Letting Go

Disclaimer- Not mine. If it were, I'd be the second richest woman in England and I wouldn't be here, now would I? Oh, and this is Sirius/Remus slash. If you don't like it, don't read it, it really doesn't get any simpler.

A/N: this one's short, and I just felt like writing it. It's not particularly original, which sort of bothers me, but hopefully there's something different about the way I tell it that will make it all better. This is a far cry from my usual stuff, so, be kind.

Sirius' life had definitely taken a turn for the worse ever since he had returned to Grimmauld Place for the summer. He missed Hogwarts so much. He missed the grounds, the quidditch, staying up late snogging, and he even missed greasy ol' Snivellus. Particularly, he missed his three best friends, James, Peter and Remus. Especially Remus.

At first, life at Grimmauld Place had been bearable at the very least. Sirius was used to the snide remarks, the less-than-subtle allusions to his deficiencies, the constant comparisons to Regulus; he had been dealing with these things all his life. This tolerable hell lasted only into July, though. Then everything went horribly, horribly wrong when Mrs. Black decided to preform a spontaneous search of Sirius' bedroom. In the room she had found several letters Sirius had received from his friends, most of them from Remus, signed with variations of "I love you", on top of several pictures from under his pillow of him and Remus together, not all of which involved a proper amount of clothing. The problem with this was that on top of being foul, pureblood bigots, his family consisted entirely of foul, pureblooded, homophobic bigots.

The row that had ensued had been one of the worst in anyone's memory at Grimmauld place. As a result, a new regime had begun. Not only were there bars on his windows, but most of his school stuff had been burned, and he was under a new program devised by his parents. Their idea was that regular implimentations of the cruciatus curse would fry the fairy clean out of him.

This is why, a couple of weeks later, Sirius could be found on his bed, contemplating not for the first time, suicide. He could see no end to his torment. Sure, he would go back to school in a month, and he would be away from his family. But what would happen at Christmas, and then Easter, and even next summer holidays? There wasn't much escape until he turned seventeen, and even then, he knew, he would be hounded by them.

Then there was school, where, contrary to popular belief, he was also unhappy. Everywhere he went there were at least a dozen girls hanging around him, hoping to catch his eye, no matter how many times he demonstrated with Remus that he just simply didn't swing that way. Everyone was always expecting him to be brilliant, funny, perfect, even though all he wanted was to just relax with his friends and possibly pull a few pranks. He hated being popular. He hated always needing to be perfect. He hated how he was never able to get away from the mob of people always surrounding him so he could be with Remus. He hated how Remus had to always put up with being shunted aside. Most of all, he hated himself. He hated himself for letting it happen, for being too much of a spineless coward to do anything about it.

All summer, every time Sirius had stepped into the shower, he had picked up his razor to shave and pondered what it would be like if he were to put the blade to his wrist and then push. Most wizards shaved by magic, to save time and erase the possibilities of small nicks on one's face and neck, but Sirius liked the razors. They were there as a reminder to him every time he stepped into that shower that escape was just inches away if he ever got up the courage to go through with it.

This night, Sirius was thinking about suicide more seriously than he had ever done in his life. He had even gotten the razor out and barely drew it across his flesh so a thin line of blood ran across it, just to see what it felt like. He lost his nerve, though, and threw it to the floor. This night, Sirius had been tortured until his limbs were numb, and while he lay on his bed immobile his family had used the time to tell him why he was such an unsatisfactory person.

Sirius stood up, and walked over and pulled up the loose floorboard beside his bed, drawing out a small muggle shoebox. Inside were a few small things he had salvaged from his mother's wrath. Among them were pictures of the various Marauders, a couple letters, and the Marauder's Map they had been developing since second year. These things gave Sirius the courage to do what really needed to be done, rather than simply allowing him to take the easy way out. He packed up a few things of value and some gold, and packed it onto his broomstick. Using his wand despite the illegality of it, he opened the bars, and took off into the night.

Sirius reached James', where the rest of the Marauders were staying, at around three am. He knocked on the door, hoping they wouldn't mind the late hour. To his enormous relief, Remus answered the door. The two simply looked at one another for a moment, and then Remus spoke.

"Sirius... what happened?"

Sirius said nothing. He just collapsed into his lover's arms, and sobbed uncontrollably. They stayed there for a long time, Remus holding Sirius, and whispering softly into his ear "it's alright... let it out... just let it all go".