The Sugar Quill
Author: InFabula (Professors' Bookshelf)  Story: A Very Private Mourning  Chapter: Default
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A Very Private Mourning by InFabula

A Very Private Mourning by InFabula

 

Disclaimer: these wonderful characters belong to JK: I just borrowed them for a bit.

 

Thanks to my beta-reader ivy for all comments!

 

 

Deep inside, he made the decision to hold it together until after Harry had left for the summer holidays.  He felt the least helpful thing he could do was to burden James’s son, already broken-hearted by the loss of his godfather, with his own pain.

 

The rest of the Order were solicitous, of course.  Somehow, he found it easier to deal with Molly, distressed, full of remorse about words spoken that could not be recalled and vocal on his behalf, than he did Tonks, uncharacteristically silent and withdrawn.  It was hardest of all to keep up the act in front of Dumbledore.

 

“Remus,” he had said gently.  “I’ve been your teacher and your colleague but I would like to think I am also your friend…”

 

The brittle façade had nearly given way then but he had managed to nod and give a quick, tight smile and then leave as quickly as possible.  Adept as he was at hiding his feelings, he knew he was no master Occlumens.

 

Snape had offered cold commiserations in the briefest of conversations where what was left unsaid was a truer reflection of what was felt.

 

“Good morning, Lupin.”  You half-breed freak, I can’t believe anyone trusts you…

 

“Severus.”  Prongs was right -  you are an oily git and you forfeited any personal and professional regard I might have had for you when you wouldn’t listen to Sirius about Peter.

 

“Always sad when a sacrifice is made.”  I am secretly delighted.

 

“Indeed.”  I know you’re secretly delighted.

 

“Still, at least he died doing something he believed in.”   Maybe it’ll be you next.

 

“I’m sure that’s the way we all hope it will end.”  Maybe it’ll be you next.

 

He had made it through the scene at King’s Cross with the Dursleys, wanting to be strong for Harry and to let him know that he would be there for him, no matter what.

 

Then, with Dumbledore’s permission, he had come back here.   As he sat on the bed, recollections of mischief and mayhem flooded through him.  This had invariably been the starting point for high adventure.

 

He thought back some fourteen years to when his world had been turned upside down by the news of the murders of Lily, James and Peter indirectly and directly at the hand of Sirius.  He had grieved then, overwhelmed by shock and weighed down by the guilt that he had survived.  He had cried until he had no more tears to give. This place had been in his mind as he had considered how some of his best memories had been irrevocably tainted by betrayal.

 

And then, this had been the scene for the revelation: Peter, alive…alive and responsible for the deaths and the deceit…and Padfoot restored to him as the true friend he had known. 

 

These past two years had been precious beyond belief.  He had not realised how lonely he had become, how reluctant he had been to take friendship past the borders of common politeness and to open his heart, to give of himself, to let anyone come close to him.  Sirius had bounded back into his life washing away much of the hurt and removing the stark longing to belong.  He had been happy.

 

It seemed appropriate that he be here now.  He had chosen not to take the Wolfsbane Potion: this month, he wanted the luxury of being able to lose his mind.

 

He felt the transformation beginning and for once, he welcomed the physical agony as his body twisted itself into a new but familiar form.  The pain was a reflection of the grief in his heart.

 

The Shrieking Shack legend came to life once more as a lonely wolf spent the night howling at an empty moon.

 

 

 

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