38. Fanfiction: Remus Lupin Knows All, Part Two: Eternally Grateful
Title: Remus Lupin Knows All, Part Two: Eternally Grateful
Author: Liliths_Requiem
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Marlene McKinnon
Pairings: Arabella Figg/Marlene McKinnon
Era: First War
Word Count: 1274
Arabella feels slightly out of place as she takes her seat between to Caradoc and Arielle. She’s used to this feeling of being a daffodil in a field of roses, but every time she’s forced to suffer through a position like this she can feel her hands grow clammy and her pulse throb in her chest. If it weren’t for Arielle’s hand on her knee, she isn’t sure she’d be able to do this twice a month, no matter how important the Cause may be.
They talk in hushed tones, despite the seven hundred spells placed on their meeting spot and the fact that Moody hasn’t sat down the entire time. It’s as if they’re walking on glass, terrified it may break. Ara doesn’t want to think about how well that description fits her life right now. She doesn’t like the idea that she may be vulnerable, not after having spent most of her life trying to expel weakness. Everything is quiet when the Prewett twins arrive, out of breath and rambling about a sudden attack in Surrey. Surrey, Marlene’s hometown. For a moment she looks to Dumbledore, as if hoping he will tell her it’s okay, that Marlene’s on a mission and won’t be hurt. She hopes to find reassurance, instead she find fear.
“Ara I think you should stay here,” her sister whispers, as the rest of the order apparates away. A part of her agrees, there’s nothing for her to do at the battle if she goes, she can’t use a wand and taking on a Death Eater in hand-to-hand combat is sure suicide. She almost agrees, almost sits back down, but then she remembers the gun in her left trench coat pocket and thinks that Marlene could be dying. She shakes her head and grabs Arielle’s hand; she’s tired of being left alone.
They arrive in a flurry of red and green light, dancing across the midnight sky like fireworks. Arielle rushes off to join the fray, but Ara knows she must fine Marlene before she goes to help the others. She searches the battleground for the telltale sign of brown, dirty curls or British blue eyes. First, she looks through the dozens of people standing, wands raised and voices tearing through the wind and ringing in her ears. But Marlene’s face is not among the warriors; her voice is not one of those that carries through the winter air.
“Marley!” she calls out into the night, desperate for some response that doesn’t come. She is granted only the comfort of her own echo, and so she knows the witch is not out among the rest of the Order. Steeling herself for the worst, Ara makes her way towards the back of the McKinnon house. She cocks the gun and holds it, tightly, in her right hand. She may be a squib, but she knows how to fight.
The back door gives way easily to her rough push against its wooden frame. Quietly, Ara picks her way through the river of glass born from the broken kitchen windows that lay shattered at her feet. She sees Daniel first, Marlene’s eldest great-nephew lays sprawled across the Drawing Room floor with his eyes rolled back and his arms limp at his sides. This is the first time Arabella has seen Death. She feels a part of her die as she walks past; frantically hoping Marlene has not met the dark robed Hades just yet.
But she has. As Ara makes her way up the stairs, she sees Sarah bloody and mutilated, lying haphazardly in the doorframe of Marlene’s room. The young girl’s clothes have been ripped away and her legs lay open and awkwardly bent. A chill spasms down Ara’s spine, and she bends down to wrap Sarah’s dress around her legs before the others arrive. “Let her have dignity in Death,” she mutters over the corpse, before making her way into the room. She knows, the moment she sees her body, that Marlene is dead. The skin is deathly pale, blood still making its way down her frigid body. Ara does not touch the other woman, does not bestow that final kiss upon the woman she loves. Instead, she turns away before she can see the death in Marlene’s eyes and whispers a faint goodbye. “It’s over now, Marley,” she whispers, as she closes the door, “may you rest in peace.”
She walks down the steps and through the front doors, straight into one of the bloodiest battles of the First War. Unaware of the blood and bodies that line her path, she walks towards the first Death Eater, raises the gun, and pulls the trigger. There is a loud, resounding bang and then the horrible sound of bullet meeting flesh. She can hear the scream as the dark figure goes down. For a moment, she pities the man behind the mask, then she realizes there is no man, there is only the mask, and fires her gun again.
--:::--
“You know, no one ever thought about using a gun,” Remus tells her, as he hands her a hot cup of tea. They aren’t sure who won the battle, really, but Marlene was the only Order death and Ara knows she, alone, killed at least five, so she’s assuming they can wear the crown of victory tonight.
She shrugs and takes a sip, wincing as the hot liquid burns her throat and causes another assault of tears to begin. “Wizards are quite ignorant of just how advanced Muggles have become.” She replies, careful to keep the emotion from her voice. Only Arielle, Minerva, and Dumbledore are aware of just how much Marlene meant to her, and she’d really rather Remus didn’t pity her right now. She’s expecting him to leave but instead he sits down beside her and takes a sip of his own tea.
“I guess if it had been someone I loved…” he drops off, looking her in the eyes with an expression that isn’t pity, not really, but more like understanding mixed with acceptance, “I’d have done the same. Here,” his hand is outstretched with a piece of chocolate wrapped in his bloodstained fingers, “This’ll help.”
She takes the chocolate and slips it into her mouth, carefully not to answer until she needs to. He’s looking at her with earnest, chocolate eyes and she knows, somehow, that he won’t hurt her. “I love her so much, Remus,” she whispers, without emotion and without tears. She’s a Figg, for the love of Merlin, and Figgs are not weak enough to cry.
He nods, as if he knows, as if he can possibly understand even when they both know he cannot. “It’s okay, Ms. Figg,” he tells her, his voice sincere and firm, “You’ve lost your entire world, you’re allowed to cry.” He doesn’t touch her, and she’s thankful for that because she doesn’t like being touched. Instead, he breaks off another piece of chocolate and hands it to her. She clings to the brown square like redemption, like a lifeline. As she places it in her mouth, he gets up and walks away. Sometimes, Remus knows, you need to be alone.
She receives flowers from Minerva and money from Dumbledore. Arielle buys her a kitten and helps her plant a tree in honor of Marlene. The funeral is beautiful and well thought-out and everyone comes to pay their last respects. But years later, Arabella remembers only the young man with the chocolate bar, and that is why she attends Remus’s funeral. He was there when everyone else was busy with their own problems, and for that, she is eternally grateful.
Author: Liliths_Requiem
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Marlene McKinnon
Pairings: Arabella Figg/Marlene McKinnon
Era: First War
Word Count: 1274
Arabella feels slightly out of place as she takes her seat between to Caradoc and Arielle. She’s used to this feeling of being a daffodil in a field of roses, but every time she’s forced to suffer through a position like this she can feel her hands grow clammy and her pulse throb in her chest. If it weren’t for Arielle’s hand on her knee, she isn’t sure she’d be able to do this twice a month, no matter how important the Cause may be.
They talk in hushed tones, despite the seven hundred spells placed on their meeting spot and the fact that Moody hasn’t sat down the entire time. It’s as if they’re walking on glass, terrified it may break. Ara doesn’t want to think about how well that description fits her life right now. She doesn’t like the idea that she may be vulnerable, not after having spent most of her life trying to expel weakness. Everything is quiet when the Prewett twins arrive, out of breath and rambling about a sudden attack in Surrey. Surrey, Marlene’s hometown. For a moment she looks to Dumbledore, as if hoping he will tell her it’s okay, that Marlene’s on a mission and won’t be hurt. She hopes to find reassurance, instead she find fear.
“Ara I think you should stay here,” her sister whispers, as the rest of the order apparates away. A part of her agrees, there’s nothing for her to do at the battle if she goes, she can’t use a wand and taking on a Death Eater in hand-to-hand combat is sure suicide. She almost agrees, almost sits back down, but then she remembers the gun in her left trench coat pocket and thinks that Marlene could be dying. She shakes her head and grabs Arielle’s hand; she’s tired of being left alone.
They arrive in a flurry of red and green light, dancing across the midnight sky like fireworks. Arielle rushes off to join the fray, but Ara knows she must fine Marlene before she goes to help the others. She searches the battleground for the telltale sign of brown, dirty curls or British blue eyes. First, she looks through the dozens of people standing, wands raised and voices tearing through the wind and ringing in her ears. But Marlene’s face is not among the warriors; her voice is not one of those that carries through the winter air.
“Marley!” she calls out into the night, desperate for some response that doesn’t come. She is granted only the comfort of her own echo, and so she knows the witch is not out among the rest of the Order. Steeling herself for the worst, Ara makes her way towards the back of the McKinnon house. She cocks the gun and holds it, tightly, in her right hand. She may be a squib, but she knows how to fight.
The back door gives way easily to her rough push against its wooden frame. Quietly, Ara picks her way through the river of glass born from the broken kitchen windows that lay shattered at her feet. She sees Daniel first, Marlene’s eldest great-nephew lays sprawled across the Drawing Room floor with his eyes rolled back and his arms limp at his sides. This is the first time Arabella has seen Death. She feels a part of her die as she walks past; frantically hoping Marlene has not met the dark robed Hades just yet.
But she has. As Ara makes her way up the stairs, she sees Sarah bloody and mutilated, lying haphazardly in the doorframe of Marlene’s room. The young girl’s clothes have been ripped away and her legs lay open and awkwardly bent. A chill spasms down Ara’s spine, and she bends down to wrap Sarah’s dress around her legs before the others arrive. “Let her have dignity in Death,” she mutters over the corpse, before making her way into the room. She knows, the moment she sees her body, that Marlene is dead. The skin is deathly pale, blood still making its way down her frigid body. Ara does not touch the other woman, does not bestow that final kiss upon the woman she loves. Instead, she turns away before she can see the death in Marlene’s eyes and whispers a faint goodbye. “It’s over now, Marley,” she whispers, as she closes the door, “may you rest in peace.”
She walks down the steps and through the front doors, straight into one of the bloodiest battles of the First War. Unaware of the blood and bodies that line her path, she walks towards the first Death Eater, raises the gun, and pulls the trigger. There is a loud, resounding bang and then the horrible sound of bullet meeting flesh. She can hear the scream as the dark figure goes down. For a moment, she pities the man behind the mask, then she realizes there is no man, there is only the mask, and fires her gun again.
--:::--
“You know, no one ever thought about using a gun,” Remus tells her, as he hands her a hot cup of tea. They aren’t sure who won the battle, really, but Marlene was the only Order death and Ara knows she, alone, killed at least five, so she’s assuming they can wear the crown of victory tonight.
She shrugs and takes a sip, wincing as the hot liquid burns her throat and causes another assault of tears to begin. “Wizards are quite ignorant of just how advanced Muggles have become.” She replies, careful to keep the emotion from her voice. Only Arielle, Minerva, and Dumbledore are aware of just how much Marlene meant to her, and she’d really rather Remus didn’t pity her right now. She’s expecting him to leave but instead he sits down beside her and takes a sip of his own tea.
“I guess if it had been someone I loved…” he drops off, looking her in the eyes with an expression that isn’t pity, not really, but more like understanding mixed with acceptance, “I’d have done the same. Here,” his hand is outstretched with a piece of chocolate wrapped in his bloodstained fingers, “This’ll help.”
She takes the chocolate and slips it into her mouth, carefully not to answer until she needs to. He’s looking at her with earnest, chocolate eyes and she knows, somehow, that he won’t hurt her. “I love her so much, Remus,” she whispers, without emotion and without tears. She’s a Figg, for the love of Merlin, and Figgs are not weak enough to cry.
He nods, as if he knows, as if he can possibly understand even when they both know he cannot. “It’s okay, Ms. Figg,” he tells her, his voice sincere and firm, “You’ve lost your entire world, you’re allowed to cry.” He doesn’t touch her, and she’s thankful for that because she doesn’t like being touched. Instead, he breaks off another piece of chocolate and hands it to her. She clings to the brown square like redemption, like a lifeline. As she places it in her mouth, he gets up and walks away. Sometimes, Remus knows, you need to be alone.
She receives flowers from Minerva and money from Dumbledore. Arielle buys her a kitten and helps her plant a tree in honor of Marlene. The funeral is beautiful and well thought-out and everyone comes to pay their last respects. But years later, Arabella remembers only the young man with the chocolate bar, and that is why she attends Remus’s funeral. He was there when everyone else was busy with their own problems, and for that, she is eternally grateful.