[Fic] Letting It Matter
Back in the saddle again: Here's my first attempt at a DH-compliant fic -- although it's actually set Marauder-era. It's a last-minute entry for the Tales of Whiskey and Regret challenge at redandthewolf.
Title: Letting It Matter
Author: shimotsuki
Summary: Remus decides to give up wanting things, but Lily won't let him go through with it.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Mild profanity, and a failed attempt at getting very drunk
Word Count: 1273
Author's Note: This ficlet is DH backstory, inspired by the infamous Chapter 11, but it's not a DH spoiler, because it won't give anything away unless you already know what to look for. (I can't promise spoiler-free comments, however.)
Prompts -- | Drinks: Firewhiskey, hot toddy, and butterbeer | Regret: taken a chance
| Lyrics: Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see
It's getting hard to be someone, but it all works out
It doesn't matter much to me -- The Beatles, Strawberry Fields Forever
Letting It Matter
The warmth and noise of the Leaky Cauldron welcomed Lily in from the cold. Her cheeks were flushed, partly from the sharp December wind, and partly from the exhilaration of going Christmas shopping for the first time as a career woman, not merely a student on an allowance from home. Her expedition had been so successful, in fact, that she could barely squeeze herself and her parcels past the pub's heavy door.
She was early-she still had nearly an hour before Marlene, Alice, and Dorcas were due to meet her for a post-shopping hot toddy. But she was tired, and the parcels were heavy and too magically complex to shrink, so she'd come here planning to have a quiet butterbeer and read while she waited.
And then she spotted Remus, sitting alone at a small table in the far corner. Lily broke into a wide smile at this unexpected encounter. He was so busy at work these days that it seemed she hardly ever saw him. She waved, trying to catch his eye, but he was too intent on his tumbler of Firewhiskey to notice her.
Wait. Firewhiskey?
Didn't Remus usually stick with butterbeer, or maybe ale or mead?
This required closer investigation.
Lily strode across the room, dumped her parcels in a jumbled heap, and claimed the other chair at his table without waiting for an invitation. "Hello, Remus!"
He looked up slowly at the sound of her voice.
"I wouldn't have thought I'd see you here at this hour," she said, studying him carefully. There were grey smudges under his eyes from the last full moon, only three days past, and the strong drink had put a bit of colour in his cheeks. Other than that, he was oddly expressionless. "Aren't you usually out observing Graphorns at the preserve about now?"
"Not anymore." Remus lifted his glass and swallowed, wincing slightly at the burn of the Firewhiskey. Even his voice was indifferent, almost lifeless. "I've been sacked."
"No!" Lily felt as though she'd been punched in the stomach. All of her friends had done all right for themselves when they left Hogwarts, but no one else loved their job the way Remus had. Even after six months, he'd never stopped looking a bit awestruck at his great good fortune-as though he hadn't earned the nine Outstanding N.E.W.T.s, or the glowing references from Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Kettleburn, that landed him his position at the British Institute for Magizoology. He'd been spending his days immersed in the habits of rare and interesting magical creatures, gathering information and writing papers. Lily had read two or three of them, and found them fascinating; Remus had a lucid, engaging voice and a knack for explaining difficult information simply. It was the perfect job for him.
Or at least, it had been.
She shook her head helplessly, failing to find words. All she could do was to give his hand a brief squeeze. "What happened?"
Another swig; another wince. "I was out ill just a bit too often." He dropped his voice to a near whisper. "And just a bit too regularly." His lips tightened. "Llewellyn told me that if I resigned of my own accord, he'd let the matter drop without going and having a look at the Registry."
Lily drew a shaky breath. Exposure-his worst nightmare. "Oh, Remus. I'm so, so sorry."
He took another mouthful of Firewhiskey, swallowing it deliberately, like medicine, and shrugged. "Doesn't matter, really."
"What?" She thought of the month he'd spent pacing in the common room, waiting for a reply from the Institute. His excitement last summer when a Tadfoal had hatched right in front of him one day. The pride in his voice when his first paper was accepted for the Annals of Magizoology. "What do you mean, it doesn't matter?"
"It doesn't. It's over. Nothing to do with me."
He met her gaze, and his eyes were hard. Lily was a little frightened-who was this hostile stranger, and where was the Remus she'd known for more than seven years? She'd seen him close himself up, hide his feelings, withdraw inside himself, time and again. But never had she known him to be cold.
And then, she saw it. For the briefest of instants, the stony facade cracked to reveal the desperation of a heartbroken little boy who'd just lost everything in the world. It vanished almost immediately, but now she understood-he'd simply hidden himself away much further than usual.
Lily bit her lip. Remus needed someone to pull him out of...whatever this was. And it wasn't Lily that he needed, either, it was James. Or better yet, Sirius-who, for all his meticulously cultivated air of world-weary detachment, always knew how to say exactly what Remus needed to hear.
But James and Sirius weren't here. She was the only one.
Fine. She frowned in concentration. What would they do?
All at once, as she watched Remus lift his glass to take yet another joyless dose of alcohol, she knew.
Lily reached across the table, snatched the tumbler from his fingers, and slammed it down. Firewhiskey sloshed over the edge of the glass, licking at the worn tabletop with ephemeral tongues of soft blue flame. Remus looked up at her, startled. Good, dammit-she'd got his full attention at last.
"This does matter!" She didn't shout, not in the middle of the pub, but she glared at him and gave her voice a razor's edge. "Remus, you have to let it matter!"
"I can't." His voice was a hoarse whisper. "It's too much." There was a pleading look in his eyes now, and it made her heart ache, but at least the horrid cold stare was gone. "I never should have let myself believe that I could want a career, just like anyone else."
"Of course you-"
He cut her off. "I'm finished. I'll never find another job I'd actually want to have."
"Don't say that! Look, the Institute didn't expose you, not publicly anyway. You've got experience, and you've published papers-it's just a matter of finding the next position."
Remus sighed, looking too old for his eighteen years. "Not without references, and I obviously can't ask Llewellyn for one."
Lily set her jaw. "We'll figure something out. We can get James and the others working on it, too. But you can't just give up. We won't let you, none of us."
He was quiet for a long moment, staring into his Firewhiskey. Finally, he gave her the wry grin that was so very Remus, and the knot in her stomach loosened, even though there was still something a little shaken behind his eyes.
"You're right," he said, very softly. "I didn't make it through Hogwarts to end up a quitter. It's just-it's so easy to start thinking that I shouldn't let myself want what I know I can't have."
She reached over and squeezed his hand again. "Don't be daft. If you stop wanting things, then you won't have them, but it'll be your own fault."
"I suppose there's something to that," was all he said, but his eyes told her he was grateful that she hadn't given up on him.
Lily poured the rest of Remus's tumbler of Firewhiskey into the spindly potted plant lurking behind their table (which hiccoughed a bit as the liquor found its roots) and ordered them each a butterbeer. Then she pulled that day's Prophet out of one of her shopping bags. "Come on-let's see if anyone is advertising for a bright young man with N.E.W.T.s in just about everything but Potions."
. * fin * .
Title: Letting It Matter
Author: shimotsuki
Summary: Remus decides to give up wanting things, but Lily won't let him go through with it.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Mild profanity, and a failed attempt at getting very drunk
Word Count: 1273
Author's Note: This ficlet is DH backstory, inspired by the infamous Chapter 11, but it's not a DH spoiler, because it won't give anything away unless you already know what to look for. (I can't promise spoiler-free comments, however.)
Prompts -- | Drinks: Firewhiskey, hot toddy, and butterbeer | Regret: taken a chance
| Lyrics: Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see
It's getting hard to be someone, but it all works out
It doesn't matter much to me -- The Beatles, Strawberry Fields Forever
Letting It Matter
The warmth and noise of the Leaky Cauldron welcomed Lily in from the cold. Her cheeks were flushed, partly from the sharp December wind, and partly from the exhilaration of going Christmas shopping for the first time as a career woman, not merely a student on an allowance from home. Her expedition had been so successful, in fact, that she could barely squeeze herself and her parcels past the pub's heavy door.
She was early-she still had nearly an hour before Marlene, Alice, and Dorcas were due to meet her for a post-shopping hot toddy. But she was tired, and the parcels were heavy and too magically complex to shrink, so she'd come here planning to have a quiet butterbeer and read while she waited.
And then she spotted Remus, sitting alone at a small table in the far corner. Lily broke into a wide smile at this unexpected encounter. He was so busy at work these days that it seemed she hardly ever saw him. She waved, trying to catch his eye, but he was too intent on his tumbler of Firewhiskey to notice her.
Wait. Firewhiskey?
Didn't Remus usually stick with butterbeer, or maybe ale or mead?
This required closer investigation.
Lily strode across the room, dumped her parcels in a jumbled heap, and claimed the other chair at his table without waiting for an invitation. "Hello, Remus!"
He looked up slowly at the sound of her voice.
"I wouldn't have thought I'd see you here at this hour," she said, studying him carefully. There were grey smudges under his eyes from the last full moon, only three days past, and the strong drink had put a bit of colour in his cheeks. Other than that, he was oddly expressionless. "Aren't you usually out observing Graphorns at the preserve about now?"
"Not anymore." Remus lifted his glass and swallowed, wincing slightly at the burn of the Firewhiskey. Even his voice was indifferent, almost lifeless. "I've been sacked."
"No!" Lily felt as though she'd been punched in the stomach. All of her friends had done all right for themselves when they left Hogwarts, but no one else loved their job the way Remus had. Even after six months, he'd never stopped looking a bit awestruck at his great good fortune-as though he hadn't earned the nine Outstanding N.E.W.T.s, or the glowing references from Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Kettleburn, that landed him his position at the British Institute for Magizoology. He'd been spending his days immersed in the habits of rare and interesting magical creatures, gathering information and writing papers. Lily had read two or three of them, and found them fascinating; Remus had a lucid, engaging voice and a knack for explaining difficult information simply. It was the perfect job for him.
Or at least, it had been.
She shook her head helplessly, failing to find words. All she could do was to give his hand a brief squeeze. "What happened?"
Another swig; another wince. "I was out ill just a bit too often." He dropped his voice to a near whisper. "And just a bit too regularly." His lips tightened. "Llewellyn told me that if I resigned of my own accord, he'd let the matter drop without going and having a look at the Registry."
Lily drew a shaky breath. Exposure-his worst nightmare. "Oh, Remus. I'm so, so sorry."
He took another mouthful of Firewhiskey, swallowing it deliberately, like medicine, and shrugged. "Doesn't matter, really."
"What?" She thought of the month he'd spent pacing in the common room, waiting for a reply from the Institute. His excitement last summer when a Tadfoal had hatched right in front of him one day. The pride in his voice when his first paper was accepted for the Annals of Magizoology. "What do you mean, it doesn't matter?"
"It doesn't. It's over. Nothing to do with me."
He met her gaze, and his eyes were hard. Lily was a little frightened-who was this hostile stranger, and where was the Remus she'd known for more than seven years? She'd seen him close himself up, hide his feelings, withdraw inside himself, time and again. But never had she known him to be cold.
And then, she saw it. For the briefest of instants, the stony facade cracked to reveal the desperation of a heartbroken little boy who'd just lost everything in the world. It vanished almost immediately, but now she understood-he'd simply hidden himself away much further than usual.
Lily bit her lip. Remus needed someone to pull him out of...whatever this was. And it wasn't Lily that he needed, either, it was James. Or better yet, Sirius-who, for all his meticulously cultivated air of world-weary detachment, always knew how to say exactly what Remus needed to hear.
But James and Sirius weren't here. She was the only one.
Fine. She frowned in concentration. What would they do?
All at once, as she watched Remus lift his glass to take yet another joyless dose of alcohol, she knew.
Lily reached across the table, snatched the tumbler from his fingers, and slammed it down. Firewhiskey sloshed over the edge of the glass, licking at the worn tabletop with ephemeral tongues of soft blue flame. Remus looked up at her, startled. Good, dammit-she'd got his full attention at last.
"This does matter!" She didn't shout, not in the middle of the pub, but she glared at him and gave her voice a razor's edge. "Remus, you have to let it matter!"
"I can't." His voice was a hoarse whisper. "It's too much." There was a pleading look in his eyes now, and it made her heart ache, but at least the horrid cold stare was gone. "I never should have let myself believe that I could want a career, just like anyone else."
"Of course you-"
He cut her off. "I'm finished. I'll never find another job I'd actually want to have."
"Don't say that! Look, the Institute didn't expose you, not publicly anyway. You've got experience, and you've published papers-it's just a matter of finding the next position."
Remus sighed, looking too old for his eighteen years. "Not without references, and I obviously can't ask Llewellyn for one."
Lily set her jaw. "We'll figure something out. We can get James and the others working on it, too. But you can't just give up. We won't let you, none of us."
He was quiet for a long moment, staring into his Firewhiskey. Finally, he gave her the wry grin that was so very Remus, and the knot in her stomach loosened, even though there was still something a little shaken behind his eyes.
"You're right," he said, very softly. "I didn't make it through Hogwarts to end up a quitter. It's just-it's so easy to start thinking that I shouldn't let myself want what I know I can't have."
She reached over and squeezed his hand again. "Don't be daft. If you stop wanting things, then you won't have them, but it'll be your own fault."
"I suppose there's something to that," was all he said, but his eyes told her he was grateful that she hadn't given up on him.
Lily poured the rest of Remus's tumbler of Firewhiskey into the spindly potted plant lurking behind their table (which hiccoughed a bit as the liquor found its roots) and ordered them each a butterbeer. Then she pulled that day's Prophet out of one of her shopping bags. "Come on-let's see if anyone is advertising for a bright young man with N.E.W.T.s in just about everything but Potions."
. * fin * .