[FIC] What Secrets Keep - R - S/R - Pro/15+
Title: What Secrets Keep
Series: What...
Author: jenexell
Pairings and Characters:Sirius/Remus (implied past relationship), Harry, Ron, Hermione, Pettigrew (the usual suspects)
Rating: R - Some not so pleasant imagery here and there.
Disclaimer: If this was real, I wouldn't share. As its not, I'm sharing with no personal gain or profit, other than perhaps to feed my attention whore complex. non-recognisable elements are mine! plagiarists will be eaten alive by weasels. Much information has been gleaned from the books (obviously), films, various Wiki's, other internet sources and my font of all HP knowledge ttfan.
Distribution: My Journal (jenexell), and quite a few other places too. (attention whore complex). If you want it, link back to my journal, don't steal its naughty.
Warnings: None for now.
Spoilers: Everything and nothing. Set during Book 2, Chamber of Secrets, but does diverge quite wildly from cannon in some respects. References pretty much everything, although I'm trying to ignore Pottermore because she keeps messing up my backstories!.
Summary:Au Book 2. Sometimes there are just too many secrets, and sometimes all it takes to start unravelling them is a failed spell from a broken wand. But with secrets, lies, half truths, mysteries and a giant snake in the pipework, who can be believed?
Prologue
Early November 1981
It was raining.
It was right that it should. That the sky should weep on today of all days. The sun would be an unwelcome mockery given the circumstances.
There was a pub not far from where he stood. He could hear the sounds of people celebrating even here. There'd been a lot of that lately. Celebrating.
People. Other people. They had a lot to celebrate he supposed. It was over. The Dark Lord had been destroyed; the end of the war had finally come. Life, as people had once known it, would resume once more.
Not for him.
The cruellest of ironies. What those people celebrated was in fact the loss of everything he held dear. Not the Dark Lord. The thought of his demise was the only thing that allowed him to breathe. One slow, painful breath after another.
It was all gone. Everything. Everyone.
The rain came down like a torrent and he didn't care, just stood and stared, trying to find a thought in his head that would allow him to move from this place. Just stood and watched as the water ran over the broken stone, over keepsakes and mementoes scattered about. The scavengers had already been. They got here before he could, taking so much and for what? Souvenirs?
It was sick.
It was perverse.
It was so typical of the callous world they lived in.
Something creaked in the wreckage. The cottage wasn't done decaying.
The rain continued to fall. On the place that had once been their home. A happy, joyful comfortable home. The place where a family, such a loving family, had lived. The place where the war had been ended, where Voldermort had finally been dispatched.
It shouldn't have ended like this.
Not like this.
"I thought I might find you here."
Turning his blank stare away from what had been a fairly ordinary little cottage in the village of Godrick's Hollow, he faced the owner of the voice. It was a voice rich with age, wisdom and compassion.
"Headmaster" He replied dully, taking in the fine robes, the pointed shoes, the long flowing silvery beard.
The newcomer approached slowly, not cautiously but with a purposeful yet unhurried stride until they were standing side-by-side and could share the benefit of the headmaster's umbrella. Not that he cared, he was already soaked through.
"It seems fitting that it should rain today." The headmaster said sadly. "If it hadn't, I think I might have attempted to make it."
He just grunted, not even shocked that such thoughts had mirrored his own. It was a universal truth really. It should always rain at funerals.
"You left early." The headmaster spoke again. They were both now staring at the rubble.
"I couldn't stay." He said by way of explanation. And it seemed explanation enough. The headmaster nodded.
For a long moment they just stood there. Staring. He could feel the words being chosen by the man beside him and he flicked his eyes across, catching sight as he did of the umbrella's handle. It was shaped like a ducks head.
He looked back at the cottage. What was left of it. Perverse. The world was deeply wrong.
"He's safe?" He finally asked. It was the only thing he really wanted to know anyway.
"Yes." The headmaster sighed. "He's with family. They'll look after him. You do understand..."
"I know." He cut the headmaster off. He didn't need to be reminded of his own failure.
"You know I have to ask." The headmaster said after a long stretch of uncomfortable silence.
He sighed. Yes he'd known. It was obvious. He'd been amazed he hadn't been asked before. But then, the headmaster was the only other person left alive now who'd known why he of all people should be asked. Except one, too young to comprehend, and another who.... He stopped the thought. He didn't want to think of him. But he had to. Because the headmaster would not let the matter lie. "Ask."
There was a rustling sound. A wand being readied to be drawn. Maybe if he lied it would all be over. Maybe if he lied, the headmaster would just put him out of his misery. Cure him of the vacant ever present ache of loss and betrayal.
"Remus John Lupin." The headmaster spoke. Official. The headmaster wanted this official. The wand was probably keeping the words. "Did you know or have suspicions prior to the morning of the first of November, and thus willingly concealed said knowledge or suspicions from the appropriate authorities that Sirius Orion Black was in league with the Dark Wizard known as Lord Voldermort or that Sirius Orion Black had intentions to betray his oath as secret keeper and divulge the whereabouts of James and Lily Potter to said same Dark Wizard?"
He could lie. But he wasn't going to.
"No."
Firm. He hadn't known. He hadn't the slightest damn clue.
But he should have. He of all people should have.
He couldn't stay here. He had to leave. There was nothing left here. Not for him. His best friends murdered. Sirius...
"We should probably return to the wake." The headmaster mused. "Or at least get somewhere dry."
Remus shook his head.
"This isn't your fault Remus" The headmaster spoke with concern and sympathy.
Remus wanted to smack him over the head with his damned duck's head umbrella for telling such lies.
"Remus listen to me very carefully." The headmaster persisted. "This was not your fault. James, Lily, Peter, their blood is not on your hands. Sirius, and Sirius alone is responsible for the choices he made. He hid his true self from all of us. Most especially from you."
Words. Just words. He had to go.
Shaking his head, Remus picked up the bag that had been sat between his feet, shouldered it and turned away, out of the shelter of the umbrella. Away from the cottage. Away from the family, friends and life he'd somehow naively thought would always be there.
"Remus!" The headmaster called after he'd only made it a few strides through the rain. "Where will you go?"
Remus cast one last look at the headmaster, then the cottage and shrugged. Turning back around, he pulled his collar up around his neck and trudged off into the dark rain.
Tbc
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