Work Text:
There it is on this cloudless May morning. Against the dazzling blue of Hogwarts lake.
His singular, proud and graceful figure in the bloom of youth.
Right where Remus once showed another glory of change to that brilliant young wizard. To that city boy who’d hardly been allowed to visit any parks in London, and who began to learn about (love, too) and love nature (too) on these grounds where he became a free Marauder.
Back then the two of them stood here side by side. In awe of the secret colours that had flared up – and down, in the trees' reflections on the water – as lit up by autumn's first frost.
Last autumn Remus hardly dared find the wonders again. He did wander in the woods, mourning the young people who were no more.
He kept listening for a dog's bark. And hoped that when confronting the traitor and murderer, he'd be prepared to force him to... or join him to go far away in exile.
In November's gloom Remus found the only bright colour remaining in the forest. Cautiously stroking the smooth cap and the gills of the most handsome specimen among the last egg-yellow chanterelles, he could imagine tasting the apricot-and-pepper flavour, and smelling it, as well as the smoke of the camp fire on which he used to fry this delicacy to share it with his...
No, he did not allow the image of his fellow camper to enter the recollection.
But today, by the time Remus is approaching the shore, the sweet spring air must have made him let his guard down.
He's stood under his favourite tree, staring at the lime-coloured clusters of elm blooms, their patterns delicate like lace against the bluest of skies (and tried to fill his mind with wording that sight, but...) In an inerasable moving memory's dappled shade, the dog transforms back into the sixteen-year old who once leant against the tree trunk and held out an inviting hand, determined to learn and offer also some furless skin-to-skin closeness.
Now he who, back then, had newly become a dog for Remus and loved him, still loved them all, has hurried ahead along the edge of the forest. Here Remus agrees to see his figure.
And he can be resurrected as a vivid image. If painted in detail, he'll be holding a bloom on his palm, not a dying leaf.