When It Rains, Part V: Washed Away

Rain doesn't stop the celebration.

All through the wizarding community people are celebrating their victory. You-Know-Who is gone, gone, gone and once again its safe to let your children outside and tell people your last name without fearing for your life.

Remus celebrates by drowning in fire whiskey.

Spread in front of him is this morning paper. The headline reads 'VOLDEMORT DEFEATED AT LAST Thanks to the Boy Who Lived'. The Boy Who Lived. That's what they were calling him.

Remus throws back another glass of whiskey. He wonders if this stuff can burn through his throat. He fills his glass up again.

The boy who lived. Remus has held him in his arms and flicked his nose while humming some nonsensical tune he barely remembered from his own childhood. He let the baby pull at his hair and spit up on his clothes. He'd taken photographs at his parents' weddings and listen to James talk non-stop about Lily being pregnant for nine months. The boy who lived, luckiest boy there ever was, famous before he was old enough to crawl. Remus remembers the looks in his father's eyes every time he was mentioned and the way Lily would smile at the baby in her arms and wonders if the child is really all that lucky to never be able to see that.

He thinks of finding his parents bodies dragged out into the forest. How his father's face torn and mutilated and his mother's figure twisted from a curse. He doesn't think he would call Harry lucky.

The next page has details on Lily and James's murder.

'BETRAYED BY BLACK An old family friend murders the Potters and thirteen Muggle bystanders'

Remus finishes off the last of the bottle.

He throws the paper in the fire and tries to stand. After a few failed attempts he manages to get to his feet.

He thinks of James and Sirius with their arms around each other planning some thing they swear will get them into 'Hogwarts, A History'. He thinks of Sirius dancing with Lily at the wedding, teasingly flirtatious as James just stood back and laughed. He thinks of last Christmas, of walking in on the Potter's home to find Sirius holding Harry up as he stuck the star on top of the tree.

He needs water.

Somehow, he manages to get his door open. He falls outside, doesn't try to stop himself from tumbling down onto the cold, wet ground. He hit the mud with a satisfying thump and he loves the pain that shots through him because it's physical, and at that moment anything that isn't his heart breaking is a nice alterative.

He sits in the rain and he tries not to think of Sirius with his arms around his waist. He tries not to think of how many times he told that fucking, worthless excuse for a man that he loved him. He wishes he could take back all the kisses and touches and replace them all with his fist in Sirius's face, blood splatter and bones crunching beneath his knuckles.

The part that hurts most is how much he hates Sirius and loves Sirius. James and Peter and Lily are dead and Sirius killed them. He's the reason that Remus is all alone, his stomach on fire and his skin to cold to touch. He's the reason that half the Order is dead or worse. All this time Remus had these thoughts, this constant fear of who the traitor might be, but he'd never been brave enough to share them. Because if he were right it would have meant losing Sirius and if he were wrong it would have meant losing Sirius.

Remus thinks about Peter. Poor Peter. Always beat down and treated like the tag along. He'd shown them all in the end. Proven that he wasn't the spineless rat Sirius made him out to be. Remus wishes he could have been brave like Peter. Wishes he could have gotten over himself and told Dumbledore his suspicious earlier even if it meant losing Sirius. Because losing Sirius was a horrible thing, but no more horrible than losing James and Lily and Peter and countless other lives.

Remus sits on his steps and waits for the rain to wash him away.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"It's quite a storm out there," Dumbledore says.

"I don't mind." Remus doesn't look up at his old headmaster. Remus is so focused on the book in his hands that he couldn't read the word even if he had wanted to.

"No," Dumbledore says, taking the seat across from Remus without invitation. "I don't suppose you do."

They are in Kiev where Remus has lost yet another job. It seems wherever he goes sticker werewolf registration follows, and so yet again Remus is unemployed and this time he doesn't even have enough money to make it out of town. He is staying in a small, cramped basement with two other wizards. One works as a day nurse and the other doesn't work at all, as far as Remus can tell.

He lifts up a broken mug, gingerly sipping at his tea. He ran out of new teabags about a week ago, and so the tea he's drinking now is more like hot water than anything else.

Dumbledore is staring at him over his crescent moon shaped glasses. He still hasn't said anything. Remus knows that the old wizard is much more clever, patient, and tricky than he is and decides that breaking early might make this moment a little more easy on him. "Can I help you?"

Outside there is a distant crash. Inside the basement flat the lights flicker off for a few minutes and all Remus can hear is the rain beating at the walls of the building. Seconds later the lights reappear and Remus is slightly disappointed to find that Dumbledore didn't simply disappear.

"As I'm sure you've heard, Hogwarts seems to be in need of new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," Dumbledore says, and if Remus hadn't been raised to respect the elderly he might have rolled his eyes.

"I hadn't heard," he says. "But I could have guessed as much."

Hogwarts always needs a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. No matter how talented, wonderful, or caution the new one might be, by the end of term means it's time to start searching for a new professor. Preferably one who has never heard of Hogwarts.

Dumbledore sighs and lays his hands on the table. Remus's eyes dart away from the book to his old headmaster's hands and wonder when they became so frail looking. He looks up and notices for the first time that Dumbledore looks much older than Remus remembers him being.

The lights flicker on and off again while the rain continues to try and beat it's way in.

"I am not going to lie to you, Remus," Dumbledore says. "I wouldn't come to you unless I was desperate. Yet this is not a handout. You made the highest marks in Defense in your years at Hogwarts and are just as deserving of this position as anyone else."

Remus wonders how worthy of the position some of the other professors really where. He takes another sip of his now cool water with only the slight after taste of anything resembling tea.

Remus thinks about the Daily Prophet headlines. "Does this have anything to do with Black?" He asks, because he thinks he knows why Dumbledore would come to him after all these years.

"Only if you make it about Black," Dumbledore says.

"They're not going to like it," Remus says. "A werewolf and an old companion of Black. You'll have a hard time getting the rest of the staff to trust me."

"Trusting you is up to them," Dumbledore says. "The important thing is that the students trust you. Dark times are ahead for them, and they need someone they feel won't betray them."

Remus wonders if Dumbledore used guilt to make Snape renounce his old life and why didn't he ever try this with Sirius and James? Or maybe he did and they just didn't care.

"It's not about Black," Remus says and he knows as well as Dumbledore that he's saying that for his own benefit. He sighs, putting down his book and those all pretentious of making this go away. "School still starts September 17, correct?"

Either the lighting in the basement is really that bad or else Dumbledore's eyes actually twinkle.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"I know this is your fault, Lupin."

Remus looks up from his bookshelf. He places the book he's holding into the trunk at his feet and says, "Excuse me, Professor Snape?" He tries to act calm, and it takes a lot of strength not to sound to smug.

Snape is waving wildly at Remus, water flying off of him like a wet dog. "You! You somehow let him get away!"

"I assure you," Remus says. "I was quite unable to help Mr. Black escape this castle last night in my condition." It isn't a lie.

Snape scowled, his swallow skin turning bloodless white as his hands curled into fists. "Just you wait, Lupin," He sneers, showing off all his teeth like some sort of dog. "We've been searching all night,"

"Is that why you're so wet?" Remus asks, and this time there is nothing he can do but smirk. "And here I thought you'd actually discovered what a shower was." It is a horrible thing to say, but Remus likes the feeling that he is channeling Sirius in some way.

Sirius is innocent. Sirius is innocent. Sirius is innocent. His mind hasn't been able to process anything but that thought since he'd woken up in the forest this morning. Sirius. His Sirius. His good, innocent Sirius.

"We're going to find that boyfriend of yours," Snape spat, blood rushing to his face. Remus bites down on his lip to keep from laughing. All he can think of is what James would say in this situation with Snape looking like a pimple about to burst. "And when we do you won't be the one kissing him."

With that said Snape turns and storms from Remus's office.

"Have a good day, Severus!" Remus calls to the man's back.

He smiles and stands up, grunting as his back snaps into place. He dusts some of the dirt of his robes and wonders over to the window. The sun is just starting to show through the forest, casting a pale light into the office. Remus leans against the glass, watching the sunlight filter through the early morning drizzle.

Somewhere out there Sirius is running for his life. Remus knows this, just as he knows that last night he could have killed Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Snape without a second thought. He knows that by tomorrow he'll be unemployed once again, and this time he didn't know where to run. He knows that hundreds of wizards and witches are afraid for their children's lives right now because the notorious Sirius Black is on the loose. He knows that Peter is running back to help Voldemort regain his strength and that part of that is his fault.

He cracks the window open and sticks out his hand, letting the rain gather in his palm. He knows all of this and yet he smiles.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Who is insane enough to be out in this weather?"

Remus sighs and bookmarks the page he is one. He sets the book down on the nightstand, which wobbles uncertainly under its weight. He pushes himself up out of the beaten old chair and walks over to the door.

Remus squints to try and get a better look at his visitor through the window. The sky is almost pitch black even if the sun has yet to set and the rain makes it impossible to see anything past the abandoned spider web in the window's corner. The knocking continues.

"Who's there?" Remus asks, one hand on the doorknob and the other holding his wand at the ready.

Remus isn't sure what to expect, but he doesn't expect the answer to be, "A stray dog by the name of Sirius Black."

Remus tenses up while his body and mind struggle over what to do. Reasonably he can't be sure to believe the voice behind the door. It wasn't exactly a secret that him and Sirius were friends and it would be a fine way to get to him. Then again, who but Sirius would call himself a stray dog?

In the end the door ends up being swung open with barely any caution at all.

In the doorway is a dark, hunched figure with a face like the dead. "Sirius!"

Remus isn't sure who reacts first, but they're both hugging each other and Remus is being pulled out into the rain.

Sirius smells. Not in a good, charming, Sirius way either but he stinks of sewage and dead animals. His hair is so long that Remus's hands can wrap around his friend's waist and he can still feel the ends. His entire body is covered in filth and grime that not even the beating rainwater can wash away. Sirius is much too thin, like he'll break in Remus's arms, and his body is covered in bruises and scars.

Still, Remus hugs him as close as he can.

"Sirius," Remus whispers, pressing his face against Sirius's neck. From the way Remus's arms around wrapped around him it looks as though he's holding the taller man up, but honestly he's sure that it's Sirius holding him. "Sirius. Sirius. Sirius." He chants the name over and over to make sure he's not in any danger of waking up.

In his arms he can feel the dirty, dying man shaking. Remus thinks that they need to get out of the rain before one of them gets ill and tries to pull away, but Sirius won't let him.

"Remus," Sirius murmurs, and Remus can't see the tears but he can hear them in Sirius's voice and feel them against his skin, hotter than rainwater. "Remus. Oh God, Remus."

The two men continue holding onto one another until the storm drifts away.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Are you okay?"

Remus smiles down at Tonks. She's lying in a bed at Saint Mungo's and looks worse for the wear. Her skin is so pale it's nearly translucent so that Remus feels as though he might cut it open by staring to hard. Her hair has turned a mousy brown instead of its usual cheerful pink. Her body is bruised and shaking hard enough to rattle the bed.

"I'm fine," He says. "I'll go get a healer to take a look at you."

Outside Tonk's room Kingsley grabs Remus by the shoulder to stop him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," He repeats. "I'm fine. I'm fine." Everyone who asks has gotten the same reply accompanied by what Remus knows must be the worst smile in the history of lies.

Molly is standing the hallway shaking. Arthur has an arm wrapped around her telling her it would all be all right. When they see Remus they both stop.

"Remus, dear," Molly asks, her voice wobbly and her cheeks streak with water as though she'd been standing in the rain. "I'm so... I'm so sorry."

Remus gives another one of those smiles. "It's all right Molly. The children are all okay, and that's what matters."

Arthur bites at his lip. He doesn't meet Remus's eyes when he asks, "Are you... Will you be all right?"

"I'm fine," He says. "I have to go find a healer and tell them Tonks is awake."

"Oh, I'll worry about that," Molly says. She reaches forward to hug Remus, and Remus lets her but makes no move to hug back. His arms refuse to work like that. "You... You go and get some rest."

Remus isn't sure wither or not he thanks her, but the next thing he knows he is walking through the lobby of the hospital. He doesn't know where he's going, or what exactly he's meant to do. He's just walking, wanting to get as far away from everything as he can.

He knows that behind him he leaves a room full of whispers. "He's puts on a brave smile, but" and "Poor Remus, he's always been so strong, but..."

They have no idea. Remus isn't acting brave or strong. Just the opposite in fact. He's a coward and he's running away and he's trying not to think of it.

"I'm fine," He tells Mcgonagall as he steps outside of Saint Mungo's and back onto the Muggle street. She nods but doesn't believe him, just like the rest of them.

For now he is fine.

He's fine so long as he doesn't think about it, so long as he doesn't have to remember the look on Sirius's face or the way he simply fell back and was gone from Remus's life. He's fine so long as he can't feel Harry struggling in his arms, reaching out for his godfather. He's fine so long as he doesn't remember how much he wanted to let Harry go and run to the veil, towards Sirius.

If denial is healthy than Remus is fine.

The sun is glaring down on London. Remus looks up at the cloudless sky, standing completely still as the sun melts away the chill that clings to his skin. He stands in the middle of the sidewalk as tourist walk past pointing to signs and couples break their joined hands to move by him. The sun is bright and friendly and makes the whole street look like something from a dream.

Remus stand there, warm and dry and surrounded by the sounds of a life going on without him, and prays for rain.