[FIC] What Secrets Keep - R - S/R - Epi/16+epi
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?
Previous Parts:
::Prologue::1::2::3::4::5::6::7::8::9::10::11::12::13::14::15::16::
Epilogue
Mid March - 1993
It was raining.
It wasn’t fitting or apt, nor was it out of place. It wasn’t torrential nor was it light. It was just rain. Falling softly from a dreary overcast sky.
There was a pub not far from where he stood, but he doubted it was open yet. Perhaps later they would step in. A little meander down memory lane. But not yet.
They had things to do first.
He thought about the last time he was here. It had been raining then too. Would all his memories of this place always be tainted by rain? He hoped not. There were so many happy ones. Buried somewhere under all the history. Buried under all the pain and lies, secrets and heartache. Buried under eleven years of stolen life.
Inside the house that now stood as a monument. A landmark.
It was wrong. And so typical of the world they lived in. To make this place, this once wondrous place, a tourist attraction. Because that’s what it was. It wasn’t a monument to commemorate the immeasurable sacrifices that had been made, or to honour the fallen. This was no place of reflection where the next generation could come and appreciate the courage, bravery, tenacity, ingenuity, determination and skill of those who had fought to keep them free.
It was just a place. Out of history. Where people stood to have their picture taken, huge smiles on their faces or posed in mockeries of the events that had taken place here.
It had only been eleven years. But so much had already been lost. The stories were still told but they were fairy-tales now. People had moved on. People got on with their lives and they happily, obliviously, sometimes purposefully, forgot.
He couldn’t forget.
How could he? When so much of his life had been wound up in this cottage in Godric’s Hollow. How could he when the events that had turned the once beautiful little house into a pile of rubble had had such a defining impact on the years that would follow.
How could he when he had once stood on this very spot and fallen head first into a lie condemning a good man and falsely naming a bad one a martyr.
He couldn’t. And even if he could, he didn’t want to.
Beside him, an enormous black dog whined and pawed the ground, making Remus Lupin look down, his hand resting easily on the dog’s enormous head, scratching his ears.
‘Wrong, all wrong. Den? Den Gone. Bad. Bad here. Pack gone. Sad. Lonely. Hurt.’
Canine wasn’t the most articulate of languages, but Remus understood it well enough. “I know, Padfoot, there’s nothing here.”
Beside him, the dog whined again, then tail hanging low, began to move off, casting only the briefest look over his shoulder to make sure Remus was following.
He didn’t stop until he reached a gate, and then Remus took the lead, winding his way from memory through the stones and trees to where he’d stood only once before. To the grave of James and Lily Potter.
Snuffling forward, Padfoot approached the grave, sober eyes taking in the lettering on the simple but beautiful headstone. His legs began to shake, but Remus didn’t interrupt him. The scent of pain and remorse rose up and filled his nostrils but he remained where he was.
The trembling increased, and with a whimper the dog collapsed to the ground before lifting its head and solemnly letting out a plaintive wail to the sky.
‘Grief. Regret. Remorse. Grief. Regret. Remorse.’
Finally stepping forward, Remus sat himself down beside the grave on the damp grass, heedless of the continuing rain. Reaching over he ran his hand over Padfoot’s head, tangling his fingers in the thick wet fur of his neck.
“This isn’t your fault.” He finally choked out, echoing words spoken to him eleven years previously.
The eyes that turned to him were pained and full of disbelief.
The rain continued to fall. Remus didn’t mind. It was only rain, and Padfoot needed this.
The day drew on. The sky grey dark.
Standing up, Remus paid no mind to his sodden clothes. It didn’t matter, he was wet through anyway.
“Come on Padfoot.” He said softly.
The large head raised slowly and cocked to one side.
‘Where go?’
“Home.”
The End