A/N: You now, some people eat when their having anxiety--others stop eating--I on the other 'middle' hand write depressing fan fiction. -_- Maybe I should find another way to relieve myself?
Warning: angst.
Summary: What if Lupin hadn't died? What if he'd refused Tonk's not because of what he was but because of who he loved? What if he found Severus Snape's journal after the Dark Lord was destroyed?
The one and only Chapter: The reason why
Remus entered number 12 Grimmuald place, the three story flat that Harry had left him to stay in--so when things got tough he'd always have a roof over his head. It wasn't as cold and gray and gloomy as it had been in years past, in fact Remus had done a top notch job in not only returning it to prime condition, but he lightened the place up with his own style--everywhere save several of the bedrooms on the second floor; those he left alone.
He ascended the stairs tiredly, two nights previous had been the full moon and he was weary and exhausted from his ordeal. He'd locked himself up in the only secure place he could think of; Snape's private laboratory. He felt ill at the thought of that dark place--of the destruction the wolf had caused it--and how now the Potion's Master was no longer around to yell at him about it.
Remus paused at the top of the stairs, his heart tightening in his chest as the back of his eyes began to burn--but no tears would fall…he no longer had tears to shed for the lost. Not for Moody, not for Fred, not for Tonk's…and not for Snape. He bowed his head, knowing that he would begin loosing chunks of his life again. Now that Snape was no longer around to brew the Wolfsbane potion. Remus shook himself of his chaotic emotions and proceeded along the corridor till he came to pause at a door.
The door was made of oak and had been painted black--though now the paint was beginning to peel off, revealing the brown oak wood beneath--and the rusted silver handle was covered with a thin layer of dust. The door had never been opened, not once in the last year and a half. For this was the room that was used as an extra for Severus Snape--not that he ever used it. Remus starred down at door knob, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down the side of his face. He licked his lips, which had gone dry and cracked. He lifted a slightly trembling hand and wrapped his scared, thin fingers around the doorknob, smearing the dust and grime before turning it and pushing. The door opened with a creek and flooded the room within with light from the hall. Remus stood in the door way as he let the door open the rest of the way. His eyes scanned the dark room as he took in it's contents. Soon his eyes fell upon a small black note book that was set upon the small wooden desk. Remus entered, the door swinging closed save for a fraction behind him. He crossed to the desk and picked up the note book. It was plain, nothing printed on the front, nor the back. He opened the cover and his eyes widened. In hand writing he recognized as his own read: To Severus Snape, happy holidays from Remus.
He had never dreamed that Severus would have used the note book, in fact he'd only gotten it because he knew the slytherin did not receive any gifts from home. His eyes fell lower. In Snape's hand writing read: This journal belongs to the Half Blood Prince. Any who try to read it shall be severely cursed.
Remus blinked. Cursed? He guessed it wasn't so far fetched for Snape to put a curse upon something as personal as a journal…but what was the curse? And was it still active, now that it's caster was dead? Remus gently turned to the first page--it was blank. He blinked. He pulled his wand from his robes, placed the tip upon the bank pages and mentally mumbled a spell. Upon the pages appeared: Speak your name. Remus blinked. "Remus Lupin." He mumbled. Your whole name please. "Remus John Lupin." Lupin, you are welcome to read what has been written within my pages.
And upon the pages of seemingly blank parchment suddenly bled thousands of words. The writing was small, scrunched and dark. Remus, a little baffled crossed to the bed, took a seat and began reading the journal.
He found himself on a roller coaster of emotions. Some things he read were very sad, such as pages filled with child hood memories, those that were not graced by Lilly Evan's presence where sad, dark and filled with tales of abuse, hunger and neglect. Remus would smile when he read of the joys a young Snape had felt upon being accepted to Hogwart's and when he read what a young Snape had dreamed to become. He frowned and bitterly belittled himself when he read of the anger scrawled pages filled with talk of how James, Sirius, Peter and himself had harassed a teenage Snape in school. How he wished he had been nicer. But nothing could suppress the surprise he felt when he read pages filled with praise aimed towards him. It seemed Snape had admired him, though thought him a coward, admired non-the less. Remus read the dark entries of the years when Snape was a death eater, feeling sick to his stomach at some of the gory details written upon the pages, details no human being should have ever read. As he reached the last pages he blinked. It was dated two weeks before Snape's death and only a short message was written.
Remus, if you are reading this, then either I have confessed to my true feelings for you, you have accepted and I have granted you permission to look upon these pages…or, the more likely of reasons. I am no longer living, and you have happened upon this journal you gave to me all those Christmas's ago. I do not doubt that these pages have startled you, but I hope you now know I did not hate you…even if I did resent you at times. You were perhaps the best thing that had ever happened to me. You were always kind, understanding and cool when it came to my sarcasm, cruelty and cold disposition. Now, this is last thing I write in this journal, and it is too you. I love you, and I wish I had said it in life…and I hope you all the happiness in the world. Be well.
Snape.
Ps. If you search under the floor boards in the closet, you will find a year supply of wolfs bane potion. Save one vile, and have it duplicated.
Tears spilled from the corners of Remus's eyes. He had never known that Snape had loved him, and now, how he wish he had. He had always secretly loved Snape as well, but had been to much of a coward to confess. And now it was to late. His bitter tears turned to tears of acceptance. He knew Snape had loved him, that is all he needed, loved him enough to leave the journal in a place it would be found, loved him enough to tell him--in so many words--loved him enough to brew him twelve months worth of wolf bane potion.
Remus exited the bedroom, holding the journal close to his heart. He would never go anywhere with out it again.
…I was sad.