Be All My Secrets Remembered

Interlude: Toujours Pur

November 1981

The fire was dying. Somewhere behind the stiff, high-backed wooden chair, the shadows rose to dance against the flickering flames. Red and yellow, accursed Gryffindor colours. That stupid house-elf had forgotten to enchant the flames once more. Odd, how she had not noticed until now. Perhaps her wits were wandering.

She opened her mouth, knowing Kreacher was almost certainly nearby, but only proceeded to close it again. Had she been a sentimental person at all, she would have regarded the Gryffindor-coloured flames as a tribute to her elder son. Not dead, but a life sentence in Azkaban was as good as dead. Worse, if one listened to the stories.

Which meant, in short, that both of her sons were now dead to her. The loss of Sirius, she had taken for granted all those years ago, confident in the fact that Regulus would follow where his disappointment of a brother had not been willing to go.

But he did, Lavinia. You forget that. Regulus did everything you wished him to do.

Nobody quite knew how he had died. He had been found just outside of Knockturn Alley, but Law Enforcement had merely shrugged their collective shoulders and claimed it was the Killing Curse. Especially after they saw the Dark Mark emblazoned on his arm. Regulus Black had been labelled a traitor and a coward, killed by his own compatriots.

But Lavinia had seen him the night before. The sound of footfalls on the creaking parlour floor had drawn her downstairs to find her son digging through one of the cabinets, looking paler than usual and so very tired...

"Don't worry, Mother," he had said, with an odd, sad smile, "I'll rest in a little while. I promise you. I just needed to put something away."

She should never have sent him to Durmstrang. She knew that now. But everything is clearer in hindsight. Even Sirius---no, she could not have predicted him. Even as a boy, he had followed his father in that. Sweet, charming, troublemaking Sirius, who had masked his thoughts so well. The price she paid had been negligible, it appeared, when compared to his friends. But even so, she could not gloat. Not when the House of Black had collapsed upon itself, and she was the only one left who still bore the name.

There was Narcissa, of course, but Lavinia had never been as close to her as she had been to Bella. Black to the bone, that one. And so very like what Sirius might have been. What Sirius ought to have been.

Unbidden, her eyes found the portrait above the fireplace. Her younger likeness smiled graciously down at her, taunting the crone now curled in the armchair. A young woman who had had everything. Beside her, a handsome husband, and in front of them, two perfect sons. Where had it all gone so horribly wrong?

But no matter how long and hard she stared into the fire, Lavinia found no answers.

Chapter Thirty: I'll Come to Thee by Moonlight

February 1980

"Order of the Phoenix indeed," grumbled Alastor Moody as he surveyed the ten people clumped near him in front of the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. At least five of them were young enough to be his children. "More like Order of the Bloody Sitting Ducks."

The tall, messy-haired young man was all but twitching. One of his Aurors-in-training. Potter, was it? Yes, Potter. "What's the matter with you, Potter?"

Potter blinked, eyes owlish beneath wire-rimmed glasses. "Nothing. Just...a bit nervous, is all."

"I'd hate to see you very nervous," snapped Moody.

"He's got a point, Prongs," offered one of Potter's friends, of about the same age with longish black hair. Moody recognised him well enough. Arcturus Black's eldest, or he'd eat his hat. "Pity we can't harness you to something."

"Shut up," Potter retorted. "You'd be nervous too if your wife insisted on coming in spite of being--"

"James, dearest," interrupted a woman's voice, dangerously sweet. The red-haired girl from St. Mungo's, the one who had cast healing spells on Narcissa Malfoy at the Ministry's disastrous Christmas party the year before. She'd gained some weight, Moody noted dispassionately. Unless... "You could refrain from making announcements to the world at large, you know."

"That's enough bickering," Moody pronounced, his tone so implacable that the entire group turned to look at him. "We have Frank and Alice Longbottom to thank for this particular bit of information. Even being recruited by Lord Voldemort has its uses, it appears."

"Recruited?" Black echoed, nose wrinkling. "When did that happen?"

"Three days ago," replied Moody. "Naturally, they said no. But not before worming some information out of the Death Eater who approached them." He'd been suspicious, of course, but not so much that he wasn't willing to wait in Hogsmeade in case something happened.

There was a creak nearby, and Moody spun on instinct to find himself facing a very startled Madame Rosmerta. "Alastor, really," she remonstrated with a fond smile, "one day you might curse me, and then what will you do?"

Moody grumbled something under his breath about constant vigilance, but took the mug of hot liquid she offered, surprisingly refraining from demanding to know what it was.

The Three Broomsticks' barkeep, however, knew better. "Just some hot tea, Alastor. Nothing more. I just thought you lot might need something to warm up."

His companions were surging forward gratefully to take up the other mugs. Moody kept a close eye on the street, his vision only slightly hampered by the steam rising from the mug. Even so, he finished it quickly, and handed the empty vessel back to Rosmerta, leaving his right hand free for his wand.

Behind him, he could hear Rosmerta chatting with the Black boy and his friend. Reminiscing, Moody noted idly. Barely out of Hogwarts, those two. And yet here they were. Here they all were. And Moody had no idea what was waiting out in the dark.

That was when he heard it. The unmistakeable sound of Apparition. "Silence!" he hissed, allowing some small modicum of satisfaction when they obeyed with alacrity. Madame Rosmerta even slipped back into the building without being told. If only, Moody thought to himself, he could be certain they would obey him in other things as well.

There were about twelve Death Eaters in total, at least as far as Moody could see, flowing dark shadows against the houses as the lights snuffed themselves out almost in rhythm. Behind Moody, the children--he really couldn't think of them as anything but children--were admirably silent, even as he led them forward from the Three Broomsticks.

The plan had been to sneak up on them. Moody was far better at sneaking than most of the Ministry gave him credit for being. That being said, they rarely gave him the credit he felt he deserved. Vigilance was paramount. It was a great pity that nobody save he was able to see it. And it was vigilance that allowed him to sneak in no less than three immobilising hexes before the Death Eaters had even noticed they were there.

Clichéd as the sentiment did seem, Moody knew for a fact that, when he was fighting, whether it be a single duel or a pitched battle, the world seemed to shrink down to the twenty or so feet surrounding him. Nothing else existed. At least nothing else was supposed to---

"Lily!" The cry was one of helpless anguish, a man's voice cracking on the second syllable. Moody snapped out of his half-trance, and spun backward, wand held threateningly forward. But the objects of his gaze were completely oblivious, to him, or to the fact that he immediately recognised them.

"Let me go, you bloody bastard!" Potter was struggling so hard that Lupin nearly plunged forward with him. "They've got her--"

"And we'll go after her, Prongs." Moody was close enough to overhear even those muttered words. The pair didn't even seem to notice him. Disappointing. "But we need a plan first. I see at least eight Death Eaters between us and Lily."

"Let. Me. Go." James held still for a few seconds and then twisted with enough force that the blond man was thrown free. And then he was flying forward, heedless of the eight or so Death Eaters scattered in the near vicinity.

"Stupefy!" Moody roared, and James crumpled to the ground. Lupin spun, wand flying free, and his eyes widened in recognition. "Constant vigilance, I tell him," he growled, "and he's off without even a glance to the side."

***

"Reducto!" Somewhere ahead of them, there was an explosive, rumbling noise. Her captor barely faltered, and Lily could see the ground change from reasonably cut grass to the leaves and broken branches that heralded the Forbidden Forest.

"Where are you--"

"None of your business," the Death Eater hissed back, shifting her such that his bony shoulder blades dug into her stomach. Lily gasped for breath. "Don't like that? Then shut up."

It was easy enough to comply after that, her thoughts whirling as to how on earth she was going to get out of this. Two Death Eaters, and one witch whose wand still lay abandoned on the far edge of Hogsmeade Village. What would they do with her? Lily wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know. Did Death Eaters take hostages? She hadn't remembered hearing about that. Of course, if that were the case, James might do something idiotic to get her back. What, then?

"Hold!" The single word split the air, the unseen man's voice rife with authority. Lily squinted upward, but all she could see was a hooded shadow. "Go on, all of you. I'll deal with this."

For one blessed moment, she thought it might be Severus. Although how blessed that would be if Severus was, in fact, a Death Eater was questionable. What did happen to old loyalties when the object threw them aside?

"Diffindo!" Lily felt the ropes fall away from her wrists and ankles, and she rubbed at where they had dug into her skin. Her mysterious rescuer stepped back. "Get out of here, Mudblood, and quickly. And don't expect similar treatment if we meet again. A life for a life, and no more."

With that, he vanished into the darkness of the forest.

Lily stared after him for a second or two, eyes wide with bewilderment. Then, ignoring the sharp pain as blood rushed back to her legs, she started limping back toward the lights on the other side of the broken wall.

***

"What about Lily?" Remus demanded, as he struggled to his feet. "We need to find her."

"Then find her. You and Black. The twins look to have this," Moody gestured to a nearby clump of Death Eaters, "in hand. Although I can't imagine a few distracting hexes would go unappreciated."

He and Sirius. Right. Of course, that begged the question of where on earth Sirius had got to. A question that was answered within about five seconds, as a hand clamped around Remus' wrist. "What's this about Lily?"

"We go. Now." Remus started forward, as stealthily as he could, hugging the corner of a nearby house. "Two of them trapped her," he explained in an undertone, "and they looked as though they were headed for the forest."

Sirius nodded curtly, and Remus could see his fingers tighten around his wand. Some twenty feet to their right, Gideon and Fabian Prewett were moving in near-perfect tandem, shooting curses at seven Death Eaters surrounding them. Sirius jerked his head in their direction.

"Stupefy!" they yelled in unison. Two of the Death Eaters fell to the ground, and their comrades, unwilling to turn from the furious twins, barely glanced their way.

Gideon--Remus could tell them apart only on account of the fact that Fabian wore a watch and his brother did not---grinned in their general direction. "Had to get your share, boys? We'll take the rest!"

That was when the purple bolt caught him in the back of the head. An expression of surprise flickered across his features, and, as Sirius and Remus watched, frozen in horror, he sank to the ground.

His brother's concentration faltered just long enough for a zigzag of bright green to catch him across the chest.

Remus barely noticed Sirius grabbing at his arm. "Moony! We need to get out! Now, you hear me? Now!"

The twins both lay on the ground now, their wands snapped beneath the Death Eaters' feet. Finally able to tear his eyes away, Remus caught sight of a flash of red against the faraway wall. "It's Lily," he heard himself murmur.

"Then for all that's good, don't go toward her!" hissed Sirius, dragging him back toward the centre of the village. Just round the corner from the Three Broomsticks, they ducked behind an outcropping of wall, and Sirius turned back to Remus. "I'll distract them. Take my wand, and get the hell out of here. Meet me at my flat in no less than half an hour."

Remus barely had time to nod before his friend vanished, and a large black dog lunged out into the street, throwing itself with teeth and claws bared at the first pursuer. Shooting one last Stupefy at the group, he backed further into the darkness and Disapparated. It had begun to rain.

***

It was half past eleven when Remus allowed his wanderings to lead to Park Lane, and pressed the bell at the front of the familiar building.

"Where the hell have you been?" Sirius' voice demanded from the intercom. "I was beginning to worry."

"You said no less than half an hour," Remus informed him.

"I didn't mean two hours."

"You should be more specific, then."

There was no response, other than the buzzer signalling the unlocked door. The first words out of Sirius' mouth when Remus stepped into the flat were rife with annoyance. "I didn't precisely have time to be more specific." His face was waxen even with the lights on, and Remus could see his hands shaking. "I was bloody frightened."

"Sorry," was all Remus could say to that.

Sirius shook his head. "It's alright. Just don't do it again, please? For my sanity?"

"You're sane?"

"Periodically." But he'd cracked a smile. "Well, now that you're here, I can check in with Prongs." He settled on the couch and picked up what appeared to be a small, square mirror. Curious, Remus shrugged off his coat and moved closer. "James Potter." Peering over Sirius' shoulder as he said the name, Remus watched a smoky sheen come over the mirror. "Prongs, you there?" Sirius asked again, worry creasing his brow.

"Do you think he'd think to check this?" Remus frowned. "It's not the most normal way to contact someone."

"It is when you're me and Prongs," replied Sirius. Just then, a face formed on the mirror's surface, quickly recognisable as James's. "You alright, mate? And Lily?"

"Outside of a blistering headache." James nodded. "You two?"

"Yeah. Sorry about that. Moody thought you weren't being vigilant enough."

"He would," remarked James with a grimace. "I can't thank you enough, though. For Lily..."

"She saved herself, mate. We had nothing to do with it. We were too busy running." Sirius took a deep breath. "Just wanted to let you know we'll be in my flat tonight. Two wands better than one, and all that." Except if you're Gideon and Fabian Prewett. Neither of them said it aloud, but Remus suspected Sirius was thinking it as much as he was. "Where are you two?"

"My grandmother's. Lily was..." he shook his head, "She wasn't up to going back to London just yet, and Godric's Hollow is as safe as anyplace else. Though she still can't explain what happened in the forest. Apparently one of the Death Eaters just let her go. Something about a life for a life, she said..."

Sirius laughed shortly. "Did Lily ever mention healing a Death Eater at St. Mungo's? That's all I can think of. For treacherous murderous bastards, some of them are rather fussy about life-debts and that sort of thing. They seem to think their word of honour still counts for something."

James-in-the-mirror shrugged. "Might have been. I'll need to ask her. She's a bit shook up right now."

"Understandably so," Remus interjected. "We'll let you get back to her, then. Just wanted to make sure everything was alright."

"We'll be back in town tomorrow. I think this calls for an evening out."

"Yeah, tell Wormtail how he missed his fair share of carnage and glory," Sirius joked half-heartedly. "Dorcas too, for that matter. Though I can't say I'm altogether unhappy that she stayed behind, whatever the reason."

Remus squeezed Sirius' shoulder. "I can't blame you there. Night, Prongs."

"Night, Moony. Padfoot."

Sirius cracked a smile. "See you later." The mirror went dark. Running one hand through his still-wet hair, Sirius made his way to the bedroom. Remus hung back in the doorway as he shoved the mirror into one of the dresser drawers. "You alright, Moony?"

Remus blinked. "As much as can be expected. Why do you ask?"

He shrugged. "We nearly died. It seemed worth asking."

Gideon and Fabian Prewett surrounded by Death Eaters came suddenly and painfully to mind. "We distracted them, Padfoot. They died because of us."

"We had no idea, Moony. We couldn't possibly have known." But Sirius' voice was shaking, and his eyes were fixed very firmly on the mirror in front of him. "It was Gid who spoke to us. He always did like talking." Then, after a second's pause, "It's bloody awful. It was so quick, so..."

It could have been us. The thought jangled in Remus' head.

"Padfoot?"

He didn't answer, merely stared at Remus as if transfixed.

"Sirius, are you alright?" Remus could hear the slight tremor of worry in his own voice as he made his way across the room, one hand outstretched as if to shake the other by the shoulder. "Have I turned green or something?"

Still, no answer. Sirius' expression defied any sort of classification, and his eyes held something that left Remus stranded somewhere between worry and...he didn't want to think what else. And then Sirius was kissing him and any words were smothered on his lips. Remus, shocked beyond any possible attempts at rationality, was frozen in place, eyes focused on some indeterminate spot near the window.

But Sirius was nothing if not opportunistic. And Remus, shivering beneath the tracery of fingers at the nape of his neck and steadied by the hand splayed across the base of his spine, closed his eyes and gave in. Not nearly so drunk or so naïve as he had been three years before, and morbidly curious to see if he could elicit a reaction, he drew closer, hands coming to rest on Sirius' hips. A low, half-growl emerged from Sirius' throat, and Remus opened his mouth to let his tongue dart out with deliberate teasing lightness.

It was Sirius who broke the kiss, his breath catching, but instead of drawing away, he turned his head ever so slightly and trailed kisses along the line of Remus' jaw. Oddly amused at the idea of baring his throat, Remus tilted his head back, his inward laughter blooming into something quite different as Sirius' teeth grazed just below his ear.

"Oh Merlin, Moony..."

The rasped nickname had an effect akin to a bucket of ice poured over Remus' head. He froze for a half-second, before shoving Sirius back with all the strength he could muster, and himself retreating as far as he could, hands clinging to the windowframe for balance.

"Moony?" repeated Sirius, looking oddly wounded for a moment or two. Then, his eyes narrowed and he demanded, "What the hell was that about?"

"I could ask you the same." Why on earth did he need to sound so bloody breathless? "What was that about, Sirius?"

"You didn't seem altogether displeased," Sirius retorted. "In fact, I was under the impression you were enjoying yourself."

"That's beside the point."

"How is it beside the point, Moony?"

"What about Dorcas?" demanded Remus, cursing the tremor in his voice. That Sirius was standing there, hair mussed and eyes half-shaded beneath lashes that could only be called sinful, simply wasn't fair.

"What about her?" Sirius retorted. The pause that followed might have been genuine consideration, or just as easily, knowing Sirius, for dramatic effect. "We're not a couple, Moony. We never have been."

"What," Remus scoffed, "you just fuck occasionally, is that it?"

"Crudely put, but yes." Sirius' nose wrinkled in mild distaste. "This is what we agreed upon, Moony, three years ago when this whole thing started. No strings."

Jolted out of sarcasm, Remus could only stare. "And that doesn't bother you at all?"

Sirius sighed. It might even have been frustration. "You know, if you asked her, she would shrug, say something about gathering roses while she may, and you'd not argue the point."

"Do you love her?" There. If that didn't put him off-guard--

"Of course I love her. That has nothing to do with it."

--or not. The words had emerged perfectly matter-of-fact, and Sirius' gaze had not faltered. Remus shook his head. "You baffle me."

"It's perfectly simple, Moony," Sirius remarked, something of a puzzled smile on his face. The effect was instantaneous, softening his angular features into delicacy. "She understands. Why don't you?"

"Then explain it," Remus requested, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. He knew, of course. You couldn't acquire the reputation for being the Don Juan of an entire school without having some sort of modus operandi, after all. But it had been Remus' job to roll his eyes, and occasionally play the shoulder to cry on. It hadn't been his place to ask questions then, but surely at this point he had the right to hear it straight from the horse's mouth, as it were...

Sirius ran one hand through his hair. "So this--you and me--presents some sort of ideological issue, does it? And that's it? Nothing more?"

"That's..." he broke off. "I can't just dive headlong into this sort of...I don't even know what to call it."

"Who's jumping?" Sirius made no secret of his confusion. "We had a bit of a snog. I didn't propose."

"I don't mean..." Remus groaned. "Bloody hell, Padfoot, why are you being so bloody difficult?"

"I'm not the one being difficult," Sirius replied, in that infuriatingly sensible fashion. That was his technique, damn it all. Sirius was the idiot, and Remus was the one who made sense. Not the other way round. "You want to know why I kissed you? Do you?"

Remus nodded.

Sirius stepped closer, moonlight casting his face into silvered relief. He looked...beautiful. Remus had to be honest on that count. Gone was the innocent ‘pretty' he had taken such delight in teasing Sirius about at school. This was different. This was dangerous. It's just Padfoot, you idiot. You've known him for eight years. What on earth is wrong with you? When he finally spoke, his voice was oddly low, tinged with just a hint of hoarseness. "Because I turned around, I saw you, and I wanted to. No more, no less. I wanted to, and it occurred to me that not everyone has second chances. You can't tell me you weren't thinking that too."

Remus had no idea what on earth to say to that. God only knew how many things the twins might have wanted to do, and now would never...

Apparently Sirius caught on, for he continued, remarking with some vestige of his usual annoying self-confidence, "And you weren't precisely telling me to stop." He was very close now, enough to reach forward and trace the line of Remus' jaw with the backs of his fingers. "Tell me to stop, Moony." But I don't even...bloody Sirius, you're not making this easier. "You only need to tell me." Right, and then what? You'll argue me into a corner the way you always do? Only the sudden chill awakened him to the fact that Sirius had stepped back, shrugging. "Or shove me away or bash my head against the nearest wall, if you'd rather go about this in a more Neanderthal fashion?"

Remus had to fight back the urge to smile at that image. However, when the words finally emerged, they were soft and oddly melancholy. "It isn't that simple, Sirius."

"Isn't it?" There was a curious undertone to the words, accompanied by a truncated movement forward, as if Sirius had changed his mind at the last minute. "You ought to stop thinking so much, Moony," he said, the wistfulness in his voice belying the criticism of the words.

"What?" Remus queried, sarcasm flaring from out of nowhere. Not that he had any issue with it, to be quite honest. That was his forte, after all. "So you can...have your way with me or something?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Now you're being an idiot. You just need to tell me to stop, and I will. I promise."

Remus opened his mouth, but he couldn't quite form the words. He should. It was an awful idea, after all. Sirius was his friend. He'd never been more than that, and even now, God knew Remus wasn't sure. Not everyone has second chances. Not even time to think, sometimes. There was something unreal about the whole situation, only increased by Sirius' eyes upon him, watching and waiting. Say it. Just say it. It shouldn't be this difficult. Then why was it?

"You're doing it again," Sirius murmured, smiling faintly.

"What?" Remus blinked.

"Thinking too much." Sirius laughed, the sound almost caressing in its fondness. Reaching forward, his fingers hovered beneath Remus' chin. "Should I teach you, dear Moony, how you should forget to think?"

"That sounds like a terrible idea," Remus managed, around the sudden tightness in his throat. "I think you do enough without thinking for the both of us, Padfoot." The deliberate use of the nickname helped. A little.

Not enough, as Sirius dropped to his knees, smiling upward in a decidedly un-penitent fashion.

***

Light from the gibbous moon streamed through the curtains, falling in fractured slivers across the bed. The two shapes were indistinct beneath the sheets, but Sirius' hand was curled round the other's arm, and his head bent forward such that it almost rested against Remus' shoulder.

She suspected her first reaction truly should not have been the overwhelming itch of her fingers for her camera, in spite of the inner voice pointing out that the lighting was perfect, and she could surely enchant it to stand still long enough to forgo the flash. But she was not the sort to do what was expected of her.

After all, she couldn't deny her own part in the affair, her only justification being that she wanted the satisfaction of being right. What the cost might be...that she would deal with later.

Smiling in a way that could only be construed as wistfully indulgent, Dorcas Meadowes closed the door softly behind her, and left the flat.

***

Remus opened his eyes, and frowned. He knew what his ceiling looked like. This was most assuredly not it.

He turned. Stared. Shot straight up amidst the tangled sheets, eyes wide and heart hammering. And he remembered. Should I teach you, dear Moony, how you should forget to think? And, God help him, he'd done precisely that.

"Oh fuck."