Summary: Sirius thinks about life, the universe and Remus Lupin.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: They belong, of course, to J K Rowling, and I'm doing this for love, not money.
Learning to Live
It's funny, really, how things turn out. I can choose when I change, when I let the animal emerge to flow through my body and land me on all fours, barking and growling. He has no choice. Every month without fail, it rips out of him, unstoppable, his very own brand of lunacy making him forget everything, unless he's been drinking that vile-tasting potion: civilisation, his friends, me. Even me. I can calm him a little, when he's in that state, but nothing can really reach him. He's still a wild animal, and I'm only tame.
I wonder how he's been doing. Twelve years. How has he coped without me to help him? Even though I can choose and he can't, somehow I've always been able to help him, to calm him when he's changed and to comfort him when he's back. Because in some small way, I know what it's like. I know the call of the wild, the song of the howl and the smell of freedom. It's only diluted, for me, but I still know how seductive it can be.
Maybe that's why we were always so close. We recognised each other, knew each other for kindred spirits. Everything else just followed naturally. It's driven me half mad, being away from him for so long. The other half, of course, was Azkaban. Which is enough to drive anyone insane. The thought of my innocence kept me going, but right now my sanity certainly isn't what it used to be.
Still, now I've found the outside world again, it's beginning to soak through. Harry and his friends, their blessed innocence and normality, their unquestioning friendship once they realised who I really was. Dumbledore's trust regained - the loss of that hurt almost more than the loss of Remus. And Remus himself. It was all I could do to let him go, there in the Shrieking Shack. I thought I'd never see him again, and even if I did, he'd hate me. Yet there he was, and he understood, and he hugged me tight, and it was almost as though the last twelve years had never been.
Almost. I clung to him, unable to speak, shocked and horrified even through the madness at how terribly old he looked. I'd thought about him, worried about him every single day, but I'd never dreamed that his life could have been so hard as to put lines on his face and grey in his hair. My heart wailed, that this had happened and I wasn't there to help him.
Now it's his turn to help me. He's become strong, while I've been away. Not that he wasn't in the first place, but...he's different now. Adversity has made him stronger, harder, yet still that gentle heart hasn't changed. He will do everything he can for me now, I know it. He will help me adapt to life on the outside, even if it is a life on the run.
And perhaps I can begin to help him again. He might be coping, but coping is very different to living. It's about time we both learned to live again.