Empty Chairs

Empty Chairs

A short fic by Sabaye Leyr

The sun was beginning to set, turning the sky an impressive color of crimson. The streets of Hogsmeade were empty--most people had sought out a cooler, less muddy area to retreat to.

The heavy smell of summer rain was in the air, making it humid and thick. Remaining droplets from that afternoon's rain dripped off the roofs, and a lone figure sloshed through the mud, grumbling under his breath.

His silvering light brown hair was damp, sticking in slight curls around his face.

Remus Lupin stole a glance at the Three Broomsticks down the muddy road. There was a fire, a seat, and warm drinks there, all of which sounded very appealing. He had been out to simply grab sweets to send off to the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione when the sky had opened up and drenched him. It was amazing how such a simple task could become a chore.

Sighing, Remus turned and started walking towards the tavern. A soft sprinkling of rain sent him sprinting, splashing into muddy puddles and cursing under his breath. Seconds later, the sprinkling turned into a downpour, thankfully after Remus had slid inside the Three Broomsticks.

With it not being a Hogsmeade weekend the tavern was nearly empty, and distinctly smoky, due to some of Madam Rosmerta's less savory customers that usually avoided the crowds of students like the plague.

Shaking out his threadbare coat and lying it to dry by the fire, he took a familiar seat in the corner. He didn't even realize that was where he'd settled down until he missed the familiar faces that used to stare back at him from across the table.

The muscles in his neck tensed as he chastised himself for taking the Marauder's old table, and quickly turned his head so he was not looking at the spot where Sirius's face should have been.

His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and in his effort not to look at the seats around him, Remus looked across the tavern to one of the occupied tables. It had four young Aurors, ones whose faces he recognized, but could not recall their names. They were laughing and joking, their noise echoing dully in the room.

Despite himself, Remus suddenly became keenly aware of how very alone he was.

One of the female Aurors flicked droplets of her drink into the face of the boy sitting across from her. She giggled at the man's indignant expression, and muttered something, no doubt a humor filled apology.

Remus sighed, his heart pulling uncomfortably in his chest. One of his long gone friends, Laena, used to do that with the last bit of her drink to anyone who had been sitting at their table. It had become somewhat of a running joke between any who experienced it.

Remus unconsciously wondered who was the very last person who had received a spray of liquid from Laena was.

There's a grief that can't be spoken...

Madam Rosmerta approached his table, smiling gently at him. She had always been fond of Remus. Personally, Remus believed that it was because he was the least disruptive of the group who had often visited her tavern.

Remus gave Rosmerta a small smile back, looking up at her. She hadn't changed much--her hair was ever so paler, and she had lines around her eyes. Other than that, she could have easily stepped out of any one of his memories. Remus was suddenly grateful to her for being ageless--for being a constant, and simply for being there, instead of being an empty space where a person had once been.

There's a pain, goes on and on...

"A butterbeer, dear? Like always?" she asked quietly, already turning on her heel to prepare his drink.

"I'd like a bit of fire whiskey in it, too, please," he requested, and Madam Rosmerta looked over her shoulder at him. Her eyebrows were drawn down and her pretty face was surprised, but she simply nodded and continued on her way.

Remus understood her surprise. Never once in the Three Broomsticks had he touched a drop of alcohol, even when he was of age. For years, Aurors would invade Madam Rosmerta's pub and drink her whiskeys, beers, vodkas, and brandies, and he would simply have a butterbeer.

Remus leaned back in his chair, one hand unconsciously rubbing his neck as he silently watched the Aurors. He remembered when he had sat in groups like that--sometimes as big as twenty people, and sometimes as small as two or three; but never alone.

Peering out the window, Remus resignedly accepted that it was not going to stop raining for quite some time, and he was not going to leave this dusty old tavern without getting soaked. He was just beginning to dry off, so he preferred not to have wasted his time drying off just to get wet again.

He turned back and faced forward, once again looking in the spot where Sirius Black should have been. Years of memories flashed unbidden before his eyes, and he watched Sirius morph from a skinny, ragged-haired thirteen year old to a handsome, well-built man. Ghostly laughter echoed around in his head, and he sniffled. He banished the sniffle as an after affect of being wet for so long.

Empty chairs at empty tables

Now my friends are dead and gone.

Remus startled out of his thoughts as Madam Rosmerta set down a tankard for him, and once again empty space greeted his eyes. He gave the barwoman another weak smile, and she affectionately reached over and ruffled his hair.

"You're getting a bit silvery," she joked, and Remus chuckled faintly. She winked at him.

"More than I'd like to be, I have to say," he replied, and she nodded slowly. He lifted his tankard and drank deeply of it, hacking softly as the fire whiskey burned at his throat and made his eyes water.

"It gets easier after the first gulp," Madam Rosmerta advised softly. Remus gasped for air, quickly wiping at his eyes. Then, before the woman could leave, he reached into a pocket and pulled out money, handing it to Rosmerta.

Now, to Remus's surprise, Madam Rosmerta gave him a sad smile and pushed the money back at him, shaking her head.

"Consider it my condolences," she said, and Remus's eyes widened. The great sadness was gone from her face, replaced by a look of melancholy tinged amusement.

"Ah, Mr. Lupin, taverns and their owners take sides as well," Rosmerta hinted, winking again. Remus was stunned. He'd supposed Rosmerta supported the Order, but he'd never thought she'd be directly involved with it. Rosmerta laughed at the look on her face.

"We all have our duties, Remus. This is mine," she told him, then swept away, returning to her post behind her bar.

Remus took another deep draft, shuddering at the taste of the alcohol, but just as Rosmerta had said, it wasn't as bad as the last he'd taken. He frowned sadly.

James and Sirius had loved to drink, along with Aron, Laena, and many other of their friends. Taryn and Lily never completely refrained from drinking, and were not as an enthusiastic as the others. Oh, he couldn't even escape them in his drink, could he?

Remus jumped slightly as a chair loudly scraped back, and his gaze immediately went to the table of Aurors.

One of the men had shoved his chair back, and was waving his hands wildly, trying to illustrate his words. Obviously, the good-natured gathering had turned into a political debate. The young man was arguing with his fellow Auror, a tall, blond fellow, about Cornelious Fudge.

"He can't continue to stay in office if we wish to win this once and for all!" The man exploded, and his blond companion nodded in agreement.

"I know that, but we can't simply take Fudge out of office, that would be a threat to our democracy!" The other man shouted back. The single girl in the group was still sitting, scowling at her companion's behavior. A chuckle fell from Remus's lips; that girl couldn't be related to Laena, could she? Her expressions were almost dead on duplicates of his old Auror friend.

Here they talked of revolution

Here it was they lit the flame

Here they sang about tomorrow...

The enthusiasm and fire from the two men was impressive. The Order needed members like that. Many, many times before, Remus had stood and watch James, Sirius, Laena, and many other men and women speak the same. They were all strong-soulled people, and had passed their enthusiasm on to others. They would not have Voldemort win his war.

And tomorrow never came.

Tears prickled at Remus's eyes. They'd been a fiery group, and they were all dead. They couldn't achieve the words they had spoken to inspire others. Remus only hoped this wasn't the fate that these young people would meet.

Remus turned once again, and looked out the window. Rain still pattered onto the glass, and he could see his ghostly reflection, spattered with rain. It made his face looked tear splashed, even though it wasn't.

The door to the tavern banged open, and a cloaked figure entered, shaking the mud off of his boots. Remus's eyes narrowed--there was a familiar air about this new arrival.

The man pulled down his hood, and a long silvery beard and hair spilled out of it, completely dry despite the fact the man's cloak was soaked.

Dumbledore. He received a chorus of greetings from everyone in the pub.

Remus grinned faintly. You can't take him anywhere, he mused. Dumbledore turned, and as soon as he caught sight of Remus, he immediately made his way over to the table in the corner.

"Good evening, Mr. Lupin," he said kindly, sitting down in Sirius's customary spot. Not that it really mattered--Sirius certainly wasn't going to come back to claim it.

"Hello, Headmaster," Remus greeted, then he pointedly took another draft of his drink.

"Excellent idea," Dumbledore said cheerily, and waved Rosmerta over. He quickly ordered a brandy, then turned back to Remus.

"What would you be doing here? Caught in the sudden storm?" Dumbledore questioned, and Remus smiled, a little bigger this time.

"I've never understood why you ask questions that you know and have already stated the answer to," He joked kindly, and Dumbledore's eyes sparkled at him.

"I can be wrong, you know. I have to make certain at times," Dumbledore bantered back. There was a long silence as Dumbledore received his drink and began to sip at it thoughtfully.

"Knut for your thoughts?" he asked quietly a moment later, and Remus frowned deeply. Not wanting to explain himself, he softly spoke some nonsense.

"Half my friends are dead; I will make you new ones, said earth.

No, give me them back, as they were, instead, with faults and all, I cried." Remus began, staring into the depths of his butterbeer. Taking a moment to recall, he began to speak again.

"O earth, the number of friends you keep--" Remus was cut off by Dumbledore, who spoke up loudly.

"...exceeds those left to be loved. Sea Canes, by Derek Walcott. Lovely poem." Dumbledore said smartly, and Remus sighed.

"You really do know everything; you have no reason to make certain," he snapped, a bit meaner and less jokingly than he'd meant to. Dumbledore's smile was gone, and his features were stern.

"If I knew everything, Sirius wouldn't have died." Dumbledore countered, and the words cut Remus deep. He knew that Dumbledore was right, and felt shamed for making sarcastic cracks at the old man.

Remus's shoulders began to shake as he fought against the tide of sorrow that threatened to over come him.

Dumbledore smoothly rose to his feet, walked over to Remus, and drew the younger man to him.

Remus began to cry, clutching at Dumbledore.

Oh my friends, my friends forgive me

That I live and you are gone

Dumbledore said nothing, only stood and held Remus. One of his hands gently smoothed at his hair, brushing out the tangled hair with his thin fingers.

"It is not your fault Remus. None of it--not Sirius's death, not anyone else's, and not the fact that you were the only one that lived through all of this," Dumbledore spoke strongly, but Remus weakly shook his head in Dumbledore's shoulder, sniffling loudly.

"Remus Lupin, you are to look at me," Remus could not help but pull away and look at Dumbledore.

He looked worn and old; every line of his ancient face was filled with sorrow, and told the tale of a man who had watched generations of men and women pass through his school and his command, and watched those generations get brutally murdered by one man and his followers. His blue eyes no longer held their customary twinkle, and they looked flat and dead.

"You, my friend, are still needed. There is nothing wrong with mourning...not all tears are an evil," He bent down so he was level with Remus.

"Above all things, you must not blame yourself. What would have become of us if I had begun to blame myself for the countless deaths that were not my fault? We would have succumbed to Voldemort long ago. There will be time for grief and time for blame, but it is not now. You will meet them all again, but there is no sense in chasing after ghosts in an old tavern and in alcohol. You won't find them there," Dumbledore said wisely, and finally, Remus nodded, roughly wiping off his face.

A stray thought came into his mind as he watched Dumbledore quickly finished his drink and headed towards the door. A thought of one thing that might have changed everything, long ago.

"Albus," Remus called, and Dumbledore turned to look at him.

"Why did you never become the Minister of Magic?" he asked forlornly, unable to keep some of his sadness out of his voice. Oh, that single thing would have changed so much.

A small smile twitched at Dumbledore's lips.

"Because, Hogwarts is my home. I could do my best from there, I thought. It is my place to be there. You'll understand that feeling someday," Dumbledore explained, pulling on his cloak. Then he turned back to Remus, his old twinkle back in his bright eyes.

"Besides, for someone on top of the world, the view isn't as clear as I like." Dumbledore grinned full out, then vanished out the door.

Remus turned back to his drink, and pushed it aside. Sirius would not have wanted him to drown himself in alcohol just for him.

With a parting wave to Madam Rosmerta, Remus slid quickly into his coat, and vanished into the rainy night. He didn't need to dwell on that rickety little table, in the corner of the Three Broomsticks.

From the table in the corner

They could see a world reborn.

Oh my friends, my friends, don't ask me

What your sacrifice was for

Empty chairs at empty tables

Where my friends will sing no more.

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