You Missed My Heart

2.6K 117 343
                                    

"you can always let go, at any time, at any place –
more importantly, at any cost."
-via
R. Reddy

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

London, April 1977

"Avada Kedavra," Bellatrix screeched, her wand aimed toward the moving figure just out of reach.

"Protego!"

"Confringo."

"Protego."

"Oh, come on now, Lyall," she snickered. "For one of the Ministry's finest, you sure are a bore. I pity the woman who married you if your bedroom is as exciting as your spell work! Although, I heard she was wild from the start."

Lyall, furious, threw out, "Crucio!" She blocked it flawlessly. "Don't talk about my wife, you bitch."

This merely gratified her even more, she said, "Ah, there he is. The Lyall Lupin our dear Greyback told all the stories about. Where's your little monster, eh? Is he around? I've got a few flowers for him. Protego."

Remus watched from the corner as Lyall shielded himself from, yet another, curse thrown from the other side of the street. The dazzling ball of green light deflected, crashing into the side of an apartment building down the block. Cinder and debris rained down onto the sidewalk, crumbling at Remus's feet, but he couldn't be bothered to care.

He'd never seen his father in action; there were "take your kid to work" days sprinkled here and there in his childhood, but he only ever saw the Ministry or Augustus or, on a lucky whim, an interrogation. Watching Lyall hurtle defensive spells to stop the villains – the Death Eaters cocooned by lifeless bodies just yards away – was enthralling. Remus had never see so much life in his eyes; it was like watching a completely different person battle it out.

Remus had lost James and Peter within the crowd after a few more Death Eaters appeared on the scene. The road was dark, lit only by the flare of magic and fire. Not even the moon cast pale light onto the street; green against red, blues against purples. It was magnificent to watch. Fleamont and Euphemia protected whatever was left of the townsfolk avidly as Mad-Eye held up their flank. A few others had joined their ranks within the last hour, dueling with the dark forces as best as they could.

It had been too long since he'd seen Sirius, and his stomach was in knots. Bellatrix was the first to reveal her identity, and he knew that wouldn't sit well with Sirius. Not at all. At least he knew that Peter and James were in relatively safe company; Sirius was nowhere to be found. From Remus's position, as shitty as it was, he could get a clear view of the block. Well, if you managed to look past the shattered glass, crumbled cement, and tangled limbs, you could see the asphalt; the sight made him queasy. A part of him ached to search, no matter the cost, because he couldn't lose anyone that night. Not the Marauders or their parents, not his own father – he couldn't bare it.

Bellatrix let out a feral scream with wild, fervent eyes and flushed cheeks. Tangled waves of jet-black hair danced in the gusts of her curses, dark eyes lit with hues of greens and blues. Every so often, Remus caught her stumbling from a counter-hex or some other charm; she recovered quickly, however, and hit back with more force than ever.

A small child – a boy with dark skin and kinky hair – dashed out from an unknown position, hoping to evade Bellatrix as he attempted to take cover with the Potter's. He failed.

She cackled, "Crucio!"

The boy crumpled into a trembling heap, his cries ringing over the muffled sobs and hysterics of the survivors feet away from him. Remus was hit in the face with the thought of Sirius, only a few years ago, at the hands of his aunt – this manic woman with, apparently, no sense of morale or conscience. His heart broke; it splintered into millions of little pieces, jabbing at his insides. Remus felt awfully helpless in the moment, unable to do anything to stop these people from hurting innocent civilians. With all his might, he tried to drown out the agonizing whimpers of a boy no older than seven. He thought of anything – transformations, the tagging, his father, his mother. Nothing remedied the fractures in his chest.

Carve Me Open / r.l. + s.b. /Where stories live. Discover now