The Summer Before

Hours before Harry sat on his bed contemplating a letter from America, Remus Lupin was struggling to escape from a nightmare. In one of the upstairs bedrooms of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, the now permanent headquarters for the Order and under a new spell for unplottablity, Remus was tossing and fighting against invisible demons. His face soaked with sweat and heart pounding against his chest, it would appear that he was engaged in the fight of his life. And in some ways, he was.

Remus’ dreams were filled with the people he’d lost over the years. He relived his parents’ deaths, Lily and James being attacked, Sirius’ imprisonment, Peter’s “murder”, and eventually watching Sirius disappear behind the veil and Dumbledore being laid to rest. They each flashed in vivid detail as Remus lay paralyzed by the events, helpless to do anything. Then he saw her. She never blamed him for it; in fact, she didn’t acknowledge him at all. That was perhaps the hardest thing. It was seeing those mesmerizing eyes that didn’t register even the slightest flicker of remembrance that he fought hardest against. He begged her to remember, remember anything.

Whimpering and groaning, he finally managed to break free from the hold of the dream. Running his hand over his face, he tried to clear his head. He sat up and lit the candle on the bedside table. Checking the time, he wasn’t surprised to find that it was still the middle of the night. He’d not been able to sleep well for most of his life, but it had seemed to be getting worse lately. Sighing, he knew he’d not get more sleep this night. He slid his feet to the floor and moved to sit at the desk across from his bed. Taking up a piece of parchment, he decided it was time to write to Harry. He felt awkward, unsure of how Harry would take him trying to comfort him. Remus didn’t want Harry thinking he wanted to take Sirius’ place, but at the same time felt that Harry needed him. Dipping the quill in ink, he started a simple note to Harry.

It didn’t take him long to finish. It felt awkward, stilted almost. Sighing again, Remus felt so unsure of how he should try to help Harry. He thought of what Harry had said at Dumbledore’s funeral. He’d not be finishing his education. Remus could hardly blame him; Hogwarts was no safer than anywhere else. Snape and Malfoy’s son had proven that with their actions. Leaning his head back, he tried to think of something other than what had recently been occupying his thoughts. The full moon was in two days time, he told himself that that explained his restless mind.

The sun was starting up over the horizon as Remus addressed Harry’s letter. As he finished, he suddenly wondered if anyone had looked through the Muggle post that occasionally turned up for 12 Grimmauld Place. Surely the Muggle postman thought it odd that an empty lot sprouted a rundown house, and even more odd that it should get post, but it seemed to happen now and again. Sadly, other than Remus only Arthur Weasley ever thought to go through it. Of course, Arthur found the postage and sorting process fascinating. Seeing as he’d been doing shorter terms on duty at headquarters, Remus doubted the mail had been sorted lately. Setting Harry’s letter aside for the moment, he headed downstairs to the foyer table where any Muggle mail was piled until it could be gone through. He noticed that the pile was relatively small, only five or six envelopes. Gathering them up, he made a detour to the kitchen for a cup of tea while he set about his task.

Cup and letters in hand, Remus returned to his room. The house was empty save for him, but members tended to “pop” in at any given minute. Remus preferred the quiet. He preferred his solitude, but he knew that the others needed to gather, needed to be around others involved in the cause. It seemed to help them regroup. Maybe he preferred being alone now more, especially since Tonks had decided that she fancied him. He shut his eyes against the image of her looking so solemn, so heartbroken when he’d tried to explain why it was impossible for him to be with her. She’d never understand, no one ever had or would. It wasn’t only about his lycanthropy, although that seemed the easiest explanation to give. No, it was much deeper than that.

Shaking off his thoughts of heartbroken Aurors, Remus picked up the first letter and quickly deduced it was a mass mailing, as were the second and third. The fourth, however, was not only surprising, it made his breath catch. Hands shaking, Remus opened the letter and read anxiously what the author had written.

Remus,

I’m sure that as you read this, your mind is reeling. I know that Grams kept you apprised of my condition over the years and I know that at times it seemed more than hopeless. A year ago, Grams heard from a friend that she had learned of a Healer on a remote island. Grams, being Grams, researched the Healer and his tactics. Satisfied that he could possibly be the one that could offer a positive perspective, she made an appointment and well, it was better than we’d hoped (ok, better than she’d hoped, since I was in no shape to really care). It took a year, but I’m me again.

Well, I’m me with a few new memories, and new losses. Although most took place years ago, I’ve found myself feeling like I lost them all at once. Dear Merlin, have you any idea of what it feels like to recover so much and yet lose so much all at once? It was rather difficult, I’ll admit, but at least I’m capable of grieving and remembering.

Grams told me that you’d been in contact with her since I’d returned to America. Your concern for my condition only strengthened her belief in what a “good boy that Remus Lupin is”. She regaled me with stories of how she had to keep Sirius at bay while he was on the run from the overworked Aurors of Britain, apparently he was convinced he could bring me back (who told him I was a modern day “Sleeping Beauty“, I wonder?). She tells me that she caught him far too many times trying to wake me with a kiss, first to my lips, then my eyes, my hand, she hastens to add that she hopes that he was gentlemanly enough to keep it above the neck (I know you’re blushing, Remus, so did I). Which only strengthened her conviction that “that Sirius Black has less common sense than a puppy” (oh if she only knew). I wish I’d been able to know that he was back. I would give almost anything to see him one more time, to touch him, but that’s one of the many things I have to get used to I suppose. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought of something that I wanted to owl Lily about, only to realize I couldn’t. I wanted to thank you, Remus, for staying in contact. It means so much, knowing that you’re still here.

I won’t lie; it hasn’t been easy to wake up now. Grams kept all the news relating to Harry, and I’ve devoured every inch of print that mentions him. What he’s gone through, what he’s had to face in his short life, upset doesn’t seem strong enough to describe how I feel when I see what he’s had to contend with. I should have been there for him, but instead I’ve been asleep, untouched by the passing years, unaltered by the events of the years, unknowing of the world around me. My waking seems to be both a blessing and a curse, Remus. How can I rectify being absent for so long? How can I fulfill a promise made to my best friends, to a baby I fell in love with at first glance? I’ve missed so much, failed to be there to get to know him. He’ll hate me, won’t he, Remus? Voldemort took so much from all of us, but he took the most from Harry.

I’m sorry, this isn’t your problem and I shouldn’t burden you with my worries. What started as a “Hey guess who’s awake?” letter has turned into my ramblings of a fearful witch. I will ask you one favor, if you can find it in your heart to agree. Please, answer any of Harry’s questions about me, at least those that you can answer. He knows you, Remus, I’m nothing more than a woman in a picture (I’ve included a picture in the letter I’m posting to Sirius’ house along with this one. It’s the one of you, Sirius, Harry and me on the day following his birth. I thought it would help him know that I wasn’t lying about who I am.). I want to meet him, if only to give him the things that Lily and James gave me to keep for him before they started into hiding. It’s time, I think, that Harry and I meet. I need to see him, if only to convince myself that he’s really still here too.

I hope that this letter reinstates our past pen pal status, Remus. I found myself missing you more and more over this past year. I hope that you’re doing better during your “time of month” (I’m very sure you’re blushing at that use of words. You must admit, it’s better than your “furry little problem”. I wonder do you still have the stuffed bunny in a cage that growls that I gave you Christmas of our seventh year.) . I remember how I used to anticipate your letters while I studied for my “consulate” position in the Ministry. I hope to be able to travel within the next few weeks, so perhaps we can see one another soon. I miss you, Remus.

I suppose I’ve kept you long enough. I’m sure you’re rather busy with Order business, so I won’t keep you longer. If you prefer to owl me a letter feel free, I just suspected that owls were more likely to be intercepted than “disgusting Muggle post”. I hope to hear from you soon. Good-bye.

Always,
Tia

PS….I suspected that perhaps you’d forgotten what I looked like, or perhaps you might be curious of what I look like now, so I included a picture that Grams insisted she take after I started “being more like my old Tia”.

Remus found himself smiling at the letter. She always managed to have her letters sound like she was right there beside you telling you what you were reading. He chuckled at her theory that he’d forget what she looked like. As if he could ever forget her. He looked inside the envelope and there it was her picture. His hands were still shaking as he removed it. His eyes drunk her image in and he felt his heart clench at seeing her awake. He wasn’t too shocked to see that she hadn’t changed much, that was one of the more baffling side effects of the curse that was put on her, but it was one that he’d been informed of. Tia, Lady Tia, to be more exact, he thought smiling. Merlin, how long had it been since he’d thought of her as Lady? For too long his only thoughts of her were how depressing the chances of her awakening were looking.

For almost sixteen years she’d been suspended in a sleep state. He remembered when they were first told of it happening. How Sirius had been furious that she’d gone to the estate alone. How Lily was so sad at being unable to even visit her sleeping form. How James was frightened how close Voldemort was getting to their inner circle. Even little Harry, just having turned one, seemed to pick up that something was amiss. He’d asked repeatedly for “An Tee,“ his toddler equivalent of “Aunt Tia”. Mostly he remembered how he’d felt lost, totally and utterly lost and helpless. If Tia could be taken, then no one was safe. Mostly they all wondered why she wasn’t simply killed, but Dumbledore reminded them that death would have been easier to accept for everyone. It was surely more troubling for Tia to be suspended, not living but not dead either. It was torture for all of them, he remembered. Visiting her, talking to her, holding her hand, but knowing she knew nothing of what was going on around her. He’d left after every visit aching to his core. When Grams had decided that perhaps it would be safer to move her back to America while they searched for a cure or counter curse, it almost made it easier on everyone. He’d tried to move on, keeping busy with small assignments for the Order and his futile searches for work that he could manage with his disease. Then when James and Lily really went into hiding, using a Secret Keeper and taking much deeper precautions, it served as a reminder for losing Tia. Their deaths destroyed all that was left. Sirius to Azkaban, Peter “murdered”, Lily and James dead, and Harry gone to the uncaring Muggles, in a matter of days his whole world crumbled.

Lost in his thoughts, Remus nearly didn’t notice Hedwig pecking against his window. She’d begun this ritual when Sirius returned. Harry and Sirius tried to use other owls, but Hedwig still managed to figure out where the letters were going, then she kept coming back. Remus smiled at the smart bird. Opening the window, he offered her an owl treat. He went back to the letters and saw that the next envelop in the stack was the one from Tia to Harry. Sighing he added a post script to his letter and put Tia’s letter in with his. Handing the letters to Hedwig, he ran his hand along her head and told her that the letters were meant for Harry. He watched as she flew from the window and out of sight into the fog.
Picking up his cup of tea once more, Remus let his thoughts drift back to his time at Hogwarts and a certain redhead with icy green eyes.