Death of Relief
by
Kelsey
Disclaimer: Not mine, none of it. Especially the last line, which I lifted from OotP.
Author's Note: One night, I realized that Sirius was in Azkaban during the beginning of the AIDS crisis, and wouldn't know anything about it. And then this plot-bunny wouldn't leave me alone.
Also, the way he contracts AIDS may not seem realistic to you, but I believe that Sirius probably would have sought or at least wanted physical comfort after the Shrieking Shack-- he seemed very tactile to me.
Summary: Sirius died falling into the Veil, leaving his lover and godson bereft-- so why is his lover relieved? SB/RL
Rating: R
Remus had known, the minute that he saw Sirius, that there was something wrong with the man. His preternatural nose had smelled a sickly scent coming from him, beyond the mere smell of grime, body odor and malnutrition. No, this was something else, something more-- something eating Sirius from the inside out.
He hadn't say anything, at first. Perhaps it was simply a strong virus. It didn't seem to be affecting Sirius in any way-- he was jumpy and nervous, but those were after-effects of Azkaban, rather than signs of actual illness.
When Remus had seen Sirius in the Shrieking Shack after all of those years, Sirius had looked impossibly thin, nervous, sick and with a scarily wild glint in those gray eyes. But mostly he had looked furious, and that's what Remus remembers.
A year later, when the man had shown up on his doorstep, he had looked better. Still thin and nervous, but less visibly ill and with the wild glint tamed. Remus, unsure of how to act, watched him closely to gauge his reactions. At first he pulled back when the werewolf went to touch him, but as soon as he had convinced himself it was truly safe, he became more and more tactile.
Sirius had always spoken with his hands, when Remus had known him. That was part of why their relationship had failed to remain discreet for any period of time-- because Sirius couldn't resist touching the werewolf every other second. Not inappropriately, but a thumb brushed gently over his cheek when he laughed, a finger run over his palm in potions. So then, as Sirius seemed to crave that which had been so lacking in Azkaban, Remus had obliged.
He had pushed his worry about the mysterious presence in Sirius' body to the back of his mind as far as he possibly could, and tried to enjoy having his lover back, relearning every part of his mouth and upper body, which was as far as they had gone at the time.
Because of his condition, Remus spent a fair amount of time in the Muggle world. It was simply easier to procure groceries and such from people who didn't sneer at him or refuse to serve him, and he'd gotten into the habit of buying most things from the local village. Leaving Sirius at home with strict instructions not to open the closed draperies and not to be seen, he'd gone into town to buy such things.
Outside the store was a Muggle man with a sign and a cup with a few coins in it. He was dressed in rags and dirty, and he smelled peculiar. Smelled like-- well, smelled like Sirius. With dread, Remus read the sign.
Homeless and jobless-- fired for having AIDS. Please help?
A pit of white-hot fear had grown in Remus' stomach. He knew what AIDS was-- every wizard was vaccinated against it via a foul-tasting potion during early adolescence, now. But Sirius, of course, had been in Azkaban when it was discovered and the vaccine implemented. He would have no immunity.
Heart beating nearly out of his chest, Remus shopped quickly on autopilot and then walked slowly home, trying to think.
The first conclusion he came to was that he was a stupid arse and it was all his fault. Sirius had been imprisoned in 1981-- AIDS hadn't even really existed then. And Remus knew what Sirius was like-- on the run he couldn't exactly seek physical comfort in any form except anonymous sex. He should have known that Sirius would do almost anything in his desperation to be touched.
So really, he had been unforgivably negligent in failing to warn Sirius of the new dangers anonymous sex with Muggles posed.
Because while AIDS might be preventable in their world, it was no more curable than in the Muggle one.
That night, Sirius had moved his wandering hands farther than usual, and Remus hadn't stopped him. Instead, he had helped the other man undress them both, and then fell to his knees in front of his lover.
I deserve this, he had reminded himself.
And then swallowed the poisonous seed.
As the months went by, Remus wondered again and again if he should tell Sirius what he knew. But the man was finally free, finally enjoying the loving touch of another's hands, breathing clean air and not constantly fighting not to go crazy. Remus simply couldn't bring himself to tell Sirius that he was dying.
The potions to keep the illness at bay were complicated and far too hard for Remus to brew. A potions master like Snape could have made them easily, but they required ingredients that were strictly monitored, and would not have been easy to get. And there was the matter that getting Snape to brew them would have required telling him about Sirius' condition.
None of that would have mattered had Remus thought they would have helped. But Sirius was losing weight, slowly but steadily, and was sometimes overcome with an uncounterable lethargy, and Remus knew the disease had progressed far enough that the potions would be no help.
Sirius would live longer than a Muggle in this stage of the disease-- two or three years, possibly. So Remus had vowed to do everything he could to make Sirius happy and comfortable for the rest of his short life.
And he punished himself for not seeing to preventing it. Punished himself verbally, sometimes physically. Punished himself by taking Sirius into his body, time and time again. Hoping that somehow, he would be absolved if he just contracted the illness himself.
It was Grimmauld Place that made Remus wonder once more about whether he should tell Sirius the truth. The place was so gloomy, so haunting and it pained Sirius so much to be in it again, complete with the presumably equally gloomy and painful memories. Seeing his lover in so much despair made Remus realize that Sirius needed to know-- needed to understand that this was the end of his life that he was spending this way.
So, he sat him down one night, and told him he was sick.
Sirius didn't react in any of the ways Remus had envisioned. The werewolf had wondered if Sirius would ask how he knew, what he was ill with, how to fix it. But instead, Sirius had just nodded slowly.
"I know."
Remus had been too dumbfounded to speak for a moment. Then, "You know?"
A nod.
"H-how much do you know, Sirius?"
A humorless smile had spread over the man's face. "Enough to know I'm dying."
Remus swallowed hard and nodded painfully. "It's AIDS, I think."
Sirius had looked at him with a puzzled expression, and Remus had explained about what it was and how it was spread, speaking painfully to the wall the entire time.
By the end, Sirius looked horrified. "Moony... Merlin, you've been letting me..." he trailed off, but Remus understood.
The werewolf gave an equally humorless smile. "Don't worry, I'm safe twice over. I've had the vaccine, and my immune system is strong enough to handle it anyway."
Sirius looked relieved. "You scared the shit out of me," he told the werewolf. "I could never live with myself if I knew I could have given that to you."
"You couldn't have. I assure you."
It was never spoken of again. Sirius was initially hesitant in the bedroom, but Remus had taken over, reassuring him, and they had gotten back to their usual standards. They had discussed leaving the UK, with the implication that Remus didn't want Sirius' last years to be unhappy ones, but he'd never come right out and said it. And Sirius had told him simply that it was all worth it to be close to Harry.
And that day in the Ministry of Magic, when Sirius fell through the Veil, Remus felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest, but he also felt an odd sort of relief. Relief that Harry would believe his godfather had been taken for a selfless act of protection and not by a faceless killer. Relief that Sirius would not die painfully and slowly in a place he hated. Relief that he wouldn't have to see that happen.
So he locked his arms around Harry and said, "There's nothing you can do, Harry... nothing... He's gone."
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