Alone.
He had never felt a more powerful or gripping sensation than that of feeling utterly alone. It was as though a black hole had sucked everything in, as though there was nowhere left to turn, no light left in the world.
Remus Lupin sat in the corner of a large, square room. It was empty of all furniture except for one rickety wooden chair and a small fragile looking table. He sat with his knees curled up against his chest, his arms hugging around them tightly while staring unblinkingly at the corner opposite him. The only movement he made was the rhythmic shivering coming from his core; the only sound was the inhaling and exhaling of air from his lungs, his warm breath leaving a wisp of white vapor hanging in the frigid air. He did not know how long he had been sitting there, and he did not think about it. He really wasn't thinking much at all, his mind was blank with grief--as if it had shut itself down to try to block out the pain.
Watching the last of his closest and best of friends die had pulled at the strings that connected Remus Lupin to his sanity, and there weren't that many left to pull in the first place. How many times could he go through this before he really did lose it?
Well, you won't have to anymore, he thought to himself dryly.
Once hearing of the news of James Potter's death, it robbed Remus from his peaceful dreaming and sleep in general. Then, believing that Sirius Black had killed Peter Pettigrew in cold blood, only then causing Sirius to become a resident of Azkaban for the crime several days afterward, had robbed Remus of his sober days. He had taken to drowning his misery with strong, hard liquor and found his new best friend floated at the bottom of a glass.
As this thought crossed his otherwise empty mind, he unconsciously reached down to his right, picked up the brown bottle of Firewhisky and swung it up to his lips. The effects of the poison did not have as much of an impact as he needed. In fact, it was doing the opposite of what he wanted—it was leaving his mind void of all normal nonsense thought, so he could continue to dwell on the deaths of his three best mates. It was also making him drowsy, and the last thing he wanted was to close his eyes. When his eyes closed, his memory was free to torturer him; to replay the image of Sirius's surprised, lifeless face float through the veil in the archway over and over and over.
Why did he remain here to suffer, to wander the earth by himself? Why was he the only one who lost? Then another cruel thought crossed his mind.
Peter is still alive. Remus grimaced, and took another swig of his Firewhisky. No, he thought. No, Peter died when he sold his little soul to Voldemort.
He listened as rain drops started pattering uncomfortably on the roof before releasing a loud sigh and allowing his head fall back against the wall. His dark eyes followed a long crack in the ceiling, and attempted to take his mind off unpleasant things by making patterns out of the chipped paint. Shaking his head, he realized staring at the paint only brought back a completely different set of horrific memories. This very room was where he had spent so many of his first days at Hogwarts—his friendless, lonely days, the days before the Maraud-…them.
And not just the days, no, no, how many countless nights had he spent in this house as a brutal, heartless animal? A creature that knew nothing of friendship or love or loyalty, a creature that only knew bloodlust and pain. James, Peter and Sirius had been the first to accept Remus, even after they knew what he truly was. The friendship between the four boys was like gold to Remus, but he should have known better.
Everything I touch, I ruin.
Sitting there, he let the despair overwhelm him. He wanted to stay there and never be found, to drown in his misery. But he knew someone would find him, knew he would be forced to trudge on. Remus Lupin was living for four people now, and he was doing it alone.
fin