Awful Things

Somewhere, in another little corner of London, at number 12, Grimmauld Place, another man was drowning in his sorrow. The early morning light filtered through the half-closed blinds, casting mottled patterns on the worn wooden floor. The room, though shrouded in half-light, was tinged with a faint, lingering scent of old books and rusty memories.

Remus Lupin lay on his imprisoned lover's king-size bed, the worn sheets beneath him cool, and slightly rough against his skin. Each toss and turn seemed to echo in the silence of the room, accompanied by the soft creaking of the bed frame.

As he shifted beneath the thin covers, Remus' thoughts swirled like a tempest within his troubled mind. The weight of grief pressed down on his chest, making every breath a laborious effort. Memories of happier times danced just out of reach, teasing him with their fleeting presence.

As the first rays of sunlight pierced the room, Remus found no solace in its warmth. Instead, he lay there, feeling the harsh contrast between the world outside, and the darkness that enveloped his soul. The world outside his window seemed oblivious to his anguish, with the distant sounds of a city awakening - muffled car engines, faint voices, and the occasional distant cry of a seagull.

He decided, that today was going to be the day, he finally got out of bed. This can't go on forever, he has to come to terms with the facts, and that meant understanding, that Sirius, his lover, his one and only, has fucked up so monumentally, that it just can't be made right.

Resolute in his decision, Remus finally summoned the strength to rise from the bed, his bare feet making the transition from the cool, crumpled sheets to the slightly warmer wooden floor. Each step towards the door was a deliberate act, and the ageing floorboards beneath him groaned in protest, voicing their complaints with each creak and sigh. As he moved, the stagnant air in the long-neglected room seemed to stir, and long-settled dust particles danced in the silvers of the morning light. They clung to his clothes, his skin, and his tangled hair, a tangible reminder that this house hadn't seen the tender care of a cleaning hand in a long, long time.

As he stood on top of the grand staircase, once the proud possession of the Noble House of Black before being commandeered by the Order, Remus felt an overwhelming wave of emotions wash over him. The intricate tapestries adorning the walls whispered stories of a time long gone, their faded colours and fraying edges mirroring the memories of happier days.

His eyes wandered to the portraits that lined the walls, their stern, disapproving gazes softened by layers of dust. It was as if the very essence of the house bore witness to the passage of time, watching over generations of Blacks and now, the remnants of a war-torn Order. Remus couldn't help but feel a deep sense of melancholy.

All his friends were gone. Marlene, Peter, Lily and James - names etched in his heart, now residing in the cold embrace of death. Their absence haunted his every waking moment and left a void that could never be filled. And now, the revelation of Sirius' betrayal threatened to shatter what little remained.

And of course, there was Evan Rosier. Once one of his dearest friends, but their bond had been torn by two very different decisions. Evan chose to fight on the other side. The side, that then caused his death. Remus couldn't help but feel awful, for not pestering Evan more to join their side. He just watched it all unfold.

The weight of it all pressed down on Remus' shoulders, making each step of the once-grand staircase feel like a descent into the depths of despair. The house, with its dark, foreboding corridors and secrets hidden behind heavy drapes, seemed to close in on him, suffocating him with the legacy of a family steeped in darkness.

As he sat at the enormous dinner table, the marble beneath his hands cold and smooth, he ate his toast. He had a peculiar habit of cutting it into four equal pieces, applying different toppings to each one, a small ritual that stayed from the times spent at James' house during school breaks, a bittersweet reminder of simpler times.

Midway through his breakfast, the realization hit him like a sudden gust of wind. Today, he was supposed to meet Barty. It had been a spontaneous decision, one that he couldn't quite explain to himself. After all, it was Barty who he had initially blamed for leading Evan down the dark path that ultimately led to his demise.

Remus couldn't help but wonder if this meeting was a mistake, a futile attempt to seek answers or closure. He had no illusions about Barty's involvement with Voldemort, but he also couldn't ignore the fact that they had all been products of a tumultuous time, forced to make choices that would haunt them forever.

As he chewed on his divided toast, each bite a conflicting blend of flavours, Remus contemplated the upcoming rendezvous. It was a chance to confront the past, to delve into the shadows that had shaped their lives. But it was also a risky venture into the unknown, a step closer to the truth he both craved and feared.

The place he picked was a cosy, little café nestled in the heart of London. Its quaint exterior, adorned with potted plants and a weathered wooden sign, exuded a warm charm that had always drawn Remus and Sirius in before. well before everything unravelled. Remus settled into a wrought-iron chair at one of the small, round tables, positioned near the café's large window. Sunlight filtered through the glass, casting a dappled pattern on the checkered floor tiles, reminiscent of the hazy memories he held dear.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air, intermingling with the sweet aroma of pastries displayed on a nearby counter. Remus inhaled deeply, finding comfort in the familiar fragrance that carried him back to a happier time. He absently traced the rim of his coffee cup with his fingertips, a subtle reminder of the countless conversations he and Sirius had shared over these tables, their voices mingling with the café's gentle hum of activity.

Remus gazed out of the window watching as people passed by on the bustling London streets. The distant chatter of pedestrians, the occasional honk of a car horn, and the rhythmic footsteps of hurried commuters all blended into a city symphony, a stark contrast to the haunting silence that had filled his days since Sirius' betrayal.

As he waited for Barty, uncertainty gnawed at Remus. He didn't know what to expect from this meeting. He and Barty had never been close, their interactions limited to shared glances in earlier days. Yet, Remus felt an inexplicable need to connect with someone who had lived through the same tumultuous era. He hoped that in the shared experiences and the unspoken understanding that came with them, he might find a flicker of solace or a thread of closure amidst the chaos of their pasts.

The melodious jingle of the bells above the café's door brought Remus' immediate attention, and what he saw left him stunned. Standing in the doorway was a figure that bore a striking resemblance to the once-vibrant Barty Crouch Jr. yet, this man appeared to have aged twenty years beyond his actual age. His eyes, once filled with vitality, were now red, puffy and lifeless. Threads of grey ran through his hair, a stark contrast to the youthful visage that Remus remembered. He resembled a living ghost, his cheeks sunken and his figure alarmingly skeletal, as if he had endured unspeakable trauma at a young age, leaving behind a haunting spectre of his former self.

'Hello!' Remus greeted, his voice barely above a whisper, but it was enough to draw Barty's attention. He had intended to say more, but the words eluded him in the presence of this changed man.

Barty's response was low and almost threatening, his eyes scrutinizing Remus. 'Why did you want to meet me?'

'Why'd you come?' the other replied with a question, surprising Barty. His eyes widened a bit as he realized, they were both here for the same reason. 'We went through the same things Barty...' Remus began, only to be cut short by Barty's words.

'Don't you dare call our shit the same!' his voice grew louder, the anger in his words palpable. 'My love died! All of my friends died! I haven't heard of Dorcas since... since we parted ways.' Barty shook his head as if he was trying to stop himself from crying, his voice trembled with a mix of pain and anger.

Remus couldn't hold back his emotions, Barty's words stirred something within him. Something, he thought he had buried long ago. 'Oh, get off your high horse...' he retorted, his voice heavy with grief and frustration. 'Sirius is in Azkaban, so who knows how long he'll live... and besides him, everyone else is well... dead. And I also don't know anything about Mary...' His voice cracked as he spoke and he hastily wiped away the tears that had welled up in his eyes, refusing to let them fall. 'And... I also lost Evan.' his voice is now much lower, a whisper almost.

'I swear to God if you say his name again, I'm leaving.' Barty warned, his voice trembling, a lump in his throat and his head spinning.

Remus couldn't hold back. 'Barty you can't deny, I was his friend...' he began, but he couldn't finish his sentence. Barty abruptly got to his feet and stormed towards the door. Remus hurriedly followed, desperately trying to bridge the gap between them.

'I lost my love too... I don't have Sirius anymore.' Remus choked out, his breath hitching, as the realization dawned on him.

Barty whirled around, his voice louder and more passionate than ever. 'Oh my god, why can't you understand?' Tears streamed down his face as he poured out his heart. 'Sirius fucked up. He betrayed your friends. He's gone. You're free of a traitor now! As for me, I fucked up. And now Evan's gone. I have to live with the traitor forever because he is me!' The weight of his confession hung in the air as he looked deep into Remus' eyes baring his soul in that moment of raw vulnerability.

Remus immediately took a step back, startled. He didn't know Barty felt this way. He thought he was still proud of his choices like he was that evening when they talked to each other for the first time.

Hogwarts was empty on Christmas morning. Only a couple of students stayed behind, which included Remus Lupin, desperately trying to master the art of studying, while keeping his friends safe, and Barty Crouch Jr., who didn't have anywhere to go home to. James had gone home, to visit his parents, wanting to spend more and more time with Effie and Monty in these trying times, meanwhile, Sirius had stayed behind with Remus, but he slept in, missing breakfast.

The Grand Hall was strangely empty, a few sixth or seventh-year Ravenclaws who had formed a study group were poring over books and notes, their quills scratching on parchment as they tried to get ahead of their classmates. Two or three first-year Hufflepuff girls were talking in a hushed tone, their soft whispers occasionally breaking the silence. They had to stay here because their parents feared the war too much to let them out of the castle.

Besides these people, there were two others, sitting directly opposite of each other, at different tables. Barty and Remus.

They had never talked before, there was really nothing for them to converse over, the only bridge between the two was Evan Rosier, who had to go home to his family for winter break. The winter sun streamed through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the polished wooden tables. Even the ceiling tried to provide comfort for those, who stayed behind, the weather being sunny and occasionally even snowing a bit.

All of a sudden, Remus felt an irresistible urge to rise from his seat at the Gryffindor table and make his way over to the Slytherin side of the Great Hall. The atmosphere in the Hall had a mix of anticipation and tension in it, with students scattered across the long tables, their conversations creating a low hum in the background.

He just couldn't ignore the gnawing thoughts about the decisions they had all made, especially Evan, and how they opposed each other.

As he approached the Slytherin table, the sounds of hushed conversations faded away, along with the clinking of cutlery against plates. Remus could feel the curious gazes of everyone in the Hall, as he took the seat opposite Barty, his heart pounding with a mix of determination and apprehension.

'What?!' Barty's voice didn't even waver as he continued to read the Daily Prophet, his tone dripping with hostility. He didn't even look up from the newspaper, tilting it slightly upwards. The headline read, "WEREWOLF ATTACK IN LONDON!".

'Please not Evan...' the other boy's voice quivered, almost drowned out by the ambient sounds, and it surprised both of them. His words were soft, yet carried a weight of concern.

Barty slowly raised his eyes from the newspaper, fixing Remus with an unreadable expression.

'Fuck off out of our business Lupin.' his words aimed to scar, his narrowed eyes filled with disgust and loathing. 'As if we cared about what you had to say. Pathetic.'

Remus could feel his anger surging, intensified by the approaching full moon. 'I swear to God, if you get Evan hurt, I'll rip out your insides, Crouch.' suddenly, he realized how quiet everyone was, and took a look around. The Ravenclaw students were looking over at them directly, putting their quills down and closing their books. They knew, what was going on, and didn't try to hide it. Remus took a meaningful glance at Barty as if to say, "Now they know what you are", and then stood up with a loud creak of the old, wooden floors, and stormed out of the Great Hall. The Hufflepuff girls nearby looked frightened, their gazes following him, as he passed them by, muttering insults under his breath.

But obviously, war changes people. Barty Crouch may have been a proud boy at seventeen, fighting on Voldemort's side, but he was nothing more than a man, who's shoulders were heavy with the decisions and choices he made a long time ago.

'You know, Barty... I didn't mean the whole rip-out-your-insides thing...' Remus tried to steer the conversation towards a lighter topic, because he was exhausted. Being at war, with the people you love can be very exhausting. The street was bustling with pedestrians, their footsteps creating a symphony of echoes against the cobblestones. Dimly lit street lamps cast long shadows, and the distant hum of the city enveloped them in an urban cacophony.

Barty had a glint of disbelief in his eyes, locked onto Remus', then, without uttering a single word, he turned on his heel and started walking home. He could feel Remus' eyes on the back of his head, so he lifted two fingers, and made a rude gesture towards him, putting his feelings into words.

Remus couldn't shake the feeling of being an utter asshole. He sighed, feeling the weight of his own inadequacies and the strain of the times pressing down on him. As he watched Barty's retreating figure, he couldn't help but reflect on the difficulty of addressing such serious topics. He had always used humour and light-heartedness as a defence mechanism, a trait he borrowed from his lover, Sirius, who now languished in Azkaban, a painful absence that underscored the gravity of their situation.

He sighed, turned around, and headed home in the pouring rain, his mind wandering back to much simpler times when he didn't have to think about whether Sirius was alive or not, and if the dementors had kissed him yet.