small_gifts | Astounding I dare say (Reply)

Title: Death Is Not The End
Author:

gwathhenation
Written for:

treizechs
Rating: PG-13 (or less, it's just a little swearing)
Prompt: First war and Remus!death
Notes: This turned out to be the longest fic I've ever written, despite its supposing to be a small gift. Hopefully I did your prompt justice though,

treizechs, as I had to exterminate so many plot holes that kept cropping up, and hopefully its believable enough because of that. The title is totally stolen from the Nick Cave song, which you should all listen to now (although it's perhaps funnier hearing it after the rest of the Murder Ballads C.D. than just on its own). Anyways, enjoy! (I hope)

Everything was frantic now, as if you were trying to hold on to what sanity and normality you could while your fingers were slipping off of feelings and ideals covered in ice and frozen rain, before a long tumble downwards into darkness. Desperate, disparate, he knew that soon enough he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between the two, which was the cause, the problem, the result, but this is the nature of these times. And then it finally happened, the long-expected moment. And he couldn’t face it.

Sirius sat at the kitchen table, spreading butter over his toast, listening to the crunchcruch sound it made as its near-burnt crumbs scattered everywhere. Looking at the paper, there was more of the same news as there had been lately, mysterious deaths, and not-so-mysterious ones, fear and propaganda, and all such manner of things. He looked up as Remus entered the room, heading straight for the kettle, a morning habit of his.
“I already boiled some water for you,” Sirius said, looking up from the crossword.
“Thank you,” said Remus, and smiled.
Oh, that smile, grateful and graceful all at once, for so small a thing. Sirius doesn’t have to wonder why he loves him, when he drops smiles and gestures and words like that. He’s scruffy and morning-rumpled and his eyes are squinty from sleep but it seems there has never been a moment when Remus Lupin didn’t have Sirius Black under his spell, and Sirius fervently hopes at that moment that there would never be a reason for that not to be the case.
“Are you going to be back for supper?” he asked, knowing that Remus is assigned to a reconnaissance mission later today. Remus alone of all the Marauders, although not of the Order, but they all have to take turns. Sirius just wishes he could be there, Order members don’t have your back the way a Marauder does. But Sirius has little choice in the matter, and he needs his rest anyways if he’s pulling Order duty tomorrow.
“I might be a little later than that. Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out for myself.”
“Alright. I’m off I guess,” Sirius said, getting up and tugging on his boots. He found his coat and closed the door behind him.

When Sirius returned home from work he was tired and immediately had a short nap before making supper. When he did go to it, he found Remus’ keys sitting by the cookie jar. Sirius laughed to himself at the tell-tale sign of Remus’ absent-mindedness. He decided it was safer to leave the door locked for now, as he would be home when Remus returned anyway. They had set up enough wards against apparating that the front door was virtually the only way in.
As it drew on seven Sirius began to feel a bit edgy, but distracted himself with the dishes, before turning to some studying for his job. By eight he was genuinely anxious. He knew Remus shouldn’t have been gone this long, and that there must have been trouble. However, he reminded himself that he couldn’t do anything and that Remus could take care of himself, so he might as well sit still. At precisely eight twenty-three, there was a knock on the door, and Sirius sprang up to open it, inwardly relieved.
Standing at the door were Emmeline Vance, Dorcas Meadows, and Gideon Prewitt, dishevelled, bloodstained, and, at first, silent. And it hit Sirius then, harder than anything had hit him in his life. It had happened. He was dead.
He stumbled from the doorway, grabbing on to the nearest thing, a chair?, and he dropped down to the floor, and cried, trying to hide from the onlooking eyes and hands and words of people who just couldn’t understand.
James and Lily were there within the hour, followed by Peter, and by this time the tears had nearly dried, and all they found was Sirius sitting on the futon, looking out the window lifelessly. Peter tried with words to comfort him, to tell him rubbish like, “it’s okay,” or anything really that is meant to take off the weight and edge of death. But James, who knew him best, said nothing. He didn’t want the edge taken off his grief, didn’t want to talk about favourite memories, or what life was going to be like now, and he absolutely did not want to hear about how he knew that war was going to take its casualties and how Remus knew that being in the Order was dangerous etc. He wanted none of that, and in the end he sent them all away, even James, who understands, and Lily who looks after them all.
He stayed in their flat for two days, calling off work, until on that second night, he received a notice about funeral arrangements.
And that was when he decided this would end.
He ignored the owl pecking at his fingers, shooed it off out the window, grabbed his coat and slammed the door behind him. He went to the Ministry.

While hardly being aware of all the facets and maze-like chambers of the Department of Mysteries, he knew that it would have what he wanted, and he was smart enough to manage anything it might throw his way. He was surprised to find, upon entering it, that the walls rotated and doors moved out of place. However, he didn’t spend two years making a living map of Hogwarts to get lost on account of a rotating door trick. He found what was he was looking for easily enough, if it had taken awhile. Glittering in the darkness, like golden sand caught in crystal glass, was a row of Time-Turners. He grabbed one deftly, hanging it around his neck before moving back towards the door he had come through, but as he did he tripped over something in the dark. Something that began screaming the moment it smashed to the ground, and he ran. He went through door after door, hearing voices and footsteps close behind him, no doubt Unspeakables or ministry officials that had stayed late at their desks, and if there were any Unspeakables then he was in a bad way to get out of here. He was lost now, and fearful, knowing that he couldn’t get caught, not over this. He dashed into a vast room, with a pedestal and an archway at its centre. He had no idea what it was, but he saw a door directly across from him and he dashed up across the dais, not bothering to walk around. As he was running he heard the door behind him open, and he turned his head to glimpse his pursuers. It was then, when he wasn’t looking ahead of him, that his arm collided with the edge of the stone arch, and he was thrown back from it, swaggering backwards into—

The two Unspeakables who had been chasing an intruder through the Department of Ministries never saw their suspect. They saw a blur of black hair and pale skin before the intruder was swept off by the Veil, and they bowed their heads for a moment, before one conceded that “he may be better off,” and went to write up a file.

Thursday night he received a notice about funeral arrangements.
And that was when he decided this would end.
He ignored the owl pecking at his fingers, shooed it off out the window, grabbed his coat and slammed the door behind him. He went to the Ministry.
While hardly being aware of all the facets and maze-like chambers of the Department of Mysteries, he knew that it would have what he wanted, and he was smart enough to manage anything it might throw his way. He was surprised to find, upon entering it, that the walls rotated and doors moved out of place. However, he didn’t spend two years making a living map of Hogwarts to get lost on account of a rotating door trick. He found what was he was looking for easily enough, if it had taken awhile. Glittering in the darkness, like golden sand caught in crystal glass, was a row of Time-Turners. He grabbed one deftly, and went to hang it around his neck before freezing as the door he just came through was flung open, and James Potter, of all people, came flying over the threshold.
“Oh thank god Sirius you idiot,” he said all in one go, and grabbed him by the arm, pulling out a Time-Turner and quickly throwing it over their necks. Sirius was too shocked to move or respond, and in the blink of an eye they were traveling back hours, until the very early morning he guessed, and then time finally halted. James grabbed Sirius’ hand and gruffly said, “Come on, we’ve got to get out of here quickly and I might not remember the way.” James boldly led him through several doors, some dead ends, but finally one that got them out of the Ministry. With a quick look around, James apparated them to the top of Sirius’ tenement, and immediately brought out a pack of cigarettes. “Fuck, I need a fag,” he said, and pulled out his lighter.
“James, James, what just fucking happened?” Sirius shouted, his voice echoing into the early morning air.
“You think you’re the only one who can mess around with Time Turners, you idiot? Yesterday…no, tomorrow morning, I was reading the paper, and there was an article there, not very big or anything, saying that an unknown intruder had infiltrated the Ministry last night—this night—stolen a Time-Turner, and died under mysterious circumstances without having been identified. I barely took notice until I heard a scream from Lily from the hallway.”
Sirius knew what was in the hallway, the only thing besides a painting of tulips and a picture of Lily’s parents. A clock.
“It said you were dead. And I knew then what it was that killed you, what it was you tried to do, and I, like you, couldn’t imagine going on alone, and so I did the same,” James said, adding with a distinctly James-like air, “but better.”
Sirius stood as if shell-shocked for a moment, before saying, “So it works.”
James nodded, “It did this time it seems, but there’s only one way to be sure, and that is to hang around until the same time tonight and see whether you die one way or another.”
Sirius stilled at this, before voicing aloud the thought that had been recurring to him over the past few minutes, “Who’s downstairs?”
James gave him a look, which after nine years of near-brotherhood he knew exactly how to interpret. They both walked to the door that opened out onto the roof, and walked down the few flights to Sirius’ flat. Sirius couldn’t get used to thinking of it as being just his, although it had been only two—four?—days, the pain of Remus’ death still permeated everything. It was only when his mind was working as it was now, the cogs turning over entire possibilities of a new plot or plan that it stopped. Determination took over.
When they reached the door James stuck out his hand, holding Sirius Back, saying, “If you’re in there, you’re going not going to want to see you at the door.” Sirius nodded wisely, stepping back into the corner, as James knocked. And knocked again. Surprised, Sirius tossed him the key, and waited as James unlocked the door and went in to explore.
After a few moments, James called “Sirius,” clearly directed at him, and he hurried in.
James stood bewildered in the middle of the living room, and said, “You’re not here.” Immediately Sirius connected the dots.
“Then it worked, you see! I think I know why the other me is gone. The possibility of him, of me as I was here this morning, has been eradicated. It can’t happen anymore, because you dead-ended it when you saved me.”
“And what about me? Am I here anymore?” James asked, catching some of Sirius’ enthusiasm, but obviously worrying about Lily.
“I think you’d have to be, in some capacity, but I don’t know for sure. And I don’t think I could check in this case, it’s more dangerous, because if you are indeed there and you see me as I am now, you might not believe all this like you did yesterday—tomorrow—and I have no idea what the repercussions would be.”
James sighed, before saying, “You’re probably right. I just wish I could know. If I’m gone she’ll…”
“James, why are you worrying? If we leave right now, even if you aren’t there no one will know.”
“Now I’m the one being stupid. Alright, when? When do we want to go to?”
Sirius was thankful that he didn’t so much as mention the possibility of not going. He wondered maybe if James had had the idea first he’d have done the same anyways. Remus was a Marauder. He isn’t to James what he is to Sirius, nor what Sirius is to James, but they are all bonded stronger than blood, and if changing time will save Remus from death, than James will do it, just as he would, he thinks.
“That afternoon. We have to convince Dumbledore in no uncertain terms that will we be going on that mission.”
“Should we tell him why when we get there?” James asked.
“No. Dumbledore would put and end to it. I know he would. He may be wise, but there are some things I know his cautiousness wouldn’t allow. Playing with time and death is one of them.”
“Saves the stupid heroics for the young, I guess?” James said, drawing out his Time-Turner. “We should go back to the roof. Just to be sure that we won’t appear here in the future if time still continues in the same way.
“Exactly what we’re aiming to change, my friend, but you’re right.”
As the sun rose hazy in the smog swamped city, two friends suddenly disappeared.

“Please, sir! Please, just allow us to come. You can let some of the others take this round off, or swap with our next ones, I just don’t feel safe knowing that Remus is out there with none of his friends to watch out for him. He’s still worn out from the last full moon.”
Albus smiled half-heartedly at the earnest young man before him. “I’m sorry, but you do know why I keep you all separate, don’t you? I fear that if you were all together, Pettigrew included, that you might get too reckless and bold. I don’t think I’m being unkind in recognizing this has been a fault of yours, Sirius, or even you, James.”
Sirius knew that this was true, but he also knew privately that if he wasn’t reckless as hell he wouldn’t be here now, trying to save the man he loves. So he tried another tactic. “Headmaster, if you ask for one of us, you’re going to get all of us. Even Peter agrees. If I don’t get your permission I’ll follow him out the door anyways, you can’t stop me from going!” James looks at him guardedly, sending two messages, one of panic, as he recognizes that this is all talk—if there is another Sirius here then Remus can’t be followed by this one, it would be too risky—and secondly, that Sirius is pushing this almost too far, and that Dumbledore is going to catch on that something is not right, if he indeed has not already.
“Merlin, you are trying, my boy! Why this sudden urge?” Albus begins, frustrated, before taking on a more gentle, plying tone, the one he uses to invite secrets, “What is it you haven’t told me? I may be able to help.”
What James forgets is that Sirius is the better liar.
“I’m sorry Headmaster, it’s nothing, really. I’ve just…I’ve just been so worn down lately, afraid of all that could happen.
I can’t control things, and I see everything that’s been happening…all the deaths, and it’s, it’s... And me and Remus, we’ve been arguing lately—things have be fairly fraught between us, and if anything were to happen to him, and I couldn’t do anything, I couldn’t even be there, then it would kill me. It’s just so dangerous for him right now, dealing with the stress of the moon, and he’s mentally worn out from so much pressure from that stupid, bigoted werewolf legislation. And I feel like he needs us and he can’t ask for help, and I just want to look out for him. Actions speak louder than words—just let me be there to watch over him, and I promise, I’ll be careful,” he pleaded.
James wisely interjected, “You know how close we are to him, he’s like blood to us, as is Peter. If you just allow us all on occasion to work together, at least in pairs if not all at once, we would be satisfied with that. We just want to protect our own.”
That was the kicker, although it might have been a great many others things that Dumbledore was burdened with, not having time to deal with upstart twenty-somethings who at least had good intentions, if some ideas about chivalry that needed to be knocked out of them eventually. Whatever the cause, he sighed and gave in, giving them orders as to when and where and they left.

“I liked the Head Boy card, it was a very nice touch,” Sirius said over a mouthful of greasy chips as he and James made their way to the rendezvous point.
“And your relationship troubles. You did play that up a hell of a lot, didn’t you?” James said, picking over his sandwich.
Sirius nodded. Things weren’t good, but they weren’t so bad, otherwise the him who is probably sleeping in his flat right now, if he even exists anymore, wouldn’t have gone backwards and forwards repeatedly in time in a desperate attempt to save his lover from death. If he’s thankful for one thing, it’s that as of yet, war has only given more meaning to his life. He knows that if this war goes on for many more years, it might take its toll in broken dreams and apathy, but right now, in the midst of it all, it is what throws into relief all he has. He may be slipping away from normal existence and tenuously holding on for his life, but he has also never been more certain of the value that it is to live in so dark a time, as the body toll rises so high that lives seem so expendable, so quickly gone. He’s not about to let death be the end of it for Remus, he’d almost rather follow him into death than let the cards fall thus.
When they reached the rendezvous point, and Remus asked in surprise why they were there, Sirius simply said, “Filling in for Dorcas, she couldn’t make it.”
“And Dedalus,” added James, and that’s all there is to it, while they slowly count the hours until the point at which things go wrong.

The fighting is hard, there is a flurry of colour and noises as spells fly recklessly and blood flows vermillion from open wounds. And despite all their foreknowledge and attempts to band together and watch out for Remus, he still falls lifeless to the ground with the parting curse that ends the battle.
The other Order members look to them, and are puzzled to see only a sag in their shoulders, a defeated silence; a puzzlement which gives way to utter shock when they see without second thought James and Sirius apparate away, leaving their friend’s lifeless body on the ground, amidst the fallen enemy.

On a heath in the Yorkshire countryside, just a mile away from Mr. and Mrs. Potter’s old summer home, two men now stand spinning the clock back desperately to eradicate anything of what just happened, before arriving again in twilight of the early morning, shivering in their insufficient jackets.

“It didn’t work” “I know it didn’t” “He was supposed to” “I know” “How do we” “I’m not sure” “But it happened when you” “I know!”

“Would you just give me a second to breathe,” James said, sitting down cross-legged on the grass, shoving his hands under his arms to stave off the cold. Sirius lowered himself beside him, going over in his head the moment when Remus’ body fell lifeless in front of him.
“Whatever we do now, we can’t go any farther back—no ahead—than that moment, otherwise we could end up being there again, and disappearing without a word, again.”
“What if we let what’s happened happen, what if we allow ourselves to be there, while we fight from behind the Death Eaters? We know where the attack is, and they won’t suspect anyone’s behind them because there was so much chaos the first time—second time. And if…and if it goes wrong, we can do the same as we did then, the exact moment we did then, or before.”
“If…what a funny thing,” James said glumly in reply, but assented nonetheless to the proposal.

Watching Remus die for the second time, experiencing it for the third time, Sirius felt as if he were drowning. How much more pain he could take he did not know. He took out the one who had killed Remus last time and yet Remus still died at the hands of another a mere moment later. James had his hand in a tight grip as he apparated them the graveyard of Godric’s Hollow and spun the Time-Turner quickly, until it was noon, before they had gone to see Dumbledore. Sirius still looked lost, subdued by grief and confusion. “It still happened, James, just different from last time, but it happened.”
“I know, Sirius. And I think I know why, why I was unsure this would work this time. When we went back today, we expected ourselves to be there, in essence we expected that the course of events would not change, or else how would we have been there? And did you notice, that when you killed the Death Eater that had got Remus last time our other selves disappeared, but nothing otherwise changed, he still died. Whereas when I rescued you, the other you, the one in your flat, disappeared immediately, permanently, because that possibility was eliminated. The same thing needs to happen here. Something has to change. Really change. There has to be something that alters the event completely, however small,” James said, pausing for a moment to light up, before adding as an afterthought, “You know, I think when I did it for you, it wasn’t just a decision to save you, it was that I decided not to leave you alone anymore. Not to let you deal with this on your own as I had until that point, but to get you back and then stick by you, either in grief or even in a mad attempt to get him back. And I’m also starting to wonder if the first is what’s laid in the cards.”
Sirius leant against a cold stone monument, mulling it all over. He knew James was right, about their foolish attempt today, about it not being enough, and he thought about resigning himself to his grief. But it simply could not be. He stood up, and said, “No.”
“No, James, I won’t give up. And I think I know why this isn’t working in part. I think I have to do this alone, that I myself have to change something, not the both of us. I think it’s up to me.”
James looked at him, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Sirius—”
“James, please. Just give me the Time-Turner. Let me try and finish it.”
James fished out the Time-Turner and held the glittering hourglass just above Sirius’ palm, hesitating to hand it over. “Promise me, Sirius, that this is the last time. If you can’t save him this time just stop, and let life return to normal. Learn to live without him as you one day will have to anyways. If you can’t get back your time together now then don’t waste your life in the quest for it. It’s too dangerous, especially for your mind. If it doesn’t work come back to the future and let yourself grieve properly and move on.”
Sirius didn’t want to promise this, he wanted to continue at all costs, but James was stronger than he was, and James was fundamentally right. It had to end this time or not at all. And so he assented, and so James gave him the tiny hourglass, before drawing him close into a hug. “I’ll be waiting at…at…in the park across from where you live. If it doesn’t work this time, find me there, and we can wait together until any versions of us out there now have disappeared. We could even take something of a holiday, yeah?, get away from it all for a few days. I know you’re hoping that that can’t happen, but if it does, well, it’s there. I’ll wait,” he mumbled into Sirius’ ear. Sirius held onto him even tighter in gratitude, before letting go and watching James disappear.
He held up the Time-Turner, looked at it, and thought, thought about everything that had happened, and about all the things he believed in, and he saw. He saw that James was right, and he knew if he could do nothing else, at least he would take his chance to say goodbye to Remus, to end it on the best note he could, if it had to end and he only had once chance. Looking around him, seeing the peaceful village of Godric’s Hollow near empty, he slowly turned the dial, no more than four times, and apparated home, just as he was going out the door.

He stood in the corner of the hallway, placed under a disillusionment charm, as one of his selves walked quickly down the stairwell and out the door. Giving himself a moment to breathe, he removed the charm and unlocked the door. Remus was frozen in the middle of drinking his tea, but immediately relaxed when he saw it was just Sirius.
“Forget something?” he asked.
Sirius walked over to him and took away his mug, pulling him to his feet.
“Just to say that I love you,” Sirius said, kissing him slowly, deeply, lingeringly, knowing it might be the last. When he pulled away Remus was blushing, whether from the kiss or the idea behind it he wouldn’t know.
“Three years and you can still be that romantic, Sirius. How do you do it?”
“Hmm?”
“You make me feel so silly. And stupid sometimes, and like a girl. And even if I’m not so skilled at dropping it on you at really unexpected times, I love you too, very much.”
Sirius broke out into laughter, the kind that comes from relief of tension, when you’ve been so stressed and worried and upset and suddenly someone says something that doesn’t even have to be very funny but it’s just right, and suddenly you are free from all that anxiety, as he was now. Sirius kissed Remus gently once more, just a hint of a kiss really, and said, “Goodbye, and don’t forget your keys. They’re by the jar.”
He left, he put up a ward to let him know when he came home and walked about Muggle London, not daring to go to the park. He listened to the buskers on the sidewalk, picked up curry from an Indian restaurant, and nearly went into a fortuneteller’s booth that had been set up, but decided against it. He moved as if through a sea, not part of the water but floating above it, until he came to a bookshop, where among the famous quotes pinned up on the wall was the phrase: “Love, like death, changes everything.” Sirius stared at it for a while, unsure whether it was some good or bad omen, or just a silly quote someone once liked, before turning his eyes away to the clock, which read near five-thirty.
“I should have been home from work by now, but nothing’s tripped the sensor,” he said to himself, and suddenly began to run home, forgetting apparition and all other faster means of travel for the purely physical feeling of being motion. When he got to his flat he quickly unlocked the door, quietly going to his bedroom—their bedroom—to see if he was napping, as he should be. He went back into the living room, the bathroom, the kitchen, and no one was there.
“I’m gone! Oh thank god, I’m gone!” he thought, rejoicing to himself, but then he saw, there on the counter still, the keys. “But, I told him. He should.” All his previous joy was gone now, once again unsure how all this would play out, and whether or not the he and James that twice tried to save Remus were still out there, whether the him who came back to his flat the day it all began didn’t disappear on one of those occasions first. He had only to wait.

As it drew on eight Sirius was more than edgy, he was torn between tears, excitement and fear. If it didn’t end soon he didn’t know what he’d do. He could see if James was still in the park, he could go back to a time when he would be, but that really wasn’t what he was thinking about, was it? What will he do it if doesn’t work, if his last chance ends the same as the first, that night six days ago and yet only tonight.
At precisely eight twenty-three, there is a knock on the door.

Any one seeking dramatic relief from a decidely unfunny fic should go listen to this song Death Is Not The End. It makes me laugh.