Disclaimer: It's time to stop kidding myself. It's just not mine.
A.N: I shouldn't be writing this and if you're wondering where all this angst came from, I don't know either.
"Now I have nothing so
God give me strength
Because I'm weak
In his wake
Wipe him from my memory
Fracture the spell
As he becomes my enemy
See, I'm only human
I want him to hurt" – God Give Me Strength – Idina Menzel
August 1993
"Alright? How's it going?"
The tall, wiry man with prematurely greying hair sat himself upon the cold, hard earth with such force that he appeared to have almost thrown himself onto it. He tucked one leg into the arms he wrapped around himself and dragged in a shaky breath that turned to ice on its way out.
These were the last days of summer. He assumed that if he had wanted to be warm and composed, he should not have been sitting in a graveyard at half past one in the morning but the truth was, he didn't have anywhere else to go. He could sit at home and ponder his situation over a warm cup of sweet tea but that felt too much like he was actually considering taking Albus Dumbledore up on his offer.
"You won't believe the conversation I just had."
They probably would. Lily had always assured him that he was perfectly capable of defeating the prejudice against him. She had agreed that admittedly, the odds were stacked against him but she had opened his eyes to his own ability. It would be a challenge and he used to love a challenge.
"You probably heard it anyway, you being dead and omnipotent does sort of ruin all my surprises, doesn't it?"
He wasn't sure why that was a question. His friends were dead and yet, he was expecting a rational response. He laughed bitterly to himself.
"To sum up, you know…just in case you were tuned in somewhere else because I'm assuming you're on Potterwatch a lot and I imagine Lupinwatch isn't half as exciting. To be honest, it's pretty shit. All I ever seem to do is make tea and come here to prattle on to the pair of you. I expect you're bored of it now. I never shut up, do I? I leave a few pauses but you never chip in with anything."
Attempting flippancy was not the best course of action. His voice cracked, his breath came in short, shallow gasps and the tears threatened to freeze on his scarred cheeks.
"James, Dumbledore told me I could teach. He offered me the post of Defence professor. You were right. To think the rest of us laughed at you when you said it would happen. Bet that's made your day now. Thing is, I don't think it's such a good idea. Have you ever had that? You know, when you want something so badly and then you get it and suddenly; you reassess. Well, I have. I reassessed and I don't think he wants me because I can teach."
He couldn't bring himself to say that the reason Dumbledore wanted him at Hogwarts, he suspected, was to keep an eye on the Potters' son. Apparently, like his father, the child had an uncanny ability for finding trouble. Unlike his father, the trouble was a serial killer who wanted him dead.
"I know it's because of…" He couldn't bring himself to say Sirius. "Because of him."
He took a deep breath and wiped away the tears that pooled in his charcoal eyes. He hated him. He hated him with every ounce of his being.
"See, much as I love you both, the three of you, I know what this looks like. It looks like I'm running from him, like I'm hiding because who the hell is going to come anywhere Harry when Dumbledore's around? It's not like I'm abandoning your son, you know. I'm leaving him somewhere safe."
After Halloween, Lupin had strongly suspected that it wouldn't be long until Black found him. The only Marauder he presumed safe was the easily impressionable Peter who would never say a word. And then Peter had shocked them all.
"How is Peter anyway? It's been bothering me a while. Does Peter have all ten fingers up there? Is he whole? I'm not morbidly obsessed or anything, I'm just wondering if I will be when I die."
Christ, poor Peter. A finger. What the hell had Black done to him?
"Maybe that's not the whole reason. Why I won't take the job not why I'm worried about Peter's finger, though Peter, if you're listening, I think you did the right thing. I only wish I'd found him because let's face it Peter, what the hell were you thinking? Not that I'm being big-headed here but they'd have found a lot more of me than my finger. I wouldn't have approached him in the middle of a crowded street either, come to think of it. I always wonder why you wanted to make such a show of it Pete. I would have killed him quietly and then fed the evidence to something. There are days when I'm tempted to even now. Anyway, I digress. I do that a lot. James will vouch for that."
He sighed and wished he hadn't had quite so much to drink before he came. He could barely think things through himself. Although, that was why he was here. It helped to talk things through, maybe not with the dead but he didn't have anyone else to apply it to.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, trying to retain a somewhat diminishing grip on reality. Whenever he came here, he always lost every inch of control. Whoever was here with him, the presence of whom he liked to believe was Lily Potter purely because even in death, he knew she would attempt everything in her power to destroy the shell of pretence and self control that he had painstakingly crafted, night after guilt-ridden night, for himself. "I'm a coward. I always was. I always have to run. I have no idea why I was a Gryffindor because frankly, Gryffindor courage is not found in tea leaves and nor is it found in bottles of Firewhiskey. Gryffindor courage and Dutch courage are two completely different things and somehow I have managed to confuse them, which was probably my first mistake." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes in an attempt to eradicate the pain. "No, obviously my first mistake was to leave you with him. I should never have left. If I hadn't been so selfish…" If he hadn't been so selfish, his best friends would be alive and well. If he hadn't been so selfish, his best friends would be buying their son's school things. If his pride hadn't been so wounded by James's blatant confidence in Black…
Selfish wasn't the word, Lupin decided. The word was jealous. He and James's friendship had never once been tested and still, it was he that James was wary of because Black had told him to be so. James was wild enough to plot with Sirius and had enough substance to converse with Lupin. He was the link when the battle of wills between his two friends raged. He was the link when his two friends refused to spend time under the same roof.
Lupin, with the help of the bastard who had betrayed them, had made the last months of their short lives a living hell.
'If this child is killed by your own stupidity, then I will never forgive you.' Words made worse by James's knowledge that Remus Lupin knew how to make words lift him to the highest heavens. Remus Lupin also knew how to make words sink him into the deepest pits of hell. Words were Lupin's weapon of choice for a reason. Wounds caused by words could sting for the rest of a person's life, even if there were only three days left of it.
"I don't hate you James. If anything, I hate myself. I hate myself more than I even hate Black. Sometimes, I can barely stand to be in the presence of myself. Figure that one out, because I can't. Lily will help you. Lily was always good at figuring out."
If their child was killed by his own self doubt and reluctance to stand and fight, he would never forgive himself. So Black was going to be wherever Harry was, well he would be too and if Black came within ten yards of him, he would tear him to pieces. It would be slow. It would be agonising. It would be fitting.
"You know, I know Black better than Black knows himself. If nothing else, it should make Lupinwatch a bit more interesting, shouldn't it?" He smirked and wiped away a fresh stream of salty tears. "Professor Lupin," he mused aloud. "Professor Lupin. How pretentious does that sound?" Regaining his sense of humour and ability to at least smile at the ridiculous, as laughter was almost impossible. "No need to answer that, it was rhetorical."
He scrambled to his feet.
"Thanks for listening. I might not be around for a while, between an actual job and a long stretch for murder, but I will be thinking of you. Anyway, thanks for your help."
He turned and caught the slightest glimpse of what he was certain was shaggy, black fur in the trees.
"I know you're there. Are you getting some sort of sick kick out of this? You ruined my life, you bastard! Are you pissed off that I'm getting it back? I hope you are. I really hope you are!"
The image of the ever collected Remus Lupin, the ghosts of his tears from inflamed, black eyes still evident in his expression, fists clenched until his knuckles adopted an ethereal pallor, screaming his parting shot in a voice thick with emotion from a soul, raw with guilt and humiliation, was evidence enough for Black. Lupin was right. He had ruined his life. He had ruined all their lives. He had ended two.
And Black waited in Godric's Hollow. He waited for the tall, gangly shadow of his last chance, to disappear. He waited for the distinctive pop that signalled Lupin's departure. Once his suspicions had been confirmed and he was truly alone, he stepped forward to stand in Lupin's place.
The same pain that Lupin had felt as he screamed himself hoarse, numbed Black. In comparison, he emitted serenity. It was odd that both he and his one-time best friend had felt the need to become the other. Black took in a shaky breath and sat before the tombstone, taking his position with an easy grace he had not known himself capable of. He supposed it came with the madness of guilt.
"Alright? How's it going?"