Thirty-Seven
The Future and the Past
He fumbled with the key ring Mrs. Figg had loaned him for the evening. It felt strange, almost otherworldly, to be entering number twelve, Grimmauld Place through the back gate. Under the multihued summer sunset, the recently refurbished solarium seemed nothing more than an insubstantial box encasing a foreign dreamscape.
Harry nearly stubbed his toe on a heavy wrought iron chair that didn’t materialize out of the shadows until he was nearly upon it. Only Remus catching his arm at the last moment kept him from a painful souvenir.
“Lumos Maximus!” Remus’ voice was the hiss of steam leaving the vents which warmed the glass structure during the colder months. The golden light allowed Harry to locate the ornate key to open the door into the dark hallway.
Once inside, long habits took over as a snap of Remus’ fingers ignited the flickering brackets along the wall. Despite the jacquard striped wallpaper that graced the once peeling walls, Harry found the same threadbare carpet under his feet as they descended the steep stairs into the kitchen. Ignoring the weight of the empty floors above, familiar territory beckoned as Remus boldly threw back the velvet rope and slung his rucksack onto the cracked ceramic countertop.
Withdrawing a dented skillet from the very back of the overhead cupboard, he set about fixing them a spot of supper “ bachelor style.
“Didn’t know you cooked,” Harry noted wryly as he rummaged in the china cupboard. The three mismatched glass tumblers would be ideal.
“I don’t. Not really. Toasted cheese sandwiches are the extent of my repertoire; perhaps a fried egg in the morning if you don’t mind the edges slightly singed. Sirius made an exceptional cowboy-style steak, grilled right in the hearth; but our funds rarely allowed for that. Mostly, we excelled at reheating spells for Molly’s famous casseroles. But when all else failed, we relied on my skill with bread and cheese. Speaking of that, do you want horseradish in yours?”
Harry pulled a face. “Now I’m certain you don’t know how to cook! Who would ever think of such a disgusting combination?”
“Sirius said it helped to clear the cobwebs from his mind. I secretly suspected it was some rudimentary hangover cure. Personally, I preferred a well-brewed potion from the chemists at Slug & Jiggers.” As an afterthought, he added, “That is, when prudence didn’t win out.”
The delightful aroma of butter and toasting bread permeated the narrow kitchen, making it feel like home again. A swift jab of Harry’s wand unlatched the tiny window above the sink. It was nothing more than a slit designed for ventilation, but it created a pleasing flow of air when the transoms at the far end of the long room were open to the street as they were now.
Turning his head sideways, he had an unimpeded view of the back fence and the upper stories of Mrs. Figg’s townhouse ablaze with lights. The silhouettes of partygoers flitted to and fro like dark moths amid a rosy background glow. No sound from the outside world penetrated the Fidelius bubble which encased the townhouse-turned-museum, yet Harry had no trouble imaging the laughter and sprightly conversation pouring forth.
The clatter of crockery on the wooden table announced that supper was ready. Tea was poured into cups which had long since parted company with their saucers.
“Sorry we don’t have anything for pudding. That was always Kreacher’s department “ at least until Sirius banned him from the kitchen.”
“What did he do?”
Remus chuckled at the memory. “Added salt instead of sugar to the quince and mincemeat pie.”
“Bugger!”
“Sirius’ exact words,” Remus laughed heartily. “Followed by some rather graphic instructions for Kreacher’s hide that would’ve made a butcher blush.”
“Did Kreacher do it on purpose?”
“Who knows? The poor thing was half-mad after being locked up in this house for years while Sirius languished in Azkaban.”
“None of the Blacks thought to make provisions for the house-elf in their wills?”
“I doubt it even occurred to them. Kreacher was part of the townhouse. An ambulatory bit of furniture, if you will.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t lock him away in the Gringott’s vault with the rest of the heirlooms!” Harry commented with a tight scowl.
“Even though Sirius would never speak of it, I suspect his imprisonment hit his family rather hard. Coming as it did on the heels of Regulus’ demise.”
“No wonder Kreacher was so devoted to his Mistress, even in death.”
“In many ways, he likely felt that he was all she had left in the world.” Turning his attention to more cheerful matters, Remus inquired, “On the subject of pudding, any idea what Dobby made for Luna’s shower? He made such a big deal of only relinquishing the cake box to Ginny when she assured him they would be Apparating and not traveling by Floo.”
“Chocolate ganache torte with a layer of crushed pistachios. In a heart-shaped mold. He was entreating her to cut it into tiny slivers as it was utterly decadent.”
Remus’ light-hearted laugh echoed the length of the kitchen. “They really are going all out with the lingerie party theme.”
“Sorry they didn’t invite us?”
“Only because I’ll miss the scandalized look on Fleur’s face when they pour the pink champagne! Although, Ginny promised she’d describe it to me in detail.”
“I’ll ask her to decant it into the Pensieve,” Harry suggested with a snigger.
“Did they obtain the desired gift?”
Harry nodded with a knowing wink. “Arrived by owl post this very morning. A simple gown and jacket made from the finest sylph silk. Andromeda searched it out in Paris then insisted on going in on the price since it was so dear.”
“What about the gift card?” Remus asked anxiously.
“Your name and mine were omitted.”
“Thank Merlin for that! I can’t imagine presenting a former student with a negligee “ under any circumstances.”
“It would have made me uncomfortable as well “ and she’s a close friend.”
“Just be glad I dissuaded Tonks from purchasing silk boxers for Neville. All in the name of sexual equality, of course.”
“Who did she think was going to present him with such a gift?” Harry stammered.
“Dobby, I suppose, as she actually managed to embarrass herself when she stopped to think it through! Hard to believe, isn’t it?” he added as Harry dissolved into helpless laughter.
“I hope you don’t mind if I change the subject,” Harry implored once he was able to get his breath. “Were you able to work out all the details with Bridget?”
“Pretty much. Her German skills will be put to good use on the Rhine this summer. Hope we have enough bedrooms.”
“Ginny and I can always borrow a wizard’s tent from Ted. He’s always offering.” With a playful grin, he amended, “You will let me know if negotiations fall through, though. I’m fairly certain I could get Bridget a post as head of the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee!”
Remus issued a deep chuckle. “She’s really something else, isn’t she?”
“I’ll say. Ginny insisted we keep the door cracked into our room while she wrapped the gift. We were holding each other up when Bridget started in on the part about the Crocodile being a sworn vegetarian.”
With merriment dancing in his eyes, Remus implored, “That was after Tonks and I left to shower. Care to fill me in a bit?”
“I can’t begin to do it justice,” Harry demurred. “Why not ask Bridget yourself?”
“Because she never tells the story the same way twice. Just apologizes for getting it wrong the last time and moves on.”
“Now that takes gall! Sure saves having to remember all the specifics.”
Remus gave an insouciant shrug. “Don’t worry, Teddy will remind her in exquisite detail. Now you were saying something about a vegan crocodile…”
“Right. Had all sorts of trouble with the regular diet along the banks of the Nile. Too much fat and cholesterol, etc.”
“Limited availability of fruits and vegetables as well,” Remus supplied.
Harry barely stopped himself from drawing the parallel between father and son before continuing, “So the Crocodile Healers made special arrangements for Tick-Tock to retire to a less stressful environment, someplace where he wouldn’t have to brave the jaws of death at suppertime each night. Someplace where he could take his time finding just the right foods for his delicate stomach. Neverland had the ideal year-round temperatures, you get the picture. The Crocodile Travel Agency filled his head with all sorts of vague promises of paradise.
“So poor Tick-Tock buys into this Shangri-la, plunks down all his life’s savings “ which I assure you wasn’t much more than a pile of brightly colored pottery shards. The charming grotto accommodations he was promised turn out to be a drafty sea cave, the beach overrun by a gang of pre-adolescent trouble-makers. But there are plenty of healthy roots to dig up around the lagoon and the trees practically groan with ripe fruit. So what if the Indians take constant potshots at his hide? The arrows just bounce off.”
“So the Crocodile decided he could live with the imperfections,” Remus surmised.
“He adapts to his circumstances. But like anyone who’s been asked to abandon something that he dearly loves, he soon finds himself dreaming of meat. Succulent roasts on a spit, some of those pesky island boars that dart away as he’s searching for tasty herbs. But they’re much too quick for him and their tusks are deadly even to skin as thick as his. The Indians are much too clever; and the closest he ever gets to one of the Lost Boys is when they leave one of their stuffed toys behind.”
“Not very tasty over an open fire,” Remus commiserated.
“Actually explode when they get too hot,” Harry corrected. “Stuffing flies everywhere “ and I assure you it’s not the walnut and sage variety, either.”
Remus silently considered that Bridget was artfully working up the children’s appetite for supper, but didn’t interrupt.
“Then one day, the pirate ship sails into the small harbor. At first, Tick-Tock is thrilled with the vegetable scraps which Cookie throws overboard each night. But the aroma of the spicy stews that waft through the porthole stirs up all sorts of dormant desires within the Crocodile’s stomach. He begins to notice that the pirates themselves are a rather well-fed lot. Some, such as the portly boatswain, are tending to fat and surely wouldn’t miss a roll or two from around their mid-section.”
“The pirates will likely skin him and serve the chunks deep-fried with papaya and tamarind sauce,” Remus supplied.
For a man who didn’t know how to cook, Remus certainly knew his food, Harry noted inwardly. Aloud, he tendered, “Bridget didn’t have an actual recipe, but she said essentially the same thing. Then one lucky day, the stars align for poor Tick-Tock and he gets his most fervent, secret, forbidden wish. As he’s sunning himself on a sandbar, his nap is disturbed by shouts and the loud ring of metal against metal. There’s a duel taking place right on the deck of the pirate ship. To and fro they dart, parry and thrust; Bridget drags out the veritable dance of death --”
“Rabbit and Spook are hanging onto every word, mouths slightly ajar as their breathing comes in shallow puffs,” Remus added with a remarkably similar level of excitement.
“And in that fateful moment,” Harry took up the narrative, “Hook gets his lacy cuff caught on the rigging. With one mighty slash, Peter Pan slices off his left hand and it flies over the railing and plops into the water right next to the Crocodile.
“‘Not just take-away, but delivery,’ Tick-Tock growls as with one massive snap of his jaws, he swallows the Captain’s hand.”
“I’m surprised you and Ginny were able to change clothes,” Remus chuckled.
“We took turns guarding the door so no one would barge in,” Harry confided. “But you haven’t heard the conclusion yet. Just caught it before I scrambled downstairs.”
“No wonder you were the last one out the door.”
“Ever since then, poor Tick-Tock can’t get the taste of the Captain’s succulent flesh out of his mind “ even though it gave him the most virulent bout of indigestion ever. All those luscious fruits taste flat, the roots are fibrous and tough, and the lush grasses that grow among the dunes are nothing but stringy pulp in his mouth. He lives in paradise no more as all he can think about is how to catch the Captain in another moment of distraction.”
“Did Bridget happen to mention how the clock ended up in the Crocodile’s stomach in the first place?” Remus urged.
Harry gave him a grin that would have felt equally at home on the Cheshire Cat. “She may’ve mumbled something in passing about the wrong-footed voyage of Admiral Octavio Nelson, younger brother of the decorated naval hero. And it’s not a clock “ that was a clever diversion for the Muggle market. It’s a time-turner.” He shook his head at the sheer audacity.
Remus rubbed his hands with childlike glee. “Something to look forward to for her next visit.”
Noting that the teapot was empty, Remus poured a measure of Firewhiskey into each of the tumblers and placed one before each of them. The third glass was positioned at the head of the table where Sirius had once welcomed his Christmas houseguests with undisguised delight.
“Seems we got a bit off-track,” Harry apologized.
“Not at all,” Remus returned as he took a grateful swallow. “Congregating around the table is what Sirius and I did most nights. The whiskey bottle completes the tableau.” Over a gentle smile, he elaborated, “Sirius would’ve been proud of what we accomplished here. As well as at Marauder Manse, as he would surely have insisted on calling it. Somehow his lips would’ve given those words the proper devilish air that just sounds pretentious when anyone else tries.”
The summer breeze ruffling his hair reminded Harry that Sirius had passed through the Veil barely ten days shy of his 36th birthday. It was so easy to envision his godfather relocating to Godric’s Hollow and settling into his old bedchamber adjoining the billiard room where he’d once entertained guests. Bending over to scoop up his best mate’s children as their chatter brought a look of wondrous joy to his worn features… Nothing but gossamer images reflected in a soap bubble as Harry felt a scratchy lump rising in his throat.
With a tentative sip, Harry did his best to lighten the mood. “Somehow I can’t imagine anyone who set foot inside this townhouse concluding that either one of you had a flair for decorating.” Another gulp and the burning sensation helped to dispel the tightness.
“Or that we didn’t get the property at a rock bottom price with the intent of renovating it!” Remus reminisced. “Sirius used to complain that this heap had all the hallmarks of a money pit as Muggles would say.
“To which I would reply, ‘What worries me is that you’ve given it this much thought, Padfoot.’”
“What did he say to that?” Harry prompted.
“He’d cock his eyebrow as if to suggest, ‘Only just now?’ while aloud he would grumble, ‘Consider it a by-product of house arrest.’”
Harry chuckled at how aptly that captured the indomitable spirit of his late godfather. “Do you think he ever found happiness here?”
“Peace of mind, certainly,” Remus confided as he leaned across the table. “His final words to me seem to imply that.”
“Final words?”
“Sirius left a codicil to his will that was likely written shortly before his death.”
Try as he might, Harry couldn’t hide the shock on his face. “And you’re just now sharing this with me?”
“It was rather personal,” Remus admitted. “It will make more sense once you’ve read the words for yourself. It’s the major part of the homage that Tonks and I have been observing on his birthday ever since.”
With solemn reverence, Remus removed a small square from his breast pocket and enlarged it until a thick volume rested before them. The Collected Tales of Edgar Allan Poe, Harry turned his head to read.
“Seemed so out of character when I first found him with this book,” Remus recalled with a faraway look. “But he insisted Poe’s sense of the macabre would’ve fed off the vibrations in this place. Made him feel an instant kinship with the man who had penned ‘the only worthwhile reading in the entire Black library.’ It was the only souvenir I kept when Molly cleaned out his rooms.”
Remus caressed the faded gold letters before gently opening the cover. Inside was a sheaf of aged parchment, the edges worn thin from many fingers. Despite his burning curiosity, Harry hesitated to touch the artifact that was being handed to him.
“It’s all right,” Remus urged solemnly. “I long ago protected the pages with powerful magic. They would’ve surely crumbled to dust otherwise.”
With uncertain fingers, Harry smoothed out the pages before him. Although the ink was slightly faded, he recognized Sirius’ handwriting immediately.
Dear Moony,
Do you have any idea how difficult, nay impossible, it is to find just the right thing to leave someone who has been at the center of my world for the past few years? How to convey just how magnanimous the simple gift of his presence and friendship has meant to a washed-up jailbird like myself?
You have never been a material man, instinctively knowing that the things that are most valuable are those that cannot be measured, weighed. or catalogued. It is a tenet by which you have lived your life and one that became only too clear to me during my years in Azkaban.
Yet you are also a man who had been unfairly treated for much of his life. Try as we might, not even your friends could always find a way around the prejudices that society seemed determined to heap upon your doorstep. Trust me, Lily and I (and to some degree James, as well) had a very long discussion concerning these very issues at the time of Harry’s birth.
You see, parents feel a need to entrust the care of their children to those with whom they feel they have the most in common. Should tragedy strike, the care of the child will be undertaken by those who will subconsciously remind the child of the parents that have been lost. Such is the legacy that Lily and James sought to establish by appointing a godfather to act as guardian for young Harry.
And that’s where the problems arose. James thought that I was most like him, no question about it. But Lily felt that your values were the most like hers. She had gotten the measure of your heart during those long hours of shared Prefect duties. Yet it was clear that James had found a maturity through his devotion to Lily, and then to Harry, that was sadly missing from my own life at the time. Who was to say when I would be ready to settle down? But you were ready-made for the task; anyone who saw you interacting with Harry during the idyllic days we spent in Godric’s Hollow could see that.
But even though none of us ever saw you as anything other than a human being, there was no denying that you would be unable to perform any child-care duties during the full moon. Only one day out of each month, yet how could we entrust an infant to someone who could not be available 100% of the time? So I was selected as the somehow inferior substitute, with the understanding that the issue would be revisited once Harry was old enough to not require round-the-clock attention. Co-guardianship was offered as a reasonable alternative.
But those plans went the way of the wind on that bitter October night when Voldemort’s shadow eclipsed all of our lives. Thank Merlin that in her last moments of life, Lily had the foresight to establish a back-up plan with her sister. Where would Harry have been otherwise during those long years that I spent in my dark cell? And all the while, my mind kept screaming, “It should have been Remus.” Fate’s fickleness had decried that only you would be in a position to take care of Harry during all those years.
It was probably a pipe dream to think that Petunia would’ve allowed you unlimited access, but you would’ve had the law on your side for once. Certainly you could have kept in touch with Harry by owl post or even Muggle mail, if that’s what it took. Your parents hadn’t turned their backs on the world of Muggles that existed beyond their doors, not like mine had. You would have known how to assimilate yourself sufficiently to appear at least marginally acceptable in Petunia’s eyes.
How different would Harry’s life have been if he’d known that he was not a freak or a pariah! That there were those who loved him even though his aunt was determined to lock him away in a bloody cupboard.
As you read this, know that once again you are our last hope. But also that you should have been the first choice were it not for life’s inequities. I know that you would have taken it upon yourself to look after Harry even without these words, but I wanted you to know that you have the blessings of James and Lily in addition to mine.
So in a perverse way, I suppose I’m bequeathing Harry to you, although I’m sure he’d be offended if he thought himself objectified in such a manner. Both you and he are so alike when your prickly natures come to the fore. Semantics aside, you know better than anyone what I’m trying so miserably to convey.
Be all the things for Harry that I can no longer be. If he’s outgrown the need for a father figure, then be his friend. Be there for him when he encounters the obstacles of life. Teach him to love and laugh in abundance as the two of us have so often done. Don’t let him go forth to meet his destiny unprepared.
I can only leave him the empty trappings of my disreputable family that have somehow filtered down to me, its unacknowledged black sheep. I’m entrusting you to give him the things that really matter.
Wherever I end up next, know that I will miss you as I have never missed anyone before.
Harry raised his eyes to find the familiar kitchen a blur of shadowy browns. He slipped off his glasses for the umpteenth time and ran his shirtsleeve impatiently over his eyes. Readjusting the round frames on the bridge of his nose, he saw that Remus’ chair had been pushed back from the table.
At the end of the narrow room, Remus stood like a gaunt sentinel against the outside world that was just visible through the transom windows. As Harry drew near, the light from the street lamp on the corner revealed the silvery trail of tears on the man’s immutable face. Clearly Sirius’ final words were familiar enough to be recalled from memory.
Without turning towards him, Remus acknowledged his approach. “Sirius used to say this one patch of sky seemed the totality of his universe -- ” The rest was lost as the words caught in his throat.
Harry placed a tentative hand on Remus’ shoulder only to find himself engulfed in a crushing hug in the next instant. Despite the silent sob that rattled through Harry’s body, he was consoled by the family ties that had grown so effortlessly between the two of them.
“I hope I managed to be as good a friend to you in the intervening years,” he managed into the fabric of Remus’ shirt.
He felt the taller man nod his head in answer. “More than I could ever have imagined,” Remus croaked.
“Yet something tells me you and Sirius used to discuss women in a much more intimate manner than you and I ever did,” Harry noted with the beginnings of a smirk.
They loosened their hold on one another as Remus threw back his head and issued a wry laugh. “Hardly,” he snorted as he unabashedly wiped his face with a handkerchief. Ushering Harry back towards the table, he elaborated, “I was never one to discuss those sorts of details with another “ not that I had anything that would’ve rivaled Sirius’ exploits.”
“Was he really as legendary as all that?” Harry posed.
Remus shrugged. “Certainly in comparison to James and I “ and even Peter Pettigrew. You have to recall we were all friends once.”
“So it was Sirius who rounded out your education, so to speak?” Harry considered despite the shadings of embarrassment he could feel in his cheeks.
“Not really. He was more apt to recall his mother’s words that it was rude to boast in front of others,” Remus reminisced with a misty look in his eye. “‘Great galloping goblins,’ Peter used to say. ‘Even that’s tantamount to leading a beggar to a banquet and then dashing the food from his lips!’”
Harry joined in the laughter as he imagined the future Death Eater using such a childish expletive. “What about later, when you and Sirius were reunited? Right here in this very kitchen.”
A cloud fell over Remus’ face at that, but he shook it off and replied, “He didn’t have much to share at that point. Being confined within these walls as he was.”
“Still, I can’t imagine the two of you discussing Quidditch like Ron and I.”
“What’s to say we weren’t discussing Milton or Tolstoy or any of the other great literary works that were part of the family library?”
Harry gave Remus a searing look. “Sirius? If you’re going to embellish the truth, Remus, you owe it to me to make it at least plausible.”
“Those were bleak times, Harry. Sirius felt that his life was on hold until we could actually clear his name.”
“Other than getting Pettigrew to confess, how exactly were you planning to go about that?”
Remus sighed. “The same dead end seemed to confront Sirius daily. So he insisted that it was only fair that I regale him with my adventures…”
As he began to recount the tale, it was as if the years had fallen away before Remus’ eyes and the polished surfaces of the kitchen that greeted museum-goers were back to their dim and shabby contours. Events that had taken place a decade before returned sharply in his memory along with the bony angles of his much thinner frame as he leaned back to examine Sirius through his overgrown fringe.
“Come on, Moony,” Sirius urged with a mischievous glint. “You have to admit neither one of us ever imagined we’d be sharing such a sumptuous flat as we approached middle age.”
“Ha!” Remus snorted dismissively. “Even in the dankest hour of lycanthropic misery, I never thought I deserved a nagging fishwife such as you!”
“Better than waking up alone,” Sirius taunted.
“Just remember, Padfoot, there are some lines I’ll never cross.”
“Nor will I,” Sirius conceded gravely. “Loneliness or not, you’re no substitute for a woman, Moony.”
Remus flashed him a stern look to bear that in mind even as he allowed his irreverence to assume the forefront. “Not that we don’t present a different picture to the outside world, Muggles in particular.”
“Just be glad we don’t do our grocery shopping together,” Sirius chortled. “Or that old bat who lives down the street would have us over to design her curtains!”
“Although the pathetic state of our lives isn’t much to laugh about,” Remus supplied through his guffaws. “I was forced to resign my post at Hogwarts just as I was getting a taste for it.”
“Did Dumbledore tell you that?” Sirius intervened, the merriment dying away completely. “I got quite a different impression from Minerva.”
Remus shrugged. “What else could I do under the circumstances?”
“Not much. But I don’t think that’s the complete picture, either.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Dumbledore’s statement that it was a ruddy shame the effing Dark Arts post had been cursed by Voldemort himself.”
Remus’ heart felt a little lighter as he retorted, “Doesn’t sound much like Dumbledore’s phraseology.”
“What am I, a Pensieve? So I paraphrased a bit!” Taking a long swallow from the bottle which had left an indelible ring in the middle of the table, Sirius added, “At least you can go out and search for work.”
“And it’s a right waste of time, I assure you.”
“So have you made the acquaintance of any birds? You don’t have to tell them about your dashing flatmate right off…not unless she has a friend, of course.”
“No.”
“Then perhaps I need to give you some instructions on how to make the most of your leisure time.”
“Now you make it sound like I’m an idle playboy! We’re in the middle of a ruddy war or have you forgotten?”
“All the more reason why I want to squeeze in just as many happy moments while I still can.”
“You and I have a very different definition of happiness,” Remus shot back, hoping to bring this line of inquiry to a close.
“You don’t expect me to believe you led a monastic existence while I was in Azkaban,” Sirius remarked.
“You know as well as anyone that I’m a man first and a werewolf second.”
“It’s just that your secondary nature keeps interfering….” Sirius pressed.
“This is rote, Padfoot. Hardly a conversation.”
“Tell me about some of the women you dated after …” Sirius hesitated as he searched for just the right wording. “…after you could no longer return to the Potters’.”
“No.”
“Then don’t blame me if the conversation stagnates!” Sirius volleyed back as he poured them both generous amounts of Firewhiskey.
Giving in to the choice between a lonely night of reading or staggering up the stairs, Remus took a deep swallow of the liquid solace his best friend put before him. “There’s really not much to tell. A long series of names and descriptions at best.”
“Any of them Muggles?”
“Quite a few as a matter of fact.”
“How would you have dealt with….?” Sirius quirked his eyebrow in query as he warmed up to the subject.
“The inevitable?”
“I often wish I had your gift for euphemism, Moony.”
“Pray you don’t need it,” Remus commented dryly. “As to the previous, the subject never came up.”
“That’s a rather significant thing to gloss over.”
“I was hardly seeking a soul mate, Padfoot. Something to ease my loneliness that didn’t involve books, all right!”
“Somehow I would never have expected that from you.”
“Why? Because it sounds too much like the cavalier attitude of your own youth?”
“Precisely. You know Lily was right when she told me that I was hellbent on finding my own true love “ even if I had to date all the women in the British Isles in the process.”
“Then you just would’ve hounded me to make introductions for you in France!”
“Sounds like it might have been fun, don’t you think?” Sirius yearned. “Too bad the war “ and Wormtail “ interfered.”
“I would’ve been content to stay with Lily and James at Godric’s Hollow, if only I could’ve found a way to not feel like a freeloader,” Remus sighed wistfully.
“You and me both. All those long sunny days to spend playing with little Harry; not having to worry about the next assignment for the Order and who would be home to keep a protective eye on Lily.”
“Forget that our continued presence might’ve kept the Potter clan from ever expanding,” Remus suggested knowingly.
“James wouldn’t’ve thought of you as a freeloader, you know. Even if all you ever did was help with the childcare duties. You were like a brother to him.”
Remus nodded blindly as the enormity of their loss came crashing about their shoulders.
Catching on instinctively, Sirius offered softly, “So just because circumstances dictate that I maintain a celibate existence, doesn’t mean the same applies to you.”
“Padfoot, I…”
“So some of your idealism got tarnished along the way. It happens to everyone.”
“It’s not that,” Remus gulped past the sudden constriction in his throat. After another dose of courage, he added in a hollow voice, “The two of us remember the past quite differently. Those romantic notions were yours, not mine. I had long before come to the inescapable conclusion that I’d spend my days alone. Having friends for a few short years was more of a blessing than I ever expected.”
“Even when I was away, you still had friends,” Sirius reminded him. “The Weasleys took you in much as they did with Harry. Ginny looks up to you as her eldest brother “ for lack of a better word.”
“Nonsense, she has enough brothers to bake in a pie and still have some left over!”
“But none who actually think to pursue a conversation with her for hours at a time.”
“How do you know this, Padfoot?” Remus demanded gruffly. “A spy network I know nothing about?”
“Nothing as nefarious as that,” Sirius returned with a deep chuckle at having gotten such a rise out of his stoic friend. “Told me herself. Wanted to know if I had any insights into why you were always so melancholy.”
Years of living in semi-squalid conditions, dragging himself from one thankless job to another, being rejected by society for something he couldn’t control. All flashed through Remus’ mind as he dreaded what Sirius might have told a child as insightful as Ginny. “What did you tell her?” he breathed in apprehension.
“The truth.” As Remus made to object, Sirius clarified, “My version, not yours. I told her that you had lost too many of your friends and family at a young age and it made you think that sorrow was the only thing life had to offer. Much like what happened to Harry when his parents died and he was forced to live with the Dursleys.”
Remus sighed in relief. “At least you didn’t say anything about my deplorable luck with women.”
“I’m sure she’s heard that from her mother.”
“Molly?”
“Of course. Doesn’t Molly strike you as the type who would go into the I-can’t-believe-a-nice-young-man-like-Remus-isn’t-married speech? I’m only spared because she thinks me an irredeemable reprobate.”
Remus groaned as he buried his face in his hands. “Frankly, Padfoot, I’d rather women just assume you and I were lifelong companions.”
“I wouldn’t. So why would you?”
“Because Molly’s question has no answer; and I hate it when women poke about trying to uncover it on their own.”
“It has an answer, Moony. Just one you’re not willing to provide.”
“I’m entitled to my privacy. I hardly need the world to know. Women always find another way to reject me, anyway.”
“Evasiveness is hardly a trait women admire. Take it from someone who knows firsthand.”
“Honesty, my honesty, won’t get me anywhere either. Don’t you see, Padfoot?”
“I see that what you catalogued at age fifteen doesn’t always hold up in the real world,” Sirius returned with a directness that cut Remus to the bone. “But I wouldn’t worry about Ginny taking too much stock in her mother’s intrusive comments. Because a schoolgirl has already concluded that if you can draw her out in lengthy conversation, you can do the same with anyone, anywhere.”
“It’s not so easy with strangers,” Remus protested. “I can just be myself with Ginny. She already knows the worst of me and is still my friend.”
“So do a lot of people…”
“Not any that I’d like to pursue a romantic relationship with, all right!”
“What about my cousin, Nymphadora?”
“Tonks,” Remus responded automatically. “She prefers to be called ‘Tonks’.”
Sirius looked him over with a sharp, critical eye. “And you know this how?”
“Because she tells everyone she meets with the first words out of her mouth.”
“She knows your furry little secret and doesn’t turn away from you in disgust.”
“She grew up in a family with liberal attitudes. Yes, despite being related to the Blacks. Not to mention that she’s had to deal with a lot of narrow-mindedness herself.”
“Sounds like you’ve spent a good deal of time in conversation with her.”
“Frankly, Padfoot, if you weren’t so inebriated half the time, you’d remember those conversations yourself!”
“Really?” Sirius retorted hotly. “Then tell me why, oh why, I have no ruddy problem remembering when she asked me if you were seeing anyone?”
“Doesn’t mean I’d consider going out with her!”
“She said much the same thing. But I told her that you were just determined to be a curmudgeon all your life and drive me crazy! I also suggested to her that perhaps bubble-gum pink hair wasn’t your favorite. Have you noticed how adorable she looks in blue and purple as well?”
“It’s not the hair…” Remus stammered, wishing he’d nicked this conversation much earlier.
“And it’s not the werewolf thing,” Sirius volunteered.
“That will always be an issue. She has no idea what it means on a day-to-day basis.”
“Already covered that with her. Gave her a detailed compendium of our days at Hogwarts.”
“So now she definitely thinks I’m a total tosser.”
“I left out the personal parts, the parts that might be prejudicial to a lady friend. Besides, why would you care anyway? I got the distinct impression you were trying to convince me you weren’t attracted to her.”
“Well, you certainly didn’t pick up on the message that you should mind your own business, did you?”
Sirius lowered his glass with an unsteady clunk, the sound echoing in the abrupt silence. “Moony….?” he inquired in a leading fashion.
Taking advantage of the sudden realization that he was the more sober of the two, Remus slowly rose from the table. “Goodnight,” he stressed as the kitchen door swung shut behind him.
Having finished his tale, Remus topped off the liquid in their tumblers and offered a self-effacing grin to indicate that Harry knew the rest of the story.
“It’s doubly difficult admitting to feelings you don’t think you’re entitled to have,” Harry commiserated. “Especially if you feel you might be endangering someone you love.”
“I have to say that, in retrospect, we were both wrong.”
“Either that, or we’re both married to extraordinarily stubborn women!” Harry’s eyes were drawn to the untouched glass of Firewhiskey sitting before Sirius’ place. “Why didn’t you share this with me earlier?” Harry considered, motioning towards the worn parchment containing Sirius’ codicil.
Remus hesitated before replying, “It never seemed to be the right time.”
“Were you so sure I wouldn’t understand as Sirius seemed to think?”
“To some degree. You have to remember that Sirius’ words were influenced by the young lad of fifteen whom he’d gotten to know. Besides, I didn’t want you to think that was why I had….reordered my life.”
“Didn’t his words influence you?”
“It was gratifying to know he was behind me, but my actions were solely my own. My motivations were just as personal as yours.”
“But his words were so heartfelt. How could you be unmoved?”
“Does this look like the face of a man who was unmoved? Sirius’ words meant the world to me in those dark days after his death. They were a lifeline to the world of the living. Something to cherish during those lonely nights spent undercover among the werewolves.”
“But you were among others like yourself. Surely you made friends; just look at Sera and Bridget.”
“Had they known my true identity, I would’ve been branded as an infiltrator. An enemy and not a friend,” Remus expounded with stark candor. “My true self was locked away in the back of my mind. Being able to live only within those few centimeters is a difficult task. I felt like I spent my days with a miniature Moody perched on my shoulder whispering, ‘Constant vigilance.’”
“Would that be Mad-Eye with the crooked halo or a pitchfork?”
Remus laughed at Harry’s quip. “A little of both,” he admitted.
“You make it sound as if you were just as down and out as some of those other werewolves and that’s never really been the case. Why, your work with the Order --”
“”was often the only thing keeping me alive,” Remus emphasized. “But I could hardly hope for a perpetual war that would keep me gainfully employed, now could I? Here I was striving to bring peace yet that very peace could rob me of everything.”
“Was it really that hopeless?”
“It seemed like that at times; certainly in those years after Sirius had been hauled off to Azkaban.”
“And then when he fell through the Veil….Those were difficult days for me as well.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t have been more helpful during those months. Unfortunately, Dumbledore had other plans for me.”
“The ultimate puppet master,” Harry intoned affectionately.
“I actually think he foresaw that my immersion among the werewolves would change my life.”
“For the better?”
“That’s always the issue, isn’t it?” Remus mused. “I suppose it depends upon what fortitude resides within ourselves as to whether we will emerge triumphant or fall by the wayside. Trust me: it has taken me a number of years to reassess those harrowing experiences in a more positive manner.”
“Spinning gold out of hay?”
“Isn’t that what we all do to some extent? Those lonely days made me radically rethink what I wanted from my life, Harry. I probably wouldn’t be here today if my framework hadn’t been shaken to its very foundation.”
“How so, Remus? You always had the world around you so perfectly pigeonholed.”
“And yet I managed to write myself right out of the narrative. You see, I’d always tempered my goals with what was possible for a werewolf to achieve. Convinced myself to accept the limitations imposed by society, by the Ministry, by countless others who had no real right to dictate to me what I could or couldn’t do. The werewolf compound was nothing but the physical manifestation of how I’d locked away my own dreams. I suppose that was one of Dumbledore’s reasons for sending me there: to have me see the truth for the very first time.”
“What did you do?” Harry prompted, transfixed that Remus was addressing a segment of his life that was generally off limits.
“Why I rebelled, of course! The Marauder in me awoke from slumber and declared his fundamental right to a happy and fulfilling existence. From then on, I’ve strived to be true to myself and not settle for second best just because I had the misfortune to be bitten.”
“I thought that Tonks being an irresistible force had a lot to do with how things worked out,” Harry supplied with a smirk.
Smiling in return, Remus allowed, “Well, that too.”
From the head of the table, the untouched amber liquid in Sirius’ glass glowed like a jewel, drawing their eyes to it again and again.
“Do you feel like he’s listening to us?” Harry issued in a reverent whisper. “Sirius, I mean.”
“All the time. Even when his star is occluded in the night sky. It makes no difference; his spirit transcends all manmade boundaries.” Remus raised his glass in the direction of the empty chair. “To undying friendship,” he proposed, then swallowed the last inch of whiskey in one long gulp.
“Not a day goes by, Sirius, not a single day,” Harry echoed as he followed suit.
“To the youngest Head Auror in Ministry history,” Remus proposed as he refilled their glasses.
“Perhaps we should wait before drinking to that,” Harry protested.
Catching Harry’s lost look, Remus gently pried, “What makes you say that? Another wrinkle in the fabric?”
“If only! The Umbridge case has…taken an unexpected turn.” He hesitated briefly before deciding that confidentiality didn’t rightly apply in this case. “A formal request came across my desk for special visitation rights. From that bottom-feeder, Gerard Mortimer.”
Remus nodded knowingly. “The same low-life who couldn’t wait to hail Fenrir Greyback as the latest literary discovery.”
“Can you imagine how much Umbridge will relish wagging her tongue with no constraints about whether she’s telling the truth or not? Mortimer asserts that his volumes aren’t labeled as fiction or nonfiction; he just leaves it to the reader to suit himself.”
“As long as she’s penning her memoirs from Azkaban, I’m not certain you can restrict her. Only a totalitarian government would do so.”
“You mean like the one she espoused with the Death Eaters?”
“Ironic, isn’t it?” Remus commiserated.
“Kingsley said the most the Wizengamot could do was to include a clause in her sentencing that prevents any personal gain from her crimes. Any profits from the book would have to be consigned to charity.” Harry took a thoughtful swallow before continuing, “I doubt she’d care about that, though. She just likes to be the center of attention.”
“She can’t very well participate in any book signings from that far-flung rock,” Remus mused.
“Nor am I likely to support any costly remote interviews; not this time around,” Harry affirmed.
“Not even if Dolores promises to deliver the goods on another dark associate who has slipped through the cracks?”
“We can hash that out one-on-one, but not across the airwaves. It’s about time someone clipped her wings; Severus was right about that.”
With the infamous Marauder grin, Remus proposed a unique angle of his own. “How about if the book proceeds were earmarked for the betterment of werewolves? Would the Wizengamot agree to that?”
Harry grinned as the perfect solution fell into his lap. Either Umbridge’s egotism would help to fund some sort of charitable concern for werewolves “ or she’d grace them all with blessed silence. How could they possibly lose?
“To the perfect double-edged sword,” Harry toasted Remus’ devilish scheme.
Summoning Sirius’ glass to him in one simple motion, Remus raised it high. “If he were with us today, I have no doubt Sirius would be relishing the ultimate prank on the Toad Woman himself.” His eyes burned into Harry’s as he intoned, “To the future.”
Taking the half empty tumbler from Remus’ hand, Harry downed the remainder in a single gulp. He ignored the tears that sprang from the fiery sensation down the length of his throat as the memories swirled about them, sublimating one into the other without surcease.
Should it have surprised him that Sirius had left such an indelible imprint on these surroundings? He may have only lived here a few years as an adult, but his first sixteen years had been spent within these very walls. The resilience with which he approached his own life could only mean that his presence was felt more keenly than those of the rest of his family. Or perhaps, it was simply that Sirius had been the last to live here. Harry didn’t presume to understand the ultimate truth; such metaphysical ramblings had always been Dumbledore’s department, not his.
The future and the past -- that was all they had in life. The present was such a transitory moment, melting like a snowflake on the tongue. Gone into the past before one could hardly grasp it.
With sudden intuition, Harry knew that was just the sort of thing his mother would’ve confided to Remus. Perhaps when they were Prefects on patrol, perhaps when they braved the elements to take a walk on the grounds as he’d once witnessed in a Pensieve. The one true friend who had always stood by her in word, thought and actions. No wonder she had come to love the man just as much as he had.
As they Levitated the soiled crockery towards the worn sink and started the brushes to scrubbing of their own accord, Harry conceded that his mother’s ways were truly subtle and enduring. Despite the intervening years, he could feel her smile beaming down at him from across the table.