Of Lies And Of Truth

The sky showed a pale, translucent blue when Stephen Seeker strode down the street in the direction Ginny Potter had pointed him. To his surprise he found that he was honestly enjoying finally doing more than the few steps from the front door of his cottage to the garden gate, but he had to wrap the precious cloak most carefully around his body to keep it from billowing in the fresh breeze. He was considerably taller than its true owner and found himself forced to walk in a slightly crooked posture to avoid curious looks at booted feet taking a promenade all on their own.

Ginny Potter had been right; it was only a short walk. Less than five minutes later he saw a one-storied house, built of the same grey stone as the Potter's cottage. Long rows of aster beds in the warm, rich colors of autumn filled the flamboyant front garden and a huge, golden sign with green letters told him that he had reached Fionnula Flannagan’s Fascinating Flowers.

Wide glass doors opened to a big showroom, and roof lights let the sun in. The multitude of scents was overwhelming and nearly numbing. He passed a dozen buckets with cut roses and an enormous plant bowl with long-stemmed flowers in glowing red and orange shades and a sign that said: “CAUTION, MAGICAL FIRE LILIES - DON'T RISK BLISTERS!” He wondered briefly what the sign said when read by Muggle eyes, but then he was distracted by a young woman, her blonde, curly hair tamed by two long braids; she was arguing with an elder lady.

“You told me to plant the rows with those new Babbling Begonias further apart to keep them from chatting, Miss Veronica," the lady complained with a shrill voice. "But now they’re yelling at each other, and my poor doggy won't stop whining and stubbornly refuses to come out from under the bed!”

He left the two women behind him as he walked through a high archway into a huge greenhouse. Long tables with planting boxes stretched into the distance, but aside from the plants there was no sign of life. To his right, a second archway led into another greenhouse, and he could hear the sound of voices from there... or of one voice, to be precise. He turned right, passed through the second archway… and nearly ran into Ruta, who was standing just beyond it, her back turned to him, straight and rigid as a broomstick.

“… my dear Ruta, you certainly understand that I can’t easily square it with my conscience to let someone with your special… erh… condition work here. I have to consider my customers…”

He made a soundless step to the left and now he could see the woman speaking; she was around her sixties, rather small and plump, and she wore the same green apron he had already seen on the young gardener in the showroom. She also had the same fine, blonde hair and very similar features; they were obviously related. The green apron covered the biggest part of a dress with a generous pattern of colorful flowers… a dress that would have excellently suited the type of grandmother baking cookies and fruit cakes and gifting her offspring with hand-knitted sweaters... only that the woman wearing it wouldn't fit that cozy image. Her round face was a tense and anxious grimace, and the smile on her lips was false.

“Listen, Fionnula…”

He stood by Ruta's side, still hidden beneath the cloak, and studied her profile. She was deadly pale, and a muscle was twitching above her cheekbone, but her voice betrayed nothing of the turmoil he could sense beneath the calm surface.

“I already told you that I won’t be able to work for the next few months anyway. This is nothing we have to discuss right now. And as soon as I’m able to use my right arm again, I will take care to be away from here every time the …” A short pause, then she continued in a slightly strained tone. “… every time it is necessary. There is no need to worry.”

“Don’t be naïve, lass,” Fionnula snapped. “Maybe wizards don’t usually read those silly Muggle papers, but I do. I have many customers in St. Mary Green and the entire Eskdale, who have never raised a wand in their entire life, and you know that perfectly well. A wolf killed one night, my best rose gardener, not coming to work the very next day and then miraculously vanishing behind the walls of St. Mungo’s for more than a month… do you really think I’m that dimwitted? And my daughter works here, mind you, and I won’t put her health and fate to risk… not to speak of my own.”

She shot Ruta a gaze of thinly veiled disgust. The way she would look down on some pestilential creature, Seeker thought, and suddenly he had to fight the childish impulse to throw off the cloak and to leap to her defense.

He remembered how Minerva had told him about Harry doing exactly the same thing eight years ago, when Amycus Carrow spat into her face in the Ravenclaw Common room, just before the last great battle. They'd been sitting in the Headmaster's office, exchanging apologies and explanations over a very good bottle of scotch, not three months after his "resurrection".

"I wonder how he managed to survive those last years at school with more than his share of idiotic Gryffindor chivalry, mixed in with the usual improvidence of too many adolescent hormones!" had been his immediate, snappish reaction.

Minerva’s answer had been delivered with a raised eyebrow and the hint of a smile, her Scottish accent a distant drumroll in her voice. "Because of his courage and the loyalty of his friends… and because of you. As you know damned well, my dear Severus."

He nearly missed that Fionnula was speaking again.

“Aside from the danger, there’s also the financial situation I have to think about,” she mercilessly went on. “According to your own words, you won’t be able to work here for months… if ever.” A look of repugnance at the limp fingers of Ruta’s right hand. “I need someone who will reliably be here, to take over the rose-growing… someone who doesn’t drop out of sight every time the moon turns full. And even if you could work in the near future - do you really think people who know will still be willing to buy anything from you?”

He felt Ruta wince beside him, but she still kept her voice perfectly under control.

“They won’t know, unless you decide to tell them… and even if they do, why should they hesitate to appreciate my work?” she asked. “My skills won’t change just because my body will. I am what I always have been.”

“Sad to say, but you’re wrong,” Fionnula said, and he could hear a hint of cold pity in her voice. “The moment you got into the way of that beast, you lost every chance to stay… erh… normal.” Seeker didn’t see the expression of Ruta’s face, but the elder woman did, and now her tone was at the same time embarrassed and angry. “Don’t look at me that way, lass – it's not my fault that werewolves contaminate everything they touch."

“It is not my fault either.” Ruta’s voice was nearly inaudible.

“I didn’t say that it was your fault!” Fionnula countered defensively, her tone shrill and exasperated. “But you’ll have to cope with the consequences, my dear, however unpleasant, and I think we should put an end to this conversation now. We’re moving in circles.”

She hesitated, eyeing her former employee with a calculating gaze.

“Anyway, you did an exce... perfectly adequate job during the last eight years. And if you promise me to refrain from making any trouble, I would be willing to grant you three… well, two months' salary, as severance pay, given your… erh… difficult situation.”

“How utterly generous.” Ruta’s voice was a perplexingly close echo of his own sarcastic thoughts, and for some unknown reason this realization cut through his fortified defenses like a knife. “I guess I should go now.”

“Good luck, Ruta.” Fionnula turned away, busying herself with a planting shovel, a flower box and a dozen seedlings. "I asked Veronica to pack your personal belongings yesterday; they are in the wooden box in the rose house. If you can't take them with you, please arrange for someone to collect them by next weekend. You must excuse me… I’m rather occupied right now.”

“Of course you are. Farewell, Fionnula.” Ruta whirled around, hurrying through the archway into the next greenhouse. But instead of continuing her way into the showroom, she walked over to a narrow glass door he hadn’t noticed before.

It led into a small, sunny room, half of it filled with countless roses and the other half overflowing with their heady, spicy scent. Ruta headed straight for a big table with phials, bottles, flasks, beakers, and a small alembic, and Seeker felt a sudden tinge of sheer longing for the familiar equipment he had left behind in another life, and the fulfillment it promised. But this was not his lost sanctuary.

He stood back and watched her as she silently ran her fingers along glass, clay and wood; after a while she produced a small key from the pocket of her burgundy robe. She opened a drawer in the front of the table, pulled out a small book and slipped it into her pocket. Then she turned away, and her gaze wandered along the long rows of saplings, the multitude of rose trees in every color imaginable and in all stages from buds to full, glorious bloom. He saw that she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply; for a few minutes she stood without moving. Then she shrugged off her numbness, dropped the key on the table and walked out of the silent, fragrant room, leaving the door wide open.

They had nearly reached the entrance of the market garden when the younger Flannagan woman ran after them. Quickly he ducked behind a huge planting bowl and watched her reach out hesitantly to touch Ruta's arm.

“Will… will you come back soon? What did Mama say?”

“We have decided that it might be better for your mother to look for a successor in the rose house,” Ruta replied. “She… we don’t believe that I’ll be able to come back any time soon.”

“But - “

“She is right,” Ruta gently said. “And after our conversation I don’t think that it would be a good idea anyway.”

“Oh.” The young woman stared down at her hands, biting her lip. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“I am, too.” Ruta leaned over and kissed her cheek. “But this doesn’t mean that we have to lose sight of each other, does it? You know where I live, and you are always welcome, Veronica.”

“I’m so sorry,” Veronica repeated, still not raising her gaze.

Ruta turned away and went out through the big glass door, past the aster beds and out on the street. She didn't give the place where she'd been earning her living for the past eight years another glance, but turned her back to it with a firm finality. Seeker wondered if she would return to the Potter’s house to lick her wounds, but to his surprise she took the road that led past grey houses and autumnal gardens, out of Berwick and towards St. Mary Green.

He had to take long steps to keep up with her – which proved to be more arduous than expected, given the insufficient length of the Invisibility Cloak – and very soon they were out of the small town, leaving the last buildings behind and walking to a bend where an old fashioned road sign said Smithybrow Lane. She turned right to where a grove of oaks and beeches painted a dancing pattern of green and gold on the asphalt. The sun sailed high in a clear, blue sky now, and the rippling waves of a big pond glittered brightly behind the crowns of the trees off to the left as Ruta went by, her eyes blind to the beauty of the landscape; she walked very fast now. They had reached the open countryside by the time the road to St. Mary Green crossed a narrow railroad track and passed a few farmhouse buildings before vanishing again under the shadow of the next copse.

They were shortly beyond the railway crossing when the high, clear tone of a steam whistle made them both turn; Seeker saw an astonishingly small locomotive approaching from the direction of Berwick, trailing a white cloud behind it and pulling half a dozen equally small carriages. The entire train was painted in merry colors of red, blue and green, and Seeker could spot a few faces behind the glass of the windows… obviously Muggles, enjoying a small holiday trip.

Ruta followed the train with her eyes until the rail track turned slightly to the left and all they could still see was the white flag of steam, drifting like fog across the lush meadow. She turned away and began to walk again, much more slowly this time; she reached the forest, but after a few dozen steps she suddenly stopped. He fell behind, watching her. She was breathing laboriously, clenching and unclenching her undamaged hand. Abruptly she left the road, heading towards a voluminous, ancient beech. She laid her palm flat against the trunk, and her head sank forward until her brow touched the smooth, grey bark. Her shoulders were shaking, and with a pang of discomfort he realized that she was crying.

His first and most fervid impulse was to back out of the situation at once. Tears had always been an awkward, miserable and downright offensive matter to him, and any student of Slytherin house in need of compassion would probably have preferred to die a shameful death before searching for any kind of comfort he might have condescended to offer.

But before he could bow to one of his oldest instincts, he saw the scene in the market garden in front of his inner eye again, clear and sharp like a magical photograph. That small, maleficent cow, holding her fear and prejudices up against Ruta like a shield, refusing to acknowledge that she needed friendship, help or some unabashed support… and Ruta, keeping her dignity far beyond the point where he would have pulled out his wand to give Fionnula Flannagan the thorough chastisement she deserved. With honest surprise he discovered how utterly furious he was on Ruta’s behalf.

Enough of this ridiculous Hide and Seek. She deserved better… they both did.

He let the Invisibility Cloak slip down from his shoulders and gratefully stretched his back.

“I admire your self-command,” he quietly said. “If I were you, Mrs. Flannagan would now sport rabbit ears, embarrassingly oversized teeth and an insatiable appetite for her most expensive plants.”

Ruta whirled around. She was white as chalk, her cheeks were damp, her eyes blazing with shock and anger.

“For heaven’s sake - Stephen! What you are doing here?” She rubbed her face with her sleeve, and he saw that her fingers were trembling violently. He reached into the pocket of his coat and wordlessly presented her with a handkerchief. She took it and unceremoniously blew her nose, then stared at him over the white cloth, noticing the Invisibility Cloak bundled over his arm, and blanching even more.

“How long…” She cleared her throat. “How long have you been… erh… observing me?”

“I wouldn’t call it observation,” he retorted. “I came over to the Potters' to offer my help, and they told me that you were going to see your employer. I must confess that I suspected – given your unfortunate addiction to the truth – that you would do nothing less but reveal the full story to Mrs. Flannagan and humbly surrender to her mercy.”

She stared at him, clutching the damp handkerchief in her fist.

“I – no. Of course not. I’m not a complete idiot.” She snorted. “All I told her was that I wouldn’t be able to work in the near future. And all the time she kept staring at my arm, and then she began to pick my brain about that mysterious wolf being shot in St. Mary Green. Ginny had only told her about a severe accident, but she found out that I had been brought to St. Mungo’s. Her daughter – Veronica – has quite a crush on that young Healer - Tiberius Tondrake - and they have been going out together for months now. Perhaps he accidentally let something slip about my whereabouts. The rest was easy, I guess.”

Stephen Seeker raised one eyebrow.

“You could have made up a story for her.”

“Oh, certainly.” Her tone was bitter. “And it might even have satisfied her – until the next full moon.” She bit her lips, unconsciously hugging herself. “And I prefer honesty. I really don’t think it would be a good idea to constantly put the wool over anyone’s eyes… Fionnula’s included.”

He studied her blank face.

“Tell me something,” he said. “When you came to Hogwarts in 1974, did you already know that your cousin was a werewolf?”

Ruta eyed him with faint surprise.

“Yes, naturally. He’d already been a werewolf for three years when he left Primary School, and he was terribly afraid that he might not be accepted. It was an enormous relief for him that he actually got his letter. When I came to Hogwarts, he had already found friends… they were the only ones beside me and his parents who knew.”

Seeker wisely decided to keep any comment about Remus’ friends to himself, but a short, ironical glint in her eyes told him that she was well aware of his consideration.

“Which means that you were the only one beside the… erh… legendary Marauders who could have revealed his secret,” he said. “But you never did… not even to your closest friends.”

“Because I didn’t have any close friends,” she countered. “There were a few girls I got along with pretty well, and the usual handful of classmates I adored from afar… but no one I would have wanted to tell this.”

She broke off, her gaze distant, as if lost in old memories.

“Besides… Remus asked me to keep a certain distance, for the sake of his safety… and my own. We rarely spoke to each other, aside from a few family gatherings at home, in the spring and winter holidays.”

He saw the ghost of a smile playing around her lips.

“You know, I was a remarkably colorless student, constantly sitting in a corner of the Ravenclaw common room with my nose in a book. No one thought me likely to know about such a very juicy secret, and therefore no one asked.” Their eyes met. “Not even you." Her gaze held a clear challenge. "And you must have been looking for a weapon against James Potter and his… gang… with all your might.”

“If you refer to the unfortunate attempt to discover your cousin’s whereabouts under the Whomping Willow in my sixth year…” he stiffly said, his lips involuntarily forming a thin line.

“About which I have a rather strong opinion,” she promptly retorted. “But I doubt you want to hear it.”

“Quite to the contrary,” Seeker coolly remarked, studying the pale face beside him. “I can’t wait to hear what you think about the matter.”

“It should be obvious, shouldn’t it?” Ruta said, her voice brusque. “In my opinion, Sirius behaved like an irresponsible arse, and James came back to his senses just in time to keep the consequences at bay. And even twenty years later Remus still felt guilty about it. As if he could have prevented it!” She sighed. “He felt guilty for many things… among them some that really were not his fault.”

Seeker eyed her thoughtfully.

“Knowing about his secret might have kept me from going into danger then,” he slowly said. “But I think I still may count myself lucky… unlike Sirius Black and your cousin I am still alive.”

Ruta rubbed her forehead.

“In the end you didn’t need me to find out the truth, did you?” She gave a short laugh. “You didn’t notice me anyway when you were a student. No wonder… as I said, I was a colorless bookworm, constantly hiding behind the shelves of the library.”

“I did quite a bit of reading myself.” His lips curled to a small smile. “Madam Pince used to compare me to a black crow.”

“Then I should perhaps be thankful that we didn’t meet there.” She shot him an ironical glance. “You know what crows do with worms, don’t you?”

His face grew serious again, and for a short moment he felt very uncomfortable.

“I don’t know what I would have done,” he said. “I was desperately keen on proving my worth and my amazing abilities, regardless to whom. You may count yourself lucky that I simply… missed this unique chance to find out what I wanted to know.”

He cleared his throat, surprised at his own honesty.

“You are definitely safer in my company today than you were back then. And for whatever reason, you did manage to keep his secret, as you have kept mine during the past few weeks. It seems as if even your admirable bluntness has its limits.”

Ruta shot him a strange side glance. “Very true… more than you might ever know.”

She stepped back on the road, and they slowly walked side by side towards St. Mary Green. The forest thinned, and the road grew a little broader, bordered by low quarry stone walls. To the left and the right green meadows and fields spread to the feet of the hills that rose like the waves of a giant, petrified ocean, the surface littered by rocks and trees; they passed a few farms and a big, generous hotel building with a wide, nearly empty parking lot on the left side and a deserted garden café.

“Summer holidays are long over,” Ruta said, “and the train we saw was half empty. It reminded me of Teddy, you know… a Muggle wrote a series of books, using that train as a model, and Teddy grew up with the stories of Thomas the Tank Engine as well as with the Tales of Beedle the Bard. I read both to him when he was smaller, and the first trip we ever made together was on that train, from St. Mary Green to the coast and back. He loved it, and whenever he has the time nowadays to do as he pleases, he visits the turntable.”

“The turntable?”

“St. Mary Green is the terminal station,” Ruta explained. “The steam engine moves onto a turntable, is turned around by two men and then drives back. Teddy never grows tired of watching.”

She fell silent, her eyes fixed on the road. From the tension in her face he could tell that her thoughts were taking an unpleasant direction, but he decided not to ask. It was astonishing enough that she suffered his presence anyway… had he found himself in her situation, he would have holed up like some wounded beast, snapping at everyone who dared to venture close.

It took almost another mile before she finally spoke again.

“I will have to try and find another job.” Her voice had a strange sound of disbelief… as if she were watching the radically changed circumstances of her personal life from a distance, only reluctantly willing to acknowledge the need to cope with it. “Fionnula’s garden market is the biggest in the area – in fact it is the only one in the entire Eskdale – and the opportunities around here are rather slim.”

“You could go back to the place where you worked before,” he suggested cautiously. “Where was that – near Dover?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I am probably lucky that the laws against the hiring of werewolves are history now… though I’d still better try to search for a tolerant employer. And I am not entirely sure that they would be.” She sighed. “I might as well accept Neville’s offer and apply for the post as an assistant of the professor for Herbology. At least I would not be the first werewolf to teach there.”

“What would you do if you had the choice?” he asked.

Another long, heavy silence, then she looked at him, her slate blue eyes filled with a sudden, burning despair. “But I have no choice!” she blurted out. “I can’t do what I really want to do; my account at Gringotts has never been opulent, my father’s pension is barely enough to feed him, and the orders from the Muggles in St. Mary Green won’t be enough to feed me. Even with two months' severance pay from Fionnula I will have to leave… and all I really want to do is to stay with Teddy.”

A sudden gust of wind turned her hair to a shimmering cloud around her face; for the first time he registered that she wasn't wearing her usual, chaste braid. The long, fluttering strands gave her an unfamiliar appearance, and suddenly he remembered how she had thrown herself at the werewolf, her voice a feral growl, her hands formed to claws. She had been ready and willing to sacrifice her life for the boy… and the staggering similarity to his worst, personal grief ever pierced the walls he had so carefully erected to shield his soul. An unexpected wave of annoyed impatience washed over him.

“How old is Teddy? Eight?” His tone was brusquer than intended, but he couldn’t help it. “Give him three more years and he will receive his letter from Hogwarts. That will be the day when he leaves you, only to return for the holidays, and this simple fact will rob you of your last excuse to bury your talents between rose bushes, chrysanthemums and ivy. I don’t know Andromeda Tonks very well, but I think she’s absolutely capable of handling the boy alone, even if your assistance over the last eight years was without any doubt very… comfortable.”

She opened her mouth and closed it again, her eyes shooting thunderbolts. When she was finally able to speak, her voice was nearly inaudible with anger.

“You… you have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said. “Even if you don’t understand how I feel about Teddy, you should at least know enough about the binding nature of promises. You kept watching over Lily’s boy, didn’t you - even though you constantly saw James mirrored in his face.”

She broke off, her voice a stifled sob in her throat.

“I am really sorry, Stephen, I shouldn’t have said that, but please --- I can’t simply leave Teddy, I can’t let him down. I already betrayed his father, and I won’t make the same mistake again.”

He stared at her as if he’d never seen her before… her face was glowing with rage and a passionate desperation. Gone was the Ruta he’d come to know during the past weeks, vanished without a trace was the composed, humorous woman who had patiently worked her way through his defenses and taught him things about friendship and trust he had never known during a laborious, dull life, spent in darkness and secrecy. This was an entirely different person… and suddenly and with cold clarity he understood.

“For you Remus Lupin has always been more than just a cherished cousin.” It was a statement, not a question. “You loved him.”

Ruta gave him a hard look, raising her chin… but it was nothing more but a last rearguard action, and they both knew it. Her shoulders slumped; she stepped over to the quarry stone wall and leaned against it, her head bowed.

“Of course I did,” she finally replied, her voice soft and brittle. “I always loved him, ever since I was a little girl. He was my childhood hero, and I had no eyes for anyone else… if Greyback had not decided to use him for his personal revenge against my uncle, things might have been different. But it's no use thinking about it. After Remus had been assaulted and infected, things changed... they simply had to. We grew up and our friendship held, but he steadfastly refused to see that my feelings for him slowly turned to something more serious and mature. All he noticed was the clumsy, affectionate little cousin, but I began to see him as the man I wanted to share my life with.”

She looked at him, her eyes dark and haunted.

"I've never told anyone. I never wanted to. And to tell you of all people..."

Then why had she spoken? It would be no wonder if her defenses were threadbare after all that had happened. His guess at her past might have pierced them. But why did it make a difference to her that she was speaking to him?

“I can assure you that I never intended to discover your deepest secrets... though I must confess that I was curious,” he said slowly. “I would understand it only too well if you decided to end this difficult conversation here and now.”

“Thank you,” Ruta earnestly answered. “But in a way I feel that I owe you at least a piece of the truth... for the sake of our friendship.” Her lips twitched. “If you agree that what we share actually is a friendship.”

Seeker hesitated, and then gave a small, solemn bow. “In this case… tell me as much as you see fit.”

Ruta pushed away from the wall, and they walked side by side again.

“In the years after Greyback attacked him I met Remus only a few times, but at least on a regular basis,” she continued. “Thanks to Dumbledore’s generosity he was allowed to go to Hogwarts, and two years later I followed him. As I told you, our contact was strictly limited to occasions outside of school, and even though I steadily left my childhood behind and began to fall in love with him, he gave no sign whatsoever that he might return my feelings. I didn’t care… I thought time was working for me. The day would certainly come when his eyes were opened and he finally noticed the woman I had developed into… and we would live happily forever after.” She caught a glimpse of his impervious face and her lips twitched once more. “Try to bear with me… I was terribly young and stupid."

He made a noncommittal noise.

“And I fear I didn’t get wiser with the years.” She gave a short, self-deprecating chuckle. “We were cousins, so very good friends… I was sure I knew what he was thinking, and there were times when I could almost finish his sentences before he did... I honestly thought we were meant for each other. But then I slowly came to realize that the curse lying upon him worked like a wall between us, obstructing his view of me and also his view of himself. He was absolutely convinced that marrying or even seeking out a lover was absolutely no option for him… and whatever I felt, whatever I tried to insinuate to him, my hopes kept being shattered against his stony resolution to protect the world against the danger in his blood.”

She sighed, running the fingers of her good hand through her long, tousled hair.

“And yet… even though he forbade himself to love, he hungered for friendship. Merlin, how much he hungered for it! That might have been one of the strongest reasons why he didn’t take his duty as Prefect seriously enough, at least when it came to the Marauders.”

Their eyes met.

”He knew he should have kept them from harassing you,” she said, her voice gentle. “If there was anything he was honestly ashamed of, it was his constant failure to stand up against them."

Seeker shook his head.

“I wholeheartedly appreciate your attempt to put balm on an old wound of mine, but we’re not talking about my long past tragedies. I still would like to know what gives you the eccentric idea that you betrayed your cousin.”

“That’s quite easy,” she gave back. “I probably won’t have to tell you anything about the awful years when the Dark Lord rose for the first time… and about the consequences of that ominous prophecy?”

“No,” he grimly retorted. “No, you won’t.”

"When James and Lily Potter went into hiding Remus was shattered. He missed them so much, and it wasn't just because James had always seen to it that he had enough money to eat and clothes on his back. He'd never been really happy taking charity, except that James and Sirius... and Peter too... always said that it wasn't charity, it was friendship. But it was not being able to go and talk to them, not being able to see how Harry was doing, that had him hovering between hope and fear. So I was the one he turned to with his misgivings -- while I was still anxiously waiting for him to look beyond the childhood companion and the clingy, little girl. And then that October night in 1981 came crashing down on all of us. A few hours after Lily’s and James’ death he stood on my doorstep.”

He looked at her, but she turned her face away.

“He was completely beside himself.” Her voice was soft and tense. “He was barely able to say anything coherent, but finally he stammered out the story of what had happened that night. I… I didn’t know what to do, I had never seen him like that. I cried with him, and I held him in my arms, and I listened to him while he helplessly and angrily accused himself of being careless, of not guarding them properly to keep them safe, of not understanding in time that Sirius was a filthy traitor, a murderer… He had lost all his friends at once, and right in that moment he didn’t care a straw that Voldemort had obviously been destroyed while trying to kill Lily’s child. I gave him wine, hoping that the alcohol would finally stop the unbearable flood of self-hate and naked desperation.”

She fell silent once more, and he waited patiently. Finally she continued.

“The alcohol calmed him down, at least a little. We were both shaken to the core, but as the night advanced I suddenly realized that the whole tragical situation was… like a gift.”

“A gift?”

Her lips curled to a warped smile. “Yes… it was the first time that I had the chance to be alone with him for years, and though I felt his pain with him, I could at the same time barely believe my luck. Remus was mad with grief; he was exhausted to the bones, incredibly vulnerable - and getting increasingly drunk. Therefore I collected all my courage, threw all reason to the winds and decided to make good use of the chance I was so unexpectedly given.”

“And did what?”

“I should think that was pretty obvious.” She stared at him, her eyes filled with self-loathing and dark irony. “I lured him into my bed. I stole a night with him and honestly believed that this was the beginning of a new life.”

“Which was ridiculously romantic and totally misled, I presume.”

“Absolutely,” she replied. “I wish I had finally seen reason then… though the next morning should really have been sobering enough. He woke up with an enormous hangover, absolutely horrified at the realization of what had happened. He apologized to me; he’d had enough cheap Bordeaux not to clearly remember who had made the first step. There was no romantic breakfast of new-found lovers, no vows of never-ending fidelity. Instead I found myself alone between crumpled sheets, staring at the cloak he’d left behind in his haste.”

He gave a snort of disdain.

“And this is the reason why you thought you betrayed him?” he asked incredulously. “A heedless romp as an overstrung youth made you bury yourself in St. Mary Green and sacrifice any shining opportunities you might have had - for Remus’ child?”

“No.” Ruta clenched her fist. “That’s not the end of the story… I didn’t learn my lesson. I refused to acknowledge that the whole thing had been a sad mistake, born of a too long suppressed desire and too much wine. My mother had died not too long before, and the death of Lily and James – and of so many others I knew - only added to the feeling that I had lost the ground beneath my feet. I clung to the notion that Remus would be my sheet anchor… and that I would be his. I was so… so obsessed with a true love I had been dreaming of for years and against all reason that I fervently kept praying that fate might tip the scales for me… I desperately hoped I might perhaps be pregnant.”

She gave a short, sharp laugh.

“When I realized that I was not, I found myself unable to bear the miserable failure of my poor plan. I sent Remus an owl, telling him that I was carrying his baby.”

He stared at her.

“You did… my goodness. What did you think you would gain with such an idiotic cheat?”

“His heart.” Her voice was thin and clear. “Believe it or not, I actually thought I could bind him to me. I knew he was a kind, responsible man, and that he honestly cared for me. I knew he would rather marry me than to leave me in the lurch with a child. I thought… for heaven’s sake, I was insane!” She swallowed laboriously. “I know this is no excuse for what I did.”

“How very true. How far did you carry this pitiable charade?”

“I finally came to my senses and stopped the whole thing before it got completely out of control and any member of our family could find out about the ‘happy secret’. But after… after defrauding him for weeks I was still too gutless to show him the real depth of my betrayal. Instead of finally being honest, I made up the story of a miscarriage. I enacted a drama of noble sacrifice and resignation and told him that he was free of all responsibilities in this matter… you are absolutely right, it was pitiable.”

Ruta closed her eyes, her face a mask of bitter sorrow.

“I was such a selfish little fool. Instead of releasing him in earnest, I burdened him with a guilt he should never have carried on his shoulders. And I destroyed what we had, abandoning a rare, precious friendship for the chimera of a love that was never meant to be.”

He kept his silence, his thoughts following the trace of this utterly miserable, ridiculous tale, back to a careless, desperate girl of twenty who had tried to enforce the dream of her life against all odds. He had not known her then, but he remembered all too clearly what he had been doing while she had entangled herself and her cousin with her long suppressed love and hope, blind and deaf against all better reason. Well, this at least was something he definitely understood all too well… the frenzied self-hate, the dolorous self-reproach, the staggering realization that some things could never be put to rights again.

For a fleeting second he caught himself looking back at the man he had once been… the man who would never have listened to her, the man who would never have allowed himself to feel or to honestly care, save for that hidden obsession deep in his walled heart, the one gossamer-thin thread of devotion that had kept him from completely turning into stone.

“Did you ever tell him the truth?”

"Yes,” she said. “Yes, I did… but it took me years to muster the courage.” She gave a shuddering sigh. “Much too late, of course.”

Seeker slowly shook his head.

“Maybe late, Ruta – but not too late.” He was surprised at the gentleness of his own voice. “When you finally decided to make a clean sweep, he was still there to listen. Not all repentant malefactors are that lucky.”

She didn’t answer, and for the first time he noticed that she was very pale, swaying slightly on increasingly weak legs.

“You have had enough exercise and fresh air for one day,” he firmly declared, “and enough drama to boot. I wouldn't recommend that you walk yet another mile. I take it that you’re unable to fully use your wand arm yet?”

Ruta nodded wordlessly. She was at the end of her rope indeed.

Without further preface he let his own wand slip out of his sleeve and pulled her close; he could feel the fingers of her uninjured hand, finding his left in a hesitant grip. He focused on the spell, picturing their destination in his mind... and with a start he realized that he was actually holding her in his arms for the very first time. Her hair tickled his cheek, and for the fraction of a second he nearly forgot the reason why she was leaning against him. The closeness of her body was an assault on his senses, disturbing and thrilling at the same time. She smells of grass and roses, he thought, still struggling with his own, surprising reaction. Their eyes met, and her gaze held his… and then the magic pulled at him with irresistible power and swept them both away.

TBC...
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Author's Notes:

Thank you for still sticking with me and this tale; the last writing on chapter 15 and (probably) two epilogues is nearly done now, but Real Life is insane, both for me and my great beta. You will see the end of the story here, I promise - I've never given up on any of my WIPs, I just need more time than I have. *sighs*