and the cat again became a woman.
‘Minerva!’ He embraced her hastily, wrapping a blanket over her shoulders before kneeling in the snow in front of Sirius. He paused for a moment, undoubtedly shocked by the gauntness he saw. She heard him whimper softly as he lifted the bundle of cloth and flesh, stood and turned back for the cottage as swiftly as he had come. Summoning her broomstick, she followed.
How he managed to keep his footing in the snow he didn’t know. All Remus could think about was the person in his arms, clutched tightly against his chest. He was so, so light, too light, nothing but bone and tendon. Tears leaked from his stinging eyes, their salt mixing with the melting snow on his cheeks. He mustn’t think about it now. Time to be brave, time to be strong. He was good at that.
The door opened itself as they approached, closing and locking behind them. He went right up to the fire where he knelt and gently placed Sirius on a small pile of blankets, smoothing his hair off of his face. He was cold.
‘Minerva?’ His voice rasped, plaintive. ‘Minerva, he isn’t moving. Why isn’t he moving?’
Hearing anxiousness choke his words, she quit trying to clean the snow from her boots and joined him by the fire. Tenderly reaching into the wrapped fabric, she took hold of a reed-like wrist, feeling for the pulse. It was there, but fainter than she would have liked.
‘I had to drug him, Remus. Nothing more than a garden-variety sleeping potion. He should wake soon,’ she murmured, giving him a motherly pat on his shoulders. Sirius looked like death, honestly, but she was just as worried about Remus. He looked dazed, his eyes wide and glassy as though he were suffering from shock.
‘Oh. Right.’ He lay down beside the sleeping man, stretching a trembling arm across his slowly rising chest. ‘He’s so thin. So cold. I should get some more blankets, make a bigger fire - ’ He started to sit up until she reached out to stop him.
‘I’ll do it. You stay here in case he wakes up.’ She rose, heading to the kitchen, then asked ‘ Do you mind if I make a cup of tea?’
‘No, have whatever you want. There’s soup on the stove and some bread in the oven. Anything you want, you can have it.’ His voice became muffled as he curled around his beloved and all else faded away.
~
Dawn crept into the house faint and grey, its weak light slipping unnoticed through the windows and across the motionless sleepers on the floor and the sofa. The fire was no longer able to defend the quiet room against the encroaching cold having burnt itself to ash hours earlier.
Minerva woke first, shivering as she gathered her wits and blanket about her. A quick examination assured her that Sirius was still quite alive and somewhat likely to wake before long. He would be hungry; she certainly was. Remus’ pantry had been quite full and there was still soup in the pot as well, should she not feel like cooking. Quietly, she summoned more logs and relit the fire before slipping into the kitchen to make some tea.
It was a pleasant kitchen with a spacious pantry, a fairly modern Aga cooker and numerous cabinets, an especially large one of which was charmed with a cooling spell. She had been a bit surprised by the cottage in general the first time she’d seen it. The rooms were generously proportioned, the furnishings, if not fashionable, were well-built and the gardens quite sumptuous. Overall, it was much nicer a dwelling than one would imagine just by looking at Remus Lupin.
But a bit of a step down for someone like Sirius Black, she reflected, filling the kettle from the graceful chrome tap in the enameled sink. There had never been a question of who had purchased the house or why; the only thing about it that had surprised Minerva was how the gesture had been devoid of her former student’s usual public bravado, reflecting his private devotion in its stead.
‘Admiring the sink, Minerva?’ Amusement overcame the fatigue in Remus’ voice as he walked stiffly into the kitchen, wincing as he rubbed one shoulder. He looked incredibly well-rested for a man who had spent the night on the floor.
‘Just making a cup of tea, Remus. You’ll be having one? Good. You seem to have slept well, considering.’
A smile crossed his lips, a real smile that brought light to his face and eyes. ‘Yes. No dreams last night.’ He slid slowly into one of the chairs flanking the broad oak table that stood in the middle of the room. ‘Will you at least stay for breakfast before you go?’
‘Of course.’ Steam wafted up from the cups as she set them down, joining her friend at the table.
Pulling his wand from his pocket, Remus produced a plateful of hot scones, jam and cream. Minerva suddenly realised she was a good deal hungrier than she’d been upon waking.
Apparently uninterested in having anything to eat himself, Remus sat and drank his tea, alternately looking anxiously at Sirius and watching Minerva. He waited until she finished her first scone before asking ‘Just how strong was that sleeping potion?’
Swallowing quickly, she replied, ‘It was a twelve-hour strength solution, so it’s certainly worn off by now. I think he’s just exhausted. He’ll sleep more than anything for the first few days; the only other thing that might interest him will be food. You read the letter?’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘Just remember that you must be patient with him. Speaking, using his hands, walking - none of it will come easy in the beginning. It may be a while before he can tolerate casual physical contact, much less anything more. . .er. . . intimate.’ Her cheeks coloured slightly, inducing a grin, though her next words made him shiver. ‘Whatever you do, don’t kiss him while he’s asleep or even groggy. Anyone who has spent that much time around Dementors will have learned to fear a kiss. He won’t be at all like himself for a while, Remus. Things will not be like they used to be for some time.’ The hand not holding her cup covered his, squeezing lightly. ‘It’s going to be very hard on you.’
‘Nearly every moment of my life for the past thirteen years has been hard, Minerva. Nothing is like it used to be!’ Though he tried, he was unable to avoid the harsh edge that crept into his words. ‘First I was treated like a criminal, then shunned like a pariah. I was alone and I was going to stay that way no matter what I did to try and redeem myself.’ Pulling his hand out from her touch, he rose to pace around the kitchen. ‘Have you forgotten what the Ministry did to me? How they left me in Azkaban while they tried to rationalise ways to deny me a trial because they think I’m less than human? I’ve never forgotten it; I never will.’
Nothing his tormentors could have imagined in their most violent dreams would have been worse than being in Azkaban. It hadn’t been the Dementors that had caused him such excruciating anguish, the silver chain that had bound him to the cell wall or the fear that he would be forgotten in that hell. No, none of that could even compare to the worst, the thing he was almost certain had been a coincidence. His cell had adjoined Sirius’. He could hear his every cry, his pleading and fear. The scent of him had hung thickly in the air, and although he willed himself to feel hatred, to take joy in his suffering, inside his heart was wracked with despair.
The only comfort had come, albeit inadvertently, from the remainder of the Black family. Although there had been little they could do about the exposure of his relationship with Sirius, the revelation that Sirius had chosen to wed a werewolf would have proved too much scandal for the family to endure. Someone had pulled a few of their many strings and that fact was conveniently overlooked in all accounts of the story. Remus still found it amusing that the family were so aghast at his lycanthropy yet voiced no objections to the portrayal of their kinsman as a bloodthirsty, murdering maniac.
Weary, he leaned against the doorframe and closed his eyes.
Minerva spoke, her voice low and mournful. ‘We tried everything, Remus. Albus was furious when he found out they were holding you. We tried everything, but those were dark days.’
‘I know. There was no way to save any of us. I’m sorry I lost my temper.’
‘No, you have every right. . .’ She picked up another scone and picked at it desultorily before setting it back down with a sigh. ‘I’m sorry, too, sorry for all of it. If I had a way to give back all the time you’ve lost, that we’ve all lost, I would.’
‘You’ve given me the next best thing, Minerva, and don’t think I’ll ever forget it.’
‘Yes, well. . . .’ She wiped brusquely at her eyes then stood and walked over to him. ‘I should go. Will you. . . is there anything that you need?’
‘No, I think we’ll be fine.’
He gathered her broom along with a spare cloak from the hall closet, promising to send back her cloak once he had a chance to clean it, and tossed a handful of powder into the fire.
Before climbing in, she gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead.
‘Just be patient.’ Then she was gone, and he was alone in the room with Sirius.
Curling up on the sofa, he watched him quietly, wondering how in the world he would be able to reconcile his old life with the new.
While he was in Azkaban, I wished him dead and the last time we saw each other I nearly killed him. If I hadn’t forgotten my potion that night we could have brought the real traitor to light; because of me, he’s had to suffer again. What if he isn’t exactly happy to see me after all?
Outside the sun had risen and a few faint rays managed to pick their way through the low fleece of clouds, brightening the room and helping Remus bring his mind from the bleak past into the present. He was thinking of having something to eat when a slight movement from in front of the fire caught his eye. His earlier doubts evaporated as he slid off of the sofa to kneel beside Sirius, taking him lightly in his arms. Yes, he was moving, but he turned about as though agitated and his breath came in rapid gasps.
‘Shh, shh, it’s all right, I’m here, everything’s all right,’ he soothed, rocking him softly as he’d done when they were younger and a nightmare had disturbed his rest.
Slowly, his breathing calmed and Remus felt the tension leaving his body. Reluctant as he was to let sleep take more time away, he continued in his attempts to still his beloved. The tautness in his face eased as Remus brushed gentle fingers across his forehead; even with it gone he could see lines that had never been there before. His skin was waxy, coloured only by the bruise-like crescents under each eye. Although Remus himself was no stranger to looking haggard, Sirius had always been handsome, almost beautiful. Seeing the changes wrought across his face saddened him, not because they made him less of a feast for the eyes(that doesn’t matter, it’s never mattered) but because they reflected the ravaging of the heart within.
Just let him be himself, he pleaded silently, to what he did not know. Any sign, anything, please.
In his arms, Sirius stirred and turned his head toward Remus, sighing deeply. Thinking he was sleeping again, he started to ease him back down on to the makeshift bed when a fragile hand grabbed his wrist and he looked down cautiously to find deep grey-violet eyes meeting his own.
(header quote from His Name is Alive, 'The Torso'; cut quote from Tindersticks, 'Waiting for the Moon'.)