A fight and a memory....
Because Lupin was so close to him, the spell hit Snape with force and he flew a good distance in the air before heavily landing on the hard floor of the teacher’s room.
Getting up with rage, Snape quickly drew out his wand from under his black cloak. There was no one else to see them argue, so he took a couple of menacing steps forward, getting so close to Lupin that Remus could feel his breath in his face.
“You want to fight?” There was a mad glint in his eyes; something sinister and dangerous that scared Lupin, because it wasn’t just irritation. No. It was a desire to hurt, but to hurt him deeply, more severely and more cruelly than what just spells could do.
Words could cause much more damage; somehow they were far more effective and far more terrible than curses.
“Fight if you’ve got the nerves, Lupin!”
Remus raised his wand once more. He would send Snape crashing to the floor again, just to show him he wasn’t a coward who refused to fight. He would let out all the accumulated fury inside him on that stupid Potions teacher, because that would feel so good. He would hurt Snape, because there was no one to grab his arm, no one to hold him back and tell him he was wrong, no one stop him.
“Who are you trying to avenge, Lupin?” Snape sneered again. “Let’s see… Arthur Weasley, maybe? Did you consider that Muggle loving fool one of your friends?
“Arthur was worth a hundred times more than you are” Lupin replied coldly.
Right, Remus. No need to burst out again just yet… see where he wants this conversation to lead to…
“Really? But he’s dead, isn’t he? Regrettable, regrettable. I guess we lost a good member of the Order. Who’s going to clean up Grimmauld’s place now?”
For a second, Lupin was too shocked to speak. Then the impact of the words hit him.
How dare he─?
Remus threw his fist forward toward Snape’s face . He didn’t care about magic, he didn’t care about wands. He just wanted to wound the man, but in the physical way, with his own strength. To make him suffer as much as he, himself, had suffered…
Snape reacted faster than he might have thought; the Potions master muttered a few words and a spell sent Lupin crashing into the big table in the center of the room. He felt his right shoulder bang painfully into a chair in the way, but didn’t stop to see if he had broken something. That could wait.
When he got up, enraged, Snape was prepared to strike again. Insanely, Lupin didn’t care if he killed him. He didn’t care if he was hurt; he was way past these kinds of feelings.
“Tell me, still got any friends? Sirius, Arthur… aren’t you tired of bad news?” Snape went on, stopping every other word to make sure they penetrated profoundly into Lupin’s brain. “I suppose it hurts, doesn’t it… A recollection of what happened fifteen years ago? What? Expecting Dumbledore to come and save you? What did you do, cry on his shoulder like a baby or something when Potter and Evans died?”
You have no right to do that, Snape. No right!
He felt so infuriated he wanted to shout across the room, because inside himself he knew Snape had aimed right.
He would have been ready to hear anything but that. On Sirius, on Arthur’s death, on him being a werewolf, on Harry not forgiving him... anything.
But not that one memory.
He would have strangled Snape with his bare hands, the Snape now looking at him with triumph on his face. Had it been required, he would have given all he possessed; he would have come forward begging him to take the words away if he had been able to.
Lupin closed his fists and shut his eyes. He remembered it as though it was yesterday. The wound was so profound that, even fifteen years later, he kept it well in mind. Too well.
The day after the Potter’s deaths, he had walked to Godric’s Hollow; walked and walked for hours. He hadn’t Apparated there, hadn’t taken the Knight Bus, or a broom, nothing. He had gone there afoot so that he had time to think; and had almost ran the last few streets until he had reached the destroyed house, the one where he had just lost two of his best friends.
He needed to see the place. To get convinced that it was real.
He remembered every second of the slow agony he had felt upon arriving. Ashes. It was all that had been left…
From the other end of the street he could see Godric’s Hollow. Though a daze, he could remember a Ministry Official coming towards him to block his access… there were many wizards standing around…
They wanted to see it. They wanted to visit the place where Lord Voldemort, powerful and feared Dark Wizard, had disappeared…
They wanted to see the house where Lily and James had died. For them, it was nothing more than a way to enjoy the afternoon. Nothing more than an attraction.
The Ministry Official had stared at him for a while, before he had taken a step aside to let Lupin walk forward into the street, desert all the way to the house. Only later would he learn that Dumbledore had given a list, checked by the Ministry, of the people authorized to get there.
So he had staggered forward, taking step after step ahead until his heart had seemed to explode, because what he could see was just one last confirmation that there was no mistake. He knew that night he had lost everything. Lily and James by the hand of Voldemort. And one of his friends─ Peter─ by the hand of another one─ Sirius.
Lupin had kneeled in front of the fence of their garden, too exhausted to advance more. It was unnecessary anyway. There was nothing to see. Or rather, nothing left to see. The trees were burned, the flowers were burned, and even the grass was black.
Dumbledore had arrived silently long after Remus. Lupin had lost the count of the minutes; not knowing how many hours he had sat there in the street with his head in his hands.
He had wanted to sob; he had wanted Dumbledore to take him in his arms as though he was a little boy. He had wanted to yell and to scream and shout and cry at the same time, too desperate for any reasonable thoughts. He had wanted to kick whatever he saw in front of him, to throw the cloak off his shoulders, and with it his wand, and his bag, and everything else he could find.
He had wanted to hit Dumbledore, just because he knew his friends were dead; he had wanted to put his fist into the Headmaster’s head because he had lost all sense of control, all sense of right and wrong, all sense of rationality.
He had wished to end it. He had really wanted to die for the first time in his life because the news had destroyed him. The deaths of Lily and James were unbearable, and Sirius had left a scar so deep that he knew it would never heal. It was there in his very skin.
Of course he had wanted to cry on Dumbledore’s shoulder, he had wanted to die, he had wanted the Headmaster to die, and with him the wizards coming to look at the house where his friends had lost their lives, where his friends had fought and lost, where Lily and James had vanished.
He had wanted these men and women to disappear because none of the others understood; none of them knew what it felt like. They had no idea, none at all, not a single one, of how much he was suffering. Even the man beside him didn’t know.
None of them knew.
Yes, that day he had wanted the world to collapse; he had wanted the entire earth to shatter to pieces at his feet.
The Headmaster of Hogwarts had placed a hand on his shoulder. They had been alone then, and Dumbledore’s face had been pale; way paler than Lupin had ever seen him. Even more pale than recently with the regular killings everywhere.
He had meant to open his mouth─ the memory was there, sharp in Lupin’s mind as if it was recent─ but Dumbledore’s throat, too, the great Albus Dumbledore’s throat, had refused to let out words that were useless.
The hours had seemed interminable; and at the end even the tears were gone since long.
They had stood there in silence until, eventually, Lupin had had to turn back. To turn away.
It had felt like a heart-breaking abandon. Leaving Godric’s Hollow had meant acknowledging the truth, acknowledging his friend’s deaths, it had meant starting to forget them.
It had meant knowing that from this day on, his life would be different. Forever. Even Voldemort was gone.
It would have been so much simpler to go after him, to die trying to avenge his friends. It would have been so much simpler to fight against a lost cause, and to be killed in trying. A hero amongst so many others.
Yes. If only it had been that easy.
And you had no right to call back that memory Lupin opened his eyes and looked away before Snape got the occasion to notice that the tears were close. His throat very dry, feeling sicker than ever, he pocketed his wand and got up.
Snape gave out a hollow laugh as though to say. 'see Lupin? You just can’t do it, because you’re weak.'
But Lupin wasn’t listening anymore. Through the silence, through the flow of memories, through the emotions that went through his body, an idea had formed in his mind, a crazy idea, a terrible idea, but still─
Why not? It’ll be hard, but if it works…
Lupin took his decision. Somehow, he now knew what to do… and how to do it. It would take a lot of nerve, of course; but it might very much be the only one way to make up with Harry.
He would do it in the weekend. On Sunday, probably, if Dumbledore agreed. That way he wouldn’t be as tired as right after the full moon, and would have plenty of time for it.
In a way, he guessed he could thank Snape for giving him the idea.
A/N: OK that’s it… what did ya think? I really liked this chapter, it’s pretty angsty… and I’ve also tried to make it a bit longer…
Ok I guess I better return to writing the next one… maybe some of you already know what Remus has got in mind though… it’s not that hard to find out…
Please review all right? Thanks and I’ll update soon!
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