I Went All The Way Down

sixteenstitches

Story Summary:
Remus Lupin once had a relationship with a certain Sirius Black, but after the ultimate betrayal he turned his back on the wizarding world. Now that Dumbledore has invited him back to Hogwarts to teach, he is plagued by heartbreaking flashbacks, moments of desperation, and guilt until coming face to face with Sirius Black at last...

Chapter 01

Posted:
07/03/2006
Hits:
908


I Went All The Way Down

Chapter One

The cafe was quiet that day, which suited him fine. He never liked it when the hordes of twittering women came for their lunches, or when the men - tired out from their work - came to dine before getting down to drinking. He had come here for many years now, always sitting at the same table, always ordering the same drink.

He was what you would call a regular, but with so many different staff - the young girls never really stayed for very long - he wasn't exactly well known or given any preferential treatment. He liked being inconspicuous and wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

Remus Lupin had always craved simplicity like this. He never wanted to be centre of attention or to have a fuss made over him. Nothing made him more comfortable than to be able to sit there, listening to laughter-filled conversations with a nice, warm mug of tea in his hands.

The weather outside was cold and harsh, but he didn't really mind. He wore his long woolen coat and his knitted scarf (that had caused him quite a bit of trouble when trying to make it - he'd discovered that knitting was not his greatest talent) which kept him warm enough. He had wondered about wearing a hat when leaving his house, but it was far too windy and he wasn't in much of a mood to be chasing after it.

Luckily the cafe was only a few houses down from his own and he didn't have to pass too many people on his way back and forth - he lived in a nice, small town in the Midlands, somewhere peaceful and seemingly away from the rest of the chaoitc world. He was known in the community as a nice gentleman with a kind voice, someone the older people could speak to pleasantly and the younger ones respected. He kept out of the way, and because of it he fitted in quite nicely.

Remus took a long sip of his tea, sighing peacefully and leaning back in his chair. There was an elderly pair of women sitting at the table next to his, silently eating. He found himself wondering about them. How did they know each other? What were there names? He often whiled away the hours like this, thinking about other people rather than himself.

Just as he was concluding that their names really were Daisy and Hazel and in their day they'd been burlesque dancers, he heard a light tapping on the window by the side of him. Startled out of his reverie, he turned, curiousity awakened. To his horror, there was a tawny owl staring unblinkingly at him.

Wondering vaguely how long it had been there, he made to open the window before pausing. What on earth was he thinking? There were so many Muggles around and he was about to let a postal owl in! Had he gone mad? Quickly checking to ensure nobody was looking - and they weren't - he opened the window a crack, untied the letter clumsily (his hands were shaking) and shut it again.

The owl, obviously wanting some food or thanks, gave him a reproachful glare and flew off. Relieved, Remus looked down at the envelope, before all relief - along with every other emotion in his body - drained from him. He stared at the handwriting, long and slanted and easily recognisable. No longer caring about being inconspicuous, Remus shook his head slowly in disbelief.

Dumbledore. The moment the name flickered in his mind, bile rose sickening in his throat. He forced it back down again, gripping the edge of the table with one trembling hand, the other still holding the letter. A heavy, indescribable weight fell in his stomach somewhere as a dull nausea swept through his body. His fingers, as well as the rest of his body, tensed so that the letter crumpled slightly.

Remus rose from his seat, before sitting back down again, indesicive. As he'd stood he found his muscles were stiff as though unused for months. There was an odd prickling on his cheeks bones; his breathing was short and uneven; his mouth was dry. He wondered, despite all of these distracting symptoms, why a mere name could provoke all of this.

The answer came to him straight away, so suddenly he felt stupid at even questioning it. When thinking of Dumbledore, he was reminded automatically of the Order. A soft sigh escaped his lips at this thought, and it felt like all of his life was leaving him in that one breath. The Order.

He could still remember everybody as clearly as though their last meeting had been days ago, rather than years. He could even remember Dumbledore asking him if he'd join, he remembered the elation filling his young heart along side a fierce pride. He had so wanted to work against the forces of evil.

Then it sprung to the forefront of his mind, almost irresistabley, the main reason he had avoided all contact with Dumbledore, avoided all conversation concerning him. Hogwarts. Hogwarts and his (fairly) peaceful years there, away from the haunts of the outside world, learning, being fascinated and awed, laughing with his loyal, brilliant friends...

Remus stood up instantly, letter still in hand, and went to pay. There was a pretty waitress beside the bar, hunched over the counter, twisting hair round a finger in a most unattractive, vulgar manner. She took his money without so much as glancing at him.

Stiffly, he made his way out of the cafe, passing the elderly women and the rest of those lunching. He just couldn't understand why nobody noticed that he was falling apart. But he had always been so good at hiding things, he reflected bitterly, and it seemed he'd lost none of his talent.

He stepped out onto the pavement, wrapping his scarf more tightly around his neck and lowering his head, trying to avoid the lashing wind as much as possible, trying to keep his thoughts far from the past. It was certainly hard to do, as there seemed to be nothing else in the world to think about.

It took him less than two minutes to be home, slinging his coat over a chair and starting a warm fire in the grate. He had passed right through his shop. He didn't want to reopen just yet, not when he was as doubtful and as frightened of his own thoughts of this.

He owned a small, quaint and pleasant book store that stocked everything the small town would need. He'd set it up three years after leaving school and had been here ever since - finding the scent of the old books thrilling, the job fufilling and the money just enough to keep him going.

But even the shop meant nothing to him now. Nothing did - his mind was just a swirling mess of thoughts and memories he'd willed himself to forget. He slumped down before the fire, finally giving in his battle with strength and distraction. He had to face this now.

Remus suddenly looked down, remembering how this whole thing had started. The letter. Resisting the urge of throwing it straight into the flames before him, he turned the envelope over and ripped it open, breaking the Hogwarts seal with something akin to satisfaction.

He took a moment to open the letter - his heart was pounding in his ears - but eventually he managed to unfold it. His eyes moved across the words, reading quickly, before his brain caught up. He found himself smiling, of all things, before the panic set in.

Dear Mr Lupin,

I trust this letter finds you in full health and in a comfortable life, but I'm afraid this may cause you some disruption. As you no doubt know, Hogwarts is yet again one teacher short in the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts.

I, and many fellow staff, believe that you would excell in the job and so I would like to offer you the position as Defence Against the Darks Arts teacher. You would, of course, be living at Hogwarts as you teach, and I can make arrangements to keep your bookshop's rent fully paid until you return.

As for your condition, our Potions Master is more than willing to produce the newly created Wolfsbane Potion each month to keep it under control, so you would be no risk to anybody, students or otherwise.

Please do not feel obligated to accept this offer, but know that you are always welcome.

Yours sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Remus lay the letter down, gently, with respect, before opting to sit on the cozy armchair rather than the wooden floor. Wendy leapt up onto his knee, purring comfortingly and curling her sleek body into a little bundle. He scratched behind the cat's ears and she gave him a look that plainly said 'not now please, I'm trying to sleep'.

Chuckling, he wondered whether or not he should be thinking along the same lines. There was nothing wrong with a nice, healthy afternoon nap and he knew he needed it, with full moon merely two nights away. The room was warm, the chair comfortable, but Remus found he couldn't sleep, even when he wanted too.

The letter still lay on the floor, awaiting him. He shook his head in disbelief - how silly he was to let something like this affect him! - before standing, slowly. Wendy fell to the floor, glaring at her owner as she stalked off, tail haughtily in the air. He picked up the letter and re-read it.

In a moment he knew what his reply would have to be. He turned the parchment over and scribbled a reply, before rummaging in his cupboard and withdrawing a fresh envelope. With a sad smile upon his face, he wrote Dumbledore's name and address, before turning.

There was a large, slightly dusty cage in the corner that he made his way over to, wearily and stepping over the many piles of books that never seemed to disappear, even when he attempted to clear them away.

Within the cage perched a large-eyed ruffled looking brown owl. Remus opened the cage and coaxed the owl toward him. The owl's large eyes grew even wider in excitement. It never got to post anything except for a monthly report to the werewolf registry, and it always loved being allowed out. With the letter tied to it's leg, he nipped Remus' nose in a happy kind of way, before soaring out through the window it's owner had just pushed open for it.

"So you're going back to Hogwarts," he muttered to himself, feeling rather gloomy about it too. He decided then that getting a good nights sleep before all of...that set off would have to be his main concern just now, and he shut out all of the outside distractiosn, with quite a bit of difficulty.

* * *

"Does it hurt?" a young boy asked him, sat by the bed and looking worried. Remus managed to nod and lifted a tired hand, gesturing to the deep wounds on his chest that were beneath heavily applied yellow paste.

"I meant the actual transformation," the boy said, with an apologetic tone in his voice for making Remus move so much uneccessarily.

"Well - yes, it's really - really painful," he managed to croak, before closing his eyes. Even talking caused him pain this soon after the transformation. The boy sighed, thoughtfully, and leant back in his chair, watching Remus' wounded chest rise and fall with his breath.

"Does it all like sprout out of you when you can still think clearly?" the boy asked, edging closer, fascinated.

"Yeah, but - but about halfway through your thoughts kind of - kind of go."

"Wow," the boy whispered, thrilled with this new discovery. Remus managed a small, weak smile. The boy's curiousity made it all feel slightly better; the fact that he'd talk to him with the knowledge of the monstrous transformation alone was enough to make the corners of his mouth twitch upward.

"Potter!" snapped a voice from across the room. Both boys looked up, grimacing expectantly. "You've had far more than ten minutes, leave Lupin alone so he can get some rest. Besides, your lessons start in twenty minutes, off with you!"

"Yes Madam Pomfrey," the boy muttered, before grudgingly standing up. "See you later, Remus."

With that he left the hospital wing, casting the nurse a furious look as he disappeared into the corridor. Remus made to shake his head in disbelief at the boy, before he remembered the pain and closed his eyes, trying to get some long-awaited rest.

* * *

Remus rose early the next morning to let Wendy out (she had been yowling quite determinedly on his head for the past half hour, so he supposed it really was time to put himself out of misery). As she trotted happily down the garden, he stood in the kitchen doorway, watching her with a small smile.

Yesterday's events seemed so far away at a time like this, when the sun had only just risen and a light, soft fog was filtering through the early morning. There was a kind of peace at this time, which made it his favourite time of day. He tipped a few biscuits into the cat's bowl and put the kettle on.

Once he had his customary cup of tea in his hands, he went to sit outside on the patio. There wasn't much to the garden as he didn't have time to tend it - what with the shop open six days a week - but he found he preferred it this way. The grass was long and plentiful, dandelions were scattered in it along with numerous other flowers - there were poppies and tupils and daffodils that he'd planted when he first moved here, but had now spread across the grass mercilessly.

Wendy loved it. She would snake amongst the grass trying to catch flies and wasps and all manner of insects and more often than not she could be seen biting off the heads of the dandelions with a most puzzled expression on her face.

Remus' stomach squirmed guiltily. He knew that he could bring Wendy to the school with him, as when he'd been a student there he'd had his own cat and there had been no trouble. But surely Wendy would hate all the people and all the space? She was quite content with her life here.

It was a feeble excuse for not wanting to teach at Hogwarts, so he tried to banish it from his mind. There was part of him that desperately craved to return, a part of him that wouldn't be satisfied unless he did. He clung to this force within, knowing that he really had no choice in the matter as he'd sent the reply to Dumbledore.

"Your decision is made, and that's that," he said to himself, crossly. A face instantly popped up over the fence dividing his garden with the one next door. It was Marianne Beckett - a happy and confident girl of seven, an only child with two workaholic parents and a slightly dotty nanny.

"Who are you talking to?" she asked her neighbour, staring shamelessly at him. He took a sip of his tea, smiling.

"I was talking to Wendy."

"Can I come see her?" Marianne asked, pulling her upper body over the fence to get a good look at the cat. Wendy was glaring up at the child as if daring her to come any closer.

"Of course," Remus laughed, setting his cup of tea down on the floor and standing up. "Do you need any help getting over the fence?"

"Nah," the girl said indifferently and in a moment was stabley on her feet in his garden. She held out a hand to the cat who in turn merely sniffed haughtily and stalked further down the garden. The young girl looked crestfallen.

"Don't mind her," Remus said gently, now standing by Marianne. "She's just in a bad mood because we have to go away for a long time."

"You do?" Marianne asked, staring up at him with wide eyes. She was one of the most inquistive children he had ever met, almost as bad as -

"Yes, I'm afraid so. I've got a new job and I need to live closer, but I'll be coming back to the shop every so often," he explained, cutting across his own dangerous thoughts. The girl's face fell.

"But I like your shop being open! You always get those comics in, especially for me!" she sighed, pouting. Another guilty squirm. Feeling slightly miserable now, he turned to his house.

"It's an urgent job though," he said, more to himself than his neighbour.

"What kinda job?"

"Teaching."

"What kinda teaching?"

"Er..." Remus sort wildly for an answer. "Gymnastics."

Marianne couldn't help but snort. Remus grinned, albeit sheepishly. "Well, not really gymnastics. I'd be quite bad at that, I suppose. I'm teaching English."

"You'll be good at it. You have a whole shop full of books."

"Which is why they think I'll be excellent. Now, don't you think you should be getting back home? Your nanny is sure to worry."

"Oh, her," Marianne sighed, irritably. "She always worries. See you then, and good luck with your job."

She turned to the fence and pulled herself up, before losing her grip and slipping back to the floor, letting out a small "oof!" as she hit the ground. Remus hastily knelt down by her.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, anxiously.

"It's nothing," she said in an offhand voice. "I've had worse."

And with that she was off over the fence again, humming cheerfully to herself. He stared after her, blinking in the aftermath of her completely brave manner. What had the Becketts been feeding her?

He remembered someone saying the exact same words to him, many years ago. He'd just turned fourteen and was feeling quite mature and proud about it too, especially as his friends had sneaked in some alcohol and he'd gotten his first taste (he didn't like it much, but for fear of being called a wimp he'd kept quiet).

Danny Barkshire had approached him...Danny had...

Furious at himself for letting such things come back to him, Remus went back into the house, taking care to slam the door on the way in. He noticed that his owl had returned and was awaiting breakfast, along with another, snowy owl. The Daily Prophet had arrived.

He fished out the right amount of money from a jar on a shelf (his jar of wizarding money, which he used for nothing but the newspaper) and placed it carefully in the pouch the owl was holding. It flew off with a grateful hoot, and Remus quickly placed his own owl in the cage with a few crusts of bread.

This was his only connection with the wizarding world, and he eagerly awaited it everyday. After all, no matter how much he tried to hide it, he was a wizard, he was magical and there was no point in denying that gossip about fellow witches and wizards excited him.

He took one small glance at the front page and his world came crashing down around him. Hard. And painfully. And all the other things that made it all the worse.

Staring at him, gnashing his teeth and scowling and struggling, was Sirius Black. Almost unrecognisable...such stretched skin...such sunken eyes...the filthy mass of hair...but Remus knew it was him, his eyes, the shape of his chin, the perfectly straight nose...

He read the headline through sudden and unexpected tears; something dark and horrible and forgotten was welling up inside of him. It was all coming back to him. Sirius had always been so...so...dangerous, in a way, he was always surprising everyone, always rash, even when a teenager.

FIRST EVER BREAK OUT FROM AZKABAN: SIRIUS BLACK

The Ministry of Magic released a statement late last night confirming the escape of convicted murderer, Sirius Black, from Azkaban. Though the statement mentioned nothing of how Black escaped, a Ministry insider has told The Daily Prophet exclusively that Dark Magic was involved, and that Black may be trying to regroup the free followers of He Who Must Not Be Named.

The wizarding world is in great danger if this is true, and most are uneasy at this first ever escape, fearing there may be more despite the Dementors guarding even more fiercely than ever.

Black was arrested for murdering one wizard and -

Remus gave up then. His eyes were too blurry for him to continue, even if he wanted to. He wiped them, maddened with his own lack of control, on his sleeve, biting his lip as he did so. He would not give in to it all.

Then it struck him, it really hit home. Sirius is free. The traitor had broken lose. The traitor could be anywhere. A rush of anger erupted within Remus, rage such as he'd never known. He wanted to be the one to find the escaped murder, he wanted to hex him so that he -

The rage was broken suddenly by the sound of the letterbox being pushed opened through the shop (Remus had extremely good hearing, especially around this time of the month). He blinked, clenching and unclenching his fists, and shaking his head in a slight daze.

Feeling a little giddy, he stood up and blindly made his way through the room full of books - it was quite dusty too, so he granted himself his usual sneeze, with a small, polite 'achoo!' - before picking up the newspaper that had been shoved through the door.

It was only the local, free newspaper, and Remus was about to cast it aside when something in the corner caught his eye. It was a picture - unmoving, of course - of a young girl, beaming wildly, blonde hair in ringlets down the side of her cheeks. He recognised her instantly.

Marianne Beckett. Frowning slightly, the shock of seeing Sirius's face on the newspaper still ricocheting through his mind, he read the small piece accompanying the picture.

Police confirmed yesterday afternoon that the body found in a ditch is indeed the missing child, Marianne Beckett, only seven years of age. Police have said that she was stabbed seven times and was left to bleed to death. It comes as no surprise that -

Remus blinked. He blinked again. Then, slowly and numb with shock, he sank to his knees, hands absentmindedly ripping the paper in two. His neighbour - that cheery little girl - dead. Then his common sense kicked in, and his eyebrows snapped together with such a suddenness you could almost hear them.

Yesterday afternoon. But he had been speaking to her about twenty minutes ago! He staggered to his feet, brain throwing up hundreds of possiblities. It had been an hallcuination, it had been a dream, this was a dream - but he knew he had really seen her.

But if he had genuinely seen her, and she was genuinely dead, how...?

Remus's eyes widened. She was a ghost. But she'd not been like the ghosts he'd seen in the past...

* * *

They sat in Charms, at the back as usual; one of them was taking notes, another staring off into space with his mouth slightly open and the other two passing notes and grinning at each other.

The small, squeaky teacher known as Professor Flitwick was pacing at the front of the classroom, hands clasped together behind his back, answering an inquisitive seventh year's question. Billy Fletcher had wanted to know just what happened after death.

"Of course, even we wizards do not know for sure," Flitwick squeaked, sighing in a thoughtful manner. "Even ghosts know nothing of what happens to the dead who have not lived on in that form. Only wizards can be ghosts, and only unhappy ones, or those with unfinished business. The old saying is indeed correct."

Remus noted down exactly what he was saying, rather curious about the subject himself. Billy raised his hand again, and Flitwick nodded at him.

"But sir, my dad said that he once met a ghost - who was a child - and said he was nothing like the Hogwarts ghosts. He said she was solid and colourful."

Flitwick nodded, a grim smile on his wrinkling face. "When a child dies and their spirit remains on earth - which is very rare - they do remain in their human form, but they can still only be seen by wizards. If this is because of their youth and life, or their innocence, we cannot know..."

"Oi, Moony," hissed a voice from behind Remus. He turned, an eyebrow raised, to see Sirius grinning at him as he lounged back on his chair. "What's the name of that curse - you know, the one that makes you fall over whenever you stand? Snivellus is in need of a good --"

"I can't remember, I'll look it up after class. But I want to listen to this, so can you --"

"Mr Lupin!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, and Remus turned to him, flushing crimson. "I expected better of you!"

"But, sir, I didn't mean to --"

"It was my fault, sir," Sirius sighed, sounding rather bored, from behind him. Flitwick's white eyebrows rose an inch or too, before he sighed, turning back to the rest of the class. Sirius getting into trouble was such a common occurance there was no point in getting mad anymore.

Remus turned and grinned at his friend for being honest. Sirius smiled back, a small, gentle kind of smile, before being nudged in the ribs by James. They were instantly in spurring out idea after idea about annoying Snape, and Remus turned back to the front, still smiling.

* * *

He knocked on the door, breathless and red faced. Even though he'd only run nextdoor, he didn't think he'd ever run so fast. Ignoring the agonising split in his side, he composed his face into a kind expression as the door swung open.

Mr and Mrs Beckett stood in the doorway, both with extremely red eyes, and both looking severely shaken. He didn't know quite what to say, but he knew all too well what they were feeling; the raw, gaping chasm within that makes you feel as though there's nothing left for you, despite what other's say and do.

"I'm - I'm very sorry for your loss, I've only just heard," he said, softly and evenly, trying to breath normally. The two once-parents nodded glumly, as though they'd heard the same words a thousand times before. "This - this may sound strange, but did Marianne ever do anything...odd?"

The Becketts both blinked, looking taken aback. Mr Beckett then frowned, studying Remus closely. "What do you mean, exactly?"

"Did anything ever happen to her, that seemed to be because of her, that was unusual?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

"Please - I don't know anything about the poor girl's death, but I think I know something about her life."

Mrs Beckett stepped forward, after giving her husband an uncertain, wary look. "Mr Lupin, thank you for your concern, but you'll need to be more specific. My husband and I are clueless."

Remus bit his lip, wondering just how to word this. "Did anything strange, almost frightening, ever happen? Something she seemed to do?"

Mr Beckett suddenly stiffened, and his wife had an instant knowing look. She bit her lip too. "I - I don't know if this is what you mean, but there was one thing..."

"Yes?" Remus prompted, quietly.

"Never mind," Mr Beckett said coldly, trying to usher his wife indoors, but she stood her ground, glaring defiantely at him.

"Mr Lupin may be able to help us."

"Yes, dear, but there's no point in telling him that."

"Yes, there is," she snapped in an equally icy tone. "Mr Lupin, about a year ago we were holding a party for some of my husband's rather important collegues, a married couple who I cannot help but despise. I had complained quite openly for the whole day, mostly to Marianne who was helping me tidy the house."

"This is highly irrelevant," Mr Beckett half-shouted, flushing a dark, ugly shade of red. Remus raised his eyebrows, quite nervous.

"I can't help you with any of the dark mystery surrounding your daughter's death. I just...I would just like to know this, about her life," he sighed.

"When the guests arrived," Mrs Beckett continued, ignoring the interruption, "she opened and shut the front door gently. I tried to let them in after that, but the door wouldn't open. We tried in vain to open any entrance to the house for fifteen minutes before they left, quite mad with us as though we were at fault. And then, once they had gone, Marianne simply opened the door as easily as ever."

Remus knew then that he had been perfectly right about it all. Mr Beckett looked beside himself. He hesitated for a moment, before venturing on, "Do either of you know what Hogwarts is?"

Mrs Beckett frowned slightly, evidently bemused by this sudden and unexpected question. Her husband, however, lost his angered expression and his mouth formed a wide 'O', his eyes suddenly going wide. He gave, after hastily making sure his wife was still watching Remus, the tiniest nod.

Remus internally sighed heavily, but thought it best to show no annoyed or irritated reaction, as - he quite suddenly remembered, feeling ashamed - these people had just lost their daughter. "Very well then. Well, I am extremely sorry to have disturbed you like this. You should just know that she hasn't left you as you think..."

With that ominous last sentence, he turned and walked back down the gravel path, before turning into his bookshop. He closed to door behind him gently, pausing then to think. So his neighbour was a wizard, hiding the fact from his wife?

The door swung open against his back and he hastily moved out of the way. Mr Beckett stood there, biting his lip. Remus smiled, quite nervously. The intruder cleared his throat, looking torn between saying two very different things.

"Mr Lupin, as you may have guessed my wife knows nothing of...my identity," he stopped, looking thoughtful, before starting. "I wish to keep it that way. But thank you for coming round to see us, I've understood you much more clearly than Mary has. How I'll hide Marianne's ghost..."

He shook his head. Remus spoke, tentatively, "Maybe you could tell her the truth.

"We'll see," Mr Beckett sighed, before giving Remus a rather miserable farewell and returning home. Remus stared after him for a moment, thinking of everything that had happened.

The escape of Sirius Black had been temporarily forgotten in amidst all of this, but it returned to him fully once he was alone again. Sirius has escaped, Marianne has been murdered, my neighbour is a wizard...

Remus knew then, more than ever, he had to return to his old school. The wizarding world had been brought to the home he'd come to to escape it, his refuge was ruined so suddenly. He couldn't bear to be back with a wizard, yet to not be able to discuss it openly.

He had to return to Hogwarts.

He had to return to his first truly happy home.