- Rating:
- PG-13
- House:
- Schnoogle
- Characters:
- Harry Potter Remus Lupin Sirius Black
- Genres:
- Mystery Slash
- Era:
- Multiple Eras
- Spoilers:
- Order of the Phoenix
- Stats:
-
Published: 11/02/2003Updated: 11/10/2003Words: 43,250Chapters: 10Hits: 32,771
Beyond the Veil
Helene
- Story Summary:
- Trapped in a world where he can be neither seen nor heard, Sirius Black struggles to communicate to his friends that he may not be as dead as they think he is... and that something dreadful lurks beyond the veil.
Chapter 08
- Posted:
- 11/10/2003
- Hits:
- 2,392
- Author's Note:
- Dedicated to the SBRL list and the noble cause of denial. This is a revised version of the original story, with some slightly different chapter breaks. Please note that this is SLASH, i.e. contains a relationship between two men!
08. Orpheus
I will follow her on her path
Scarlet's Walk through the violets
just tell your gods from me
all debts are off this year
they're free to leave...
- 'Scarlet's Walk', Tori Amos
He'd expected darkness, but he was aware of light.
He couldn't really see it as such - he'd taken care to choose a blindfold that would block out everything around him - but the edges of his vision told him that he was surrounded by brilliance.
Remus wondered, with a curiosity that he quickly subdued, what he would see if he removed the cloth. A glittering white world? A thousand thousand mirrors? A plain of diamonds under a star-studded sky?
He drew breath, and the air was cold in his lungs. It felt good on his skin, which still smarted and stung from contact with the silver mirror. He probably looked like he'd suffered particularly bad sunburn.
"Sirius?"
There was no answer.
Remus fought back fear. He held out both his hands in front of him, a blind man feeling his way. "Sirius, are you there? Touch me - take my hand."
Silence. He felt nothing, save for the kiss of a cold breeze on his fingers.
Remus resisted the urge to tear off the blindfold and look around wildly. Had something gone wrong? Was he already lost? Was Sirius lost? Had he been unable to follow? Had he been attacked?
Mirrors.
He took a deep breath, fighting for calm. He had only been able to see Sirius's reflection in the mirror, not hear or touch him. Perhaps the same was true here. Perhaps, if he were to remove the blindfold, he'd see Sirius standing in front of him.
And perhaps it would be the last thing I ever saw, he thought grimly, squashing the part of him that wondered if the ancient witch been over-cautious in her instructions. The blindfold remains. I have to trust Sirius to stay with me. I have to trust Harry to protect us both. I have to trust in the woman who showed me the way.
"I... assume you can hear me, then," he said after a moment. "Sirius... stay close to me. Follow me, don't stray away, not even if something happens - especially if anything happens. The protective charms will only work for you if you stay by my side. Do you understand?"
There was no answer.
It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, to step forward into unknown space. His feet were aware of a surface - flat, even, neither rough nor slippery - but he had the unreasoning fear that his next step would find only emptiness, that he would fall. He took another step anyway. He kept his hands out in front of him. He hoped against hope that he would feel the veil at his fingertips, but he knew that he would have to walk further than this to reach it.
Remus began to walk with a little more confidence, but the creeping uneasiness didn't leave him. The ground remained solid beneath his feet, and he couldn't sense any walls or other obstacles around him, but with every step he felt as though there was someone just in front of him - someone with whom he would surely collide - like there was a crowd of people all around him - people who moved back just before he stepped forward...
Remus's breathing had become ragged. He struggled to regulate it, trying not to wonder whether he'd even know if one of the inhabitants of this place found him. Would he feel cold air on the back of his neck? Hear a whispering of its approach? Or would there be nothing until its ghostly fingers closed around his soul...
He shuddered. His steps faltered; he had to pause for a second. The blindness was paralysing. He couldn't hear anything - not even his own footsteps - only his breathing and the beat of his heart. His hands rose to touch the blindfold.
If I take it off, he thought, I will never find the veil, I will never leave this place, and I will never see Sirius again.
His hands fell back to his sides. They clenched into fists as he began to walk steadily forward again. He had never learned Occlumency, but he'd always been good at disciplining himself and his mind. Sirius had found it incomprehensible at school. Moony, he'd say, I know you're a chocoholic; you've always got some on you somewhere. So how can you sit there and eat only a quarter of that bar? And Remus would take the not-too-veiled hint and offer the rest to his three friends, who'd gleefully consume it, and he'd reflect that a quarter of a bar always tasted better than the whole one would have done.
What if Sirius can't see me?
Remus tried to remember exactly what the book had said, but there had been so many pages of painstaking research, so many speculations or dead-end avenues of inquiry, that he'd skimmed most of it and concentrated only on the final results. He was sure it had said that Sirius would be able to follow him out. Wasn't that what it had said? Had it mentioned a beacon of some kind? Was he doing this for nothing?
'...all your doubts...'
Remus half-wanted to turn back, but he knew that there was no way out for him unless he found his way to the Gateway. He drew a shaky breath. Maybe he'd done the wrong thing. Everything had just... spiralled out of hand. He should have been more cautious with Snape. He should have let Harry go home and planned this out more carefully, experimented on his own, made sure that he knew everything about what he was going into...
And in my hesitation, Sirius would have been lost, I know he would. Just like if I'd waited to call Dumbledore that night, God knows what Sirius and Harry might have done to each other; he'd already broken Ron's leg and Harry was so angry...
The memory was still vivid, of the moment when he'd burst into the bedroom of the Shrieking Shack, the agonising hour that had followed as he tried to keep control of a situation that seemed ever on the brink of disaster.
The analogy was flawed, of course. If he had waited a little longer - or if he'd hesitated and taken the Map with him - things might have been quite different. Sirius might have been cleared that night.
He'd been walking for a while now. He had no sense of approaching anything, no sense of being guided. Had the charms on the circle failed? Was he going completely the wrong way?
A sudden breeze rippled over his skin. He tensed, fearful. Was that something--? Was something coming--?
Nothing happened.
'...all your fears...'
Except now he thought he could hear something. Whispers. Voices. Right beside him, but too soft to comprehend. Remus desperately wanted to tear off the cloth over his eyes, to see who was whispering - his skin crawled with the certainty that they were right there, right beside him - and he placed one foot in front of the other and took another step.
What if it was all a trick?
Remus kept walking, but an icy sensation had begun to trickle through his veins. For the first time, it occurred to him to wonder whence Snape had obtained the book that had brought him here.
How very convenient, he realised with the beginnings of real fear, that a book that just so happens to contain the instructions for entering the mirrorworld should fall into the hands of someone desperate enough to try it.
Had Snape done it deliberately? No - he thought the shock when Snape had realised that Remus intended to go after Sirius had been unfeigned. Yet how could it be coincidence - how could the book have been in just exactly the right place at the right time?
Unless, thought Remus, it was he and Harry who had been in the right place in the right time, for someone - or something - else.
Which meant that maybe there was no way out. Which meant that maybe he couldn't trust what he'd read. Which meant that maybe blinding himself had been the stupidest thing he could do.
Remus fumbled with the blindfold.
Then he pulled his hands away roughly and half-ran a few steps forward, until he felt himself losing his balance and was forced to slow down.
"I'm not going to look," he said aloud, hearing his own voice fall flat and unechoing among the whispers. "No matter what."
"And I will get out of here," he added. "Sirius? We're going to find a way back. Harry's waiting."
'...all your darknesses...'
What if Harry wasn't the only one waiting? What if Voldemort was aware of them, and sat patiently as Remus stumbled into his web, bringing Sirius with him...
Was Sirius even following?
Remus resisted the urge to call his name again. There would be no answer - and the whispers seemed to surge a little more eagerly around him as he continued to move forward. He'd been walking for days - months - years, it seemed.
Was there no way out after all?
Was Sirius there? Beloved Sirius, with strong hands and strong heart and long black hair so good to touch, warmth in the night and laughter, flashes of the boy he'd been - so many things they'd never confronted in their year of stolen time - so many things lying unforgotten, unforgiven, unspoken between them.
He was doing this for Sirius. And for Harry, lost and determined and stubborn in the Department of Mysteries. And for himself; for the aching, desperate part of him that couldn't let Sirius go, not again, not again...
'...all your pain...'
"I know where I'm not welcome."
"Moony, wait, I didn't mean--"
"Don't. Just... don't. I've had enough."
"You're just going to walk out? That's your solution? Damn it, Moony, get back here! Come back!"
He flinched from the memory. It unfurled itself so clearly he could all but hear Sirius's voice, loud and angry and guilty - but never guilty enough, that was the problem, never quite sorry enough...
"Have you even spoken to him?"
"No, James, I haven't. We can't seem to talk without it turning into an argument."
"Hey - you don't have to snap at me."
"Sorry... I'm sorry. I just... don't know what's happening..."
"I know... I know. Look, Remus... even I don't pretend to understand the inner workings of Sirius's mind - but if it's your job that's causing this--"
"No - I know that's what he says, but... I don't know. He won't... talk to me... But I can't leave the Department - we need what I'm learning - Dumbledore said only the other day that--"
"Look, Moony, I know what you think of that place. You've learned some useful stuff, but-- look, Dumbledore's a great man. I admire him, I always have. But sometimes he... forgets that not everyone's a hundred and twelve..."
"Closer to a hundred and forty."
"... whatever - a hundred and forty with no living relatives..."
"He has Aberforth."
"Does he count? Moony, the point is that we're twenty years old. We have families, we have people we care about - you and Sirius have--"
"Don't."
"Remus..."
He stopped suddenly. He could hear James's voice saying his name - hear it so clearly that for a second he thought...
"James?"
There was no answer. He shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself as if to ward off a chill. He tried to stop thinking - to remember long days in the summer, climbing cliffs to find hidden caves - but in his head swam the memory of the Department of Mysteries, Harry asking, How did you get away, then? and his own answer, James...
"Are you okay? Moony? Say something... They didn't-- mistreat you, did they?"
"No... I'm okay. Just... shocked, I suppose."
"You'd better come back to our place..."
"I can't. Full moon. I wouldn't want to risk Lily or Harry..."
"Then I'll come back with you to yours."
"No, you should be with your family--"
"You are my family. You and Sirius and Peter are my family too. We promised you weren't going to be alone anymore. If I'm the only one who keeps that promise, then so be it."
"Peter can't get away easily--"
"I know. I wasn't thinking of him."
"Don't be angry with Sirius, James. He was right, wasn't he? There is a spy somewhere. There was no way the Ministry could've found out about me otherwise. Someone had to have tipped them off. I'd better talk to him... he'll want to know-- James? What is it?"
"I... Moony..."
"What... what is it?"
"Sirius told them."
He tried to focus on the present. He'd heard snatches of these conversations before - on a train, outside a school, in a forest, in his garden on a summer night - but he couldn't seem to recall why. For a second a clear, autumn-tinted memory swam into view... a classroom, pale sunlight, a thirteen-year-old boy pleading wordlessly for assurance that he was no coward... his own voice, explaining, "It has nothing to do with weakness... they drain peace, hope and happiness out of the air around them... you'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life..."
Then the boy's green eyes became hazel, full of a hard fury directed not at him but at another whom they both loved - and his own anger mixed with betrayal - bitter the second time, even more bitter than it had been the first, all your promises of never again were for nothing, Sirius, and now you've used me twice...
He stood rooted to the spot. He remembered what he'd said to Sirius afterward - what Sirius had said in reply - remembered that no matter how he shouted and hated and said things he didn't mean, he couldn't get Sirius to tell him why he'd done it. He remembered James, distracted by fear for his wife and son, not realising that Sirius had stopped telling Remus when and where they'd be meeting; James not knowing that Sirius was lying when he said Remus had other things to do.
"I think he thought he was acting for the best, Remus... some of the things you found out were being leaked - maybe he thought it'd stop the spy if you weren't in the Department of Mysteries anymore..."
"It wasn't his decision, Lily, and you know it."
"I know. But... you know what he's like..."
"Yes. I do."
"I didn't mean it that way, Remus."
"But it's true nonetheless. And I know Dumbledore agrees with me - I know he doesn't want you to use Sirius as your Secret Keeper."
"James and I trust him with our lives!"
"I wouldn't if I were you, Lily. He's careless with other people's secrets."
He tried to draw breath, but the air was cold and hurt his lungs. There were whispers all around him - the feeling of something drawing near. He was dizzy - he couldn't keep his balance - he couldn't see to defend himself - frantically, he reached for the blindfold to tear it from his face.
As if from far away, he heard the cantering of hooves. Suddenly the chill receded. The whispers faded into silence. Remus put out a hand uncertainly and felt - for a second - what could have been the smoothness of a stag's antler brush the skin of his palm.
Harry, he thought, and awareness of where he was returned in a rush.
Badly shaken, Remus started to walk as quickly as he could without tripping himself. He'd become so lost in his own dark memories that he'd all but forgotten what he was supposed to be doing. Even Dementors had never affected him this strongly - he'd always found something to cling to against the dark.
He wished he could see how much further there was to go. He wished he could see Sirius. Just one glimpse of Sirius's face - encouraging or worried or loving or afraid - would be enough.
He stepped firmly on the temptation. If he was this susceptible with his eyes covered, he dared not imagine what he would suffer with them open.
It couldn't be much further, he decided. He must be almost out of sight to Harry in the mirrors - his Patronus had barely reached Remus in time, and he shuddered again at the thought - which meant that he'd rounded the infinity-curve of their reflections. If the book was right then he was almost there.
If the book was right.
No, he thought firmly, and this time he could remember clearly the day he'd promised to teach Harry the Patronus Charm, could remember the lessons, later, and the things he'd taught. He repeated them to himself now, lessons that he recalled learning himself from his own Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. He'd been older than Harry, of course, because he'd had no such pressing need for protection, but he'd found it much more difficult to master the charm. Not because of a lack of skill - he'd simply found it so very, very hard, at that precise time in his life, to bring to mind a memory with the necessary force to repel a Dementor.
It couldn't be much further now.
Was Sirius still following him?
His outstretched fingertips touched ragged, rough cloth.
Remus held his breath. Slowly, he gathered the material into his hand. He could feel the hang of it - the way it fell heavily from an unseen support - and he fancied he could sense warmth on the other side.
He drew back the veil, and hesitated.
"Can you... can you walk past me, and out?" he asked the air. There was no response. He didn't feel Sirius pass him by. He didn't hear anything from the other side of the Gateway - Harry wasn't calling a welcome, Sirius wasn't shouting that he was through - he couldn't hear anything except the breeze and the whispers and the cool air rushing past him into the warmth beyond.
"Sirius?" he whispered.
His fingers clenched on the coarse fabric. One step would bring him back to the world; it could also trap Sirius here forever. There was no way back, once he'd left the mirrorworld. Not without repeating the ritual, and he knew in his heart that he'd never have another chance at it. If he left the mirrorworld now, and Sirius wasn't with him... Remus's heart bled at the thought.
But what could he do? Sirius could already have gone through, or he could be waiting for Remus himself to go forward - or he might not be there at all.
Remus let the veil drop back into place. There was no other way. He had to take off the blindfold, to see if Sirius was still with him - he could resist the confusion of the mirrorworld for a few seconds, couldn't he? He had to, or walk out of this place to which there was no returning. And if he left without Sirius...
Remus fumbled with the knot at the back of his head. He couldn't take the chance that Sirius wasn't following him.
"There all his toil was spilt and the treaty broken with that merciless monarch; and thrice a thunder pealed over the pools of Avernus."
His fingers stilled. The words echoed in his head in Sirius's voice. Remus had been translating the story of Orpheus and Eurydice from Latin. Sirius had picked up one sheet of parchment in curiosity and begun to read, his voice shifting from amused parody, to surprise, to genuine appreciation of the words. What treaty? he'd asked, and Remus had started to tell him how Orpheus had bargained with Hades for his lover's life, and halfway through Sirius had stopped him and read it for himself, aloud, his voice sending shivers down Remus's spine. And then he'd glanced up and blinked and asked why Remus was looking at him like that...
Slowly, Remus stretched out his hand until it found the veil again. He took hold of the fabric, drew it aside.
"Surely he was to be forgiven," he said aloud, stung anew by the cold irony of the words, "if only Death knew forgiveness."
Death had not forgiven Orpheus his weakness.
Remus closed his eyes and felt hot tears spill from beneath the lids.
He stepped forward.
For a second he still held the veil; then he let it drop--
--and there were hands tearing off his blindfold, and voices, and warmth and candlelight and--
Sirius flung away the cloth that had covered his eyes, and Remus had a dizzying, chaotic glimpse of the darkened Death Chamber through a lens of tears. Then Sirius had flung his arms around him, tight enough to bruise bone. For a moment, Remus was too dazed to react. Then everything came back into focus - the unreality of the echoworld dropped away - and he realised that he had succeeded.
"Idiot," Sirius was gasping through tears, shaking him. "Idiot, idiot, idiot, what were you thinking?"
Remus didn't even try to answer; he simply caught Sirius's face in both hands and kissed him. Sirius made a small sound that was half-sob, half-moan, and his hands tightened convulsively on the material of Remus's robes. For a few moments Remus was blind again - blinded by scent and warmth and an overwhelming, unbearable joy - and all he could see or breathe was Sirius.
There were others in the Chamber, of course - others who'd need words and explanations and apologies - but just for one moment, they didn't matter.
I will follow her on her path
Scarlet's Walk through the violets
just tell your gods from me
all debts are off this year
they're free to leave...
- 'Scarlet's Walk', Tori Amos
He'd expected darkness, but he was aware of light.
He couldn't really see it as such - he'd taken care to choose a blindfold that would block out everything around him - but the edges of his vision told him that he was surrounded by brilliance.
Remus wondered, with a curiosity that he quickly subdued, what he would see if he removed the cloth. A glittering white world? A thousand thousand mirrors? A plain of diamonds under a star-studded sky?
He drew breath, and the air was cold in his lungs. It felt good on his skin, which still smarted and stung from contact with the silver mirror. He probably looked like he'd suffered particularly bad sunburn.
"Sirius?"
There was no answer.
Remus fought back fear. He held out both his hands in front of him, a blind man feeling his way. "Sirius, are you there? Touch me - take my hand."
Silence. He felt nothing, save for the kiss of a cold breeze on his fingers.
Remus resisted the urge to tear off the blindfold and look around wildly. Had something gone wrong? Was he already lost? Was Sirius lost? Had he been unable to follow? Had he been attacked?
Mirrors.
He took a deep breath, fighting for calm. He had only been able to see Sirius's reflection in the mirror, not hear or touch him. Perhaps the same was true here. Perhaps, if he were to remove the blindfold, he'd see Sirius standing in front of him.
And perhaps it would be the last thing I ever saw, he thought grimly, squashing the part of him that wondered if the ancient witch been over-cautious in her instructions. The blindfold remains. I have to trust Sirius to stay with me. I have to trust Harry to protect us both. I have to trust in the woman who showed me the way.
"I... assume you can hear me, then," he said after a moment. "Sirius... stay close to me. Follow me, don't stray away, not even if something happens - especially if anything happens. The protective charms will only work for you if you stay by my side. Do you understand?"
There was no answer.
It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, to step forward into unknown space. His feet were aware of a surface - flat, even, neither rough nor slippery - but he had the unreasoning fear that his next step would find only emptiness, that he would fall. He took another step anyway. He kept his hands out in front of him. He hoped against hope that he would feel the veil at his fingertips, but he knew that he would have to walk further than this to reach it.
Remus began to walk with a little more confidence, but the creeping uneasiness didn't leave him. The ground remained solid beneath his feet, and he couldn't sense any walls or other obstacles around him, but with every step he felt as though there was someone just in front of him - someone with whom he would surely collide - like there was a crowd of people all around him - people who moved back just before he stepped forward...
Remus's breathing had become ragged. He struggled to regulate it, trying not to wonder whether he'd even know if one of the inhabitants of this place found him. Would he feel cold air on the back of his neck? Hear a whispering of its approach? Or would there be nothing until its ghostly fingers closed around his soul...
He shuddered. His steps faltered; he had to pause for a second. The blindness was paralysing. He couldn't hear anything - not even his own footsteps - only his breathing and the beat of his heart. His hands rose to touch the blindfold.
If I take it off, he thought, I will never find the veil, I will never leave this place, and I will never see Sirius again.
His hands fell back to his sides. They clenched into fists as he began to walk steadily forward again. He had never learned Occlumency, but he'd always been good at disciplining himself and his mind. Sirius had found it incomprehensible at school. Moony, he'd say, I know you're a chocoholic; you've always got some on you somewhere. So how can you sit there and eat only a quarter of that bar? And Remus would take the not-too-veiled hint and offer the rest to his three friends, who'd gleefully consume it, and he'd reflect that a quarter of a bar always tasted better than the whole one would have done.
What if Sirius can't see me?
Remus tried to remember exactly what the book had said, but there had been so many pages of painstaking research, so many speculations or dead-end avenues of inquiry, that he'd skimmed most of it and concentrated only on the final results. He was sure it had said that Sirius would be able to follow him out. Wasn't that what it had said? Had it mentioned a beacon of some kind? Was he doing this for nothing?
'...all your doubts...'
Remus half-wanted to turn back, but he knew that there was no way out for him unless he found his way to the Gateway. He drew a shaky breath. Maybe he'd done the wrong thing. Everything had just... spiralled out of hand. He should have been more cautious with Snape. He should have let Harry go home and planned this out more carefully, experimented on his own, made sure that he knew everything about what he was going into...
And in my hesitation, Sirius would have been lost, I know he would. Just like if I'd waited to call Dumbledore that night, God knows what Sirius and Harry might have done to each other; he'd already broken Ron's leg and Harry was so angry...
The memory was still vivid, of the moment when he'd burst into the bedroom of the Shrieking Shack, the agonising hour that had followed as he tried to keep control of a situation that seemed ever on the brink of disaster.
The analogy was flawed, of course. If he had waited a little longer - or if he'd hesitated and taken the Map with him - things might have been quite different. Sirius might have been cleared that night.
He'd been walking for a while now. He had no sense of approaching anything, no sense of being guided. Had the charms on the circle failed? Was he going completely the wrong way?
A sudden breeze rippled over his skin. He tensed, fearful. Was that something--? Was something coming--?
Nothing happened.
'...all your fears...'
Except now he thought he could hear something. Whispers. Voices. Right beside him, but too soft to comprehend. Remus desperately wanted to tear off the cloth over his eyes, to see who was whispering - his skin crawled with the certainty that they were right there, right beside him - and he placed one foot in front of the other and took another step.
What if it was all a trick?
Remus kept walking, but an icy sensation had begun to trickle through his veins. For the first time, it occurred to him to wonder whence Snape had obtained the book that had brought him here.
How very convenient, he realised with the beginnings of real fear, that a book that just so happens to contain the instructions for entering the mirrorworld should fall into the hands of someone desperate enough to try it.
Had Snape done it deliberately? No - he thought the shock when Snape had realised that Remus intended to go after Sirius had been unfeigned. Yet how could it be coincidence - how could the book have been in just exactly the right place at the right time?
Unless, thought Remus, it was he and Harry who had been in the right place in the right time, for someone - or something - else.
Which meant that maybe there was no way out. Which meant that maybe he couldn't trust what he'd read. Which meant that maybe blinding himself had been the stupidest thing he could do.
Remus fumbled with the blindfold.
Then he pulled his hands away roughly and half-ran a few steps forward, until he felt himself losing his balance and was forced to slow down.
"I'm not going to look," he said aloud, hearing his own voice fall flat and unechoing among the whispers. "No matter what."
"And I will get out of here," he added. "Sirius? We're going to find a way back. Harry's waiting."
'...all your darknesses...'
What if Harry wasn't the only one waiting? What if Voldemort was aware of them, and sat patiently as Remus stumbled into his web, bringing Sirius with him...
Was Sirius even following?
Remus resisted the urge to call his name again. There would be no answer - and the whispers seemed to surge a little more eagerly around him as he continued to move forward. He'd been walking for days - months - years, it seemed.
Was there no way out after all?
Was Sirius there? Beloved Sirius, with strong hands and strong heart and long black hair so good to touch, warmth in the night and laughter, flashes of the boy he'd been - so many things they'd never confronted in their year of stolen time - so many things lying unforgotten, unforgiven, unspoken between them.
He was doing this for Sirius. And for Harry, lost and determined and stubborn in the Department of Mysteries. And for himself; for the aching, desperate part of him that couldn't let Sirius go, not again, not again...
'...all your pain...'
"I know where I'm not welcome."
"Moony, wait, I didn't mean--"
"Don't. Just... don't. I've had enough."
"You're just going to walk out? That's your solution? Damn it, Moony, get back here! Come back!"
He flinched from the memory. It unfurled itself so clearly he could all but hear Sirius's voice, loud and angry and guilty - but never guilty enough, that was the problem, never quite sorry enough...
"Have you even spoken to him?"
"No, James, I haven't. We can't seem to talk without it turning into an argument."
"Hey - you don't have to snap at me."
"Sorry... I'm sorry. I just... don't know what's happening..."
"I know... I know. Look, Remus... even I don't pretend to understand the inner workings of Sirius's mind - but if it's your job that's causing this--"
"No - I know that's what he says, but... I don't know. He won't... talk to me... But I can't leave the Department - we need what I'm learning - Dumbledore said only the other day that--"
"Look, Moony, I know what you think of that place. You've learned some useful stuff, but-- look, Dumbledore's a great man. I admire him, I always have. But sometimes he... forgets that not everyone's a hundred and twelve..."
"Closer to a hundred and forty."
"... whatever - a hundred and forty with no living relatives..."
"He has Aberforth."
"Does he count? Moony, the point is that we're twenty years old. We have families, we have people we care about - you and Sirius have--"
"Don't."
"Remus..."
He stopped suddenly. He could hear James's voice saying his name - hear it so clearly that for a second he thought...
"James?"
There was no answer. He shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself as if to ward off a chill. He tried to stop thinking - to remember long days in the summer, climbing cliffs to find hidden caves - but in his head swam the memory of the Department of Mysteries, Harry asking, How did you get away, then? and his own answer, James...
"Are you okay? Moony? Say something... They didn't-- mistreat you, did they?"
"No... I'm okay. Just... shocked, I suppose."
"You'd better come back to our place..."
"I can't. Full moon. I wouldn't want to risk Lily or Harry..."
"Then I'll come back with you to yours."
"No, you should be with your family--"
"You are my family. You and Sirius and Peter are my family too. We promised you weren't going to be alone anymore. If I'm the only one who keeps that promise, then so be it."
"Peter can't get away easily--"
"I know. I wasn't thinking of him."
"Don't be angry with Sirius, James. He was right, wasn't he? There is a spy somewhere. There was no way the Ministry could've found out about me otherwise. Someone had to have tipped them off. I'd better talk to him... he'll want to know-- James? What is it?"
"I... Moony..."
"What... what is it?"
"Sirius told them."
He tried to focus on the present. He'd heard snatches of these conversations before - on a train, outside a school, in a forest, in his garden on a summer night - but he couldn't seem to recall why. For a second a clear, autumn-tinted memory swam into view... a classroom, pale sunlight, a thirteen-year-old boy pleading wordlessly for assurance that he was no coward... his own voice, explaining, "It has nothing to do with weakness... they drain peace, hope and happiness out of the air around them... you'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life..."
Then the boy's green eyes became hazel, full of a hard fury directed not at him but at another whom they both loved - and his own anger mixed with betrayal - bitter the second time, even more bitter than it had been the first, all your promises of never again were for nothing, Sirius, and now you've used me twice...
He stood rooted to the spot. He remembered what he'd said to Sirius afterward - what Sirius had said in reply - remembered that no matter how he shouted and hated and said things he didn't mean, he couldn't get Sirius to tell him why he'd done it. He remembered James, distracted by fear for his wife and son, not realising that Sirius had stopped telling Remus when and where they'd be meeting; James not knowing that Sirius was lying when he said Remus had other things to do.
"I think he thought he was acting for the best, Remus... some of the things you found out were being leaked - maybe he thought it'd stop the spy if you weren't in the Department of Mysteries anymore..."
"It wasn't his decision, Lily, and you know it."
"I know. But... you know what he's like..."
"Yes. I do."
"I didn't mean it that way, Remus."
"But it's true nonetheless. And I know Dumbledore agrees with me - I know he doesn't want you to use Sirius as your Secret Keeper."
"James and I trust him with our lives!"
"I wouldn't if I were you, Lily. He's careless with other people's secrets."
He tried to draw breath, but the air was cold and hurt his lungs. There were whispers all around him - the feeling of something drawing near. He was dizzy - he couldn't keep his balance - he couldn't see to defend himself - frantically, he reached for the blindfold to tear it from his face.
As if from far away, he heard the cantering of hooves. Suddenly the chill receded. The whispers faded into silence. Remus put out a hand uncertainly and felt - for a second - what could have been the smoothness of a stag's antler brush the skin of his palm.
Harry, he thought, and awareness of where he was returned in a rush.
Badly shaken, Remus started to walk as quickly as he could without tripping himself. He'd become so lost in his own dark memories that he'd all but forgotten what he was supposed to be doing. Even Dementors had never affected him this strongly - he'd always found something to cling to against the dark.
He wished he could see how much further there was to go. He wished he could see Sirius. Just one glimpse of Sirius's face - encouraging or worried or loving or afraid - would be enough.
He stepped firmly on the temptation. If he was this susceptible with his eyes covered, he dared not imagine what he would suffer with them open.
It couldn't be much further, he decided. He must be almost out of sight to Harry in the mirrors - his Patronus had barely reached Remus in time, and he shuddered again at the thought - which meant that he'd rounded the infinity-curve of their reflections. If the book was right then he was almost there.
If the book was right.
No, he thought firmly, and this time he could remember clearly the day he'd promised to teach Harry the Patronus Charm, could remember the lessons, later, and the things he'd taught. He repeated them to himself now, lessons that he recalled learning himself from his own Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. He'd been older than Harry, of course, because he'd had no such pressing need for protection, but he'd found it much more difficult to master the charm. Not because of a lack of skill - he'd simply found it so very, very hard, at that precise time in his life, to bring to mind a memory with the necessary force to repel a Dementor.
It couldn't be much further now.
Was Sirius still following him?
His outstretched fingertips touched ragged, rough cloth.
Remus held his breath. Slowly, he gathered the material into his hand. He could feel the hang of it - the way it fell heavily from an unseen support - and he fancied he could sense warmth on the other side.
He drew back the veil, and hesitated.
"Can you... can you walk past me, and out?" he asked the air. There was no response. He didn't feel Sirius pass him by. He didn't hear anything from the other side of the Gateway - Harry wasn't calling a welcome, Sirius wasn't shouting that he was through - he couldn't hear anything except the breeze and the whispers and the cool air rushing past him into the warmth beyond.
"Sirius?" he whispered.
His fingers clenched on the coarse fabric. One step would bring him back to the world; it could also trap Sirius here forever. There was no way back, once he'd left the mirrorworld. Not without repeating the ritual, and he knew in his heart that he'd never have another chance at it. If he left the mirrorworld now, and Sirius wasn't with him... Remus's heart bled at the thought.
But what could he do? Sirius could already have gone through, or he could be waiting for Remus himself to go forward - or he might not be there at all.
Remus let the veil drop back into place. There was no other way. He had to take off the blindfold, to see if Sirius was still with him - he could resist the confusion of the mirrorworld for a few seconds, couldn't he? He had to, or walk out of this place to which there was no returning. And if he left without Sirius...
Remus fumbled with the knot at the back of his head. He couldn't take the chance that Sirius wasn't following him.
"There all his toil was spilt and the treaty broken with that merciless monarch; and thrice a thunder pealed over the pools of Avernus."
His fingers stilled. The words echoed in his head in Sirius's voice. Remus had been translating the story of Orpheus and Eurydice from Latin. Sirius had picked up one sheet of parchment in curiosity and begun to read, his voice shifting from amused parody, to surprise, to genuine appreciation of the words. What treaty? he'd asked, and Remus had started to tell him how Orpheus had bargained with Hades for his lover's life, and halfway through Sirius had stopped him and read it for himself, aloud, his voice sending shivers down Remus's spine. And then he'd glanced up and blinked and asked why Remus was looking at him like that...
Slowly, Remus stretched out his hand until it found the veil again. He took hold of the fabric, drew it aside.
"Surely he was to be forgiven," he said aloud, stung anew by the cold irony of the words, "if only Death knew forgiveness."
Death had not forgiven Orpheus his weakness.
Remus closed his eyes and felt hot tears spill from beneath the lids.
He stepped forward.
For a second he still held the veil; then he let it drop--
--and there were hands tearing off his blindfold, and voices, and warmth and candlelight and--
Sirius flung away the cloth that had covered his eyes, and Remus had a dizzying, chaotic glimpse of the darkened Death Chamber through a lens of tears. Then Sirius had flung his arms around him, tight enough to bruise bone. For a moment, Remus was too dazed to react. Then everything came back into focus - the unreality of the echoworld dropped away - and he realised that he had succeeded.
"Idiot," Sirius was gasping through tears, shaking him. "Idiot, idiot, idiot, what were you thinking?"
Remus didn't even try to answer; he simply caught Sirius's face in both hands and kissed him. Sirius made a small sound that was half-sob, half-moan, and his hands tightened convulsively on the material of Remus's robes. For a few moments Remus was blind again - blinded by scent and warmth and an overwhelming, unbearable joy - and all he could see or breathe was Sirius.
There were others in the Chamber, of course - others who'd need words and explanations and apologies - but just for one moment, they didn't matter.