Title: Dealing
Author: Elibeth_hobbit
Rating: PG-13 to R (since I haven't figured out how to rate yet) for language and slash hints, well, ok, more than hints.
Warning: Angst, with a bit of comfort at the end. AU, since Sirius wasn't framed and they knew it was Peter. I just wanted to do a funeral scene without Sirius being in Azkaban.
Summary: Since when did Sirius ever deal with anything better solo?
The funeral was today. Life was Hell. Sirius wasn't talking to him, Peter had disappeared, and Remus was sick and tired of being alone. For the first time since he moved into the flat he shared with Sirius, Remus had slept alone, in "his" room- the room they kept furnished to keep up appearances. Remus knew that James was Sirius's brother in all but blood. Hell, if Remus felt as broken as he did, how bad did Sirius feel? Remus wanted to help Sirius, but Sirius had shut him out, telling him that he could deal with this better solo. Since when, Remus thought bitterly, did Sirius ever deal with anything better solo?
After the funeral, at the internment, Sirius didn't even stand with Remus. He stood two rows behind him, on his own. Remus was alone as well. The Marauders were his family, his shelter from the world. He hadn't needed anyone besides them, so he had never sought outside friends. He never thought he would need anyone besides James, Sirius, and even Peter. He didn't want to think of Peter- the traitorous bastard. Now James was dead along with his beloved wife Lily- two of the most brilliant and loving people Remus had ever known. Their son Harry was an orphan, sent to live with his Muggle aunt and uncle and their swine of a fat baby. Sirius- the man who'd discovered Remus's lycanthropy and befriended him despite that, the man who became an animagus illegally with James and Peter, the only man, the only person Remus had ever let close enough to truly love him and love in return- that man was shutting him out. And Remus didn't know why.
It was nearing the end of the service, and the officiate's discourse was drawing to a close. Remus couldn't think, couldn't cope. His throat burned, his eyes hazed from unshed tears, and his nails dug small crescents into his palms in his effort not to break. But he would shatter any second, and he did the one thing he could think to do at that moment. He looked back at the man who had been his shield, his rock, his fortress when life was hailing all kinds of shit down on him. He looked back at Sirius, who was staring right back, heart in his eyes, but the tears were pouring down his cheeks unchecked. And in two strides, he was beside Remus and in his arms. There the two could shelter each other, mourn their fellow Marauder, and realize that there were some things that could not be dealt with solo.