"remembering is only a new form of suffering." ~ Charles Baudelaire
The sound of a knife chopping peppers was the only sound that filled the kitchen of the little house in a muggle village in Yorkshire. Artemis Blake, lost in her own thoughts, brought knife down a little harder than was warranted, focusing on the noise to distract herself from her own mind. It had been thirteen years since her entire life had changed in one night, thirteen long years of birthdays for friends who were no longer living, lonely Christmases, and a life Artemis had never thought she'd have to live- one without Sirius Black.
But that wasn't what was bothering Artemis today. A piece she'd anonymously written for the Daily Prophet in the hopes of making some extra cash had been rejected. She wasn't surprised, exactly- she'd never been the best writer- but she'd really been hoping for the money. Finances had been tight recently. Well, recently wasn't the best way to put it. Ever since she'd lost her auror job, thirteen years ago. Ever since she'd been publicly labeled an accomplice to Sirius Black, cold-blooded murderer, by Rita Skeeter. Ever since Alastor Moody had promised to put her back on the force once things quieted down, he and Artemis both knowing things would never quiet down.
Moody hadn't wanted to fire her. All the same, Artemis wanted to hate him for it. But he was also the reason she and Remus weren't on the streets. He'd been the one to buy the Yorkshire house, to make sure they were fed and clothed when Remus couldn't work, to ensure they had what they needed for a life in hiding.
Still, money was tight. The Daily Prophet piece would've helped things had it been accepted.
There was nothing she could do. That was something she'd had to accept over and over again since she was twenty years old. Nothing she could do, so she put her entire willpower into cooking. And she hated it. Every day, she hated it, but again- there was nothing she could do.
She heard the gate creak outside and smiled a little to herself. Remus opened the back door and a gust of warm wind ruffled Artemis's hair before he closed it. "Hey," she said, barely turning to face him.
"Hey," said Remus, setting his bag on the table and joining her at the counter. "What're you making?"
"New stir fry recipe," she said, pointing to her mother's old cookbook open by the stove.
At some point in the last thirteen years- Artemis really couldn't say when, it was all a blur- she'd snuck back into her childhood home to take any remnants of her mother's life. It must've been sometime after Alfie died of natural causes. So to narrow it down, sometime in the last decade. She'd outlived just about everyone she was close to. It didn't feel good.
"I'll help you in a minute," said Remus.
She looked over at him. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, his expression dancing with concealed excitement. "What's up with you?"
"I have news," he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her to one of the kitchen chairs. "Sit down, sit down."
"Jesus, give me a minute."
She wiped her hands on a dish towel, then took a seat. Remus paced back and forth in front of her until she reached out a foot to trip him. He dodged, but took the hint. "Alright, well I was just at Hogwarts."
"No way," said Artemis, already knowing what was coming. "You got the job!"
He grinned. The shadows under his eyes were darker than ever, but when he smiled, he looked a little less aged. "I got the job."
She stood up and threw her arms around his neck. "That's wonderful, Rem, really. You know, I always thought you'd make a good teacher. When d'you start?"
"In a week," said Remus. "At the start of the school year."
"Is that really in a week?" Artemis asked mildly.
She crossed the floor to the calendar on the wall. The only days she kept track of anymore were ones important to Harry Potter. Birthdays, the start of the school year, holiday breaks, she'd even found a Hogwarts quidditch schedule in the paper the year before and marked down all of his games. She mostly avoided thoughts of what could've been, but Harry was the exception. She could've taken him in. She and Remus could've given him a good home. She could've carried through on her promise to James and Lily.
"Wow, I s'pose it does," she said, trailing her finger over the boxes on the calendar. "He'll be a third year."
"He'll be my student."
Artemis let out a long sigh, but she wouldn't let sadness and grief take over. Not that day. She was learning to fight it. To go on with her everyday life without falling apart every few minutes. "And I expect to hear all about it," she said, smiling at Remus.
"Oh, don't worry, you will," said Remus. He moved to the counter and slid the peppers Artemis was cutting into the frying pan.
When they finished the stir fry, they sat down together at the kitchen table. Everything in the house was just big enough for two people. They didn't expect guests anymore. The place was just for them. "How about the Daily Prophet piece?" asked Remus.
"Rejected," said Artemis, taking a bite of her food.
"Damn," said Remus. He frowned, knowing Artemis wanted to help with the financial situation, but her options were limited. "You'll get the next one. And anyway, I'll have a teachers' salary. No more odd jobs."
This at least, came as a relief. "What're you going to do about transformations?"
"Well, you're not going to like it," Remus said slowly. "But Severus Snape- you know he's teaching Potions at school now- said he'd make a potion to make the transformations a little less painful."
She stared at him. "Old Snivellus?" she scoffed. "Remus, don't take anything he gives you. Knowing him, he'll try to poison you out of spite.
"Severus is on our side now," Remus said calmly. "And honestly, there aren't really sides anymore. War's over. We're all working together."
Artemis hated when he said things like that. For her, the war had never really ended. It would never really end. And she would never trust Snape. "Still, watch your back," she said. "People don't just change that easily."
"I'd argue that with enough time and rehabilitation-"
"Don't," said Artemis. "Just be careful."
Remus gave her a small, tired smile. "Yes ma'am. How many points do you think I can get away with giving Gryffindor just in the name of favoritism?"
"If they can win the quidditch final, I think you can tip the House Cup in their favor."
"And what if there's a group of little troublemakers running around and... I dunno, dueling Slytherins on the grounds for no apparent reason."
Artemis smiled at the memories of her own schoolyard duels. "Well, they'd better be smart enough to get away with it."
"Remember when we threw that three-day party in the common room?" Remus said fondly. "And McGonagall caught us on the third day after nobody showed up for classes?"
Artemis chuckled. "She was so mad- and then James..." She trailed off. She'd been about to talk about how James had been so close to charming their way out of trouble, but at the last second, Peter had mentioned all the firewhiskey they'd stolen for the party and everyone wound up in detention anyway.
Remus knew exactly what she had been about to say. His eyes dimmed a little. They avoided talking about 'the good old days,' choosing to focus instead on the present. "I can't wait to see Harry play quidditch."
"I'll bet he's really good. I mean... James Potter's son..."
"I've heard he's just like his dad," Remus said with a small smile.
Artemis took a big bite of stir fry to swallow down the lump in her throat. She didn't want to think about James playing quidditch. "What're you going to wear on your first day?"
"Probably something like this," said Remus.
She surveyed at his fraying robes, patched up by hand and still falling apart at the seams. "Oh, come on, Rem. Buy some new robes."
"I've told you, it's not worth the money," said Remus, chuckling. "And anyway, I like my robes the way they are, thank you very much."
"I'm still helping you pick out an outfit."
Artemis stood up and started back towards Remus's bedroom. His chair scraped on the floor and he followed, trying to block the door before she got there. "I like my clothes the way they are!"
She laughed and ducked under his arm. "Well, I don't!"
She dodged him again and made it to the closet. Remus finally gave up and collapsed on the bed with a dramatic groan. "I'm not twelve, Art, I can dress myself."
"You couldn't dress when you were twelve and your style hasn't changed since," she said, sorting through the piles of sweaters and corduroy pants strewn about the floor of the closet. You dress the same as our professors used to- and that was the seventies."
Remus laughed. "Fine, work your magic."
"You should borrow my-"
"I draw the line at borrowing your clothes, mate, sorry."
Artemis threw a sweater over her shoulder at him, hitting him square in the face. "You're no fun."