Mind's Eye

He remembers very well every night that keeps him awake. Fitful sleeping, horrified waking, heavy breathing. The dull confusion of the few moments after a terrifying dream.

This night, he wakes with a gasp. Remus is cursed. He remembers every dream he has ever had. Most people have to try to recall, but he can't put them out of his mind.

And this week, he wishes more than ever that he could.

He turns his head stiffly to the bedside table, breath escaping loudly from his lips. His heart feels missing, as if anticipating a great plunge. One black stick points to a two, and one shorter black stick sits between the four and the five. It takes him a few moments to decipher the meaning of this. Finally, he decides that it is definitely some time at night. He raises his head a few inches. The hair at the nape of his neck sticks to the pillow.

His eyes adjust to the dark. The blurs of gray slowly evolve into a desk, a chair, a window through which there is no moon.

No moon.

Remus is suddenly aware that his dream has ended. He sits up, bones arthritic, muscles taut. He feels tense all over and wants nothing more than to arch back and stretch himself back to normalcy. He lets himself remain achy and his mind goes back to the thing that woke him.

O O O O O O

Remus was at Hogwarts, in his seventh year. The lake spanned out, endless, from the tips of his toes. The water washed over his bare feet as he stretched out languidly from the shore. It was night. The moon was full, but Remus had nothing to fear. He wasn't a werewolf. He had been cured. He wasn't sure how, but as he looked up at the shimmering white globe in the sky, he realized that there never had been anything to fear. He was safe, he was human.

He became suddenly aware of a shadow behind him. He felt the grass behind him move to let someone sit down. Sirius. A smile crept up into his mouth, and he bit his lip so that it wouldn't curve upward. Sirius put a hand on Remus's shoulder. "Hi." Remus turned. "Hello," he replied. Sirius casually tossed a book into Remus's lap. The cover was bleak, and large, white letters screamed Happy Birthday, Wanda June! up at him.

"I thought it was time I give that back to you. Interesting book, Wanda June."

Remus smirked. "It's a play."

"I knew that. Shut up. Shut up, Moony. Don't give me that look."

"Uh-huh."

"I read it. I did, really. Wipe that bloody smile off your face. Don't make me hex you."

Remus stared.

"All right, so I didn't. I read part of it and got bored."

Remus looked back out at the lake. The water fell on his toes with minuscule splashes. Sirius wiggled himself closer and wrapped a strong arm around Remus's shoulders. Remus grasped Sirius's wrist with his right hand. He was struck suddenly by at the moon the scarred horror he had always known. It had tricked him, it had never been harmless.

A cold, sickly sensation spread from his stomach to his hands. Remus pushed himself away from Sirius and stood up shakily. Something was wrong. He felt his bones stretching and pulling as his transformation began. Remus looked down at his hands. Brown, thick hair was sprouting from his knuckles. He began to walk slowly away from the shore, losing more and more control over himself.

"Sirius," he whispered frantically.

Sirius gazed up at him innocently.

"Sirius! I'm... I'm changing!" he yelled.

Sirius said nothing.

"Sirius! Sirius, help me!"

Finally, Sirius spoke. "Sit back down, Moony. Where are you going?"

Remus started shaking with fear as more of the wolf conquered him. "Sirius! Please, you have to leave! You have to leave!"

Sirius got up and walked over casually. "Moony, really. You're overreacting." He reached out his hand.

"STOP!" Moony screamed and swatted at Sirius. "Get away from me!"

Sirius looked at him blankly and stepped closer. Moony let out a howl as his transformation became complete.

As he lost all control, he saw himself leaping at Sirius and tearing out his throat with a growl.

O O O O O O

Remus sits on the edge of his bed for a long time. He tries to see whether or not he will fall back asleep, but the answer is a firm NO. Sighing, he touches his bare feet to the cold, wooden floor. His body is sore from last week's metamorphosis.

He doesn't like staying at 12 Grimmauld Place. Not after Sirius's death. The place feels unfamiliar, cold. It always was, but now, more than ever.

He stumbles his way through the darkened room, cursing as he steps on a sticky acid pop. Standing in the doorway, he peers blearily into the hall. It is silent. He puts his hand under the back of his shirt and grimaces at the wetness.

He thinks that a bath would be a good thing. He can't decide whether he wants to make the effort and actually walk down the hall. He thinks he should. He steps into the corridor. It is, if possible, even colder than his room.

He is sure to make absolutely no noise. There is no sound coming from outside, an observation which he finds peculiar. There is not even the hint of a breeze. The street lights are out. Nothing scurries in the dark. As he treads mouse-like down the corridor, he has the distinct impression that he is walking in a museum. The shadows are statuesque on the wall.

He thinks he has found the bathroom. At least, the texture under his feet feels like the tile in a bathroom. He could very well be in the kitchen. After searching on the wall, he finds the switch and turns it on. It is, indeed, the bathroom. As he steps into the dank room, he wonders why in the world the Blacks thought it necessary to keep every room dark, bleak, and hopeless.

He walks over to the bathtub. It is a large, unmanly looking thing with feet. It is snuggled into a cove in the wall. He sheds off his clothes and turns the faucet halfway between hot and cold. For some reason, the room feels too open, not the way a bathroom should. Remus looks around for the cause and sees that he left the door open. He grumbles over and closes it. Locks it.

He steps into the tub. He sits in the lukewarm water and leans back. After it fills to around his knees, he turns the faucet off. The cold of the room and the bare warmth of the water try to lull him to sleep. He lets his body drift into slumber, but his eyes and his mind remain alert. He presses the balls of his feet against the tub wall and pushes against it, calves raising out of the water. He muses over his dream.

The dream this night never happened in real life, not all at the same time, but the one a few days ago was almost completely true.

O O O O O O

The wind rushed in loudly through the windows. Remus was reading a book in the corner of his room. He was thoroughly aware that he was dreaming. The atmosphere had an incomplete feel to it, everything felt halfway somehow. The rest of the Order had gone out, and it was only him doing research. Well, almost. He stretched back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. The last few rays of golden light came in through the window. He got up to get a glass of water. He remembered getting up to get a glass of water. This happened a few days ago... he recalled it now. "I'm dreaming," he thought aloud.

He remembered stepping into the hallway. The hall was golden from the light coming in from the windows. There were no shadows to be found. Everything glowed, contradicting the darkness of the decor. The portrait of Walburga Black was not best pleased.

As he turned the corner, the hairs on his arm raised as something rammed him into the wall with a dull THUD. He let out a muffled, "Oof!" as he went flying backwards.

Sirius pinned him to the wall, breathing heavy in his face.

"Sirius? What are you doing?" Remus grumbled.

Sirius's dark eyes looked out from under a haggard, weary face. Remus noticed, for the first time, how old they both were. Sirius leaned in, closer. Their faces were almost touching.

"Sirius, get off me," Remus groaned softly.

"No," he answered firmly. He leaned in and kissed Remus. Remus relented, but then pulled himself away.

"Sirius," he said, "we can't do this."

Sirius whimpered, like a dog that had been sent to a corner. "Like old times," he whispered.

Remus didn't like this. He hated that Sirius had become this thing, so raw and needy and not at all the Sirius he knew. He hated Sirius. And yet, he could never really hate Sirius.

"This is not old times," Remus said sternly.

Sirius glared at him, then looked away. "I wish it was," he said to empty space.

Remus exhaled. He was at a loss for something to say. He looked away as well. Down the hall, Remus saw several old men in suits. They were sitting in lawn chairs and drinking martinis.

"Just a dream," he said to himself. He lifted a hand to Sirius's face, turned him back towards him, and kissed him.

"I wish we could have that again, too," Remus said as their lips parted. "But you know we can't."

"I don't know anything," Sirius mumbled. "I don't see why..." He lowered his hands and breathed out, deeply. "If that's what you want, Remus." He stepped away.

The sun dropped suddenly and the house was instilled with darkness again. Everything was cold again. It felt like the dream at Hogwarts.

Sirius was walking backwards. "If that's what you want, Remus."

Remus tried to go towards him, but couldn't move. "Sirius!" he yelled.

"If that's what you want, Remus," Sirius replied in a monotone. A door swung open behind him, revealing a veil hanging from its arch.

"SIRIUS!" Remus screamed.

"If that's what you want, Remus." Sirius said sadly. "If that's what you want."

Remus could only stand there. "Sirius," he said weakly. "God, Sirius."

"If that's what you want, Remus." Sirius walked through the door and it shut in front of him.

Remus could move again. He ran to the door and opened it. There was only a plain brick wall. Remus punched it, sobbing. He fell down against it, saying, "Oh God, Sirius. Sirius, Sirius, oh God." Thick pools of saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth as he wept.

The old men in suits smiled, made a silent toast, and sipped at their glasses.

O O O O O O

Remus raises himself slowly from the water, like a barge being pulled from the depths of the ocean. He grabs a towel laying on the floor. It is damp and smells funny. Remus wraps it around his waist, picks up his clothes, and opens the door. A rush of cold flies in, and Remus's skin turns to gooseflesh. There is still no one. Remus walks back to his room.

Entering his room, he looks at his bed. The sheets are still wet. He walks over to his trunk and pulls out a different set of clothes and puts them on. It is not an easy task; they stick to his damp skin. He get them on and walks over to the side of his bed. He presses his fingertips to the moistened sheets and with one swift movement of his wrist, pulls them off. His pillows and blanket go flying across the room.

He drops the sheets in a neat pile in a corner of the room. He retrieves the pillows and blanket and lay them on the now empty mattress.

Still, still. Nothing moves.

He walks over to the window and struggles to open it. It creaks in protest. The sound is harsh against the silence. The open window is no good, there is no light outside. No sound, no wind. He sticks his head out of the window and pauses.

He goes to the mattress and sits in the middle of it. It feels like an island. His arms hurt. Sitting this close to sleep, it seems like his body is pulling itself downwards.

He lets his mind come and go; he wants to confront how he feels. Ideas and thoughts drift back and forth through his mind. Finally, that one thought, more image than thought, floods him and he tries to push it away. Fails.

He thinks about Sirius. He remembers how they acted around each other before his death. How he kept himself away from him. Every time he went to hand him something, Remus made sure their fingers would never brush against each other. He would move to the other side of the hall when he saw Sirius walking. Even when the Order would meet in the kitchen, he would always stay across the room. It was nothing short of avoidance.

They were too different. They had changed too much.

Still, it was obvious they loved each other. Sometimes, when Sirius caught Remus looking at him, there was something in that connection of eyes. It was only for a moment, but it was there.

And Remus regrets that. Now, after losing Sirius, he wishes he had never tried to avoid him.

He is shaken out of reverie by a loud clanging in the hall. A cast iron vase rolls across the doorway. A shadow moves into his room. It laughs nervously.

"Uh... oops," says Tonks. "I think I broke something."

Remus sits up. "Nymph--" He trails off. "Tonks?" His voice is coarse.

Tonks walks over to the side of his bed and smiles. She had changed her hair to a forest green. Her face is fresh and young. It contrasts sharply with Remus's. "I thought I heard you moving around," she says.

"Yes, I couldn't sleep."

"I could stay with you."

He pulls himself towards her and grasps her hand. "No," he says. "I don't want to keep you up."

"You're sure?" she asks.

"Yes," he replies. He puts his hand behind her neck and kisses her softly. "I'm sure."

"If you say so." She gives him one last grin and leaves, shutting the door behind her.

He thinks that if it were Sirius, he would ask him to stay. The thought is barbaric, he knows he shouldn't compare them. He pushes it out of his mind.

After a few minutes, he falls asleep without realizing.

O O O O O O

When Remus wakes up, the sun shines brightly in his face. It takes him a moment to ready his eyes from total darkness to piercing sunlight. He arches backwards, pulling himself off the mattress for a moment.

The sheets on his bed have come off on one corner. His bare feet rest on the diamond texture of the mattress. He feels that someone is watching him, and he sits up quickly. A man is staring at him intently from across the room. Remus's mouth hangs open in disbelief.

He states the obvious. "You're dead," he whispers.

The man smiles. "No, I'm not," he says. "Don't you remember? I escaped."

"Wha-wha--" Remus rubs his eyes. "No. No. Wha–?"

"I escaped. From behind the veil," Sirius says.

Remus stands up erect. He doesn't believe it, but Sirius is there, in front of him. "Sirius?" he asks weakly. His knees buckle and he leans against the bed post. "S-Sirius?" he says again.

Sirius walks over to him and helps him onto his feet. "You forgot," he says reproachfully. "I'm back. I was trapped behind the veil, but I escaped. Remember? I ended up somewhere near Sao Paulo. I only arrived this morning, so I thought I'd surprise you. Harry'll be excited, I think."

"Harry–" Remus says. He can't form coherent sentences.

Sirius stared. "They didn't tell you? I thought for sure... I've missed you, Remus."

Remus looked into Sirius's eyes. "No... I didn't know..."

Sirius frowned. "They've known for a month now. Sharp wick you are, can't imagine why they'd keep that from you."

Remus gets his wits about him. "That... doesn't matter. You're here." He puts his arms around Sirius and embraces him.

After being so far away from each other, a hug feels like the world.

When Remus lets go, he sees that both of them have tears running down their faces.

"You're crying, you ponce," Sirius says.

"You are too," Remus answers.

They start laughing. It is whole-hearted, full. The tears mingle with their smiles and the room feels lighter.

Finally, they get a hold of themselves. Remus can't seem to get a stupid grin off his face. He is surprised and confused, but most of all, relieved. He gazes at Sirius and sees that it is the same face it always was. He doesn't see the age, the imperfection. He doesn't see the youth, the immaturity. Remus feels a funny tingling in his nose; he's going to start crying again.

So he kisses him. It's a hurried movement, their lips are together for only a second. His hands are clumsy as they move up through his hair.

They pull back, away from each other. Remus's voice sounds low and nasal through his tears. "Oh, God, Sirius. I've missed you."

Sirius takes Remus's hand and bites his knuckle, gently.

"I know," Sirius says.

Remus sighs with relief. Then suddenly, violently, Remus pushes Sirius down onto his bed. Sirius's eyes widen with surprise.

Remus crawls on top of Sirius and looks into his eyes.

"I swear to God, Sirius." His voice cracks. "I swear to God. Don't you ever– EVER leave me again. What did you think I was going to do without you? How– how could you even think--"

Sirius frowns. "Remus–Moony."

"No, stop. Just–just stop. I won't ever... God, I'm such an idiot. Just... stop. How could you ever think that I didn't love you? How--" His arms tremble and he almost falls on top of Sirius.

"I didn't," says Sirius. "You– I didn't."

"Yeah? Well... know this, Sirius Black: I will never stop loving you. I didn't say it for the last three years, but that doesn't mean it's not true."

"Well that's good then, because you, Remus Lupin, are never getting rid of me."

Remus smiles, despite himself. He is elated on the inside, but keeps his composure. He lowers himself into Sirius's arms and is, for the first time in a very long while, happy. Nothing matters, because he has his Sirius back.

And then Remus wakes up again. The light is blocked by a mass of clouds outside. Remus is smiling. Thunder booms. He runs his hand through his hair. He is safe. He looks to the clock and sees that it is four in the morning. That means that no one is awake yet.

The feeling of content is still in his heart. His chest feels full of air. He gets up, thinking that he should go see Sirius. He walks to the door, then frowns. He pauses, hand frozen on the doorknob.

Then it hits him.

It takes him a few moments to debate himself, but in the end, the truth is undeniable.

It was a dream.

Sirius is dead.

Dead.

He is alone.

His hand starts to shake.

He grows pale, the sickly feeling spreading throughout his stomach. He doubles over, and falls against the side of the bed as his legs give out from under him. He sits on the floor, gasping for air. He can't breathe, the pain is too great. He rest his forehead on his palm and lets the tears come. They rush out of him all at once, flooding his head. He sobs. His mind is full, but blank of thought. He cries out in utter anguish. He isn't aware of the amount of noise he is making. The waves of horrid awakening pass over him. The room is a blur. It is cathartic, this release.

He is doing what he kept inside himself for years.

He's mourning the death of Sirius.

He's mourning the death of himself.

FIN

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Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series is owned by J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and Scholastic. Not me.