After Life

TITLE: After Life

BY: Dev-Aki Basaa

~~~~

They say silence can be deafening. Silence can also be a hollow, empty presence where once there had been the clatter of enchanted dishes, dancing themselves clean. Silence can be where bare feet once slapped against the hard wood floor. Where questions had been asked -- like where he'd hidden the soap, or what time they were expected at the Tonks' for dinner -- silence reigned instead. Silence could haunt where once something sweet and loving was said, which /should/ have been empty, hollow silence for the truth it told.

Remus winced. His chest hurt, the skin of his cheeks felt stiff and dry. He rolled onto his side and the bed creaked in response. He'd always meant to fix that. It made too much noise. It would have been a simple spell; he wondered why he'd never done it. Remus scoffed. He supposed it hardly mattered now.

He slid his hand over the sheet, the linen cool and crisp white. He then moved his hand up onto the pillow next to his own. He fisted the pillowcase. He should throw out the whole lot -- the sheets, the bed, the dishes, the flat. It wasn't in his name anyway. No other witch or wizard would dare touch this place if they knew who'd lived there. Perhaps some Muggle will want it.

Perhaps, instead, Remus could just curl up and never move again. Would anyone even notice? Everyone who would have cared, was gone. The Ministry could expand their investigation to include the flat as another crime scene. They could simply pack him up with all the other artifacts of lies and deceit -- another testament to the impressive depth of betrayal. Remus closed his eyes and heaved a deep sigh.

Peter's memorial had been odd. So many witches and wizards who never would have claimed friendship with Peter back at Hogwarts had come by the throngs. Remus supposed heroic martyr status had some universal appeal. Perhaps they came to thank and remember a wizard who'd had such an important role in bringing down...a part of Voldemort's empire. Perhaps they wanted a touch of Peter's glory by claiming to have known him. If that's what they came for, they could have it -- there's no glory in losing your only friends. There's only grief and heartache and Remus knew they weren't feeling that consumption. Would they like a touch of that? They could have it as well.

Of the people with whom Peter had actually been friends, Remus alone had sat beside Mr. and Mrs. Pettigrew, holding Mrs. Pettigrew's hand. He'd felt the stares like strange currents running down his spine, uncomfortable and cold. Too many curious gazes had watched his every move; he'd heard the whisperings.

Poor Lupin.

The last remaining of their group; Black is as good as dead.

They were rooming, did you know?

Really? Amazing. Black tricked all his closest friends. Horrible traitor. Vicious man.

Vicious man. Vicious man. They didn't know how gentle his hands could be. They didn't know all the right and wonderful things he'd said or the way he'd made Remus feel. Remus didn't want to know; he wanted to forget. He wanted that empty, hollow silence to swallow him whole so that he'd never have to leave this place. This flat.

This lie.

Remus took a deep, full breath and closed his eyes. The sheets smelled of-- He'd have to throw them out. Of course he would. Soon, very soon.

However, Remus didn't move. Time ticked away around him, the world moving forward, but he didn't. He just couldn't.

There was a clatter at the window. Remus lifted his head and opened his eyes. He winced. Light seeping through the drawn curtains was bright and hurt his eyes. Just from the noise, the thump of wings against the glass, Remus knew it was an owl -- probably from Dumbledore.

Remus laid his had back down and rolled over, his back to the window.

Dumbledore's letter would contain some poignant insight meant to inspire Remus, convince him to shake off the betrayal so many witches and wizards were feeling, accept the grief universally felt in the wizarding world.

Remus sneered at the thought.

The betrayer didn't tell them he loved them, did he? They didn't believe those words to the core of their souls.

No.

Dumbledore hadn't sat and listened to a eulogy of ultimate sacrifice for a beloved son and be unable to banish the memory of -- him -- lying on James' and Lily's couch, little Harry asleep on his chest and remember the adoration as he looked at the baby. No one else saw the glittering of his eyes as he looked up and beckoned him near.

"He's beautiful, isn't he?"

Remus could still hear the indulgent tone of his own voice as he answered, "yes."

"We'll be the best uncles."

"We will, will we?"

"Oh yes! I'll teach him all the things Lily won't let Prongs teach him and you'll be patient with both of us."

Remus remembered thinking he smelled of baby powder when he kissed him then. Remus buried his face in his pillow and screamed, wordless, his mind spinning.

How could he? How could he?!

Remus' whole life felt like a lie. He punched the pillow that smelled good and wrong. He begged for the silence to take him, make it end. Instead, all he could only hear was the absence in the apartment -- the silence that shouldn't be. All he could hear was the owl fluttering its wings outside the window, hooting softly.

He stopped listening for a while.

~~~~

"Listen to me, Remus. I know it doesn't seem possible. I don't want to believe it myself, but there are facts which cannot be ignored. No one could have revealed Lily and James' hiding place. You didn't know, I didn't know, Peter didn't know."

"But Peter..."

"Is dead. There were witnesses. They saw him kill Peter and...I don't even know how many Muggles yet. The Ministry is still assessing the damage."

"He -- no."

"Remus."

Remus opened his eyes. He'd drifted off and fallen into a memory, Dumbledore's voice ringing in his head. No one had doubted the facts. No one. Except Remus -- and his doubt was fading fast, taken over with numb acceptance.

When would the anger hit? When would he decide he hated him?

He loved him.

"Remus."

Remus lifted his head again. Dumbledore's voice. It was coming from the hall. Remus laid his head back down and rolled again, his back to the door.

"Remus."

Remus wondered how long the owl had waited before flying back. Remus had no sense of time. He didn't know how long he'd slept for; he didn't care.

"There have been backlash attacks from the Death Eaters, desperation strikes. The Longbottoms...have been attacked." There was a heavy sigh and Remus winced. The Longbottoms had a young boy too. Neville. Lily and Alice had talked of their boys growing up together.

"There's still work for the Order to do."

Remus didn't doubt that; he just didn't care. More empty silence followed, horrible, hollow silence that shouldn't be. Dumbledore didn't say anything for a long time. Remus thought he may have left, given up, but then his voice rang from the hallway again.

"When you're ready." The old man sounded resigned. "I could use your help. I even know a place you can stay in the meantime."

Remus wanted to scream again but didn't have the energy. In the meantime. And after that? And at the next full moon? What then? Remus buried his face in the pillow. Silence reigned again.

He wondered if Dumbledore was still out in the hall, or maybe setting himself down in the nook with a cup of tea and a scone.

No. The scones would be stale by now. Sir-- He'd bought them. Before. Before. It would always be like that now. Before and after. Lies then reality. Life and after life.

Remus sighed. The Longbottoms. He did care, just -- not today. Tomorrow, he'd care. Tomorrow he'd give what remained of his soul to the order. However, with Voldemort gone, that wouldn't last forever. Then what?

Remus lifted his head. There was no light out now to sting his eyes -- only a waning moon and the fear of facing a full one alone.

Alone.

He put his head back down again. The sheets. He'd throw them out. Tomorrow.

~end