Disclaimer, Warnings, Etc. - Please see the first chapter for those.

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-The Haunted-
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Chapter 10 - Recovery

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It was almost three hours before Sirius returned from running his errand. He wouldn't say what it was, though he had thoughtfully brought back a nightlight for Remus. It didn't take three hours to purchase a nightlight, but Remus let the excuse slide for the moment. After everything Sirius had said the other night, he wouldn't dream of suspecting that Sirius was cheating on him or doing anything else particularly awful. He did notice that his husband's eyes were rather red, but didn't bring it up in front of Lily and Harry. But as soon as the pair had departed, waving cheerfully from the window of Lily's Beetle, Remus reached for Sirius' hand.

Love? Is something wrong?

Sirius lit a cigarette, staring glumly out at the drizzly grey sky. Wrong? What could possibly be wrong?

You're acting odd, Remus said softly. Where did you go today? Did you see something that upset you?

No, I'm fine.

Siri... come on. I know you're upset.

It wasn't any use to play innocent, Sirius thought with a mental sigh. Remus always knew when something was up. He squeezed Remus' hand and tapped his fag over the ashtray. I went to... to visit Nigel's grave today, Remmie. I wanted to... I don't know. I wanted to scream my head off, spit on his grave, curse his name into the seventieth generation. I wanted something , some sort of closure. But then... his - his parents showed up. His mum and dad... they were nice to me, but I could tell they were heartbroken. And for some reason, I... I couldn't hate him as much, knowing he had parents who still cared for him, and missed him. I don't know how much they know about how he died, or anything. But when I saw them... saw his mother crying... It was just... I don't know. He looked down at his and Remus' interlocked fingers. It made me think of Williams and O'Shea. I'm sure their parents went through the same thing after - after I killed their sons.

Oh, Siri -

It just made me wonder... where it all ends, Sirius continued dully. It's been an endless cycle of doing wrongs in an attempt to make a right. No matter what anybody does, it just seems like we're still in the wrong. More people keep getting hurt. I just... I just want it to end. I'll never be able to forget what I did... we'll never be able to forget what happened to you. But I wish... it would just stop hurting....

The cigarette butt tumbled into the ashtray as Sirius' fingers began trembling uncontrollably. Remus drew him into his arms, stroking his long hair and trying to soothe him. Siri.... Nigel's death wasn't your fault. He wasn't right in the head. He hadn't been for a very long time. I think... I think he was past all help... you can't blame yourself for that.

I killed Williams, Sirius whispered.

Even if you hadn't, he would have kept up what he was doing until Nigel either died or lost his mind, or killed Williams himself, Remus said simply. It was odd to be taking charge like this, and he suddenly felt as if his and Sirius' roles were reversed. Now it was Sirius who depended on him for reassurance and comfort and love; Remus couldn't back down now. He kissed his lover's forehead. I know it hurts, he murmured. But we can't change the past, no matter what. We have to learn... to learn how to get over this. Together.

His mate's tears dripped onto his shoulder. Silence reigned for awhile, then Sirius sat up, drying his eyes on his sleeve. You're right, Remmie. It's going to take a lot of courage on both our parts. He fished his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. And I'm going to start by giving up these - again, that is. He tossed the pack over Remus' head and into the wastebasket in the corner.

Remus said softly. And I... I think I should go to a doctor. You've done a wonderful job helping me so far, and I love you so much for it.... but talking about it will help. I mean, talking about it with a professional.... It won't be the same as talking it over with you, but I'll still have you there for support... and a doctor can show me - us - how to get through this.

All right. Sirius leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Anything you want, my dear.

Remus traced Sirius' jaw with his finger.

His husband nuzzled his neck.

Then I also want to make love, Remus whispered, putting his arms around his lover's neck and pulling him back onto the couch. Right now.

I haven't heard you be that demanding for a long time, Sirius smirked. Since we were eighteen or so...

Be quiet. Just kiss me, okay?

---

A week later, after researching articles and going to the library for information on doctors, Remus began seeing a psychiatrist who specialized in helping rape victims. Her name was Dr. Wu, and she was an extremely attentive and kind woman. Remus found himself opening up to her in a way he had never experienced with anyone but Sirius- confessing all the fears that had plagued him since he had come out of his drug-induced haze to find himself in Nigel's house. At times, the memories were so painful that he wept as he talked, and once or twice he cried so hard Dr. Wu had to bring Sirius in to help comfort him. The therapy was like ripping open an old wound, but somehow, vaguely, Remus felt better after each session, as though opening the wound was allowing some noxious poison to finally leak out. Sirius was not allowed to sit in on Remus' sessions with Dr. Wu, but instead sat patiently in the waiting room pursuing old magazines until Remus was ready to leave. Once they returned home, Remus was treated to all the hugs and kisses he could want, his pain diminishing in his lover's warm embrace.

It was just a small step in the healing process, Remus knew. It could take years before he was finally as good as new; he certainly couldn't go back to the way he had been before being kidnapped, but he was going to try his hardest to come as close as possible. He began forcing himself into social situations - always with his husband by his side, just in case - small things at first, like going to the shops or to the library. The first time he left the house was truly awful; as soon as he laid eyes on the crowd of people at the market, he broke out in a cold sweat and had to stay in the car for almost twenty minutes before he could proceed. But it was like anything else - the more he tried, the sooner he would improve.

Two weeks after beginning therapy, Remus and Sirius were able to return to making love - slowly, carefully, as if they were starting for the first time. It would have melted anyone's heart to see the gentle, cautious way Sirius handled the issue, trying his very best to make everything good for Remus and ignoring his own pleasure, always reminding his husband to let him know the minute it began to hurt, or brought back memories of Nigel. Afterwards, they would lay in each other's arms and talk for hours, cherishing their time together in a way they never had before. It was all too easy to remember how simply their life had fallen apart, and both men were determined to make better use of their time together.

It was amazing what was happening to them. By the time the first snow fell, Remus was smiling once more. He had by no means forgotten what he had been through, but Dr. Wu was helping him to cope with it better. She had insisted he sit in with some group therapy sessions for victims of rape; it was a thought that had paralyzed Remus at first (the idea of reliving his experiences with a group of complete strangers was not a welcome one), and he had been doubly nervous upon seeing that he was the only man present; but after a few visits Remus began to relax, and he tried his best to comfort and encourage the other members of the group. Of course, it wasn't all easy; sometimes Remus would suddenly break out in a cold sweat in the middle of the market or at a church bazaar, wondering what he was doing in the midst of a seething mass of people, any of whom might be sadistic weirdos like Nigel. He would have to close his eyes and count to ten, a trick learned from Dr. Wu, until he felt better. Sirius had finally returned to work, and was slowly beginning to keep his guilt under control again. It wasn't easy; for a long time his nightmares persisted - some nights he awoke crying and begging his father not to hurt him, or begging Nigel to put down the pistol.

It would be hard for him to deal with Nigel's death the way he had after Williams' and O'Shea's. He couldn't even remember the exact moment he had killed either boy; all he could remember was what had happened immediately before and after the killings. But he had been perfectly lucid when Nigel committed suicide; no one could have witnessed something like that without losing sleep. He flat-out refused to talk to Dr. Wu about it, telling Remus that he couldn't tell anyone without bringing up what had happened to Williams, O'Shea, and his father. He instead put all his energies into work and helping Remus, knowing that a day of hard work tired him out enough that he slept deeply enough to keep the nightmares away.

But he was still bothered by a lingering feeling of something unfinished. There was one last thing that had to be taken care of, though. One very important matter.

Sirius waited until one night when Remus fell into a particularly deep sleep (courtesy of a sleeping pill slipped into his tea; Sirius felt guilty about doing it, but he couldn't risk Remus waking up until he was finished with what he had to do), then rummaged around in a drawer in the wardrobe and pulled out a slew of coloured photographs from their hiding place behind his socks. He headed downstairs and hunted in the kitchen cupboards for a bottle of lighter fluid and a pack of matches before going outdoors.

In the back garden was a large stone fireplace, which the previous owners of the house had used for burning leaves. Sirius stopped in front of it, tossing a handful of dry twigs into the fireplace. A squirt of lighter fluid, a flicker of flame, and a small fire bloomed in the fireplace. He waited until the flames grew higher, then glanced down at the photographs in his hand. His jaw tightened as he looked at the horrific pictures, testament to the suffering Remus had been through. Finally, he tossed the pictures into the heart of the fire, watching as the flames licked greedily at them, making the photographs bubble and brown. It was a long time before he put out the flames and buried the ashes under several inches of damp dirt from the flowerbeds.

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Several grey, snowy days after Sirius had burned the humiliating photographs of him, Remus stood before his lover with an uncharacteristically nervous look on his face. He was fiddling with the collar of his jumper, biting his lip. Sirius raised an eyebrow, looking up at Remus over the rim of his coffee cup. What is it, love?

I... I have to do something, Remus said hesitantly. I need... it's something I really think I should do.

Well? What is it?

I... I want to visit Nigel's grave, Remus said softly. Seeing the surprised look on Sirius' face, he continued, I - I just think I should go. It might... it might help me... I don't know how to explain it, I... I just think... please, don't be angry, I just -

I'm not angry. Sirius put down his mug and stood to pull Remus into his arms. Why should I be angry? I'm just a little worried... are you sure you want to do this? It might be painful for you.

It will be painful, Remus said firmly. But I... I have to do it. Even if it's just for a moment. Please, Siri?

There was a long silence, and then his husband sighed deeply. He kissed Remus' forehead. All right, he said quietly. All right. I'll bring you there.

So that was how Remus found himself at a graveyard forty minutes later, getting out of the car in the parking lot. He shivered and pulled on his gloves, turning to his husband, who was beginning to get out of the car. No, love.



I need to go alone, Remus said. Stay here... I won't be gone long. I promise.

It was evident from the look on his face that Sirius didn't think much of this arrangement; and to be honest Remus would rather have had his mate with him. But Sirius didn't protest. He just shrugged, taking Remus' gloved hand and kissing it before swinging his legs back into the car and reaching over to turn the heat up higher. Okay, Remmie... if you say so... I'll be waiting, okay?

Remus turned away and headed down the neatly shoveled and salted path, pulling his scarf up a tad in an attempt to keep his nose warm. After nearly fifteen minutes of slogging through the snow between the gravestones, he found Nigel's grave, located in a remote corner in the farthest edge of the graveyard. The tombstone was still new and gleaming, ice and snow embedded in the gashes spelling out Nigel's name. Remus stood and looked for a long time, paying no heed to the cold or how violently he was shivering. He wished he could think of something to say, anything. It was hard to know how to feel about Nigel's death. He was obviously relieved that he was no longer a madman's captive, and he hated the man for raping and hurting him, but to know how tortured Nigel himself had been inside....

Someone came up behind him, their boots crunching in the snow. He turned to see a haggard-looking woman, dressed from head to toe in black, approaching. Her short hair was mostly grey, her green eyes dull and faded. But the resemblance was there. She had to be Nigel's mother. Sirius would not have recognised her straightaway; she looked several years older than she had when she and Sirius had met. She was carrying a small bouquet of pine branches and bright holly berries, tied with a big red ribbon.

She smiled up at Remus. He felt a pang of sympathy for her. He could only imagine what it was like for her, trying to cope with the death of her son. He stepped aside, allowing her to draw closer to the grave and lay the pine branches at the foot of the tombstone. She turned to him, studying his face. You're that poor boy my son kidnapped, aren't you? she asked.

When Remus didn't answer right away, she shook her head. There's no need to worry. The police already told me what... what our Nigel did. She stepped closer, one leather-gloved hand reaching up to touch Remus' cheek. I can't tell you how sorry I am, she whispered. When I heard, I... I was in shock. I loved my son. But I am truly sorry for what happened to you. If I had known... I wish I had noticed what was wrong with him. He's been so different since that Williams boy died. Our Nigel never really got over it... at the time I just thought he was shaken up over the lad's death, but he never got any better....I never thought it would drive him to hurt another person...

Remus took Mrs. Peasegood's hand in both of his, trying to give her a reassuring smile. Don't blame yourself, ma'am. Nigel was... well, he seemed like he didn't want help. He... I thought he tried so hard to act normally... you couldn't have seen anything wrong with him. He squeezed her hand gently. I'm sorry that your son is dead, he said quietly. I never... I never would have wished him to die, no matter what he did to me. I would have wanted him to get the help he needed. He reached into his pocket and held his hanky out to Mrs. Peasegood, who dabbed at her tearing eyes with it.

You're a wonderful lad, she said. It still doesn't excuse what our Nigel did to you. But a mother loves her son, no matter what... I wish we could have gotten him help, too. She handed back the hanky, giving Remus a watery smile. I wish everyone was as forgiving and understanding as you, Mr. Lupin-Black.

Thank you. They stood there in silence for awhile longer, staring at the grave, until Remus noticed that Mrs. Peasegood was shivering, her nose and cheeks very red. He gently led her away from the grave, back to the parking lot, where a long, gleaming black car waited for her at the curb, its motor idling. She hugged him before getting into the car, then unrolled the window to speak to him.

You're a sweet man, Mr. Lupin-Black. I wish you luck.

Thank you, Remus said softly. I wish you luck as well, ma'am.

She smiled at him and rolled up the window. The black car pulled away from the curb, and Remus watched it until it was out of sight, feeling somehow better than he had in quite awhile. Then he crossed the lot and slid into the car. Sirius was listening to the radio, but turned it down when Remus got in. All right, love?

Remus kissed his cheek. Perfectly fine, darling. Let's go home.

---

By the time March rolled around, Remus felt he was ready to return to teaching. He was feeling much better lately, due in part to his therapy and Sirius' constant devotion and support; but somehow, he secretly felt his encounter with Mrs. Peasegood had gone a long way towards making him feel better.

Sirius didn't protest Remus' decision to return to work. Remus got notes and schedules regarding his classes' progress from Minerva, and spent his evenings going over every lesson and making up his mind on where to pick up. The night before his return, he felt very nervous; but it was a fluttery, excited kind of nervous. He had missed his work and his students very much, and couldn't wait to return. The feeling of nervousness persisted the next morning as Remus showered, dressed, and ate breakfast; what would his colleagues or students say on his return? The worst details of his disappearance had been kept out of the papers at Burns' request, but there was no telling what anyone might think.

Those thoughts played in his mind as he drove to the university, and for a moment his throat closed as he imagined the staring eyes of hundreds of people waiting for him at school. He gave his head a quick shake, pulling into his parking space and getting out of the car, going round to the boot to fetch his briefcase, books, and files. The stone steps of the university gleamed wetly in the weak sunshine as he climbed them; the front doors creaked loudly as he pushed them open. He was slightly late; the halls were empty, and his footsteps clicked loudly on the marble floor. He came to a halt outside the door of his classroom, hearing the buzzing of voices as his students chattered away; he shifted his books slightly in his arms, reaching for the cold knob.

For a moment, he froze, his hand on the doorknob. He wasn't seeing the familiar door of his classroom; he was miles away, staring at a heavy front door with locks on it as he was being dragged away by his ankle. His breath grew ragged. He was back in Nigel's house, weeping as Nigel had his way with him. A whimper escaped his throat. He was back in the kitchen, opening the door only to fall into the blackness of that horrible cellar. No. No. He couldn't be thinking about that now...

No, he whispered to himself with a shake of his head. No. Don't think about that.

He took a deep breath and opened the door. The students stopped talking at once, turning to see who it was. Remus fought the urge to turn and run as their eyes fell on him. He took another deep breath and crossed to his desk, the walk seeming to take a million years. There was a small piece of paper on his desk. He picked it up and read it.

Good to have you back. -Minerva

With a small smile, Remus put the note aside and took his literature book from his briefcase. He finally looked up to meet the eyes of his students. They were back in their seats, watching him expectantly, almost hungrily, and for a split second Remus felt panicky again. It was a silly feeling. They were just his students. They weren't out to hurt or ridicule him. He took another deep breath, and smiled at them all.

Good morning, everyone. Would you please open your texts to page 321?

He smiled as thirty books were opened and flipped to the right page, breathing in the familiar smell of old books and chalk dust.

It was good to be back.

-The End-

--July 3, 2004 - October 11, 2004--

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(A/N: Aww, the last chapter. It was tougher to write than I imagined at first. I mean, there's only so far you can go with the self-pity, self-blaming route before it just gets B-O-R-I-N-G. And there also wasn't much more I could think of writing. An encounter between Remus and Mrs. Peasegood seemed necessary, and so was Remus' return to work. I know I never bothered to involve Remus' parents or siblings in the story, though they should have been there for him. Well, let's just say they were there for him, just not in any relevant part of the story. There. That settles that.

I must heartily thank everyone who read and supported this story, as well as Black' (and I must thank everyone for putting up with all my rants about graphic sex scenes and the PoA movie). If it weren't for all your support, enthusiasm (and pictures!), I never would have bothered with writing a sequel to Black' at all. So, -bows- thank you! Arigato! Merci! I love you all for it, and I hope you'll keep supporting my other HP stories (and my anime and video game stories, if you are so inclined). And please keep drawing pictures for me! Seriously, I save every picture I get on my computer as well as printing them out to show off to other people. I genuinely appreciate it!)