TITLE: Iris
AUTHOR: Emmyjean (emmyjeanb@yahoo.com)
CLASSIFICATION: Remus POV
SPOILERS: Through GoF
SUMMARY: Some people are blessed with good fortune...and others seem to be
cursed. Life and sacrifice through the
eyes of a werewolf.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: I knew I didn’t have much time to write
this, as our favorite DADA teacher is going to be back in Order of the
~~
November
Remus
Lupin was sitting in the beat-up old armchair by his fireplace, sipping a cup
of tea and reading the latest edition of the Daily Prophet. He had begun to hate reading the
headlines...it seemed every time it was published, something more forboding was
going on in the wizarding world than whatever had been top news the day
before. It was getting to be monotonous
in the most morose way possible. Just as he was turning to the last page with a
grimace on his face, he heard a great whooshing sound coming from the fire in
front of him.
“Remus?”
Remus
put down the paper and smiled at his friend...or rather, at his friend’s
head. It was all he could see in the
fireplace at the moment. “Hullo,
Padfoot. Where are you?”
“I
broke into a house to use the fireplace, so I don’t have much time to chat,”
Sirius Black explained hurriedly, and then caught sight of the newspaper Remus
had been reading. “Do you get that delivered?”
Remus
shook his head. “No...it’d be too
dangerous. I get it from...an old witch
that lives a few miles away.”
Sirius’
eyes grew dark. “The one that makes the
potion for you?”
He nodded slowly, and then
Sirius asked quietly, “How are the transformations coming along?”
Remus
suddenly felt very tired, as he always did when he thought about that. “They’re not much different. She makes the potion. I transform in her cellar every month, and
then pay her for her trouble when I turn back into myself.”
“Then
you steal her copy of the Daily Prophet,” Sirius commented wryly. Remus smiled...this is why he’d loved being
part of the Marauders so much. They’d
always managed to treat even the most dire situations with a sense of humor.
“Yeah,
but it’s almost not worth it...the issues are always at least two weeks
behind,” Remus replied. Sirius shook
his head and opened his mouth to say something else, and then caught sight of
something. Frowning, he asked,
“Hey...isn’t that Witch
Weekly? Why in hell are you reading a
witch magazine?”
Lupin
looked down at the magazine sticking out from beneath the folded paper in his
lap and shrugged. “The old witch asked
me if I wanted it, and I heard there was an article about Harry in the latest
issue. There’s nothing else to do
around here, anyway.”
Sirius
gave him an incredulous look. “That
damn woman’s articles? What’s her
name...Sheener? Skeeter?”
Remus
waved his hand dismissively as he leaned forward and placed his elbows on his
knees, “I don’t really like editorials, but I thought I should at least take a
look. It...wasn’t exactly accurate.”
Sirius
shook his head and muttered, “Stupid cow...she’s just adding to the pile of his
troubles.”
“Speaking
of which,” Remus interrupted, “How did he do with the dragon?”
Sirius’
eyes actually lit up at this, which was something Remus hadn’t seen in a long
time. In fact, he thought he could even
see a smile of pride forming as Sirius replied, “It turns out we had no reason
to be worried...he was, by all accounts, excellent. I was going to tell him to use the Conjunctivitus Curse...”
“I
know, you told me.”
“Right,”
Sirius went on, “But he had an even better idea. Listen to this...he used a Summoning Charm to call his Firebolt -
you know, the one I got him for Christmas last year - and then treated the
whole thing like some sort of high stakes Quidditch match.”
Remus
laughed for the first time that week and interjected, “He did?”
“Yeah,
and he’s now tied for first. Needless
to say, he’s ecstatic about it.”
Remus
nodded slowly, his smile fading slightly as he said quietly, “Prongs would have
been proud of him.”
There
was silence for a moment, and the Sirius replied, “Yeah. Yeah, he would probably have been unbearable
for weeks, talking about it all the time.”
They
laughed together, remembering their friend, and then Remus shook his head and
continued, “I’d have given anything to have seen it...I’ll bet he’s relieved
that it’s over.”
“Yeah,
I’ll bet he would have liked to have had you there. Only he’s not out of the woods yet...this is only one of three.”
“I
know,” Remus muttered as he rubbed his face with his hand, “If dragons were the
first task, what are they going to come up with next?”
“I
don’t want to think about it,” Sirius replied seriously, “I just hope Harry
doesn’t get too relaxed. He’s got to
keep his wits about him...I don’t like the idea of having that snake Karkaroff
there, or Crouch either for that matter.”
“Yeah,
well...I still don’t think it’s a good idea to have the tournament at all, to
be honest. It seems like it’s just
inviting danger.”
“I’m
sure Dumbledore’s got his reasons,” Sirius said, although he sounded as though
the idea didn’t sit too well with him either.
“I’d better get going...I’ll be back in two weeks or so to update you on
everything.”
“Alright,
then.”
Sirius
paused, looking uneasily at him. “Are
you...sure you don’t want to write him, Moony?
Just to let him know you’re around?”
“I’m
not around,” Remus said firmly, a bit tired of having this discussion with
Sirius. His secret had gotten out to
the general public last year, that he was a werewolf, and he wasn’t too keen on
enduring the frightened stares and intrigued glances that were sure to plague
him as he walked through places like Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. His freedom had, in a sense, been taken
away...and the only way to live any semblance of a normal life was to go
somewhere where no one knew anything about him or the world from where he’d
come.
This
was why he was living here, in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but a tiny
village one mile from his run-down old house.
“Remus,”
Sirius said in a voice that was meant to be persuasive, “What harm could it
do?”
“Plenty,”
Remus replied, “I just don’t feel comfortable with it. I promised him I’d see him again, and I
will...soon. I just can’t right
now...he doesn’t need the added stress of being associated with a
werewolf. Imagine what the Skeeter
woman would have to say about that.”
“Harry
wouldn’t care.”
“I’d
care,” Remus interrupted, “Now can we please drop it?”
Sirius
sighed reluctantly in defeat, then looked around and said, “I really do have to get out of here. I’ll talk to you in a couple of weeks...take
care.”
Remus
nodded, and then suddenly the fireplace was empty...and silence presided once
more over the room. Sighing lightly,
Remus drained the rest of the tea from his cup and stood. Setting the paper aside, he walked into the
small kitchen at the back of the house and set the mug in the sink...things
were beginning to pile up in there, he thought idly. Deciding he had nothing better to do, as usual, he grabbed a
sponge and set to work at washing and drying all the dishes. Unfortunately, it only took him about twenty
minutes.
Drying his hands on a dishtowel,
Remus walked slowly over to the window and leaned one arm on the sill, looking
out across the abandoned field adjoining his cottage. He didn't know if the field belonged to him or not - he hadn't
been interested in asking too many questions when he bought the place. It had been the only thing he could afford,
and it was perfect for what he had wanted.
Small, unassuming, and old...from the outside, it almost looked
abandoned. Everything about it screamed
that the owner wanted to be left alone, and that was indeed the truth. The house was set apart from the tiny nearby
town, and Remus rarely made the walk down there so as to avoid questions
or...people in general. Come to think of it, he wasn’t even sure what the
village was called. He supposed he
didn’t need to know.
It was a relatively small
town...a Muggle village. No one there
knew anything about wizards or magic.
After his year as a professor at Hogwarts, he had left - against the wishes
of both the Headmaster and the boy he had come to regard as another addition to
his makeshift, constantly waning family.
Harry Potter, James' son. He
felt a pang in his heart as he thought of him, and he regretted leaving him
behind, but he simply didn’t want to be there anymore - not now that
practically everyone knew his darkest secret.
He was a werewolf, and he had been since childhood. He knew Dumbledore would have fought anyone
who opposed his teaching position, and he knew he had the support of the
majority of the students and faculty...but he was too tired to endure the
scrutiny. The Muggle world - and his
current solitude - were his escape.
As he continued to stare out the
window, the sun made it’s way out from behind the huge tree in the garden...it
was shaping up to be another clear day. He didn’t know what made him feel more
tired...sunny days or dreary ones. It
wasn’t that he wasn’t used to being on his own...he had been training for it
all his life. Now, it was simply harder
than it had ever been before, partly because he was now completely cut off from
the wizarding world for all practical purposes and partly because he now knew
of Sirius’ innocence. Before last year,
he hadn’t had any friends whom he counted among the living...now, he wasn’t the
only Marauder left anymore. Neither one
of them were completely liberated, however, and this was the most difficult
thing to bear.
Sighing, he pushed himself away
from the window and glanced at the small clock on the table next to his reading
chair...it was nearly eleven. He stood
for a moment, contemplating, his brows furrowed. Each Monday, as early as he could, he made the walk down the road
to the little market on the edge of town to buy food for himself. There was a more modern, larger grocery
store further into town that sold things at a cheaper price, but he had decided
early on that the smaller place served his needs better. It was worth paying a bit more to be spared
the dangerous task of going too far into Muggle civilization - the other place
was near the square at the center of town.
Not only that, in the small grocer’s he could get the things he needed
quickly without having to spend a lot of time looking for things. He knew the
man who worked there by name only because the store was named after him -
Furlowe’s Grocer - but the quiet, unassuming man never asked any questions, and
for that Remus was grateful.
Still...there was one habit he
had that didn't fit in with any of the reasons he went to all this
trouble. It concerned the bakery that
was situated right across the street from Furlowe’s...Remus had to pass it
every Monday as he walked home, as it was much too dangerous to apparate. He hadn’t thought anything of it at
first...but one day he made the decision to go in there and buy some fresh
bread for once. He had been going there
to get his bread ever since.
It wasn't something he wanted to examine, or a behavior that he
chose to admit was odd. He bought the
same thing every time...just a plain loaf of bread, never anything fancier or
more expensive. He told himself that
fresh bread from a bakery instead of the stuff he could buy in the store was
the one luxury he allowed himself.
Still, somewhere deep down, he
knew it was more than that.
Sometimes...he just couldn't stand the loneliness of having nobody but
the damn grocer to see on a regular basis.
Maybe he just needed to see new faces once in awhile, even if he never
said more than two words to any of them. Why he went to that bakery when it was
a frivolous expense he made for himself every week, rather than go to the
library or the park or some other public place, was something the normally
reasonable and collected Remus Lupin utterly refused to question.
But as he walked out his creaky
front door and started down the dirt path, he found himself wondering idly what
she would be wearing this morning.
~~
February
“He took so long down there that
I’d thought he was done for,” Sirius was saying around a mouthful of food. Remus brought his chin up off where it had
been resting on his hand and frowned.
“What are you eating?”
Sirius made a face and
shrugged. “Damned if I know. Just grabbed the first thing I found...it
tastes like it’s either too-sweet bread or too-bland cake.”
Remus shook his head and said,
“Listen, be careful, will you? All you
need is to be caught stealing.”
Sirius snorted. “Believe me, I’m an expert at this.”
Shrugging indifferently, Remus
replied, “Well, go on. So what happened
when he finally came up?”
Sirius’ eyes brightened as he
swallowed with a grimace and went on, “Oh, yeah...well, needless to say, not
only did he come up with Ron, but also the other girl’s hostage...you know, the
Beauxbatons contestant?”
“You’re kidding...that’s why he
took so long?”
Nodding, Sirius replied,
“Yeah...he really is his father’s son.
He couldn’t bear to leave the little girl down there, and so he took
them both. His length of time down
there had nothing to do with any problems he encountered...not like the
others. That Delacour girl got bogged
down by the Grindylows...”
“Well, he wouldn’t have had a
problem with those,” Remus said confidently, “We went over them in class, when
I was there.”
Sirius shook his head and said
incredulously, “I still can’t believe you were actually a teacher there. Traitor.”
They both laughed, and then
Sirius finished, “Anyway, he didn’t lose many points due to the fact that the
merpeople spoke highly of his efforts, and now he’s tied for first with Amos
Diggory’s son.”
“Good,” Remus said quietly, “I’m
glad to hear that things seem to be going alright for him...so far, anyway.”
Sirius nodded, and then said,
“Look, I’ve got to go...I think I hear noises.
I’ll keep you updated as I hear news, alright?”
Remus didn’t even get a chance
to make a reply before Sirius was gone.
Sighing, he stood and glanced at the clock...six-thirty. It wasn’t as late as he’d hoped. Rocking back and forth a bit on his feet, he
listened to the floorboards creak and thought about how he was going to pass
the time until he could make dinner. He
looked around as though he expected something new or interesting to catch his
eye, but of course it didn’t...he hadn’t really expected anything. Moving into the kitchen, he glanced at the
sink...no dishes to be done. Shaking
his head at himself, he decided that this was a new low...he refused to be
disappointed that there were no dishes that needed cleaning. He hadn’t sunk that far into boredom yet.
Still...he couldn’t help feeling
that it wasn’t all that far off, either.
Write to Dumbledore...that was
what he’d wanted to do. Standing, he
went and grabbed a sheet of parchment and a quill from his desk in the other
room. He went back to the table and
began to compose what he hoped was a helpful letter. When he had finished the letter, Remus read it over once to make
sure he hadn’t forgotten anything...and then slowly set it back down on the
table. He suddenly wasn’t so sure this
was a good idea. Dumbledore was sure to
be busy with everything that was going on at the school, and he knew that he
was already corresponding with Sirius...maybe it would be better if Remus just
waited until the headmaster contacted him.
Deciding that he wanted to
think it over a bit, he stood and thought idly that it hadn’t been a complete
waste. Even if he decided not to send
the letter, he’d at least managed to kill some time. That carried him through until dinnertime, at which point he got
up to make himself something to eat. He decided that the following day when he
went to town, he would have to buy more than he had last time. His cupboards were practically empty
already, and just because he wished to spend his money frugally didn’t mean he
had to starve. As he took out the last
of the bread he had gotten the week before, now stale, and some of the leftover
soup from before, he thought more about visiting town the next day. It was really the only thing that he did
which broke the monotonous cycle every day, and he didn’t want to imagine what
it would be like if he had nothing to look forward to week after week.
Now that the thought was
in his head, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about it for the rest of
the night...thinking about her. He
didn’t know her, didn’t even know her name, but somehow he looked forward to seeing
her the next day as a child anticipates Christmas morning. There were times when his own attachment to
this girl disturbed him slightly, but he reasoned with himself that there was
nothing wrong with garnering a little joy out of the solitary life he was
forced to lead. After all, he was only
a man...why shouldn’t he admire a pretty young woman, especially when he didn’t
have any other opportunity to see one?
He wished he could ask her
name.
Remus went to bed that
night thinking about the next morning, afraid as he always was that it would
end up being the one time in months that he would wake up late and miss his
chance. After what seemed like a long
time lying awake thinking about useless things, he finally fell asleep.
The next day, he awoke at the
usual time. As he looked out his window
and observed the sun barely peeking over the horizon, he wondered yet again why
he couldn’t ever seem to sleep later.
It would be nice to just sleep some of the day away...there would be
less time to fill, that way.
Sitting up, he winced and rubbed
his shoulder. It had been a full moon
on Thursday night, and he was still a bit sore from the transformation. It was nothing he wasn’t used to, but was
still a nuisance. Standing, he rubbed
his chin and walked into the adjoining bathroom. As he showered, he tried to think of things he had to get
done. It was a daily struggle, and he
didn’t often come out of it with any more ideas than he had had going in.
Standing before the mirror a few
minutes later he gazed absently at the face staring back at him. The eyes were listless, and there were dark
circles underneath them. He recalled
faintly a time in between – when he had overcome being a weak, thin child and
before he had become the tired, world-weary man he was now. A time when he had been happy, at
Hogwarts...with his friends. He
silently reached for the shaving lotion.
Life had been unfair...to all of them.
Finishing up, he washed his face
and got dressed. He didn’t wear robes
here, as it would be too dangerous.
Instead, he wore regular Muggle clothes...an old suit and a frayed
necktie. It was all he had been able to
find with his limitations. He couldn’t
afford much else, and tired to vary a bit with the two sets he had. He only wore the jacket when he left the
house, which was practially never.
Still...he was used to making himself look presentable in otherwise
unflattering clothes.
He walked downstairs and into
the small kitchen, glancing at the sun streaming through the window. He had always loved the sun...as long as it
was there, he was safe. Looking through
his cabinets, he grimaced at the lack of food there. Pulling out a can of soup that he hoped wasn’t too old, he
emptied it into a pot and set it to cooking with his wand. Seating himself at the table, he rubbed his
eyes and sighed...he was so damn sick of soup.
~
Mr. Furlowe handed Remus his
change, giving him a slight nod of the head as he mumbled, “Come again.”
He
always said this, even though he knew very well that Remus would be back the
next Monday whether he reminded him or not.
He supposed it was because the man didn’t know what else to say...Remus
had seen him with other customers occasionally, when he hadn’t managed to get
there early enough to avoid them. As
Remus had lurked in the small aisles, waiting for whoever it was to leave so
that he could go up front and pay without fear of being asked into the
conversation and having to make the choice of either being rude or introducing
himself - neither of which he wanted - he’d heard Furlowe talking amicably
about football, or the weather, or something specific such as how someone’s ill
sister was feeling these days. He knew
the man wasn’t really a withdrawn personality...it was probably just with Remus
that he held his tongue. He must give
off the indication that he didn’t want to be bothered...and although that was
exactly what he wanted, it still made him feel a tad dejected.
Remus
walked out of the grocers and marched, as usual without giving himself time to
think, across the street to the bakery.
He always lingered for a moment before turning the handle and entering,
as though he wanted to prolong the moment.
It was always over far too quickly, and then he had nothing to do but
wait until the following Monday. The
tiny bells above the door tinkled cheerfully as he went in, a sound he had come
to quite enjoy.
As
he entered, his eyes fixated immediately upon her...she was standing behind the
counter with her back to him. As long
as she wasn’t looking at him yet, he stopped in his tracks in the center of the
room to simply watch her for a moment.
She was on her tiptoes attempting to get a rack down from a high shelf,
and was having a bit of a struggle with it.
“Oh...blast,”
she murmured in a low voice as one of the corners hit the wall. Remus found himself smiling slightly as he
looked at her. She was wearing a light
blue sweater today, and he thought idly that it looked lovely with her golden
hair which spilled about her shoulders, only half pulled back in a haphazard
knot. At that moment, she really was a
charming sight.
Then she finally succeeded in
her struggle with the tray, which turned out to be full of sugar cookies, and
turned to regard him...and he decided that he’d been wrong before as she fixed
her blue eyes upon him. She wasn’t just
charming...she was very pretty. He did
this every time...he tried to downplay her image in his mind all week, only to
find that he became even more taken with her every time he came here.
He
should really stop coming. Somehow,
though, he felt cheated at the thought and pushed it from his mind.
“The
usual?” she asked him, her tone friendly but quiet. She treated him in much the same way as Mr. Furlowe...with
politeness, but no small amount of wariness, as though they didn’t quite know
what to make of him. He didn’t really
mind this with the old grocer...but it troubled him when it came to her. Still, he couldn’t lay himself open to
overtures of conversation or questions...he needed to avoid this at all
costs. So, he never said so much as a
word to her besides what common courtesy dictated.
He
nodded in response to her question, curving his lips in a small smile, and she
opened the cupboard and brought out the bread.
As she wrapped it up, he counted out the exact amount so that it would
be ready when she went to the register.
She knew he’d be doing this, and so as she handed the bag over to him
she also held out her hand for the money.
He always noticed how small her hands were...she really was a small
woman all around. Not very tall at
all. He placed the bills in her hand
and she smiled placidly as she said,
“See you next time.”
He
nodded and thanked her as he walked back out into the chilly February
morning.
~~
June
Remus
stood before the door of the bakery...he was fighting the one bit of reason he
had left which was screaming at him not to go in. He knew it was foolish, and he knew he’d probably end up
regretting it in one way or another...but he reached out and pushed the door
open anyway, telling the voice of reason to shut up. The bells rang out as he stepped through, and his eyes were
immediately drawn to her. She was
standing behind the counter reading a book, and she looked up as he came in. Her hair was in pigtails which fell over her
shoulders, and she was wearing a white blouse.
He felt a pain in his chest at the thought that this was the last time
he was going to experience the sheer pleasure of getting his first glimpse of
her as he walked through the door. She
smiled as he walked in, as usual...and suddenly he made a decision.
“Good
morning,” he said, smiling back, and he almost laughed at how surprised she
looked.
“Good
morning,” she replied a bit cautiously, but brightly as well. He’d never spoken more than two words to her
before, and then only in response to a question she had asked. Hell, it was the last time he would ever see
her...he wanted to at least leave her with a good impression.
Plus,
he couldn’t bear the thought of going without ever having had a conversation
with her. Loosening his tie a bit, mostly
out of nervousness, he commented easily, “It’s a bit hot today, isn’t it?”
She
stared for a moment...and then quickly came to her senses and shook her head
with a little laugh. “Oh...yes, it
is. It’s supposed to be like this all
week.”
He
nodded and replied, “Well...I guess we knew it was coming.”
She
laughed again, a sound that he recorded in his memory for future reference, and
said, “It never makes it any easier, though.”
There
was a slightly awkward pause before she asked, “Umm...did you just want the
usual bread, then? Or...would you like
something else this time?”
He
glanced at her, and she seemed to be coloring a bit. He was swept away by the look in her eyes. His voice low, he said, “Recommend
something.”
“Recommend
something?”
He
nodded slowly, “Yeah.”
She
raised her eyebrows and looked around, thinking. Bending down, she reached into the case and pulled out a
cake. Holding it out to him, she said,
“I just took this out of the oven. It’s
really good with tea, actually.”
He
nodded. “Alright, then.”
She
did as she was told, and they didn’t say more until he handed her the
money. She took it from him with a
slightly shy smile...obviously, she hadn’t been prepared for him to walk in
that day and start talking her ear off after months of complete silence. He thought...maybe she could have developed
an interest in him if they’d had more time.
Her eyes betrayed a curiosity now...maybe even a little hope? It was the thought of her waiting for him to
do something that brought him back to reality...he’d had his moment of liberty,
and to go any further would be pushing it.
This wasn’t a game.
“Well,
thank you,” he said with a brief smile as he backed away from the counter. He could see her brow furrow a bit, confused
by the change in tone.
“S-sure...have
a good day.” With a small nod and one
last smile, he turned and went out into the May morning.
He
was only a little ways down the road before he heard the bells on the bakery
door jingle again. He turned to look
over his shoulder and felt the blood drain from his face as he watched her jog
to catch up with him. His heart
stopped...he didn’t know what to do. He
had the insane urge to turn and run away from her, but equally powerful was the
urge to run toward her. In the end, all
he could do was stop and wait for her to approach, hoping that his face didn’t
betray all the things he was feeling.
She
slowed as she got nearer, and her white blouse worked with her golden hair and
the bright sunlight in such a way as to make her look like some kind of small
angel. She finally stood before him,
and his senses were full of her...her look, her smell, the light sound of her
breathing. He wanted to badly to touch
her...to taste her. It was a desire the
likes of which he’d never felt before, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it
now. All he knew was that he had to
reign it in...it amounted to nothing.
There was no point to it...he was not in a position to try and know her
in that way, and he never would be.
Even if his world wasn’t falling to pieces around him for the second
time in his life.
She
smiled hesitantly up at him, and his chest felt like it was on fire. Apparently, the simple act of speaking to
her broke down the dams of indifference and detached politeness...he had been friendly
to her, and so now she was returning the favor. Clearing her throat lightly, she held something out to him and
said, “Here...you forgot your change.”
It
was an excuse...they both knew it. Her
blue eyes held his captive, asking him to make an overture...to speak with her,
to ask her to go for a walk...anything.
His mind was racing. What was
one more night? No one could begrudge
him this...it would be cruel. He could
ask her to have dinner with him, pretend for just a moment that he was a normal
man with normal concerns. They could
make use of the perfect spring night...walk in a park, count stars...all the
things he’d always read that people do when they’re in love. All the things he’d always read in books,
the things he’d always listened to other people describe while fighting silent,
miserable jealousy. He could bring her
back to his house, make love to her in his bed...no one would ever have to
know. They wouldn’t understand.
She
wouldn’t understand. Blinking, he
snapped himself out of his reverie, realizing that he’d simply been standing
there staring at her. Her smile was
gone, and she was now searching his face with a pensive, penetrating look in
her eyes. She was trying to figure him
out...and she never could. If she knew
what he was...if she knew all the secrets he kept...she would be running as
fast as she could back into that bakery.
She’d probably bolt the door on him.
He couldn’t bring himself to play with her emotions, just to satisfy a
personal hunger of his. Smiling in the
most genuine manner he could possibly fake, he held out his hand for the
change. “Thank you.”
She
looked at his hand as though confused as to what he wanted, and then shook her
head slightly and dropped the coins onto his palm...her fingers brushed his
wrist and sent chills up his arm. She
looked up again into his eyes...and in hers he read disappointment and a little
bit of hurt. She couldn’t understand
why he wasn’t saying anything...why he was suddenly distant. She wanted him to do something...she had
shown it clearly. Suddenly, he couldn’t
stand the thought of her having hurt feelings over something that had nothing
to do with her. If she only knew what
he wanted to do...what he would certainly do if he had the choice. Swallowing, he explained,
“I’m
leaving tomorrow.”
She
looked slightly surprised, and then replied, “Oh.”
He
went on, “I probably won’t come back, actually.”
Her
face fell considerably, and his heart began to ache. He wondered just how many...or how few...younger, available men
she met on a regular basis. It was a
small town...perhaps he wasn’t the only one who was lonely.
“Oh, I see. Well...I’ll miss seeing you every week.”
He
nodded and replied quietly, “Probably not as much as I’ll miss seeing you, I’m
sure.”
She
blushed, and he thought she’d never looked more beautiful to him as she did in
that moment. After a brief silence, she
said, “Well...if you...if you ever happen to be passing through again...”
She
didn’t finish her sentence. They both
knew that it would never happen. He
nodded nevertheless and replied, “Yeah...thanks, I will.”
She
smiled a small smile and clasped her hands demurely in front of her. “So...goodbye, then.”
He
didn’t reply, merely took a breath and nodded.
She turned after a moment and walked slowly back toward the bakery. He watched her walk away, fighting the
inclination to call her back or run after her...it was the hardest thing he’d
ever had to endure. He wasn’t just
watching a woman he’d spent months wanting in every way possible walk away from
him forever...he was watching the most palpable chance he’d ever had at a
normal life disappear before his eyes.
He was certain that if he had just been a regular wizard, he could have
gotten her past the shock of finding out about the magic...it happened all the
time. He could have courted her...he
could easily see himself marrying her one day.
He could see himself working behind that counter with her every morning. He could see her having his children.
His
life as it could have been seemed to stretch out before him even as he was
forced to face the life he was destined to live. After all, he wasn’t normal...and he never would be.
Just
before she reached the door, she turned around to look at him one last
time. He took the moment to memorize
her face...he knew he’d be seeing it in his mind’s eye in many a long,
sleepless night to come. Before she
could open the door and before he could think twice, he called, “Hey!”
She turned back to look
at him, and he shrugged and asked, “What’s your name?”
She
smiled slightly and called back, “Iris.”
Then she turned and went through
the door.
He
stood there for a moment, simply staring at the spot where she’d last
stood. After awhile, he repeated softly
to himself, “Iris.”
Then
he turned and made his way back to the old, decrepit house. He needed to pack his few possessions before
Sirius came to get him.
He
was needed elsewhere.
FINIS
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