Ghosts of Sirius Past

Remus reckoned that he had a pretty good idea how Ebenezer Scrooge felt. Well, not exactly. After all he wasn't a miserly, Victorian gentleman. Gentleman maybe, miserly definitely not and despite mutterings from the Slytherins, questioning which century he bought his shabby overcoats in, not Victorian either. No, what he shared in common with old Ebenezer was that he had been visited by ghosts. Not ones that inhabited the distant past of Hogwarts castle, visible to all but rather the ones that haunted his very recent, very raw past and his sleepless nights. His tangled and sweat drenched sheets could vouch for that. Even worse, these ghosts, or ghost to be precise and completely honest was beginning to manifest itself outside the realm of his dreams. Remus had the sneaking suspicion that it would soon make its presence known within the castle and not just within the grounds. Nowhere was safe, especially not his study.

Remus could see their reunion now, as clearly as if Sirius stood before him. Sirius' lips curling up as Remus made his first stumbling attempts at mending a severed friendship, his barking laugh and his strong, golden arms encircling Remus' slight frame, whispering apologies, promises and secrets. Or maybe not exactly like that. Perhaps he'd be thin too. After all, Azkaban can't have been kind to him. Remus attempted to adjust his admittedly hazy memory but he couldn't escape Sirius' tanned arms and wide smile, hair carelessly falling into his eyes, preserved just as he was in Remus' lone surviving photograph of him. Maybe he didn't want to distort this Sirius, the ghost of Sirius past, he thought wryly. In a way he was afraid of seeing what his friend had become. Remus knew that he himself had changed, his hair greyer, his face more lined, a sloping of his shoulders failing to mask the weight of his curse.

Yes, the years had not been kind to him but he was almost heartened that Azkaban could not possibly have been kind to Sirius and he derived a sick and jealous pleasure in knowing that perhaps he would look better than his eternally more fanciable friend. He supposed that this stemmed from his schoolboy resentment and the fact that Sirius had never been without at least one admirer and Remus had perpetually gone without. Although he himself had steadfastly played the role of the omnipresent admirer, it did not and still does not stop the resentful pounding of his heart. Those days were behind him; he couldn't keep clinging to the memory of Sirius in the forest, Sirius in the Shack, Sirius in his bed.

Remus honestly had no idea how he would react if Sirius rematerialised, skinnier or not. Nothing could have prepared him for the shock of recognition when he glanced black fur out of the window of his office, down below in the grounds. Feeding the Grindylow took up a hefty chunk of his pre-dinner ritual and just as he was beginning to get frustrated with the creature's belligerent evasiveness he had glanced to the window, seeking solace and that's when he had seen it. It could have been a cat but he could recognise that fur anywhere, it was etched into every sensory memory he possessed. Remus rushed to the window and caught the back of a bear-like black dog as it retreated into the Forest. There was no doubt about it at all in his mind, it was Sirius. He was back. But why?

Remus was not foolish enough to believe that it was for his own benefit. How was Sirius to know that he was teaching here? It hadn't exactly been well publicised. No, it must surely be for a bigger purpose perhaps for Harry's benefit. That was all that Remus' shock-wracked brain could conjure up. He must surely be preoccupied with fear for his godson; there was surely no other explanation. Nothing else would draw him back to Hogwarts. Unless it was to prove his innocence, of which Remus was becoming more and more certain of every day, especially since Sirius had broken out of Azkaban. Sirius only did things that were extraordinarily stupid or brave when he had a point to prove, or someone to protect. Remus warmly remembered Sirius' impulsive nature and smiled shakily to himself as he sank into his armchair, stiff backed from lack of use. Sirius would never risk his pride for no reason; it must have been a strong emotion to draw him back to Hogwarts. But what was it? Fear? Anger? Love? The muddled options cycled through Remus' brain faster than he appreciated. He rose to make a cup of tea in order to calm himself down. He doubted that Firewhisky would help at a time like this.

Steadying himself with his first sip of scalding tea, he began to rationalise. He must not, of course, divulge any prior knowledge of Sirius' whereabouts to any members of staff, not even Dumbledore. For when Sirius eventually made himself known, as was inevitable, he would be top of the accomplice list. Certain staff members were already suspicious and had already told him so in no uncertain terms. However, whatever their prior relationship may have been, it bore no relation to their current situation, they had not spoken in twelve years. He could hardly be considered a suspect if he had not spoken to his supposed accomplice in twelve years.

Instead, he would ignore it, that was the right thing to do, the British thing to do. Sirius had always laughed at that, his obsession with being British. Sirius seemed to want to be more lax, more laissez-faire. He fancied himself French, Remus thought, taking another sip of tea. He wondered what Sirius drank in order to calm himself down, wondered if it was still a shot of Firewhisky from a hip flask. Not that he would have had any in Azkaban. How he wished that he'd written. Sirius must have been so lonely, but Remus was nothing if not stubborn and every bit as proud as Sirius underneath his weedier exterior. Remus knew that Sirius would not have written either, had their positions been reversed. Pride was most important of all, ahead of bravery and brotherhood. He had embodied none of those qualities that they so highly prized. He had failed them, failed them all. The Marauders. Even Peter, who in his own way had been brave, a true Gryffindor. Not that Remus was in any way condoning his behaviour and not that he even knew for certain that it was Peter that had betrayed them. Sirius' reappearance had thrown his previous convictions into question and Remus was in the middle of reliving that night when there came a knock at his door.

"Ah, come in?" Remus slid his Professor's smile onto his face as Neville Longbottom entered his office, looking worried.

"Hello, Professor."

"Why hello Neville." He smiled warmly, relaxing into his authority, "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if I could get some help with the homework? I've really been struggling with my essay and Hermione said that it would be best if I came to you to ask."

"Once again I cannot fault Hermione's logic. Now, how can I help you, Neville?"

Remus found himself mercifully distracted by helping Neville that it was the middle of the night before he thought of Sirius again. This time it was accompanied by a dull ache in his chest and a curious stinging in the corner of his eyes. He often relived the last time that he saw him.

"Well, see you then Moony." They were at his front door; autumn leaves underfoot and storm clouds purpling the sky. Sirius had gone in for a hug and Remus had reciprocated but without his usual fervour. He had been taking Sirius for granted and if he was honest with himself, had begun to become suspicious. This had been October 29th, only two days before it happened. None of them had known then, well except Peter, presumably. He regretted not embracing Sirius sufficiently. He regretted a lot of things but that had not been a proper goodbye, but then again, he could not have possibly known that it was to be their last embrace. At least for now.

What struck him about this parting was how incredibly ordinary it was. There seemed no desperation, no heart-rending emotion in it, no emotion in Sirius' eyes, well at least not that he could remember. Those eyes were as grey as the sky behind him, as if they were simply empty and Remus could see straight through them to the world beyond, the world without Sirius. He had performed his duty perfunctionally, performed his role dutifully even. How he wished that he had embraced Sirius as he used to when they were new to it all, whispered into his ear, pressed desperate kisses to his cheek, forehead, lips. Remus was not a man who dwelled in regret but he could not escape this one memory. It had followed him for twelve years.

"See you." That was it. Those were his last words to his best friend, his, well, his Sirius. It may sound melodramatic; after all, Sirius was not dead. But he was as good as, until he had reappeared on the grounds. Remus sighed and turned over, hands desperately clawing the duvet closer to him, there was nothing he could do about it now, short of waiting by the forest edge, which would undoubtedly attract attention. He would just wait it out and see what happened. He was good at that, waiting. And wait he did.