It was a typical monsoon for the little village in the West Country. Mrs. Parker, a short but pretty-looking housewife, sat on the porch, sipping a piping hot cup of coffee, and watching her two little children play with the other kids of the village just outside her gate. It was almost twilight and the breeze was getting colder. She looked heavenwards and noticed that dark clouds were fast approaching their village. It would rain all night, she presumed. She hoped her husband would hurry up from work before it started raining. She looked out at the street that was crowded with people, some going to the market, or to the bakery, or to the church. Even for a little sleepy village, the life here was very vigorous indeed, she reflected.

She heard her little girl call out for her to join them; she just smiled and waved. Her daughter was skipping on a rope and hence did not notice when a man walked past her, nearly missing getting hit by her rope. However, her daughter faltered with her footing, stumbled and fell. Before she could even get up to check on her daughter, the man had doubled back to help her to her feet. He even checked her knee for bruises. She saw him giving her a polite and kind smile.

After speaking few words to her, he stood up, patted her head and continued with his walk. Her daughter came rushing to her and exclaimed saying that man said some thing funny and healed her scraped knee. She just smiled to humour her. Her eyes traced the path taken by the stranger and finally found him to be heading towards the war relic. She gave her daughter a kiss and the kid went off to skip again.

However, Mrs. Parker did not sit down again at the porch; instead she chose to finish her coffee standing near the front gate. She acknowledged Mr. Baker, her neighbour, as he went across the street with his two huge dogs. She smiled at Mrs. McPhee as she wobbled down the street to the baker’s. She watched her children play, but, her eyes still darted up to the man.

She took in his appearance this time, as he was standing, diagonally opposite, in the middle of the road, from where she stood at her house. He wore a weather-beaten tweed jacket, and trousers that looked quite old. He looked new in the locality—he did not reside in the village, she knew that.

She kept observing him; the more she looked at him, the more mystifying his actions seemed. That would be because she hadn’t really seen anyone staring at the old war relic for more than ten minutes, and the man had spent nearly thirty minutes doing so. She seemed strangely drawn towards the man. They way he stood staring at the relic, without any emotion clouding his face captivated her. The way his shoulders rose and fell told her that he must be taking very heavy, long laboured breaths.

Her silent “study�, however, was interrupted by an ominous thunder. The kids shrieked and pointed at the place where they had seen the lightning. Within seconds, it had started raining in earnest. She ran outside, abandoning all thoughts of the unknown man, to get her children inside. The girl readily ran inside the house to take shelter, the boy, like every other boy, was trying his best to stop his mother from getting him inside. A tug of war ensued between her and her son, but eventually she won out, though she could not prevent him from getting a bit wet.

She closed the front door and hurried inside her room to get towels, and dried her children on the hallway, before they made their way to their respective rooms to change. She again worried about her husband. She moved over to the telephone, thinking of giving him a call, but her eyes fell on the open windows that opened out to the street and which were letting the rain wet her carpet. She hastened to close them, when she noticed the man again.

He was still standing in front of the relic, now getting drenched in the heavy rain. But this time she also noticed his slumped shoulders and his slightly bowed head. And then she knew; he had been searching for some one, someone long lost, amongst the engraved names…on the stone and cement…

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He stood there in the middle of the street, getting drenched, letting the drops touch every part of his body. The villagers did not take notice of him; they were busy running to take shelter in their little finely-lit porches, running to take cover in little shops, kids were coming out to get drenched and people ran past him splashing slush onto his shoes.

But for all that Remus Lupin cared—he was suddenly feeling a lot lighter. It were as if the rain was washing away his pains. As if the water that ran over the black cobbled street was running away with his miseries and his infinite grief. As if every part of him was being kissed by someone heavenly, who wanted to relieve him of his angst. It was as if the heaven had come down to lighten his aching heart.

He opened up his arms and looked up at the sky, “You’ve taken all…� he whispered into the rain.

You’ve taken away everything

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He looked at James, Lily and Harry. So happy they looked. So unfeeling they were. So heartless really—to have inflicted wounds upon a single man. He gave them one last look and then turned back to head home, or more probably, to some pub, where he would spend the next several hours of his life; he did not know, he did not care.

Through the heavy clatter of the rain as it fell on the cobbled street, he heard the church bells clang. The church looked beautiful in the rain; the high windows emanating the dim orange glow from inside and the faint hum of voices made his heart grow warm. Remus suddenly felt like he wanted to go inside.

He walked past several houses and lamp-posts, mysteriously drawn by the soft glow and the sound of the voices—so warm, so welcoming. He was a few feet away when the bells stopped and the drone of the voices ended abruptly; something left him, he did not know what—but he definitely did not want to enter the place now.

He stood there, a little distance away from the church under a street light—the flickering light making his profile waver in and out—not staring at the windows anymore, but instead, at a spot or probably a space, one could not make out in the dark and the rain, just beyond the church.

Thunder and lightening made the silhouette of a tall cross stand out eerily; it was not new to Remus, this was not the first time he had seen the cross, in the graveyard at Godric’s Hollow.

He did not know why, but he walked towards the graveyard, his mind empty, and his thoughts receding into something vague. He walked, not really knowing why he wanted to, but just trusting his feet to carry him to the place he had visited not-so-long ago.

He made his way without any plan or purpose, without intention, without emotion. The visibility was not good, but the little light that came from the church and the occasional thunder, was just about enough to keep him from stepping onto anything other than earth.

He made his way through the mud and slush, the smell of the fresh wet earth tingling his senses— or that’s what he wanted himself to believe, he did not want to concede that it was the sight of the unearthly glow of the two chalk white marble tomb stones that still, even after fifteen years, still haunted him.


Guess you are happy now, both of you, now that Padfoot’s with you. Didn’t think about me, did you? Not even once I guess…but at least for Harry…he kneeled down in front of their graves.

It was always you and Padfoot every where and for every thing…he looked at their tombs, his bloodshot eyes reproachful.

I did not mind it— when you chose to be brother-like to Pads—Padfoot—your best friend, neither did I mind it when you made him your best man. You choosing him to be Godfather to Harry did not sadden me either. I always felt you loved me—not equally perhaps—but definitely cared about me…but then, somehow it was always you both…his jaw firmly set, a nerve on his temple throbbing painfully.

Isn’t it, Prongs?

You chose him to be your secret keeper—baffled me, upset me. But you did not listen when I asked to reconsider your decision. Had you but listened to me, things could have happened differently. You never listened to me Prongs, and neither did you Padfoot…he let out a frustrated sigh and looked skywards, the rain now pelting down more violently.

Hadn’t I told you to stay at home and be safe till your name was cleared? Hadn’t I advised you umpteen number times to cut down on your recklessness? Hadn’t I told you to stop living your life the way you did when you were thirteen, a life of a rebel with no regards for rules…

Hadn’t I told you that we had to live to keep our promises?

But, you two chose to cold shoulder me again…leaving me behind, while you two went of for a rendezvous…he felt cold, his fingers numb, his eyes strained, his throat constricted.

I know you are with them, Padfoot. How convenient it is for you. How difficult it is for me. I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve to be left alone again. I don’t deserve to be hurt again. Why is that it is always me who is to keep promises and expectations…why?

My life was always pathetic and still is…I wouldn’t have complained had it always been that. People hated me and still do…I wouldn’t have complained had I not known love and friendship.

The only people…friends…parents…dead…no more…

I hate myself…I cannot explain…I hate my life…and you lot very well know why. I hate everything, every emotion…its getting worse…not because I don’t have anything to live for, but because the people I have to live for are living reminders of what I have lost…

I have lost…so much…

I am no coward…simply a sentimental fool…a fool, too righteous to break a promise. Promise made to the people now dead. A mother, a father, friends, brothers…all dead. Dead and cold. I hate it… I hate you all


And for the first time since his parents’ and James and Lily’s deaths, Remus cried. He cried for them, he cried for his dead parents, he cried for his friends’ fates, and for his own miserable life. He let the tears roll down his cheeks unrepressed and something heavy seemed to have been lifted from his heart.

He let his tears fall just like the rain, unrestrained. He tasted salt water on his lips, but it was quickly washed away by the sweetness of the rain. Remus Lupin cried and so did the heavens—as if heaven knew how much pain the man was in, and so it gave him its silent companionship, hiding him from the glares of the world, shrouding him in its pureness, and concealing his emotional collapse and his tears.

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It was still raining as heavily as before. His entire body was cold and numb. But he still stayed there, kneeling in front of the graves of James and Lily Potter. He did not know whether it had been an hour or more. He was in a trance-like state. He was deep in his dark musings to have noticed anything or anyone. It was only when a dark figure moved right beside him did he move his head to look at the intruder; equally drenched and shivering noticeably, with her pink hair plastered to her face was Nymphadora Tonks.

Remus did nothing to acknowledge her presence. He just went back to his earlier state of abstraction. It was another minute before Tonks decided to break the silence and the awkwardness.

“Remus, c’mon lets go now…it’s getting late…you’ll catch pneumonia…� she said with a quavering voice.

“How did you find me?� he asked coldly.

“I—I was getting worried—I searched for you at The Leaky, Hogsmeade, Shrieking Shack, Burrow—even—Grimmauld Place—finally asked Dumbledore. He said you might have come here…�

“Go… go home now…it’s late.�

“We’ll go together—�

“I have some other business. You need not wait up for me.�

“Remus, please—don’t talk like that— I’m sorry about Si—Sirius—it has hurt us all—and—� and she broke down. This made Remus abandon his cold demeanour towards her and he got up and took her in his arms. But no words of comfort came out of him, he just held her, stroking her head and giving support to her shivering body.

“Let’s go, Remus,� she said, now looking up at his face, her hands resting on his shoulder.

“You go home. Don’t worry about me…I’m not sure where I want to spend my night…�

“Come to my home then, stay there for the night—we have a room to spare—I’m sure Mum and Dad won’t mind. Or else let’s go to your flat—I—I don’t want you to be alone—Remus, please—� she tried to plead with him, but was cut off when he pushed her away from him.

“I can take care of myself. I don’t need you to worry about me,� he said, trying to sound cold and unfeeling, but the look on her pretty young face wrenched apart his heart. She bit her lower lip, and he saw her eyes fill up. Even in the darkness he could see her face contorting, her chin quivering and then she openly cried out in grief and frustration.

“I don’t understand what it is with you, Remus, not wanting me. I don’t get it—Remus—� she cried, clutching the lapels of his jacket and looking up at his face.

“I don’t understand why you push me away from you. I don’t understand why it is important to you when it is not for me— the—the entire deal with you being old, poor, a werewolf—I don’t care—I just know that—I—I love you—� she wailed, now burying her face in his embrace.

He held her more closely now, fervently kissing the top of her head. Her words ringing in his ears, he sobs piercing his heart, her faint fragrance making him forget the ‘deal’ with him being old, poor, and a werewolf.

I love you…

But he did not want to get carried away by the moment. He cared a great deal about her, and he knew she knew it too. But he did not want himself getting used to that affection and love…he did not want both of them to get hurt. He did not want to get hurt, again.

These were dangerous times and he had learned not to expect their lives to be easy, instead to be fraught with danger every single second. He knew both of them had risky jobs to do as Order members, plus she was an Auror. It anything happened to either, it would hurt the other. He did not want to cause the pain and did not want the pain. It was easier, when you don’t get too close to a person. The moments are fewer, the hurt becomes easier to take, the grief is short-lived, and the pain…the pain is momentary.

“Dora, I still maintain what I had told you few weeks back, as to why we can’t get involved—No, listen to me,� he said, holding her at arm’s length.

“I care about you a lot and I don’t want to ruin your life. You are a vivacious woman and I’m just a very poor, old man with an annoying habit of turning into a cruel animal every month. No woman can live happily with such a man.

“You don’t realise it now. But you will one day, and then you will regret it. I just don’t want the affection we have for each other now marred by that. Then we will end up having gotten hurt and no love left for each other. I don’t want it that way, and neither would you—�

“But Remus—�

“No, Dora—NO. This is my final word.� He looked into her brown eyes, her actual eye colour; they looked miserable. It hurt him. She looked beautiful even with completely drenched pink hair. But he knew what he had to do.

“Do—Tonks, just—just drop it. It’s for the best—you will eventually realise it. And I am not going to change my decision.� Saying so, he turned around and started walking towards the entrance of the graveyard. He walked fast, wanting to get away from her—from them—as fast as he could.

He heard her cry out to him; he quickened his pace. He almost ran out of the graveyard, past the kissing gate. Her cries were now muffled by the sound of the incessant rain and his footfalls on the street. He jogged a short way up the street and then stood facing the hurrying figure of Tonks. Seeing him standing there, she desperately called out to him, “Remus! Wait—talk to me. Please—�

And with a swift movement of his wand he Apparated, leaving her cold in the rain with a hundred shattered pieces for a heart. He did not care. For the first time in his life Remus Lupin just did not care.

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