Before the Moon Rises

BEFORE THE MOON RISES

Remus Remembers

Chapter Twenty

"Still a little bit of your taste in my mouth

Still a little bit of you laced with my doubt

Still a little hard to say what's going on

Still a little bit of your ghost, your witness

Still a little bit of your face I haven't kissed

You step a little closer each day

That I can't say what's going on

Stones taught me to fly

Love taught me to lie

Life taught me to die

So it's not hard to fall

When you float like a cannonball

Still a little bit of your song in my ear

Still a little bit of your words I long to hear

You step a little closer to me

So close that I can't see what's going on

Stones taught me to fly

Love taught me to cry

Life taught me to die

So it's not hard to fall

When you float like a cannonball."--Damian Rice

June 1998

Remus groaned quietly and opened his eyes. He blinked a few times in the dim light and glanced around. He didn't even remember being brought into this room. How long had he been there? He tried to sit up, grimacing as he did so. His entire body ached. The thin white sheet covering his body fell down to his waist. He looked to his left and saw an empty bed; the sheets were still messy and rumpled as if it hadn't been vacated for very long. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his fingers, and when he glanced back up, Albus Dumbledore was standing beside his bed.

"How are you this morning, Remus?" Dumbledore asked kindly, folding his hands together at his chest as he sat in a chair beside his bed.

"Not the best I've ever felt, but I think I'm going to survive," he said with as much enthusiasm as he could gather. Remus looked at the table beside his bed and saw a small piece of folded parchment there, sealed in dark red wax with a crescent moon and the letter J inside the circle of crimson. His heart thumped once against his chest. He looked over at Dumbledore quickly before reaching out and picking up the letter and holding it in his hands. He rubbed his thumb over the seal in thought.

"We lost a great many people in the War, Remus...before and during the rise and fall of evil." Remus looked up as Dumbledore continued to speak. "It isn't wise to let the few who remain slip away," the great wizard said, shifting his gaze down to the letter in Remus' hands. "The War stripped our children of their childhoods. Of course, very few of them have ever been children, have they? You have suffered a great deal, my friend, and this punishment you're carrying on your shoulders and forcing on hers is no longer necessary."

"But she probably hates me now," he whispered, fingering the edge of the letter as he frowned.

Dumbledore stood up and smiled down at Remus. "She sat by your side through the entire night, not sleeping, not eating, just praying for your recovery. That hardly sounds like the actions of someone who hates you."

Remus looked back down at the letter in his hands. When he glanced back up, Dumbledore was gone and he sighed heavily. He slipped his finger beneath the fold in the letter and tugged it open. As he unfolded it, his heart raced and he held his breath unconsciously.

His eyes scanned the familiar script, and he read.

Courage is not found in the heat of battle. Courage is found the next day, facing the repercussions. Benevolence is not giving what you will not miss. Benevolence is giving when the cost is dear to you. Love is not without pain. Love is pain's most excruciating incarnation. Dying is not hard. Living on is. The legacy of a hero is not made on a foundation of invulnerability. The true testament of a hero is born of tears and sadness.

He read the letter over and over again until the words were burned into his memory. The letter wasn't personal; it was something more...laced with meanings he did not misinterpret. She was trying to tell him something.

"Oh, Hermione," he whispered as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Memories of her flooded his mind.

He thought of the very first time he had seen her again. She was thirteen and best friends with Lily and James' only child, Harry. He hadn't been sure at their first meeting if it was her. Perhaps it was only a cruel trick of fate, he had thought, but he had been wrong. Hearing her laughter was when he first knew she was the very same person. He had been passing by a group of talking students, his mind somewhere else entirely when he had heard it. He remembered stopping immediately, frozen in place, and following the sound of the laughter with his eyes. Her head had been thrown back, her mouth open in a smile, and she was laughing...he had immediately felt nauseous and dizzy.

Then he remembered scanning over the names of the students in one of his classes. He'd had his quill in hand, jotting down the names on a separate sheet of parchment. Without thinking he had begun writing out Hermione Jane Granger. The quill had fallen from his hands. He blinked his eyes, trying to clear his vision and erase the memory. He had then rubbed his eyes, thinking he must be getting weary. But the name was still there--it was her name.

Once he knew the truth about Hermione, everything from his past with her came into focus and made sense. He remembered sitting in his office, looking down at her name, the ink still wet from his quill, and sighing heavily. He had rested his head in his hands and if he could have let the tears fall, he would have, but he was much too tired to weep.

The very same year he had ended up in the Shrieking Shack with Sirius, Peter, Hermione, Harry and Ron. The night had been full of heated discussions and death threats. Black was almost mad with rage and it had taken all he could to control him, but even in Sirius' blind hate for Peter, he could still see the truth about the young witch in the room. Remus thought back to that very night.

He had walked to Black's side, seized his hand, pulled him to his feet so that Crookshanks fell to the floor, and embraced Black like a brother.

"I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Hermione screamed.

He let go of Black's hand and turned to her. She had raised herself off the floor and was pointing at him, wild-eyed. "You--you--"

"Hermione--" The look on her face stabbed at his heart with a dull, rusted blade. It was a look of disbelief and disgust--a way she had never looked at him before.

"--you and him!"

"Hermione, calm down--" he said, walking closer to her.

Sirius watched the scene before him with a strange curiosity. He could see Lupin's expressions very well, as well as the young witch's. He could be wrong but she did vaguely remind him of someone...someone from their past.

"I didn't tell anyone!" Hermione shrieked. "I've been covering up for you--"

Remus stopped walking, her words continuing to cut deeper into his chest.

Sirius sucked in his breath. Could she be? No, it wouldn't be possible...but the look of pain in his friend's eyes made him doubt the very lines of possibilities.

"Hermione, listen to me, please!" he shouted. I can explain--"

"NO!" Hermione screamed. "Harry, don't trust him, he's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too--he's a werewolf!"

There was a ringing silence. Everyone's eyes were now on his, and he looked remarkably calm, though rather pale. A hint of a sad smile tugged his lips. Of course Hermione would have figured out the truth about him--he fleetingly wished she had known the truth about them...but not yet, he told himself.

"Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione," he said. "Only one out of three, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I certainly don't want Harry dead..." An odd shiver passed over his face. "But I won't deny that I am a werewolf." He swallowed slowly, a new wave of weariness filling his eyes. "How long have you known?"

"Ages," Hermione whispered. "Since I did Professor Snape's essay..."

"He'll be delighted," he said coolly. "He assigned that essay hoping someone would realize what my symptoms meant...Did you check the lunar chart and realize that I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realize that the boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?"

"Both," Hermione said quietly.

He forced a laugh.

"You're the cleverest witch of your age I've ever met, Hermione." And he meant it. If he had slipped into madness he would have added that she was also the most beautiful witch he had ever known, ever loved. Remus glanced at Sirius, a knowing look passed between them and if possible, Sirius' face had fallen a bit more--perhaps the suffering meant for the Marauders was never waning.

Even then, Remus realized he still loved the girl before him, but it was strange. He had fallen in love with the older version of Hermione, not the thirteen-year-old before him--and still, he loved this young witch, too, but in a more proud and amazed way. He was able to watch her grow into his equal, watch her grow into the woman he knew she would become. He wondered how he would ever deal with his emotions as she grew older. Would he fight his heart about her forever? Would it be an emotion he was always ashamed of feeling? Would she ever learn the truth? Surely she would have to, he had thought at the time, and he had been right.

He thought back to when he had visited Lily and James' graves after seeing Hermione again and knowing the truth. He took a deep breath and let his memories carry him away for a little while.

Remus pushed open the small wrought iron gate; it squeaked on its hinges beneath the pressure of opening. He walked down the dirt path. Small weeds were trying to overtake the walkway but Remus hardly noticed.

He held a bundle of white lilies in his hand and they swung by his side as he walked. He stopped in front of their headstones and knelt down, placing the lilies in between their graves.

"Hi. It's me," he said softly, breathing slowly. He looked over at the weeping willow to his right. Many years ago he had conjured a headstone there for Jane, but Jane wasn't dead...not anymore, and the headstone had long ago disappeared. She was very much alive and so unaware of their past together, but she would learn one day.

"You were right, Lil," he said, looking back at her headstone. "She came back into my life and she's beautiful and smart and just as I remember. Only she's thirteen. Yeah, can you believe it? And there're more...she's best friends with little Harry." Remus paused to smile. "She has no idea about us. Here's what I think happened. You would get a kick out of this, James, you really would. You remember that ridiculous idea Sirius had about locking Severus in a charmed book? Yeah, well, Jane found that very same book...I don't know when she finds it but she will and I have no idea what will happen. I'm almost afraid to know. It's been twelve years. Hard to believe, isn't it? God, I've missed her, but she's just a child...it isn't right. And when she knows the truth, she'll still be a child and...well, I don't really want to think on it. I don't want to know that she came back into my life only to never stay." He took a deep breath and smiled weakly. "Well, I need to get going. I only wanted to stop by and tell you that." Remus stood up and smiled sadly. "I miss you both." And then he walked away.

Remus leaned his head into his hands. He was amazed at how crooked and winding his journey to this exact place had been. He ran his fingers down the side of his cheek. He could feel the slowly healing gash on the side of his face; he winced slightly. It was only one of the many scars left behind by the War...Remus shuddered to remember.

"Get up, Neville!" Hermione screamed in terror. "Get up!"

Remus looked up and over his shoulder. He could hear Hermione's voice and it sounded terrified. His heart plummeted into his feet and he ran through the burning grass to find her. He could hardly see five meters in front of his face; he used his wand to clear away the thick smoke.

God, please don't let anything have happened to her, he thought frantically.

He was getting closer to her; he could hear her voice growing louder. She was still talking; she must be okay. He stepped through a thick cloud of smoke and he saw her. He was able to breathe again. She was kneeling by Neville, talking quietly by his side. A large stone column was crushing his leg.

He watched her stand up and point her wand at it, in an attempt to lift it off his body. He reached her side quickly, grabbing her upper arm.

"Let me help you."

She looked up at him and he fought the urge to pull her to him and hold her close...chase away all of the demons...help her forget all the death surrounding them. Her face was bleeding and drained; he couldn't hide the worry in his eyes.

"Hold tight, Neville. We'll have this off you in a few seconds. Ready, Hermione?"

She nodded up at him. He pulled his eyes away from her and pointed his wand at the column; Hermione did the same. The large stone lifted up in the air with ease and floated to an empty spot nearby on the ground.

Hermione rushed to Neville's side.

"I'll call someone to help you okay? I'll stay until they get here," Hermione said, conjuring a glass of cold water out of the air and holding it to Neville's lips. Remus was still constantly amazed with her abilities.

Neville swallowed slowly and shook his head. "No, you go on. I'll be fine. Go help Harry."

"But--"

"No, just go, Hermione. I'll be okay. Harry needs you."

She nodded and stood up, shooting sparks into the air. "You'll be okay?"

"Yes."

She turned around to leave, but Remus grabbed her arm again.

"Are you okay?" he asked, wanting her to understand the complete sincerity behind the question. He wouldn't be able to bear it if something happened to her.

She looked up at him, silent grief peeking through the darkness in her eyes. She nodded her response. "I have to go," she whispered.

Remus clenched his jaw. He had the urge to pick her up, throw her over his shoulder and take her far away from this place of devastation. She didn't deserve to have to be here--she deserved much more...to see the sun again...to smile again. But he knew he could not take her away; her sense of duty and friendship to Harry was too great.

He released her arm and nodded. "Be careful."

She said nothing else, merely turned and ran off, leaving him to watch her disappear into the fog and smoke...

"Oh, Mr. Lupin, how are you feeling this morning?" the nurse asked.

Remus looked up at her, unaware of how long he'd been sitting there thinking. "I feel okay."

"Well, unless you can't stand to part with my charming company, I don't blame you if you can't," she laughed and winked, "then you are free to find your way home."

"Great," he said unenthusiastically, moving his legs off the bed.

"Take it slow for a few days. Don't pull any all-nighters just yet," she said, smiling and helping him put his feet steadily on the floor.

Remus picked the letter from Hermione off the bed. The nurse placed clean clothes and robes down on the bed for him. She smiled as she watched him look back down at the letter.

"Your lady friend will be happy to see you moving around again," the nurse said happily.

Remus looked at her and arched an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Your lady friend," she said, nudging his side gently.

He glanced down at the letter in his hands and let his shoulders sag slightly. She must be talking about Hermione. At least she didn't think she was my daughter. Remus frowned.

"Yeah," Remus replied dejectedly. He wondered if Hermione would ever see him moving around again. He still felt like a mess inside--visions of the War and of her tear-stained face flashed through his mind like pictures on a moving screen, like a horror movie he couldn't turn off.

"Smile, Mr. Lupin. It can't be that bad," she said before bustling off.

You have no idea.

Remus changed his clothes, slipped Hermione's letter into his robes and took a deep breath.

Time for real life again, he thought dryly. Or the best imitation I can assemble.

The War was finally over, Voldemort had been defeated, and Harry had survived...so had Hermione. Why couldn't he feel joyous? Why must he feel so hollow?

It isn't wise to let the few who remain slip away, Dumbledore's voice filled his mind.

Remus knew the old wizard was wise but what if Hermione didn't want him anymore? After all, hadn't he pushed her away? Hadn't he told her it was too late? He shook his head sadly as he walked up the long empty hallway; perhaps he wasn't meant to have peace in his life. Perhaps he didn't deserve Hermione...perhaps she was merely an accident that was never meant to stumble into his life and steal his heart. Some accident, he thought as he pushed open the doors that lead to the outside world. The sun was bright and mocking as he stepped into the light--it was so different from how he felt inside.