Written for TechNomaNcer28
Follow-up from Memory.
Remus was there, in the house, in the room.
The room in question had not seen human presence in a long time. A fine film of dust had settled over every available surface, even the thick velvet curtains had not escaped the tiny grey particles. A handsome chandelier hung in the centre of the ceiling, and the high window let in the ghostly light of the dusk. Long had the comforting warmth of the sun set, and Remus lit a small candle that had fallen from the chandelier to the floor with his wand, to replace its golden impression. He flinched at the little flickering light. A sensation occurred in his chest that he perceived as his body reacting to the feelings associated with the significance of the light, but his mind refused to provide him with the appropriate memories to accompany it.
He was beside the bed, looking at the carved wooden headboard, and the old, faded cover that clearly used to be rich and plump. His eyes danced as he traced the embroidery with his gaze.
He sat down on the quilt, unable to find any other use for his legs. Beside the bed was a small chest of drawers, he would not have noticed it if the dark wood hadn't been touching his knee. His hand reached out and he pulled the top drawer open by the thick, iron handle. Inside there wasn't much, some quills, an ink bottle, a few newts' eyes. The second drawer down was opened, revealing a never received piece of homework, and an empty little bottle with no lid. The third held one thing.
Remus placed the book on his lap. The dustcover was fluffed at the edges and creased here and there. Remus couldn't understand why this seemed unusual. He opened the book, turning a few pages at a time. A few words caught his eye;"… Chamber of Secrets…" "… and forty-two staircases…" "… Helena Ravenclaw, ghost of…"
He was fond of Hogwarts: A History. The book was always a source relief during the summer holidays, a reassuring reminder that he had a remarkable place to return to whenever the hotter months came to an end.
He reached the last page of the text, but kept turning the pages, as if his actions were now out of his control. He was forced to stop when his knuckles reached the back cover, however this concentrated his senses and he now was reading something that was nothing like the neat prints of the previous pages.
The Whomping Willow, added to the school grounds in the year 1972.
He held the book. The Willow had never been added to the accounts of various facts about Hogwarts, Dumbledore had been sure of that.
The tree itself is huge in proportion, and brutal in mannerisms. It likes to attack any innocent passer-bys with its ruddy big branches, and seems to take great satisfaction in the idea that it can do great favours to anyone feeling, even in the slightest, suicidal.
Peculiar shiftiness in Remus' chest became apparent. It felt like tar was dripping down between his blood vessels and lungs. It was the numbness seeping out and the emotion bleeding in.
The reason for this tree being planted is that is hides the entrance to a very useful secret passage that leads to the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade.
A strange headiness was dawning on Remus, and he couldn't comprehend to what it was.
What the tree doesn't know is that it frequently lets a rat bop its' little head on the knot, and have a band of mischief-makers roam the streets of Hogsmeade every you-know-what. And yes, we are quite chuffed with ourselves at fifteen years of age, thank you very much.
Wrong, it was all wrong. Dead words, words that didn't mean a thing, written by the boy who died a long time ago. Remus was breaking, he was being torn up inside, bit by bit. The agony that bore down upon him was getting stronger and stronger. He couldn't breathe.
The Shrieking Shack is hereby the unofficial hangout of the Marauders!
They're gone. Tears ran down his face and his jaw trembled with the force of containing a howl of anguish. His best friends were gone. The Marauders were gone. He was alone. Full moons of romping about together in animal forms were smashed to pieces. There was no more being together, truly everything Remus ever had was gone, ripped away from him forever. He had no one. Why did they do this to him? Why did they leave? How could they be gone, they can't be gone, they can't be.
He looked to the book for something, anything that could mean it wasn't true. Four words. That's all it took to push him over the edge. Just the very last four words on the page, in a sharpened and spiked script, tainted by betrayal, torture, hate, Azkaban.
They were curled up in the Shack, huddled together under a woollen blanket. They were a tangle of limbs, and Sirius' hot breath ghosted over Remus' forehead, sending delicious shivers down his spine. Sweat on their bodies glistened in the candlelight, and was cooling rapidly, so they sought further heat by holding each other closer together.
Sirius had one hand in Remus' damp hair, the other was placed on his back, the tips of his fingers lazily wandering upwards and downwards in slow, sensual movements, as if he was playing the pieces of Remus' vertebrae like a violin. They were deep, lulling notes.
Remus had Sirius secured in his arms. He was hugging his waist and resting his head on Sirius' chest, listening to erratic beating of Sirius' heart. Thumpuh, thumpuh, thumpuh… He inhaled as much of Sirius as he could for now, but never could it last him another twenty-four hours of walking in the corridors, crushed under the concept of not reaching out to grab his hand, or run his fingers through his hair when it fell in disarray, or kiss him, just because he felt like it.
He felt like never moving from this spot for the rest of his life.
The tempo of Sirius' heartbeat slowed down. The fingers on his still tuned and plucked him, and he pushed his head up gently to gaze at Sirius. A hint of a smile was kissed on Sirius' lips by Remus, who pulled himself up and brought his knees to his chest. Sirius wrapped Remus up in his arms from behind, resting his jaw on his shoulder, placing his parted lips on different places of Remus' neck.
Remus was entranced by the flickering of the small candle in front of him. It was like he and Sirius, in a way, the way it swayed and shuddered. They may have to struggle not to toe the line and reveal themselves to harsh reality, but their light still burned, bright and everlasting.
Sirius was looking at him, his face close and beautiful. Remus kissed him again, lightly, but that in no way was what it meant. Sirius knew this, and affectionately rubbed his nose against Remus'.
"I love you, Moons."
Pain erupted in his chest, his mind, his everything. He was barely aware of anything, not even his own screams of Sirius' name, over and over again. He sobbed, sorrow filling every crevice of his heart and body. Sirius, he begged, why did you leave me, I'm nothing without you, I can't do this without you, and can't you see that? I love you, I want you, I need you. I love you, I love you, I love you.
He gasped violently for air, each new breath a fresh reminder of seeing Sirius' last one.
The curse landed squarely on his arm, if only a few inches and he would have been spared of it. Every feature of him froze as life parted with his body. He knew it; he knew he was going to die, so he searched out Remus with his eyes before allowing a ghost of a smile to grace his lips for Remus, the last thing he ever saw in his life.
Why Death would chose this time to take Sirius as his own, why now, he could not identify with in the slightest. Of all the time in the world, of all the time they had lost, why now? I've only just got you back, Sirius.
Mornings were as they used to be, waking up beside his warm body and watching the sunlight pour in through the windows onto his light-coloured skin. We could have spent every morning like that.
Remus let the tears fall, his sobs subsiding, but doing nothing to ease the ache in his chest or the suffocation of his grief. I need you, Sirius.
He couldn't do this, not without him. He had nothing; nothing to live for anymore, it must be time to do as they had. I can't Sirius. Not without you.
The candle felt lost to him. He picked it up and placed it on the floor in front of him, trying to anchor himself to it. He pulled his knees to his chest and cried at the sight of it. I can't live without you, Sirius…
Then he was there, beside him, holding him, like he was so many years ago when they had first made love in the cold, dark Shack. He was kissing Remus' neck like before, he was stroking Remus' hair like he used to. He lifted Remus' hand for their fingers to catch his tears together, and he touched Remus' fingertips, to soak the moisture away. Remus was breathing, not moving a fraction.
Sirius don't let go of me.
I'm not, was the reply. A message was being written out on his back in music notes, the touches wandering up and down his spine, caressing out a feather-light message for Remus to feel. Remus closed his eyes and leant his head back. He felt his cheek press gently to his own as if waiting for an answer.
"Okay," he finally croaked out in barely a breath. I'll live for you, Sirius. For you.
Remus felt him smile against his cheek. He whispered something in Remus' ear, the same thing that was written in the very last page of the book resting on the floor beside them. He was Remus' last page; there would be no more of him to see, but his existence was there, forever there on the last page of their book. There was nothing that could erase him, and no possible way to forget him.
I love you, Moons