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Camp Rome [Harry Potter] PART 2/2
Title: Camp Rome PART 2/2
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: R
Warnings: Hard drug use, Major character illness, Major character death, Suicide, (Off-screen) Noncon
Word Count: 13,265
Summary: AU: Remus kills Severus and is sent to an internment camp in his fourth year at Hogwarts. James never forgives Sirius, and Sirius transfers to Durmstrang. At the end of the war, Sirius and Remus strike up an unlikely friendship that rapidly becomes something much more.
Thanks: Thanks so much to brighty18 who used her valuable time to for me, and to mindabbles who volunteered to do so before her computer exploded. Thanks also to dogsunderfoot for talking me down off a ledge when the going got tough. Finally, thank you to the LJ community ficfinishing
Author's Notes: Written for rs_games 2011 Team Sirius, Prompt: 19 - "It is not down in any map; true places never are." - Herman Melville and originally posted here.
Camp Rome PART 2
Our visits were only allowed once a fortnight. I never thought to miss one; I hadn’t anything to miss them for. My life between these visits was empty, just marking time. Heroin had once filled that space, but now I had nothing. I read books and papers, wrote high-and-mighty Letters to the Editors from time to time under various pseudonyms. I tried every restaurant within five miles of my flat. I bought a shite motorbike and set about rebuilding it when I felt like it, which wasn’t terribly often. I seemed to grow bored of any activity at all after a very short time.
On the day of the visits, I would rise early to bathe and shave. I’d wear crisp and stylish clothes. The first couple of months, I was not allowed to wear those clothes. I’d be stripped of them before Remus even got a glimpse of them. I’d managed to convince the guards, eventually, that this wasn’t necessary. Now, though I was still strip-searched, I could at least wear my own clothes in to see Remus. Not only had the guards acquiesced to this little luxury, but a well-placed galleon had also caused the little heater in our cold room to miraculously spring to life.
The second time I’d visited Remus in our shared cell, I’d asked him what the guards had wanted with him the previous time, but Remus had only laughed. "They escorted me back to my quarters, that’s all. You imagine horrors that aren’t there." I was slowly realizing that the guards here were just ordinary people with families to feed and little tykes they sent off to Hogwarts, not the spectres I saw in them when I visited.
On Christmas, I thought I would try and get a gift into the visitation room. I bought a small Christmas cake to share with Remus. Before my customary strip-search, I offered the cake to the guards. They did not eat any, but they did rip it up to check for hidden weapons. I didn’t mind that the cake was now a crumbling mess; I was happy just to be able to present something to Remus as a gift.
When I arrived, as usual, Remus was already there. We exchanged our customary polite greetings and I offered him the plate of decimated cake. He smiled and thanked me before picking up a chunk with his fingers. I was grateful that he didn’t ask what had happened to it-- but then again he could probably guess.
"Do you hear from James often?" I asked around a mouthful of cake. I licked my fingers to disguise my nervousness at Remus’s response.
"Some," Remus answered. "Too many of our owls devolve into disagreements."
"About me," I said, sure I was correct.
Remus tilted his head and licked his own fingers. "Sometimes," he admitted.
"You don’t have to come to my defense. I don’t mind what he says about me."
"I don’t come to your defense," Remus clarified. "He often tells me that I am under your influence, and I take exception to that. I simply defend myself."
I nodded, but I couldn’t hide my disappointment. I knew that James badmouthed me to Remus, but I had some romantic notions about Remus refuting all of James’ claims, defending and supporting me, despite what I had said about not caring. Like most of my romantic notions, it was all rubbish.
Finally, cake finished, I shrugged to Remus. "Happy Christmas."
"Thank you," he smiled back."I kept track this time."
I knew he had; I knew he had a makeshift calendar in his head marked off by the fortnight. I didn’t have to ask about it; I had a matching calendar in my own head.
There was a long pause before Remus continued. "Sirius," he started, "Are you still seeing other people?"
"No!" I snapped almost too quickly.
"Why?" Remus asked. He would not look at me.
"That wouldn't be right."
He looked up at me then. "Why not? This..." He pointed between us, "Isn't real."
I felt a lump form in my throat. Was it so bad that I wanted it to be real? I had so little that was actually real in my life. I worried that Remus would be scared away if he knew I was developing real feelings for him, though. I was afraid to even admit as much to myself, but I was petrified that Remus would think all of this had been some kind of ruse to gain his affections. I could almost hear James saying as much.
Apparently I had gone too long without answering him. My silence must have spoken volumes because Remus sighed heavily and continued. "Sirius... I never meant to lead you on. I'm sorry."
"No," I shook my head. "It's my fault." I wasn't sure what I had done, but I was generally confident that Remus was blameless in all things and that I was the fount of all fault in our tiny cinder-block world.
Remus didn't answer. Instead, he pulled me to his side and held me there. I was surprised by how much I needed the physical comfort. I clung to him for too long. He eventually pulled away, pushing my fringe back from my forehead with a couple gentle strokes.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, not even sure what I was apologizing for.
"Don't be sorry that you feel too much. There are worse crimes."
I didn't point out to him that I knew that too well; I had committed those crimes also. "I don't expect anything from you," I clarified.
"I know," he answered. He was watching the plain white wall now. "And I expect too much from you, I think."
I wasn't sure what he meant. He didn't clarify, though. Instead, he picked up another chunk of cake and shoved it in his mouth, smiling as he licked his fingers clean.
The guards came not long after, and I was left feeling a bit lost for yet another fortnight.
During that time, though, I came to admit to myself the truth I had awkwardly admitted first to Remus: I had developed feelings for him. Perhaps it should not have been such a source of shame for me. He was my husband after all. But I knew this had never been a part of the plan.
I had expected our mid-January visit to be awkward, but I was wrong. Remus seemed to be in a good mood. The sallowness of his cheeks was diminished. He smiled when he saw me, and I smiled instinctively in return.
"Sit," he patted the cot next to him. It wasn't necessary; there was nowhere else to be and that was where I always sat, but I did as I was told. "I've been thinking," he started.
"Uh oh," I joked.
He laughed. "That's actually a lie. I've been owling with James."
"Uh oh." I was not joking this time.
"You may want to thank him, actually. I have been... very confused about things. In a sense, his arguments gave me a new perspective."
"How so?" I asked, tentative about where the conversation was going.
"I... lied to you last time." His smile slipped off. "I wonder if I was starting to believe what James was telling me. I don't know. Maybe that's just an excuse."
"I'm sorry," I admitted, "You've lost me."
He nodded. "What I mean is, I'm developing feelings for you as well." He did not look at me as he spoke. "I known how you feel already, and I thought that succumbing to this made me weak. Hell, maybe it does."
I remember that my mouth was as dry as cotton. I rose and walked to the sink, gathered a handful of cold and metallic-tasting water to my lips, and drank deeply. Remus sighed behind me. I was surprised by how glum his revelation made me. Perhaps I was starting to believe some of James’s objections as well. Had I manipulated this into existence somehow?
I turned back to Remus. "I’m sorry if it’s something I did. I never meant to."
Remus laughed lightly. "You and James both seem to believe I can’t think or feel anything on my own without being manipulated into it somehow."
I had nothing to say to this; I was guilty as charged. "So... what?" I asked, feeling frustrated. "We're in a real marriage now?" I was surprised by how much this idea actually frightened me.
"Don't be ridiculous," Remus huffed. "We haven't even dated. I'm just saying that perhaps we should give ourselves the chance to."
I did feel some anxiety melt away at those words. Dating wasn't so bad. "I thought you went for birds," I admitted.
"A lot has changed since I was fourteen, Sirius."
I sank back down onto the cot. "Where do we start?" I asked. It wasn't as if I could ask him on a date to a nice restaurant, even if I could think of a dozen within five miles of my flat that would serve perfectly.
"I think..." Remus answered, "That we already have."
------
The visits didn't go much differently from then on. We continued to talk. As spring came, we’d also sometimes sit in silence and listen to the birdsong through the tiny windows. Remus knew many of the birds by their songs-- something his father had taught him as a boy. I did entertain Remus with stories of my time at Durmstrang, the ways in which is was different from Hogswarts, the acquaintances I’d made there. Grindledore seemed like ancient history here in Britain, but students of Durmstrang were still alert to mentions of him.
I also told Remus about the war. Dumbledore had used me chiefly as a kind of spy. There had been many purebloods who didn’t trust me at that time, but I’d never entirely cut ties with my family. I’d often been tempted while in school, but being so far away from them for so much of the year, I found I could stand them better over holidays. My dad never ceased to express relief that I’d escaped the ‘curse’ of Gryffindor and of Dumbledore’s ‘questionable leadership’ to a more suitable environment. Remus always listened with interest.
After one of my war stories about spying on my own family, Remus offered that perhaps James had thought I really was a double agent and not just a spy. Remus suggested that it would at least account for some of his distrust of me.
"I dunno," I admitted. "I can’t pretend to know what goes on his his head. I haven’t even seen him since the end of the war."
Remus fell into silence. Eventually, he sighed and said, "I’ve got some pictures. Of him and Lily with the baby."
"Henry, is it?" I asked.
"Harry," he corrected. "I can ask the guards if I can bring them to show you."
"No," I answered swiftly. "James didn’t give them to you to show to me. He wouldn’t want me to see them."
Remus nodded, but said nothing. The guards knocked on the door then: our minute warning. They had been a bit nicer about giving us a couple seconds to say goodbye over the past months. I turned to Remus with a sheepish smile. "I guess this is it, until next time."
He nodded again, but just as I was about to stand, his hand darted out and caught my cheek. He leaned in and kissed me. I was too stunned to even return the kiss. A shaft of outside light spilled over us and Remus pulled away.
I was speechless as I let the guards lead me back towards the main building. It was strange to me, the path Remus and I were following. It would have made complete sense for Remus and I to be enemies, or even careful allies. But we were married. And now, as if that weren’t good enough, we were falling in love. I suppose we were treading far off the map of the expected now.
But we were Gryffindors. Maps are for Ravenclaws. Most of the places I’d ever considered worth venturing into had been off the map, and in a sense this uncharted territory was more comfortable to me than the ordinary family life James had made for himself.
I don’t think my feet touched the ground for a full week after that kiss.
Our visits changed rapidly after this. We were like two teenagers who were discovering the mechanics of their bodies for the first time. We had difficulty keeping our hands off of each other, and more than once the guards had interrupted us just when I thought we might progress beyond the feverish desires of celibate youths. Remus’s caution and overall reticence to go farther did make me wonder if he was a virgin, and the more he resisted, the more I was sure that he was.
Finally, I couldn’t take it any more. I was already leaning over him, naked as the day I was born. My expensive suit was crumpled onto the dust-laden floor. Remus, though, was fully clothed. I was trying to be sensitive, though my cock was definitely not making that easy. "What are you afraid of?" I asked. "There’s no need. I won’t hurt you."
Remus surprised me when he threw back his head and began to laugh. "You don’t-- you do, don’t you? You think I’ve never done this before."
My mouth went dry. "No!" I lied. "I just mean, you seem... nervous."
A storm cloud passed over Remus’s expression, but his response was to stand and strip off his striped robe. When I saw his scarred body, I thought that was what he had been nervous about. It wasn’t bothered, though. He’d had scars when we were in school as well, so it wasn’t some sort of surprise. I stood, embracing him, trying to let him know that I didn’t care. He took the opportunity to turn the tables a bit, though, and before I knew it we were back on the cot and Remus was lowering me down over himself. It was obvious to me what part he wanted to play in this, and a shiver of excitement went up my spine. I caressed the inside of his thighs, surprised at how soft and velvety they were in comparison to the rest of his scarred skin. I opened the half-used tube of lube. When we were both ready, I steadied myself for entrance.
Remus’s hand on my wrist stopped me. "A condom," he whispered.
"I had a test," I assured him. I had, too-- three months ago when I thought this encounter had been mere weeks away.
Remus’s hand didn’t move, though. He had a surprisingly strong grip on my arm. "Sirius." The way he said my made it sound like a reprimand.
I backed up a bit. "Fine," I answered, stunned. I tried not to show that I was shaking as I retrieved an ancient-looking condom from the floor, opened it, and slipped it on.
Despite the condom, the sex was honestly amazing. Remus may have been receiving, but there was nothing submissive about his part in this. I felt as though I was riding a wild animal-- and I suppose some people might have even said I was. I came with a noise too much like a howl, though Remus made only a series of grunts when he spilled over.
A sudden soppy tiredness overwhelmed me then, and I poked Remus in the ribs. "Budge over." He complied, and somehow we both managed to fit onto the old rusty cot to sleep.
When I awoke, I was momentarily confused as to where I was. This was the first time Remus and I had literally slept together, and my mind and body could make little sense of my surroundings. Soon, though, I realized why I had awoken: Remus was speaking to me.
"Are you awake?" he asked softly.
I grunted, too groggy to say anything more profound than that,
Remus was silent for a while, but I sensed there was something thick about the silence, as though he was about to say something important. In fact, he was about to tell the story I thought I would never get to hear: the story of Camp Rome.
"When I came here," he began, "I was young, but I had been a werewolf longer than anyone else here at the time. That gives one a certain... prestige. Honor. I think that people assumed it meant that I know what I’m doing, or that I am more wolf-like. Neither was true, of course. Nevertheless, I was immediately accepted into the head pack at the time, Fessus Nubes. Crudelis was the pack leader. He... took me as his underling."
Remus sighed deeply and there was a moment of silence as though he was considering whether to continue with his story. "It's not really sex, you see. Not in here. It's just a display of dominance. A public display, most usually."
I was taken aback by this seeming non-sequiteur. I turned my head to see Remus’s expression and Remus’s body went rigid. I was afraid I had ruined everything simply by trying to see him as he spoke, but he didn’t stop after all. He kept his face firmly turned towards the ceiling. I could see stress playing across his facial muscles, but he seemed determined to get on with his story.
"First it was Crudelis’s underlings. They would take me wherever they found me, though mostly in the yard. We all go out in the afternoon for fresh air, and that is usually where such displays... Well, it’s the best place." Remus nodded to himself. "But once I was Crudelis’s favorite, it was just Crudelis. I mean, he was the only one allowed to touch me. He died, oh, about six or seven years ago, now. At the ripe old age of forty-five. He arrived here when he was thirty-two, so that’s thirteen years behind these walls. Most would say that is above average."
I wanted to ask whether Remus had loved Crudelis, but I was afraid that an interruption would stop his flow of words.
"His death left me in charge of Fessus Nubes, and with a mutiny on my hands. Several pack members who had been here longer expected to be left in charge, but Crudelis was clear that I was to be the new leader. It was a blessing and a curse. I knew that if I showed weakness I would be torn apart-- perhaps quite literally. I did what I had to do, and within a few months the pack was firmly under my control."
This time I simply could not keep my mouth shut. "I’m sorry," I whispered, "I don’t quite understand. Did you have to kill someone?" To my mind, that was the logical answer.
Remus shook his head, and I noticed that there was an unusual sheen to his eyes. His voice was tight when he answered, "Sometimes it’s difficult to remember how things are done among huma-- Among civilized people. You forget the basic right and wrong your parents taught you."
"I’d rather forget whatever my parents taught me," I whispered cynically.
"I didn’t kill anyone," Remus said, but his voice seemed tighter, his eyes even wetter. "I did simply what was done to me-- what is done to maintain the semblance of order in this place. Rape." The word stuck in his throat. "I can’t regret it, because it kept me alive. And I can’t forgo it; it’s a necessity here."
I still felt as though my sleep-clogged brain was having trouble following him from sentence to sentence. "You mean, you had to rape someone?" As much as I knew I couldn’t judge him, I also was unable to prevent the tone of disapproval from slipping into my voice.
Remus shook his head. "Not someone. Many someones. Now that I have pack members I trust, I’ve been able to rely more on them. I’ve cut back a bit."
"Cut back?" I sat bolt upright. "You sound like you’re merely trying to give up smoking!"
Remus didn’t move, but his eyes did turn to me. I realized then that I was reacting exactly as he feared I would, but I also found it difficult to reverse that reaction.
Remus arose off the mattress slowly. I found his expression frustrating-- always that emotionless mask. His voice was low and dangerous when he said, "You have no right to judge me for what goes on here. You put me here."
The words stung me physically, and I felt a rush of real despair. Instinctively I curled in on myself, bringing my forehead against my knees.
"I didn’t tell you this to make you feel guilty," Remus said softly. His usual softness had returned to his voice. "I’m sorry, perhaps I shouldn’t have told you at all."
"If you didn’t want to make me feel guilty, why did you tell me?" My voice dripped with bitterness. I felt sure that Remus simply wanted to hurt me.
When Remus didn’t answer my question, I looked up. He was watching me with a deep sadness. "Well?" I snapped.
"You really can’t guess?" he asked.
"No I fucking can’t guess," I snarled. I was tired of being toyed with.
Remus sighed and looked around the room. His eyes rested on a small barred window overhead. "I told you because I love you," Remus answered at a whisper. "I love you and I don’t want to keep secrets from you."
If there had been anything capable of dissolving the intense mixture of anger-fear-confusion that was boiling up slowly inside of me, it was those words. My muscles un-bunched. My heart was hammering still, but I flopped back onto the mattress. The old rusted cot creaked and groaned in protest. Remus reclined slowly down next to me. Shoulder-to-shoulder we barely fit.
"Are we going to be okay?" Remus asked. I heard a strange emotion in his voice, something I didn’t associate with Remus: fear. He had made himself as vulnerable as possible, and I had not reacted well.
"Yeah," I sighed. "I--"
"It’s not your fault," he reiterated. "Don’t apologize."
"I wasn’t going to," I answered. "I was going to tell you... I love you, too."
Remus’s hand shot out and grasped mine where it lay on my stomach. We stayed that way for a long while-- perhaps half an hour-- before the guards knocked and we were parted for another fortnight.
I have to confess that I spent most of that fortnight lost in a vivid nightmare. When I closed my eyes, violent images flashed before them. Was Remus with someone right now? The question nagged me night and day. I began to seriously consider whether there wasn’t some time travel answer to be had here. Evans was smart, though-- surely if there were one she would have found it?
The very next visit, I finally asked the one question that had been nagging me above all others. "If I could go back in time," I started, but before I could finish, Remus was already shaking his head. "Why not? I mean, I know it may not be possible, but if I could--"
Remus was laughing at me when he interrupted. "Are you so sure of yourself that you believe you can predict all possible outcomes of any action and choose the best one? You better be careful, that’s a step away from claiming to be God."
"Not the best," I protested. "Maybe just a better one."
"How do you know this isn’t the better one?" Remus’s eyes still twinkled in amusement. I imagined he would have made a good professor; the Socratic method seemed Remus’s natural refuge in any hypothetical conversation. I gave up, somewhat mollified at least by the fact that Remus had rejected the idea of time travel just as I knew he would. Remus nudged me with his shoulder, smiling brightly. "Tell me about this Star Wars thing again."
I grinned back. "Return of the Jedi was brilliant, but it wasn’t really as good as the last one..."
------
There were times I thought to envy James and Lily, honestly. They could see each other every day, sleep together every night. I hoped that they didn't take these things for granted, even though I suspected that they did.
I took nothing for granted-- not sound of rain on my windows or the feel of a warm shower at the beginning of the day. Most everything that was a part of my daily experience was not a part of Remus's, and how could I forget that? I thought of him almost to the exclusion of all else.
Sometimes, I thought of him with the others-- I thought of Calendula or whatever he had been called, thought of the faceless men and women whom Remus had to keep under control. There was no tool available for him besides his body, and I understood that he had to use it, but I didn't like it in the least. These were the thoughts that made me turn to drink. My choices were likewise limited to the tools available to me, and alcohol was a handy one.
Once, I did get the nerve to ask Remus if he had loved Calendula. I remember his response vividly. He laughed through his head back and laughed. "Crudelis I suppose you mean?"
"Whatever," I shrugged, trying to not sound like a petulant child at having been laughed at-- and probably failing.
"Merlin, no," Remus answered. "I didn’t even like him. I might have celebrated his death except he managed to screw me over even then."
I felt a weight lift from my chest. "Has there ever been anyone else?" I asked. "I mean, someone you cared about."
Remus shook his head. "Where is all this insecurity coming from suddenly?" He was smiling, teasing, but I did sense real concern and tenderness underneath it.
I simply elbowed him, feeling as thought I had been caught naked and vulnerable.
It’s hard to believe how long we maintained this status quo in retrospect. Years passed-- actual years! I bought rings. Remus was not allowed to wear one, but I wore his on a chain around my neck. When people asked, I told. I was not ashamed.
Eventually I did make some real friends-- mostly young singles around my neighborhood. We would go out to eat together occasionally, or catch a show. I liked being around them-- for a few hours I could forget how much I missed Remus. But, as happens when you get older, they began to find spouses of their own and to settle down. I was always invited to their dinner parties, but I soon tired of being alone amongst happy couples and stopped accepting the invites.
With the passing of years, though, I also found I couldn’t ignore Remus’s failing health. He had never looked quite as healthy as I would have liked to see him, but the more time that passed, the harder this became to ignore. We always talked around it, but it was a third companion in our small cinder-block room, and we couldn’t ignore it forever.
Nevertheless, I did try to do just that. I was worried that reality might overwhelm me. Remus mentioned it first. He simply sighed, groaned, and muttered, "I hate this. I’m always tired."
"I would give you some of my energy if I could," I answered. "I find myself with too much of it and nothing to do."
Remus laughed, but the laugh was followed by the hoarse cough he had developed in the last couple months. He curled against me on the cot and in moments he was asleep. I didn’t want to waste our time together this way, but I didn’t have the heart to wake him either.
I always brought him food as well. I didn’t like how thin he looked, but though he ate some, he didn’t each much. His weight never did recover. Instead, he shrank before my eyes, visit after visit, month after month.
I finally did get up the courage to ask him whether he had seen any healers. He shrugged one shoulder an answered, "The camp has excellent healers actually. But this is beyond them."
"Beyond them? How?"
"It’s a new Muggle disease, totally unlike anything they’ve seen before."
"Well then maybe a Muggle healer--"
Remus shook his head. "They’re as stumped as everyone else."
"How do you know?" I asked defensively. "How do you know they aren’t just telling you that?"
"Maybe they are," Remus offered, "But I doubt it. It’s not just me, Sirius. It’s everyone in the camp. They say it’s spread through sex, and that’s something we’ve no lack of."
"Is that why-- the condoms?" I asked. My heart was pounding. I couldn’t believe we were actually discussing this candidly for the first time.
Remus nodded and let his head drop back against the wall. He looked exhausted. I promised him that I would find a cure when I left that day.
My promise, of course, was completely in vain. Remus wasn’t wrong. There was a new Muggle disease spread by sexual contact, and it seemed to vex every expert in the world, Muggle and Magical. There was nothing at all I could do, and I felt my frustration bone-deep.
I was left watching Remus waste away with nothing I could do. It’s a terror I really wouldn’t wish on even my worst enemies. Every month I became concerned about whether he would make it through this Full Moon, yet after every Full he showed up at our visits. he did not look well, though. He slept more, and I would let him. We talked. Our sex life died; I think he didn’t have the energy. I would often recall to him all the years we’d had, the conversations and jokes and the birdsong through the small windows. By that time, nineteen ninety, we’d been together for six and a half years. He’d been in the camp for nearly fifteen, and I knew that asking for more time when we’re already had so much was selfish. That didn’t keep me from asking all the gods in the pantheon. As expected, they did not answer.
The owl came on the first of January, nineteen ninety-one. The Full Moon had had the indecency to fall on the last day of the year and as soon as I heard the tapping on the glass I knew what it was. I tried to ignore the owl for a bit, but I had to open the window when I felt sure he would break it with frustration if I ignored him any longer. I gave him a bit of biscuit and took the letter that ended my life as I knew it. He didn’t wait for a reply, but I had none to give. Remus was dead, and the only comfort I had was that by law they were transferring his body to me for burial.
Things moved quickly after that. I knew my life truly was over. People who call themselves my friends have said to me that I’ll recover, or that I’ll find someone else. I don’t know why they consider this encouragement. All I hear when they say this is that they think I’ll forget Remus and forget what he meant to me. No; I have made my decisions already.
I did hold a funeral. My old friends came, but they had nothing to say about someone they had never met. I invited James and Evans, and they came as well. They said nothing to me. Their little boy walked sullenly behind them, probably wondering why he was dressed in a black robe for a man he also had never known. Dumbledore also paid his respects. He shook my hand and patted my shoulder but said nothing of importance to me. I guess I had been expecting some words of wisdom from the old wizard, but maybe he knew there was nothing that could help. Remus was lowered into the ground on an open field in the abbey cemetery in Brownhills. Maybe I should have taken him away from that place, but it meant too much to me.
And that brings us to present day. Remus’s funeral was a week ago Tuesday. I don’t intend to leave him alone for long, but I didn’t want to leave without telling our story. I have no idea what for, honestly. I doubt anyone will care, but it was something I had to do. Now it’s written. My work here is done. The potion is already brewing, and my hope is that by the time you read this I will be back in Brownhills with Remus, where I have always belonged.
Go back to Part 1
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: R
Warnings: Hard drug use, Major character illness, Major character death, Suicide, (Off-screen) Noncon
Word Count: 13,265
Summary: AU: Remus kills Severus and is sent to an internment camp in his fourth year at Hogwarts. James never forgives Sirius, and Sirius transfers to Durmstrang. At the end of the war, Sirius and Remus strike up an unlikely friendship that rapidly becomes something much more.
Thanks: Thanks so much to brighty18 who used her valuable time to for me, and to mindabbles who volunteered to do so before her computer exploded. Thanks also to dogsunderfoot for talking me down off a ledge when the going got tough. Finally, thank you to the LJ community ficfinishing
Author's Notes: Written for rs_games 2011 Team Sirius, Prompt: 19 - "It is not down in any map; true places never are." - Herman Melville and originally posted here.
Camp Rome PART 2
Our visits were only allowed once a fortnight. I never thought to miss one; I hadn’t anything to miss them for. My life between these visits was empty, just marking time. Heroin had once filled that space, but now I had nothing. I read books and papers, wrote high-and-mighty Letters to the Editors from time to time under various pseudonyms. I tried every restaurant within five miles of my flat. I bought a shite motorbike and set about rebuilding it when I felt like it, which wasn’t terribly often. I seemed to grow bored of any activity at all after a very short time.
On the day of the visits, I would rise early to bathe and shave. I’d wear crisp and stylish clothes. The first couple of months, I was not allowed to wear those clothes. I’d be stripped of them before Remus even got a glimpse of them. I’d managed to convince the guards, eventually, that this wasn’t necessary. Now, though I was still strip-searched, I could at least wear my own clothes in to see Remus. Not only had the guards acquiesced to this little luxury, but a well-placed galleon had also caused the little heater in our cold room to miraculously spring to life.
The second time I’d visited Remus in our shared cell, I’d asked him what the guards had wanted with him the previous time, but Remus had only laughed. "They escorted me back to my quarters, that’s all. You imagine horrors that aren’t there." I was slowly realizing that the guards here were just ordinary people with families to feed and little tykes they sent off to Hogwarts, not the spectres I saw in them when I visited.
On Christmas, I thought I would try and get a gift into the visitation room. I bought a small Christmas cake to share with Remus. Before my customary strip-search, I offered the cake to the guards. They did not eat any, but they did rip it up to check for hidden weapons. I didn’t mind that the cake was now a crumbling mess; I was happy just to be able to present something to Remus as a gift.
When I arrived, as usual, Remus was already there. We exchanged our customary polite greetings and I offered him the plate of decimated cake. He smiled and thanked me before picking up a chunk with his fingers. I was grateful that he didn’t ask what had happened to it-- but then again he could probably guess.
"Do you hear from James often?" I asked around a mouthful of cake. I licked my fingers to disguise my nervousness at Remus’s response.
"Some," Remus answered. "Too many of our owls devolve into disagreements."
"About me," I said, sure I was correct.
Remus tilted his head and licked his own fingers. "Sometimes," he admitted.
"You don’t have to come to my defense. I don’t mind what he says about me."
"I don’t come to your defense," Remus clarified. "He often tells me that I am under your influence, and I take exception to that. I simply defend myself."
I nodded, but I couldn’t hide my disappointment. I knew that James badmouthed me to Remus, but I had some romantic notions about Remus refuting all of James’ claims, defending and supporting me, despite what I had said about not caring. Like most of my romantic notions, it was all rubbish.
Finally, cake finished, I shrugged to Remus. "Happy Christmas."
"Thank you," he smiled back."I kept track this time."
I knew he had; I knew he had a makeshift calendar in his head marked off by the fortnight. I didn’t have to ask about it; I had a matching calendar in my own head.
There was a long pause before Remus continued. "Sirius," he started, "Are you still seeing other people?"
"No!" I snapped almost too quickly.
"Why?" Remus asked. He would not look at me.
"That wouldn't be right."
He looked up at me then. "Why not? This..." He pointed between us, "Isn't real."
I felt a lump form in my throat. Was it so bad that I wanted it to be real? I had so little that was actually real in my life. I worried that Remus would be scared away if he knew I was developing real feelings for him, though. I was afraid to even admit as much to myself, but I was petrified that Remus would think all of this had been some kind of ruse to gain his affections. I could almost hear James saying as much.
Apparently I had gone too long without answering him. My silence must have spoken volumes because Remus sighed heavily and continued. "Sirius... I never meant to lead you on. I'm sorry."
"No," I shook my head. "It's my fault." I wasn't sure what I had done, but I was generally confident that Remus was blameless in all things and that I was the fount of all fault in our tiny cinder-block world.
Remus didn't answer. Instead, he pulled me to his side and held me there. I was surprised by how much I needed the physical comfort. I clung to him for too long. He eventually pulled away, pushing my fringe back from my forehead with a couple gentle strokes.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, not even sure what I was apologizing for.
"Don't be sorry that you feel too much. There are worse crimes."
I didn't point out to him that I knew that too well; I had committed those crimes also. "I don't expect anything from you," I clarified.
"I know," he answered. He was watching the plain white wall now. "And I expect too much from you, I think."
I wasn't sure what he meant. He didn't clarify, though. Instead, he picked up another chunk of cake and shoved it in his mouth, smiling as he licked his fingers clean.
The guards came not long after, and I was left feeling a bit lost for yet another fortnight.
During that time, though, I came to admit to myself the truth I had awkwardly admitted first to Remus: I had developed feelings for him. Perhaps it should not have been such a source of shame for me. He was my husband after all. But I knew this had never been a part of the plan.
I had expected our mid-January visit to be awkward, but I was wrong. Remus seemed to be in a good mood. The sallowness of his cheeks was diminished. He smiled when he saw me, and I smiled instinctively in return.
"Sit," he patted the cot next to him. It wasn't necessary; there was nowhere else to be and that was where I always sat, but I did as I was told. "I've been thinking," he started.
"Uh oh," I joked.
He laughed. "That's actually a lie. I've been owling with James."
"Uh oh." I was not joking this time.
"You may want to thank him, actually. I have been... very confused about things. In a sense, his arguments gave me a new perspective."
"How so?" I asked, tentative about where the conversation was going.
"I... lied to you last time." His smile slipped off. "I wonder if I was starting to believe what James was telling me. I don't know. Maybe that's just an excuse."
"I'm sorry," I admitted, "You've lost me."
He nodded. "What I mean is, I'm developing feelings for you as well." He did not look at me as he spoke. "I known how you feel already, and I thought that succumbing to this made me weak. Hell, maybe it does."
I remember that my mouth was as dry as cotton. I rose and walked to the sink, gathered a handful of cold and metallic-tasting water to my lips, and drank deeply. Remus sighed behind me. I was surprised by how glum his revelation made me. Perhaps I was starting to believe some of James’s objections as well. Had I manipulated this into existence somehow?
I turned back to Remus. "I’m sorry if it’s something I did. I never meant to."
Remus laughed lightly. "You and James both seem to believe I can’t think or feel anything on my own without being manipulated into it somehow."
I had nothing to say to this; I was guilty as charged. "So... what?" I asked, feeling frustrated. "We're in a real marriage now?" I was surprised by how much this idea actually frightened me.
"Don't be ridiculous," Remus huffed. "We haven't even dated. I'm just saying that perhaps we should give ourselves the chance to."
I did feel some anxiety melt away at those words. Dating wasn't so bad. "I thought you went for birds," I admitted.
"A lot has changed since I was fourteen, Sirius."
I sank back down onto the cot. "Where do we start?" I asked. It wasn't as if I could ask him on a date to a nice restaurant, even if I could think of a dozen within five miles of my flat that would serve perfectly.
"I think..." Remus answered, "That we already have."
------
The visits didn't go much differently from then on. We continued to talk. As spring came, we’d also sometimes sit in silence and listen to the birdsong through the tiny windows. Remus knew many of the birds by their songs-- something his father had taught him as a boy. I did entertain Remus with stories of my time at Durmstrang, the ways in which is was different from Hogswarts, the acquaintances I’d made there. Grindledore seemed like ancient history here in Britain, but students of Durmstrang were still alert to mentions of him.
I also told Remus about the war. Dumbledore had used me chiefly as a kind of spy. There had been many purebloods who didn’t trust me at that time, but I’d never entirely cut ties with my family. I’d often been tempted while in school, but being so far away from them for so much of the year, I found I could stand them better over holidays. My dad never ceased to express relief that I’d escaped the ‘curse’ of Gryffindor and of Dumbledore’s ‘questionable leadership’ to a more suitable environment. Remus always listened with interest.
After one of my war stories about spying on my own family, Remus offered that perhaps James had thought I really was a double agent and not just a spy. Remus suggested that it would at least account for some of his distrust of me.
"I dunno," I admitted. "I can’t pretend to know what goes on his his head. I haven’t even seen him since the end of the war."
Remus fell into silence. Eventually, he sighed and said, "I’ve got some pictures. Of him and Lily with the baby."
"Henry, is it?" I asked.
"Harry," he corrected. "I can ask the guards if I can bring them to show you."
"No," I answered swiftly. "James didn’t give them to you to show to me. He wouldn’t want me to see them."
Remus nodded, but said nothing. The guards knocked on the door then: our minute warning. They had been a bit nicer about giving us a couple seconds to say goodbye over the past months. I turned to Remus with a sheepish smile. "I guess this is it, until next time."
He nodded again, but just as I was about to stand, his hand darted out and caught my cheek. He leaned in and kissed me. I was too stunned to even return the kiss. A shaft of outside light spilled over us and Remus pulled away.
I was speechless as I let the guards lead me back towards the main building. It was strange to me, the path Remus and I were following. It would have made complete sense for Remus and I to be enemies, or even careful allies. But we were married. And now, as if that weren’t good enough, we were falling in love. I suppose we were treading far off the map of the expected now.
But we were Gryffindors. Maps are for Ravenclaws. Most of the places I’d ever considered worth venturing into had been off the map, and in a sense this uncharted territory was more comfortable to me than the ordinary family life James had made for himself.
I don’t think my feet touched the ground for a full week after that kiss.
Our visits changed rapidly after this. We were like two teenagers who were discovering the mechanics of their bodies for the first time. We had difficulty keeping our hands off of each other, and more than once the guards had interrupted us just when I thought we might progress beyond the feverish desires of celibate youths. Remus’s caution and overall reticence to go farther did make me wonder if he was a virgin, and the more he resisted, the more I was sure that he was.
Finally, I couldn’t take it any more. I was already leaning over him, naked as the day I was born. My expensive suit was crumpled onto the dust-laden floor. Remus, though, was fully clothed. I was trying to be sensitive, though my cock was definitely not making that easy. "What are you afraid of?" I asked. "There’s no need. I won’t hurt you."
Remus surprised me when he threw back his head and began to laugh. "You don’t-- you do, don’t you? You think I’ve never done this before."
My mouth went dry. "No!" I lied. "I just mean, you seem... nervous."
A storm cloud passed over Remus’s expression, but his response was to stand and strip off his striped robe. When I saw his scarred body, I thought that was what he had been nervous about. It wasn’t bothered, though. He’d had scars when we were in school as well, so it wasn’t some sort of surprise. I stood, embracing him, trying to let him know that I didn’t care. He took the opportunity to turn the tables a bit, though, and before I knew it we were back on the cot and Remus was lowering me down over himself. It was obvious to me what part he wanted to play in this, and a shiver of excitement went up my spine. I caressed the inside of his thighs, surprised at how soft and velvety they were in comparison to the rest of his scarred skin. I opened the half-used tube of lube. When we were both ready, I steadied myself for entrance.
Remus’s hand on my wrist stopped me. "A condom," he whispered.
"I had a test," I assured him. I had, too-- three months ago when I thought this encounter had been mere weeks away.
Remus’s hand didn’t move, though. He had a surprisingly strong grip on my arm. "Sirius." The way he said my made it sound like a reprimand.
I backed up a bit. "Fine," I answered, stunned. I tried not to show that I was shaking as I retrieved an ancient-looking condom from the floor, opened it, and slipped it on.
Despite the condom, the sex was honestly amazing. Remus may have been receiving, but there was nothing submissive about his part in this. I felt as though I was riding a wild animal-- and I suppose some people might have even said I was. I came with a noise too much like a howl, though Remus made only a series of grunts when he spilled over.
A sudden soppy tiredness overwhelmed me then, and I poked Remus in the ribs. "Budge over." He complied, and somehow we both managed to fit onto the old rusty cot to sleep.
When I awoke, I was momentarily confused as to where I was. This was the first time Remus and I had literally slept together, and my mind and body could make little sense of my surroundings. Soon, though, I realized why I had awoken: Remus was speaking to me.
"Are you awake?" he asked softly.
I grunted, too groggy to say anything more profound than that,
Remus was silent for a while, but I sensed there was something thick about the silence, as though he was about to say something important. In fact, he was about to tell the story I thought I would never get to hear: the story of Camp Rome.
"When I came here," he began, "I was young, but I had been a werewolf longer than anyone else here at the time. That gives one a certain... prestige. Honor. I think that people assumed it meant that I know what I’m doing, or that I am more wolf-like. Neither was true, of course. Nevertheless, I was immediately accepted into the head pack at the time, Fessus Nubes. Crudelis was the pack leader. He... took me as his underling."
Remus sighed deeply and there was a moment of silence as though he was considering whether to continue with his story. "It's not really sex, you see. Not in here. It's just a display of dominance. A public display, most usually."
I was taken aback by this seeming non-sequiteur. I turned my head to see Remus’s expression and Remus’s body went rigid. I was afraid I had ruined everything simply by trying to see him as he spoke, but he didn’t stop after all. He kept his face firmly turned towards the ceiling. I could see stress playing across his facial muscles, but he seemed determined to get on with his story.
"First it was Crudelis’s underlings. They would take me wherever they found me, though mostly in the yard. We all go out in the afternoon for fresh air, and that is usually where such displays... Well, it’s the best place." Remus nodded to himself. "But once I was Crudelis’s favorite, it was just Crudelis. I mean, he was the only one allowed to touch me. He died, oh, about six or seven years ago, now. At the ripe old age of forty-five. He arrived here when he was thirty-two, so that’s thirteen years behind these walls. Most would say that is above average."
I wanted to ask whether Remus had loved Crudelis, but I was afraid that an interruption would stop his flow of words.
"His death left me in charge of Fessus Nubes, and with a mutiny on my hands. Several pack members who had been here longer expected to be left in charge, but Crudelis was clear that I was to be the new leader. It was a blessing and a curse. I knew that if I showed weakness I would be torn apart-- perhaps quite literally. I did what I had to do, and within a few months the pack was firmly under my control."
This time I simply could not keep my mouth shut. "I’m sorry," I whispered, "I don’t quite understand. Did you have to kill someone?" To my mind, that was the logical answer.
Remus shook his head, and I noticed that there was an unusual sheen to his eyes. His voice was tight when he answered, "Sometimes it’s difficult to remember how things are done among huma-- Among civilized people. You forget the basic right and wrong your parents taught you."
"I’d rather forget whatever my parents taught me," I whispered cynically.
"I didn’t kill anyone," Remus said, but his voice seemed tighter, his eyes even wetter. "I did simply what was done to me-- what is done to maintain the semblance of order in this place. Rape." The word stuck in his throat. "I can’t regret it, because it kept me alive. And I can’t forgo it; it’s a necessity here."
I still felt as though my sleep-clogged brain was having trouble following him from sentence to sentence. "You mean, you had to rape someone?" As much as I knew I couldn’t judge him, I also was unable to prevent the tone of disapproval from slipping into my voice.
Remus shook his head. "Not someone. Many someones. Now that I have pack members I trust, I’ve been able to rely more on them. I’ve cut back a bit."
"Cut back?" I sat bolt upright. "You sound like you’re merely trying to give up smoking!"
Remus didn’t move, but his eyes did turn to me. I realized then that I was reacting exactly as he feared I would, but I also found it difficult to reverse that reaction.
Remus arose off the mattress slowly. I found his expression frustrating-- always that emotionless mask. His voice was low and dangerous when he said, "You have no right to judge me for what goes on here. You put me here."
The words stung me physically, and I felt a rush of real despair. Instinctively I curled in on myself, bringing my forehead against my knees.
"I didn’t tell you this to make you feel guilty," Remus said softly. His usual softness had returned to his voice. "I’m sorry, perhaps I shouldn’t have told you at all."
"If you didn’t want to make me feel guilty, why did you tell me?" My voice dripped with bitterness. I felt sure that Remus simply wanted to hurt me.
When Remus didn’t answer my question, I looked up. He was watching me with a deep sadness. "Well?" I snapped.
"You really can’t guess?" he asked.
"No I fucking can’t guess," I snarled. I was tired of being toyed with.
Remus sighed and looked around the room. His eyes rested on a small barred window overhead. "I told you because I love you," Remus answered at a whisper. "I love you and I don’t want to keep secrets from you."
If there had been anything capable of dissolving the intense mixture of anger-fear-confusion that was boiling up slowly inside of me, it was those words. My muscles un-bunched. My heart was hammering still, but I flopped back onto the mattress. The old rusted cot creaked and groaned in protest. Remus reclined slowly down next to me. Shoulder-to-shoulder we barely fit.
"Are we going to be okay?" Remus asked. I heard a strange emotion in his voice, something I didn’t associate with Remus: fear. He had made himself as vulnerable as possible, and I had not reacted well.
"Yeah," I sighed. "I--"
"It’s not your fault," he reiterated. "Don’t apologize."
"I wasn’t going to," I answered. "I was going to tell you... I love you, too."
Remus’s hand shot out and grasped mine where it lay on my stomach. We stayed that way for a long while-- perhaps half an hour-- before the guards knocked and we were parted for another fortnight.
I have to confess that I spent most of that fortnight lost in a vivid nightmare. When I closed my eyes, violent images flashed before them. Was Remus with someone right now? The question nagged me night and day. I began to seriously consider whether there wasn’t some time travel answer to be had here. Evans was smart, though-- surely if there were one she would have found it?
The very next visit, I finally asked the one question that had been nagging me above all others. "If I could go back in time," I started, but before I could finish, Remus was already shaking his head. "Why not? I mean, I know it may not be possible, but if I could--"
Remus was laughing at me when he interrupted. "Are you so sure of yourself that you believe you can predict all possible outcomes of any action and choose the best one? You better be careful, that’s a step away from claiming to be God."
"Not the best," I protested. "Maybe just a better one."
"How do you know this isn’t the better one?" Remus’s eyes still twinkled in amusement. I imagined he would have made a good professor; the Socratic method seemed Remus’s natural refuge in any hypothetical conversation. I gave up, somewhat mollified at least by the fact that Remus had rejected the idea of time travel just as I knew he would. Remus nudged me with his shoulder, smiling brightly. "Tell me about this Star Wars thing again."
I grinned back. "Return of the Jedi was brilliant, but it wasn’t really as good as the last one..."
------
There were times I thought to envy James and Lily, honestly. They could see each other every day, sleep together every night. I hoped that they didn't take these things for granted, even though I suspected that they did.
I took nothing for granted-- not sound of rain on my windows or the feel of a warm shower at the beginning of the day. Most everything that was a part of my daily experience was not a part of Remus's, and how could I forget that? I thought of him almost to the exclusion of all else.
Sometimes, I thought of him with the others-- I thought of Calendula or whatever he had been called, thought of the faceless men and women whom Remus had to keep under control. There was no tool available for him besides his body, and I understood that he had to use it, but I didn't like it in the least. These were the thoughts that made me turn to drink. My choices were likewise limited to the tools available to me, and alcohol was a handy one.
Once, I did get the nerve to ask Remus if he had loved Calendula. I remember his response vividly. He laughed through his head back and laughed. "Crudelis I suppose you mean?"
"Whatever," I shrugged, trying to not sound like a petulant child at having been laughed at-- and probably failing.
"Merlin, no," Remus answered. "I didn’t even like him. I might have celebrated his death except he managed to screw me over even then."
I felt a weight lift from my chest. "Has there ever been anyone else?" I asked. "I mean, someone you cared about."
Remus shook his head. "Where is all this insecurity coming from suddenly?" He was smiling, teasing, but I did sense real concern and tenderness underneath it.
I simply elbowed him, feeling as thought I had been caught naked and vulnerable.
It’s hard to believe how long we maintained this status quo in retrospect. Years passed-- actual years! I bought rings. Remus was not allowed to wear one, but I wore his on a chain around my neck. When people asked, I told. I was not ashamed.
Eventually I did make some real friends-- mostly young singles around my neighborhood. We would go out to eat together occasionally, or catch a show. I liked being around them-- for a few hours I could forget how much I missed Remus. But, as happens when you get older, they began to find spouses of their own and to settle down. I was always invited to their dinner parties, but I soon tired of being alone amongst happy couples and stopped accepting the invites.
With the passing of years, though, I also found I couldn’t ignore Remus’s failing health. He had never looked quite as healthy as I would have liked to see him, but the more time that passed, the harder this became to ignore. We always talked around it, but it was a third companion in our small cinder-block room, and we couldn’t ignore it forever.
Nevertheless, I did try to do just that. I was worried that reality might overwhelm me. Remus mentioned it first. He simply sighed, groaned, and muttered, "I hate this. I’m always tired."
"I would give you some of my energy if I could," I answered. "I find myself with too much of it and nothing to do."
Remus laughed, but the laugh was followed by the hoarse cough he had developed in the last couple months. He curled against me on the cot and in moments he was asleep. I didn’t want to waste our time together this way, but I didn’t have the heart to wake him either.
I always brought him food as well. I didn’t like how thin he looked, but though he ate some, he didn’t each much. His weight never did recover. Instead, he shrank before my eyes, visit after visit, month after month.
I finally did get up the courage to ask him whether he had seen any healers. He shrugged one shoulder an answered, "The camp has excellent healers actually. But this is beyond them."
"Beyond them? How?"
"It’s a new Muggle disease, totally unlike anything they’ve seen before."
"Well then maybe a Muggle healer--"
Remus shook his head. "They’re as stumped as everyone else."
"How do you know?" I asked defensively. "How do you know they aren’t just telling you that?"
"Maybe they are," Remus offered, "But I doubt it. It’s not just me, Sirius. It’s everyone in the camp. They say it’s spread through sex, and that’s something we’ve no lack of."
"Is that why-- the condoms?" I asked. My heart was pounding. I couldn’t believe we were actually discussing this candidly for the first time.
Remus nodded and let his head drop back against the wall. He looked exhausted. I promised him that I would find a cure when I left that day.
My promise, of course, was completely in vain. Remus wasn’t wrong. There was a new Muggle disease spread by sexual contact, and it seemed to vex every expert in the world, Muggle and Magical. There was nothing at all I could do, and I felt my frustration bone-deep.
I was left watching Remus waste away with nothing I could do. It’s a terror I really wouldn’t wish on even my worst enemies. Every month I became concerned about whether he would make it through this Full Moon, yet after every Full he showed up at our visits. he did not look well, though. He slept more, and I would let him. We talked. Our sex life died; I think he didn’t have the energy. I would often recall to him all the years we’d had, the conversations and jokes and the birdsong through the small windows. By that time, nineteen ninety, we’d been together for six and a half years. He’d been in the camp for nearly fifteen, and I knew that asking for more time when we’re already had so much was selfish. That didn’t keep me from asking all the gods in the pantheon. As expected, they did not answer.
The owl came on the first of January, nineteen ninety-one. The Full Moon had had the indecency to fall on the last day of the year and as soon as I heard the tapping on the glass I knew what it was. I tried to ignore the owl for a bit, but I had to open the window when I felt sure he would break it with frustration if I ignored him any longer. I gave him a bit of biscuit and took the letter that ended my life as I knew it. He didn’t wait for a reply, but I had none to give. Remus was dead, and the only comfort I had was that by law they were transferring his body to me for burial.
Things moved quickly after that. I knew my life truly was over. People who call themselves my friends have said to me that I’ll recover, or that I’ll find someone else. I don’t know why they consider this encouragement. All I hear when they say this is that they think I’ll forget Remus and forget what he meant to me. No; I have made my decisions already.
I did hold a funeral. My old friends came, but they had nothing to say about someone they had never met. I invited James and Evans, and they came as well. They said nothing to me. Their little boy walked sullenly behind them, probably wondering why he was dressed in a black robe for a man he also had never known. Dumbledore also paid his respects. He shook my hand and patted my shoulder but said nothing of importance to me. I guess I had been expecting some words of wisdom from the old wizard, but maybe he knew there was nothing that could help. Remus was lowered into the ground on an open field in the abbey cemetery in Brownhills. Maybe I should have taken him away from that place, but it meant too much to me.
And that brings us to present day. Remus’s funeral was a week ago Tuesday. I don’t intend to leave him alone for long, but I didn’t want to leave without telling our story. I have no idea what for, honestly. I doubt anyone will care, but it was something I had to do. Now it’s written. My work here is done. The potion is already brewing, and my hope is that by the time you read this I will be back in Brownhills with Remus, where I have always belonged.
Go back to Part 1