Title: Year 13
Author: Pooki Ze Great
Genre: Angst? Sure.
Illustrations: None ... yet ...
Summary: Jessica Riddle, having being pushed through the veil on Hallow'een 1981, only to be, the next second later, in a museum here in this dimension on Hallow'een 1986, writes to Remus, 13 years after she came here. Contains Sirius "death" theories.
Warnings: Het, sadness, adding more evil to Peter's sin list
Archiving: Ask first
Disclaimer: I don't own Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, or anything else which appears in this fan fiction other than my RPG character Jessica Riddle. Who is not a Mary-Sue, in case you were scared for a second. I'm making no profit, just having fun.
Rating: PG-13 or something
Pairing(s): Remus Lupin/Jessica Riddle (Original Character)
Feedback: I am an absolute feedback whore. PLEASE REVIEW!!
A/N: I wrote this in math yesterday. Yay for me. Yes these are my personal paranoid theories. >.< Leave it be!
You probably barely remember me, but each day your face grows clearer in my mind.
They make such a mockery of you here, unintentionally, but still ... some of them even have the audacity to proclaim you're lovers with that slimeball Snape! Others (occasionally myself included, if you'll forgive), make the reasonable assumption that you and Sirius were lovers. I of course, know that couldn't've have happened until after I left, but I wouldn't doubt for a second you two have taken ... "comfort" in each other many times. If you have some way of knowing about this, you should know that doesn't bother me. It thrills me, in fact, because I didn't want your life to be in any way impaired by my "demise." And, well also I must admit, the mental image of you two together is an altogether nice one, and I hope that
They've drawn pictures of you. I spend many hours searching for ones in tune, ones who somehow know how you really look. I left without a picture ... he pushed me through unprepared ...
But I remember, Remus. Nothing could make me forget you, and the way I
Do you even know what happened? Probably not. You probably think I left you in our greatest time of need willingly. I re-oprn the scars every night now, Remus. Every. Night. For you, and your memory. Gods, Remus. Out of all the things that woman had wrong, all the things she left out, I hope she was correct about the Wolfsbane potion. I pray that it is. Pray to myself, to the stars, to no one in particular ... and every once in a while I'm bold enough to pray to the moon.
Each day that passes, something else comes back to me. The particular way your hair fell one day, the familiar crooked quirk of a grin you gave me so many times, the way you always tried to hold everything in and when it came out, no one forgot. All of it rushes past me in a tidal wave of emotion. Old wounds re-opened for the sake of knowing.
That's it. I can't take it anymore. I'll write it down now. I need to tell someone, even if that someone is a half-blank piece of paper from the corner store down the street.
It was Hallow'een 1981. I was excited, remember, before I was to come over to see you, I was going to go with Lily to take Harry trick-or-treating for the first time. He'd had that cold, remember, the year before, and now I wonder if Harry ever did get to trick-or-treat, but judging by the sound of the people he stayed with it doesn't sound like it. Pity, but that's not what we're talking about.
As I was saying, I was going with Lily. She wasn't sure if the Fidelius charm would still work if she left the house, so James was staying there and I'd come with her, I could out-curse any Death Eater, and I'd already proved countless times before that I could duel with Father long enough to escape (as you know all too well). She was of course worried about it, I mean this was The Night she'd talked about, and Tove had died, as predicted by them, mere days earlier. The wounds were still fresh, and I was ready to tear Father limb from limb for the pain he inflicted on us all.
In any case, I never made it to Godric's Hollow that night. I was dressed as a car, all in black satin and fishnets, with those ridiculous fuzzy ears Lily had ordered me to wear after making them herself.
I was just getting into my rental car, the black one with the frayed roof, going incognito so as to lessen the chance of danger to Lily, Harry, and James. But no sooner had I stuck the key in the ignition than a cloth was pulled tightly over my face. Feeling faded, and all went black.
When I came to myself, I was in a room. A strange room, because to this day all I can remember was I was laying a few metres away from a worn veil, fluttering in some unfelt breeze with a thousand whispers hidden within it.
I heard footsteps from behind me, and I rolled from laying on my right side to my back, to meet the narrow, watery eyes of none other than your good "friend" Mr Pettigrew. Countless times I'd seen him before, twitchy at most times, frightened and jumpy at mention of any Dark Arts, but this was different. Very different. I'd much rather have been up against Tom wandless than with him there.
He was wild, shrieking about how he'd finally gotten the best of the Black/Potter pair (it still sickens me, you three were the nicest to him I think anyone's ever been, and I deeply regret not being ruder to him now), how Tom was at James and Lily's house right then, killing Harry. I was petrified. I told him, asked him, begged him to stop. But he just laughed. He rambled about how proud he was, how "Master" would be so pleased. He'd given Father the Potters, and now he'd dispose of me, his daughter, the thorn in his foot, as well. I had an angry flashback. I realised everyone but Sirius, Peter, Lily, James, Tom, and I, thought Sirius was still their secret-kepper.
They'd thought you were the spy, Remus. I'd overheard while I'd been helping Lily around the house not two weeks before. I'd screamed. Lily had panicked, making me give her my word that I wouldn't tell, though even she didn't look quite so sure that they were doing the right thing ...
She made me promise, Remus. And if I've told you once, I've told you a million times that this Riddle's only as good as the words she manages to keep within her.
And there I was being yelled at and threatened by the person they'd trusted, Peter McMotherfucking Pettigrew.
I was standing in front of the veil, now, stupid cat ears in my hand, and an eyebrow raised.
I cautiously began backing up, away from Peter, and towards the veil.
Finally, he grinned madly, and darted forward, giving me a quick shove backwards. My arms flailed wildly as if in some macabra cartoon before I fell through.
Spinning, blackness, flashing colors which aren't colors at all, patterns, whispers, hissings, gropings, scratches, screams.
Suddenly, I was laying on a cream marble floor. I looked around. A museum. I wandered into the gift shop and checked out the calenders, trying not to let my eyes widen too much when I saw it was 1986. I asked the clerk what day it was. After shooting me a very strange look, he replied it was Hallow'een. Hallow'een 1986. I'd lost 5 years, yet I still was physically 19, the same I'd been when I went through, none of the deep tears I'd felt in my skin visible or felt.
I read the books as they came out. The moment I heard the name "Harry Potter" ... My worst fears were confirmed. They're dead, Sirius went to Azkaban ... Judging by the years, I know Harry is 19 now (if he's still alive, that is). I wonder if you're still alive, every minute of every day. I wonder if you've finally beaten Tom.
But you know, the reason I wrote this letter to no one (I'll be tossing it in the fire the minute I'm done), the reason I HAD to put my thoughts of the last 13 years into words ...
Yesterday, I swear I saw Sirius.