DarkIsRising
The Night Will Go As Follows
1. SORRY TO LEAVE, BUT I HAD TO GO
The wind whipped her cloak into a deranged frenzy about her chilled body. Rain came down in a slanted sheet, constantly stinging her face and causing her to squint in response. Her quest was so all consuming that she never stopped her stride to cast a charm to keep out the elements. Lightning surged across the sky, causing quick shadows to be cast, followed by a loud clap of thunder. No, she was glad for the misery because it befitted the day. To bloody dismal perfection.
Another round of lightning lit up the landscape and her eyes finally caught sight of what she was looking for. Quickening her pace, she strode forward as swiftly as she could, barring the chaos around her. Leaves swirled in spontaneous whirlwinds, a small reminder that the storm could bring much worse.
One word from Molly had sent her out into the weather and Apparating in a flurry. Anniversary. It was the anniversary, two years since the Battle of Hogwarts. How could she have forgotten? How could she have let him slip out today? She cursed herself for getting too bogged down in her work, for letting herself slip into an unawareness.
Normally a very calm, collected individual, his reasoning seemed to leave him when the calendar rested on today, a day of horrible memories. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she chided. You know how he gets. He is liable to stand out here until the lightning strikes him and he burns to a crisp.
She called his name. He paid no heed to it, though the wind seemed to sweep her voice away as soon as she opened her mouth. Again she shouted out his name. Nothing. Advancing on him, she grabbed a hold of his forearm, bringing his attention away from the spot he was looking at to her face.
–Remus,†she said once more, trying to be heard above the din. Her hair briefly obscured her face; it was now a mass of wild curls, weighed down with water.
At first, he did not seem to register the pale hand that still clung to his sopping trench coat or the anxious face attached, but soon his eyes snapped from their reverie and darted about in confusion as if suddenly lost. Finally his tired gray eyes locked on her equally weary, dark brown ones, a startled look upon his face.
–Gods, Hermione, what are you doing out here?â€
Incredibility quickly scrawled itself across her face as her eyebrows rose. –What am I doing out here?†she echoed back. –I’m making sure you haven’t drowned yet. It’s coming a flood, Remus! You’re soaked.†Her appearance was a testament to that statement as she flung a wad of drenched hair over her shoulder from its position on her saturated shirt.
At that, he picked at his attire, looking down, letting raindrops drip from his nose, eyelashes and chin. His gaze was then reclaimed by what he had been staring at earlier. –I had hardly noticed. I’ve been here a bit,†he replied distantly.
Reflexively, she found herself looking at it, too. The smooth gray granite, engraved with rigid serif letters, stuck up sharply from the rain beaten grass. Nymphadora Tonks 1973-1998 Beloved Daughter, Sister and Friend. Her heart wrenched as it had the first time she stood over this grave, watching the dirt being poured in. His silent agony permeated and she felt his attention waning from the present and drifting to the past. She would not leave him here.
Taking his chin in her fingers, she turned his face back to hers. –We need to go, Remus, or else you are going to catch pneumonia.†He did not respond and she knew it was not due to the wind for it had died down considerably. Her tone softened, –I know what you are going through and what you are thinking. You have a right to mourn, we all have lost, but it’s not over. We need you.â€
Lightly, she took his hand in hers and began to slowly pull him away. She halted as he said in a croak, –I can’t. Not-not today.â€
Through the thinning sheets of rain, she studied his face. He seemed so torn; neither did he let go of her hand nor did he move from his spot. –Okay,†she conceded, turning back around. –But I’m staying with you.â€
Remus made as if to argue, but one look at the setline of her mouth told him it would be quite pointless. So they stood there several moments longer; their hands no longer clasped, but Hermione had linked arms with him. As the rain moved out, a chill set in. A late October gust cut their coats. Lost in thought as she gazed blankly out into the cemetery, she almost did not hear his faint words, not expecting much from the constant silence.
–You’re cold.â€
Indeed, Hermione had started to involuntarily shake as the temperature dropped, but the movement had been lost on her. By clamping her teeth, she kept them from chattering. She shrugged in response; he was not going to find a reason to send her back and stay out here by himself for who knew how long. No one had ever let her, and in hindsight, she was glad. Clinging and mourning over Ron’s grave would have only driven her to madness. She would not see anyone fall into what she nearly had. Remus had helped drag her back to sanity after Ron’s funeral. Being that close to the edge was frightening enough without actually tipping over.
In usual scholarly response, Hermione conjured a blue flame in one outstretched hand and held it close to her, grinning slightly through the flickering tendrils. She easily separated the fire into both hands and offered one over to him. He cupped his palm over hers and let it lay there, extinguishing the blaze. For a moment, he left it there before moving it to her shoulder and steering her around. Puzzled by his sudden turnaround, she fisted the other fire into nothingness. The firm hand on her back led her resolutely out of the cemetery.
–Did Molly send you?†he asked at last.
–No,†replied Hermione.
Rephrasing, he said, –Did Molly tell you?â€
–She simply reminded me and well, she knew how I’d respond, so -â€
–So you were sent,†he sighed.
Hermione gave him a scathing look and her nostrils flared in kind. –No, I was not! I came out in this gale to keep you from dying of any number of sources on my own accord without prompting. No one sent me to retrieve you. I care about your wellbeing and just could not let you do this to yourself, especially alone, on today of all days.†His face was oh so carefully avoiding hers as she peered up at him and finished softly, –You did not leave me, and I’ll be damned if I let you keep trying to make it through this by yourself.â€
His expression was so infuriatingly hard to read that initially Hermione feared he might become angry with her being so forward about his situation and her determination to help him. But it soon turned to resignation and a faint sad smile lifted the corners of his mouth. As usual he responded to her in a very calm and warm way, –I’m getting you inside. It’s freezing and you’re soaked to the bone. Molly will have a fit when she sees us both.â€
–But-but-†sputtered Hermione. It was her idea that they be leaving. As soon as they had crossed the cemetery’s threshold, Remus grasped her upper arm and began to spin out of sight. Conceding her brief authority, she let him be the one in control and watched despondently as he carefully tucked his emotions down inside of him, plastering a composed expression on as they reappeared at The Burrow. He cleared his throat and gently released his grip on her. Neither had a chance to move before being hit by a powerful drying charm from Mrs. Weasley. Each of their hair blew around their now pink faces, leaving a tangled mess for them to sort out with their fingers. At least they were in dry clothes again.
–Thank goodness you are both back. I asked the barometer and it said these storms will be going on all through the night. Neither of you have caught anything, have you?†She felt their foreheads which were deceptively warm from the over excessive drying and gave them a good look over before declaring them with a clean bill of health. –Everything all right?†she whispered to Hermione as Remus trudged into the kitchen and sank down into a chair.
–As well as can be expected.â€
Molly made a sympathetic noise and gently patted Hermione on the back as they moved into the kitchen. Remus was already nursing a very black cup of coffee and he leaned heavily over it. Hermione could detect a faint whiff of something else; she pinned it as Firewhiskey. Scrunching her noise, she could only guess what kind of horrible tasting concoction that would make. She pulled out the chair next to him and flopped down. He made as if to move, but stayed in his seat. A few more people filtered in; rather a few of the survivors did, as was often the case on the anniversary of the first battle. Most of them avoided any pomp that the Ministry might put on to commemorate the event. Mrs. Weasley was bustling around offering food to anyone who dared linger in the kitchen. Hermione finally gave her the satisfaction of making something as she requested only toast. The older witch beamed at the prospect. Without nearly half her clan to feed, Hermione would indulge her if only to see her a bit happier.
The people milling about muttered softly around them and Hermione pulled her golden brown toast closer. Several clapped Remus on the shoulder, who determinedly stared into his cup and offered only the words necessary for a response, no more. Some of them went up stairs to where Harry was, no doubt with Ginny, and Hermione was surprised that Bill had not shown up yet. The Wireless hummed innocently in the background, a tune Hermione did not know, but was unconsciously tapping her feet to.
Abruptly, the music stopped and a very authoritative voice replaced it. –Special breaking news from the Ministry of Magic. After a hasty drafting session, the Wizarding Council has once more approved some progressive lawmaking in the wake of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s failed takeover.†Those left within hearing distance froze and stared at the radio; a few groaned. The Ministry could be unpredictable with its laws these days, especially since Kinsley Shackelbolt was no longer the Minister of Magic. –This legislation was just rushed through mere minutes ago and is currently titled as Werewolf Reform Bill R938.†Now all the eyes swiveled to Remus who stared blankly ahead, squeezing his own eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose as the announcer continued. –Henceforth all werewolves must be in an educational program, employed or actively seeking employment and register such with the Ministry. This has been coupled with a revolutionary work place anti-discrimination clause, stipulating that companies must be equal opportunity employers.â€
Now the taunt faces softened with grins as they congratulated Remus on his new prospects. He could get and hold down a job, albeit under Ministry supervision. –You could return to Hogwarts, Remus. Isn’t that wonderful?†said Hermione, a smile directed at him.
–Just because I can get a job, doesn’t make the prejudice any less real. Now they’ll just hire me because Ministry is forcing them or they’ll be written up. I’d rather not have that hanging over my head everyday,†he replied solemnly, causing the happy expression to be wiped cleaning from her face and everyone else’s.
–Remus, I didn’t mean ... I just thought ... â€
He stood up to leave. –I know, Hermione.†She pushed back her chair and got up also.
The radio person cleared his throat, making Remus halt in his tracks. –The second part of the bill states that any werewolf of age must be married or actively seeking a committed, life-long relationship with another, preferably of a normal wizarding sort. A timetable will be determined for how long the werewolves will be allowed to find a husband or wife before coming under a Ministry inquisition, coupled with possible detainment and a snapping of their wand if further compliance is not given. The Ministry hopes these innovative, new laws will foster more human-like behavior from the werewolves and deter future Dark involvement. Matilda Hays of the Wizarding Council said…â€
No one was listening any more. It appeared Remus had stopped breathing and his posture was so rigid it looked as if one move would break him. Everyone looked on horrified and mute, unable to say anything. They were so shocked and also scared of how Remus might react. Hermione’s hand had flown to her mouth at the news; astonishment on her face. Hesitantly, she reached out for him since he was still close to her. Ever so lightly, it came to rest on his elbow, hoping to offer him sort of comfort. Breaking the unbearable silence that was punctuated by annoying out of place sounds from the Wireless, she breathed out, –Oh, Remus, how could they? What made them think they had any right –†She was cut short as tears sprang to her eyes and she found it difficult to continue.
His own eyes stayed dry as his cultivated front flicked with emotions he was trying very hard to control. He exhaled a breath he had been holding in and turned so she could now see his profile. Lowering his head, he regarded her out of the corner of his eye and sighed softly once more before silently moving out from under her hand. The others moved back without saying a word, giving him his space as he exited the room. A small pop was heard from the adjoining hallway that indicated his departure.
Brandishing her wand, Hermione flourished it so violently at the radio that not only did it cease its playing, but it began to emit smoke from its speakers. The quiet muttering, seething with undercurrents of outrage and astonishment, paused at the commotion she had made with a few fanning the smoke out the nearest window. It was her turn to stalk out, tears prickling to be unleashed once more. The unfairness of it all made her hot all over and she could not even explain herself properly to Harry and Ginny as she met them in the hallway.
She hastened up the stairs, having a faint hope that maybe Remus had simply Apparated to the second floor, but that was dashed as she found him nowhere. That left the conclusion that he had gone back to his flat, the one he had rented after selling the house he had shared with Tonks. Hermione wrung her hands and dearly hoped he wouldn’t do anything rash. Turning down the hall, she grabbed up a piece of spare parchment and stabbed a quill into an inkpot, writing furiously, not caring about the ink blots that dotted the page. She glanced over her work before whistling down the Weasley’s owl and tying the sheaf onto its leg.
–To the Ministry of Magic, the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Werewolf Registry. You peck them good and hard until they answer my questions,†she said fiercely to the docile-looking owl who swept clumsily out a half-opened window.
Heaving a sigh, she collapsed into an armchair located in the upstairs den. Hermione leaned her head on her hand and stared unseeingly at the opposite wall. Plunging deep into thought, her mind processed each and every scenario this problem presented. Not many solutions ended well. Two were immediately scrapped; Remus leaving the wizarding community and Remus killing himself. She did not really think he would do the second one, but one must always be prepared. The first was quite as terrifying. They still needed him, Death Eaters continued to be at large and Remus was a huge asset. Not only that, but it would crush him and everyone else if he was forced to leave the wizarding community. Or worse if they started throwing werewolves into Azkaban. He had already been through so much; he did not deserve this. Who knew how many more letdowns and abandonments he could take?
He had not left Hermione in her time of need and she had already promised she would not leave Remus in his. She felt the need to cry once more. It was so unfair. To punish all for the fault of a few. Remus was not like anything those horrible Ministry people implied. He was much more human than many that worked there and never had a Dark tendency in all his being. Preposterous! The man had taught Defense Against the Dark Arts for crying out loud! Such horrible prejudice against half-breeds, she wildly thought, Umbridge must have been meddling, but remembered that she was banned from any more official government work.
Remus was calm, friendly, warm and caring. He was the one who retrieved her from Ron’s grave, and although she had beat at him and cried furiously, he had held her silently until she had calmed down. At her lowest point, he had comforted her and was the only one who could talk any sense to her. She had watched him as he found Tonks after the battle, barely alive, her hair black with blood. He cradled her head in his lap and pleaded with her still form.
Oh Gods, then Tonks died and they had all feared for him, watching his mechanical movements and maddeningly dry eyes. How much more death could he take?
Finally, it seemed he was alone. Childhood friends. Gone. Girlfriend. Murdered. His own life. Horribly afflicted.
Hermione slammed a shaking fist down on the chair’s arm before hastily wiping a stray tear. Her body filled with such emotion. She could not remember being able to feel so much; war could make a person dangerously numb. She felt completely wiped out and tired by it.
He was not by himself. Not by a long shot. Never.
As her eyelids began to droop, she listened anxiously for a creak of a floorboard to indicate he had come back. However, she only heard Molly and Bill pass before the house returned to silence. Then she fell away into the darkness of sleep. She awoke horribly cramped in the armchair the next morning, feeling stiff in all the wrong places. Walking uncomfortably from the room and rubbing her back, she inquired as to whether Remus had returned any that night.
No, Remus had not shown up that night.
Hermione waited restlessly for him to come back to The Burrow. It worried her immensely not to see him.
But he did not come back.