A/N:
When boredom hits, it hits hard. I so need a beta, though I rarely write fanfiction, considering my program has no spell/grammar check, so please forgive any typos, ect. I've only clumsily edited it.
Hope you enjoy more angst in my period of depression, though I think Remus would quite agree when I say chocolate makes everything better. Oh dear. Where did that half of the Nutella go? Eep. Alright... everything but your thighs...
Cheerio,
MK
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Disclaimer: I haven't been successful in stealing them so far...
Warning: RL/SB Slash as it is. Why? Well, why not?
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He had meant to tell him, he really had. Since fifth year, when James had discovered the terrible secret, but things had, as things had a tendency of doing for Remus J. Lupin, royally screwed up.
He had planned it out. The day after the full moon, when Sirius came to visit him in the hospital wing, he would calmly ask Sirius to take a seat beside him, draw him into a lengthy discussion about Ravenclaw's chances of winning to cup this year, then casually mention the fact he was a ponce and fancied him. It really wasn't his fault that his plans didn't carry through, though. How was he to know Sirius would be sending Snape down to the Willow on that particular full moon?
By seventh year, the row involving the Willow Incident had subsided, and Remus could once again feel at ease around Sirius, his infatuation for picking off the dead buds and blossoming once more. As graduation approached, even Lily, (as smart as she was, he felt quite sure had James thrown in a few hints about his crush), had begun coaching him to work up the courage to tell the animagus about his true feelings. But, days before the graduation ceremony, as well as his confession, Sirius had asked the werewolf if he'd like to share a flat in London. He'd already picked a fairly nice one out, and if the both of them worked hard, they could easily meet the rent. Remus leapt at the chance, deciding that would do for now. Why rush something so delicate?
There was one time, perhaps, that he should have spoken up. That he should have told himself to disregard the consequences. It was just two years after their last year at Hogwarts, and Sirius had split up with his girlfriend, Sheila Something, or more, she had left him. He'd come home to the flat they shared, only happy to share a round of drink with Remus, who had just been fired from yet another job. They spent the night, reminiscing of old pranks and detentions. That was until Remus risked brushing the touchy subject of Sirius' break up.
"How-I mean... What happened" he had asked timidly, but no doubt curious. No girl at school would have ever considered leaving Sirius.
His friend had shifted uncomfortably for some time before finally finding his voice. "She said I didn't love her, and that I loved someone else." Met with an expression of surprise, he'd merely shrugged. "A load of rubbish really."
"But why would she get the impression that you loved someone else" he had pushed, licking his dry lips.
"Apparently I called her by some other name a few times during our activities." Remus didn't think he'd ever seen Sirius so red. "But like I said... a load of rubbish."
The day had ended with an empty bottle of firewhiskey, and the next began with one hell of a hangover.
The next years went at light's speed. Voldemort, the Prewitt brothers set-up, Lily and James murdered, Sirius, thirteen muggles, Mrs. Pettigrew in tears, wearing all black, the end of the war... The list went on and on. Then, in the proportions of the Big Bang, Sirius had escaped and he had accepted the position of DADA professor.
He had spent many a night contemplating what would happen should he be the one to find Sirius first. Could he possibly kill the man who held his heart after all these years? Sending him back to Azkaban, dementors, or performing Avada Kedavra... It was all the same, really. It had even occurred to him a few times, that despite everything, he would still like to tell Sirius how much he meant to him. Something about it seemed simpler to do when anger and desperation had pushed you over the limits of conscious thought. However, as it were, he did not run into Sirius until the end of the year, and once again, what may have been his last chance took of on a hippogriff.
The next summer had to have been the hardest, when Sirius finally made his reappearance, worn, but looking healthier than he had in years. Any dreams of a heart-warming confession faded away as Sirius informed him the Order was being reformed. They spent the next few months arranging a new head quarters, and gathering the old crowd.
It was at Grimmauld Place that Remus finally began to work up the nerve to tell Sirius everything. What was there to lose? So one night, after days, weeks, months, years of torture, he walked into the kitchen, finding Sirius looking over that morning's Daily Prophet.
"Sirius" he had said, voice wavering for just a moment. "I need to talk to you."
Perplexed, Sirius had looked up, one eyebrow raised, but nevertheless, motioned for Remus to join him at the table. "What is it, Moony"
Swallowing hard, Remus had forced himself to meet his friend's gaze. "I"
And, once again, things took a wrong turn when Snape's head popped up in the fireplace, asking if Black was there, and why in Merlin's name Potter was running off to try and save him from the Dark Lord.
When he had finally left them in peace, Sirius rushed to retrieve his new wand, ready to make yet another daring rescue for Harry, though briefly turned to ask Remus"What were you going to say"
Remus had shook his head. "It's nothing important. Let's hurry."
As he watched Sirius fall through the veil, his face forever frozen in that cocky grin, he thought, I should have told you, before jumping forward to grab hold of Harry around the chest.
"There's nothing you can do, Harry" he said, as the boy struggled to free himself, shouting that they could still save him. He felt his heart grow cold. "It's too late, Harry"
"We can still reach him"
Remus frowned, watching the curtain. "There's nothing you can do, Harry... nothing... He's gone."
There's nothing any of us can do, he thought, keeping hold of Harry fiercely. It's too late.