To Stand Proud

To Stand Proud

*

"Look! A pwetty flowew!"

"Would you like a pretty flower, Remus darling?"

"Yez!" An enthusiastic giggle escaped the young werewolf's lips as he nodded his head repeatedly. "Lotz!"

Sirius smiled gently at his lover as he began leading the magical wheelchair towards the flower bushes. Once getting there, he stopped the seat and started to pick the most beautiful flowers he could find. After a moment, he turned around, handing the colourful bucket to Remus. "Here," he said, grinning. "They're almost as pretty as you are."

Giggling again, Remus took the flowers, inhaling deeply their sweet scent. He looked beautiful there, the sunlight playing with his honey-coloured locks, the golden eyes sparking with delight, and the delicate features adorned with a bright smile.

Sirius felt a stab in his heart. Once, Remus had had a brilliant mind that had well matched his good looks. Now, however, the Dark Lord's tortures had left him a mere shell of the former Remus. Not a single mark had been made on his body, but he'd never again walk on his own, and the hopes of him gaining back even half of his intelligence were very slim. A couple of times Sirius had managed to catch a glimpse of the great mind his lover had used to have, but every time his hopes had been crushed by Remus's next childish giggle or innocent baby-talking.

What hurt Sirius more than anything was the knowledge that it was all his fault.

Everyone kept telling him that it wasn't, that he shouldn't blame himself. But what else could he think? After all, it'd been his idea to make Remus the Potters' secret keeper. Without him, the Death Eaters wouldn't have had any reason to capture Remus and torture him.

So, it was his fault that Remus had to suffer. That he'd suffered in the bastards' hands, and still had to suffer.

The full moons were the worst. Remus's damaged mind couldn't comprehend what was happening. He didn't understand the odd feeling, he didn't understand why he had to be locked into the basement, and he didn't understand why he was in pain.

Sirius remembered very well the first full moon with Remus in his current condition. His sandy-haired love had watched him with confused eyes as he'd locked the door and helped Remus to undress to save his clothes from getting torn.

"Ziwiuz," the werewolf had said as the moon had started to rise to the sky, "Ziwiuz, help... It huwtz..." And then, the baby talk had turned into an agonized scream as the transformation had begun. Sirius'd disappeared and Padfoot had come, Padfoot who was a strange, new creature to Moony just like Sirius had at first been a stranger to Remus.

Soon Sirius had discovered that the wolf-Remus was just as damaged as his human counterpart. He couldn't use his hind legs, just lie still and whimper. Also, his mind was just as much like a cub's as Remus's was like a child's. The specialists at St. Mungo's hospital had said that it was because of the silver injury.

Silver injury. Two simple words, but enough to make Sirius shiver. Somebody wearing a silver ring had tried to strangle Remus, leaving the only scar the whole torture had caused. That scar, almost too small to be seen, marked the cause of Remus's mental condition. Silver had crept through his skin and into his brain, making its damages there.

Remus had known what had awaited him. Sirius'd seen the whole thing in a Death Eater's Pensieve during the trials. After being submitted to the Cruciatus long enough to make anyone tell everything, the werewolf had just laughed weakly and said that he wouldn't tell anything. One frustrated Death Eater had sprung towards him and started to strangle him.

The following moments were burned to Sirius's mind, and would never fade. Remus'd laughed again, not bitterly or tiredly like before, but delightedly, and his eyes had been sparkling with genuine joy. "Now I'll never tell you anything," he'd said, his intelligence shining in the sparkling eyes. "You could have broken me, and now you can't. I didn't deceive James and Lily... They're safe." And then, the intelligence had disappeared from his gaze, and a high-pitched giggle had broke off any future thoughts.

Remus had provoked them to drive him insane. He'd known what he'd lose, what he was just about to sacrifice, and given it up gladly to keep his friends safe.

What a pity that it had all been for naught.

Again, Sirius shivered. He remembered all too well the night after they'd found Remus. Lily had just cried, constantly touching Remus's arm as if not believing it to be true, not believing that this was the real Remus and not just some horrifying nightmare. James had vowed to do anything he could to restore his friend's mind, tears veiling the hazel eyes. And Peter, oh-so-brave and courageous Peter, willing to become the new secret keeper despite the living reminder of the job's dangers in front of him. They'd been hesitant at first, but as Remus was clearly unable to continue in his job, and Sirius had been just weeping helplessly, Peter had become the Potters' new secret keeper.

The following night, Peter had gone to Voldemort and voluntarily given up the secret. No tortures, no pressure, no threats. Just the little fact that Peter Amos Pettigrew was the Dark Lord's most important spy and a loyal servant to him.

After hearing of this, Sirius had been ready to kill Peter himself. Only Remus, sitting in his wheelchair with an oblivious smile, had kept him from following the traitor. Two days later, Aurors had captured Peter, and dragged him straight into the Azkaban without even a trial. Sirius didn't care. Good riddance, if they asked him.

Now, two months later, Peter was rotting away in the worst hellhole known to the wizardingkind, Remus was on the mental level of a child, Sirius was grieving, James and Lily were dead, and little Harry was an orphan.

Harry. Little, kind, happy Harry, who liked his teddy bear very much and cried for Mommy and Daddy at nights. Sirius had offered to take care of his godson, but Dumbledore had pointed out that he had too much work with Remus to deal with an active toddler. He still made sure that the Dursleys were properly caring for the boy, and that Harry visited him often.

Remus liked Harry, and Harry liked him. Although Harry was confused about the fact that "Unca Moonie" couldn't come, pick him up, and carry him around like he'd used to, he was delighted that the man could always play with him. Unca Moonie always had time for Harry, he was never stuck with adult things.

With a sting in his heart Sirius wondered what would happen when Harry grew up and noticed that he was more an adult than Unca Moonie. At least he wouldn't be ashamed of Remus, that he'd make sure about. No, the boy would grow to be proud of Remus and his sacrifice, that was a fact.

Other people were proud of him. They'd received countless owls, congratulating Remus for his courage, expressing concern from his current state, even offering to support the "hero's" life. Even Snape had contacted him, come to talk him face to face, and apologized, of all things in the world. He'd apologized for underestimating Remus, as well as for not being able to save Remus before it was too late. Sirius had forgiven him wholly. After all, Snape had been the one who'd got Remus out of there before he could have been killed, thus deceiving his position as a spy to the Dark Lord. He owed Snape for Remus's life, the fact that Remus had lost his mind was his fault, and nobody else's. Shit, it was his fault that James and Lily were gone, too.

"James and Lily," he muttered in remorse, and with a shock realized that he'd actually said it aloud. It was already too late, however. He'd been heard.

"Jamez and Lilly," Remus echoed in a whisper, and tears started to slowly pour down his cheeks.

Sirius sighed deeply. Remus didn't remember James and Lily, was not aware that they were gone or that they'd even existed at some point. But he knew the feeling of a great loss inside him, and guided by Sirius's feelings, had connected it to those two names. Whenever somebody mentioned them, he would start crying.

"Don't cry, Remie darling," he hushed softly. "Everything is okay. Hey, if you don't cry, I'll take you seeing Harry tomorrow, what about that?"

"Hawwy?" echoed Remus, raising his teary golden eyes to Sirius, then to look around him. "I dunn zee Hawwy," he said with a bit accusing tone.

"Tomorrow, love, I promise," Sirius cooed. "Tomorrow you'll see Harry. Now look at the pretty flowers, will you? Don't cry, my dear. Just don't cry."

"Pwetty flowewz!" said Remus eagerly, cheering up instantly. If there was something good in his child-mind, it was the very short attention span that made it easy for Sirius to convince him to stop crying any time he threw a fit. "I like pwetty flowewz!" Then, he grasped again his bucket, starting to sniff it in happiness. Standing next to him, Sirius just watched, a gentle, yet sad smile on his lips.

Maybe, with time, Remus would gain back some of his intelligence. St. Mungo's mediwizards had been rather optimistic, saying that werewolves' healing skills were incredible. Dumbledore had also tried to encourage him, even said that as soon as Remus was on a ten years old child's level, Sirius would gain the custody over Harry. Remus was Lily's second cousing, so the wards keeping Harry safe could also be placed at their house.

Personally, Sirius didn't have much hope. But, like he thought, watching Remus adore the "pwetty flowewz," he had to hope. For Remus's sake, and his own.

He had to stand in his lover's defence, for nobody else would do that.

He had to stand proud.