Remus
July 31, 1991
Paris, France – Porte de Clignancourt
?? Pov.
The day had been long and exhausting. Another shift in construction, another scorching sun beating down on my neck, another night in a seedy pub with my pockets as empty as my stomach. All I could afford was a hot, disgusting drink, but alcohol was alcohol.
I took a sip and tried to ignore the metallic taste on my tongue. How the hell did I end up here? I never wanted fame or glory. My dream was simple: a bookstore in Diagon Alley. A quiet place, filled with books and coffee, with my girlfriend by my side, our children running between the shelves. Sirius and James would come to buy schoolbooks for their little monsters, and Lily would scold them for leaving everything to the last minute. But no.
James and Lily were dead. Sirius was in Azkaban. And Bellatrix… Bellatrix was in prison for loving me too much to let me die.
Life was just great for Remus Lupin.
I took a deep breath, letting the bar's stale air fill my lungs. And Harry? My shared godson. Where was he? How was he?
Maybe he was with Lily’s sister, enjoying his eleventh birthday…
A fleeting thought, followed by a long gulp. It burned going down, but not enough. Why didn’t I just die with Bellatrix when I had the chance? Maybe everything would have been easier. Maybe I never would have had to feel this misery.
But something happened. Something I can’t quite remember.
I went to Albus for advice. We were supposed to do it together, Bellatrix and I. One last breath, one last look, and then—eternity. I wanted him to say yes, to let us go in peace. But… everything gets blurry after that. Something stopped me. Something made me hesitate. I didn’t give her the poison.
I don’t know why.
I don’t want to think about it.
Yes, it’s better not to think.
I took another sip. Today was Harry’s birthday. I had sent him a gift, though I had no idea how he would receive it. He always loved chocolate, just like me. It was a good day for my godson.
So, I drank to him.
No need to think too much about it.
But it was hot. Too hot. And after a whole day under the sun, I needed to cool down.
I looked up. The water in front of me was dark and murky, reflecting the yellowish lights of the pub. An improvised bathtub in the middle of chaos. Perfect.
Without thinking too much, I jumped.
SPLASH.
The water was dirty, with a faint smell of spilled beer and old detergent, but it was cold, and that was enough. For the first time all day, my body stopped aching.
—"Sir, get out of the fish tank this instant, or I’ll have to remove you!"—a shrill, annoying voice shattered my tranquility.
They didn’t understand anything. I just needed a moment.
—"Relax, mate, let him be. Can’t you see he just wants to have a little fun?"—a drunk man to my left slurred, swaying as he grabbed the waiter trying to pull me out of the water.
The waiter shoved him aside, and the drunk’s beer spilled onto the floor.
What followed was absolute chaos.
The entire pub erupted into a brawl.
Fists flew. Chairs shattered against unsuspecting backs. Someone threw a bottle, someone else toppled a table.
Some stayed out of the mess, too busy drinking and betting on who would pass out first.
Meanwhile, I was completely unaware.
The water was cool. My eyelids were heavy. I let my head rest on the edge and closed my eyes, curling up in my improvised bathtub.
I didn’t see the broken lightbulb still hanging from the ceiling.
I didn’t see it loosen, spinning through the air.
I didn’t feel the exact moment it fell straight into my water.
Hogsmeade, 1980
The tavern was nearly empty. Only a few candles illuminated the worn wooden tables, and the air smelled of cheap whiskey and tobacco. Outside, the rain fell in thin curtains over the cobbled streets, drowning out any sound except the crackling fire in the fireplace.
Bellatrix clutched her glass so tightly that her knuckles trembled. She didn’t drink, didn’t speak. She just stared at him.
Remus held her gaze for a moment, then looked away. He couldn’t face those dark, hungry eyes, the ones that had devoured him so many times in their desperation to steal time from a world that would never allow them to exist.
He knew this was going to be hard. But he had to do it.
—"We can’t keep doing this,"—he finally said. His own voice sounded hollow, foreign, as if it belonged to someone else.
Bellatrix didn’t react immediately. Her fingers tapped against the glass. Then she smiled, but it was a joyless smile, empty, just the shell of an expression that once had meant something.
—"We’ve always known that, Remus. Since the first kiss. Since the first time you touched me."
Remus closed his eyes for a second. He couldn’t let those words sink in. He couldn’t allow himself to remember the warmth of her skin tangled with his, the way her nails dug into his back when everything around them was crumbling and all they had was each other.
He loved her. Damn it, he loved her like a man loves when he knows he has no right to.
But it wasn’t enough.
—"I’m not talking about the Black family. Or the marriage contract. Not even the war,"—he continued, each word weighing on his throat like stones.—"I’m talking about us."
Bellatrix set the glass down on the table with a dull thud. The dark liquid spilled onto the wood, but she didn’t notice. She just looked at him.
—"We’re the only real thing I have, Remus. Do you even realize what you’re saying?"
Yes. He knew. And he also knew this would break her.
But it was better this way.
—"There’s no future for us, Bella. Do you understand? We can keep pretending there is, stealing minutes, hiding in dark rooms, but in the end… in the end, we’re just delaying the inevitable."
She laughed. A bitter, sharp laugh.
—"So what then? You walk away and everything disappears? You stop loving me because the world won’t let us be together?"
—"No."—he admitted. He could never stop loving her, even if he tried. But love, no matter how fiercely it burned, wasn’t enough to stop the weight of the world.
Bellatrix leaned over the table. She was all fire, all restrained rage.
—"You know there’s a way out."—Her voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the intensity of a roar.—"We could end this. Together. Not in this shitty world, but in another. One last breath, and then nothing. No blood, no duties, just you and me..."
Remus shuddered. He had considered it. Of course he had. More than once, he had thought of taking her hand, closing his eyes, and leaving with her to the only peace possible.
But somewhere in his mind, a shadow rose.
A voice that wasn’t his.
A pressure, an idea that hadn’t been there before.
Dumbledore.
The thought seeped into his mind like poison. He had gone to see him, to ask for advice. But he couldn’t remember what he had said. He only remembered going into his office with the intent to end it all and walking out with the certainty that he couldn’t.
—"No."—Remus said, and the word was so cold he barely recognized it as his own.—"I can’t."
Bellatrix tensed. Her expression changed from anger to something worse. Something broken.
—"You can’t… or you won’t?"
I don’t know.
But he didn’t say it. He just stood up, pushing the chair back with a screech against the floor.
—"It’s over, Bella."
She stared at him, searching for the man she had loved. Searching for proof he was still there.
But Dumbledore had made sure Remus would never see her the same way again.
—"Go to hell, Lupin,"—she whispered at last, her voice shattered.
And for the first time, he obeyed.
The sun filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the wooden table. The scent of freshly brewed tea mixed with the faint perfume of lavender that lingered in the air. The house was warm, cozy, real.
Bellatrix was behind him, her long, delicate fingers running through his hair with the familiarity of a routine repeated a thousand times. A touch, a gesture, a love built from small moments.
He turned to her, finding her smile—soft and unburdened. She was beautiful, radiant in the afternoon light.
—"The girls..."—he murmured, and then he saw her.
Their daughter. Running across the meadow, her laughter filling the air as her sister chased her with a garland of flowers in her hands.
Remus closed his eyes for a moment, sinking into the moment. It was peace.
Bella tilted her head, her nose brushing against his. He responded in kind, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips, sealing the certainty that this was real, that it had always been real.
But something changed.
The sunlight flickered.
The lavender scent dissolved.
The warmth on his skin vanished, replaced by something rough, damp, filthy.
And when he opened his eyes again…
…he was lying on the floor of a foul-smelling bar, drenched and shivering.
The wood beneath his cheek was cold. The air reeked of spilled beer, sweat, and blood. His body ached as if he had been hit by a carriage, but the sensation felt distant, as if his mind couldn’t quite process it.
Where…?
He blinked, trying to focus his vision. The ceiling was low and clouded with smoke. The flickering light of a broken bulb sputtered above him.
No. No, no, no.
He jolted upright, a tremor running down his spine. His skin burned, his heart pounded with a desperate urgency he didn’t understand.
Where was Bella? Where were his daughters?
His breathing turned erratic. This wasn’t his home. This wasn’t his life.
He looked at his hands. They were rough, scarred, calloused. His nails were dirty with soil, and his clothes reeked of hard labor and misery.
But that didn’t make sense.
Because just a moment ago, he had been with them.
He had seen them.
He had touched them.
He had kissed his wife and heard his daughters laugh.
He staggered to his feet, feeling his mind split in two.
A scream inside his head.
An echo of something he didn’t want to hear.
This isn’t real.
Remus clutched his head, his nails digging into his scalp, as if he could tear the confusion away.
No.
It can't be.
But then, the world around him seemed to shift, and the memories came crashing down on him like an avalanche.
The war. The blood. Bellatrix in Azkaban. James and Lily dead.
Sirius… a traitor.
A wave of dizziness hit him so hard he nearly vomited.
The pub was still there. The voices of drunken men fighting. The filthy, sticky floor beneath him.
And in the reflection of a shattered glass on the ground, he saw his own face.
It wasn’t the man he remembered being.
It was Remus Lupin.
And he had just awakened from the most beautiful lie ever constructed.