Disclaimer: You know it's not mine.
Word count: 601
A/N: No spoilers for HBP, because I have not read it yet. Sirius-centric. I finally stopped writing angsty little Remus fics. Finally, I say. Also, the title has nothing to do with the story. But I don't think my titles ever really do.
Summary: He sits in a chair by the window.
Sunshine and Moonbeams
He sits in a chair by the window and watches people that can't see him walk past the house he grew up in, is locked in, and makes shadow puppets with the sunshine. He listens to people he hates, or just barely likes come and go and sometimes he listens to his mother rant and rave and scream so loud that he wonders why no one outside this invisible prison doesn't hear her.
Often he has to make his way up and around so she'll finally shut up but he always walks away from her sullen silence with an empty feeling. He's nothing but shame, nothing like he should have been, he's not the pride of his family he was the downfall. He'll fall down into history as nothing while his brother stayed on a family tree covered in marks of burnt shame. There was a time when he sat in a cage so cold he moved past shivers into numb pain and wondered if he was still who he thought he was after he was taken off the family tree of pride. He made his choices with wide open eyes but was still punished for his willfulness. He never believed that what went around came back around until it was leaning over his shoulders looking at him with smiling eyes.
When he trades his sunshine for moonbeams he wonders if losing his soul would be all that painful. Then he thinks that maybe he's already lost it. Maybe this house and those screaming rages of how much of a horrible son he was, is, always will be is his punishment for being so arrogant and hateful. For being what his parents made him into, with a few small changes. For being the only type of person he knew how to be. He is arrogant and hateful but at the same time he's full of charm and love and multiple other things that he can't name or show.
Once all the people that are staying in this prison safe house with him go to sleep he stands in front the family tree and runs his finger over the place where his name had been. Thinks about growing up in this house and how different it was when he was small. Stares at his finger when he finally turns to leave and is amazed at how black it turns from just a few small brushes against what he had been. He makes his way to the one person that should have loved him and knows that if he opened the curtains blocking her view all he'd get from her is hate and denial.
He thinks about wide open fields the he used to run through, on two legs or four, and how youth goes by so fast. Thinks about how his godson is growing up quicker than he did and how much he hates being alive instead of the one person Harry really needs. In his mind James could do anything, can do anything, will do anything.
Sometimes he forgets things. Little things, big things, he forgets everything for just a moment. He wakes up everyday and wonders why he isn't cold, he stays still for moments waiting for the next scream to come. When it does though it's a voice he grew up with and totally unexpected. He curls into himself and wishes he could stay that way but in the end he gets up and walks down a hallway full of screaming hate and after fighting pulls the curtains closed on a mother he made himself hate in the end.
(end)