He Kept The Universe Alone
Alternatively: December 1981
He thought he kept the universe alone;
For all the voice in answer he could wake
Was but the mocking echo of his own
From some tree-hidden cliff across the lake.
Some morning from the boulder-broken beach
He would cry out on life, that what it wants
Is not its own love back in copy speech,
But counter-love, original response.
And nothing ever came of what he cried
-The Most of It by Robert Frost (lines 1-9)
It's December 1981 and Remus Lupin is completely and utterly alone. It's December 1981 and the moon is not quite full and the air is so cold that any tear he might cry freezes as soon as it slides down his cheeks. It's December 1981 and Remus is huddled inside a muggle tent on the edge of cliff somewhere in Scotland and his joints ache from the cold and the impending second of what will be many moons on his own.
It's December 1981 and everyone he loves is dead- not Sirius his mind reminds him, but he tells himself he doesn't love him anymore; it's December 1981 and he is nowhere close to believing that but he pretends he does. It's December 1981 and the gold band on his finger burns but he can't force himself to toss it over the side of the mountain he's on. It's December 1981 and he has the wards on his campsite so strong it's possible Dumbledore wouldn't be able to get in. It's December 1981 and for once in his life he's looking forward to the full moon- if only so he doesn't have to think. It's December 1981 and it's nearly his first Christmas alone and a small part of him hopes it'll be his last Christmas at all because he knows he'll never trust again and he doesn't fancy spending what used to be his favorite holiday alone for God only knows how long.
An even smaller part of him can't help but wonder about Sirius and whether or not he knows it's Christmas Eve or if he's even still sane, but the rest of him squashes that thought as soon as it surfaces.
It's December 1981 and Remus can't help but think he's likely just as miserable as Sirius right now, the silent solitude becoming just as oppressive as any dementor.
It's December 1981, or at least Sirius is pretty sure it is, though the only thing he has to base that assumption on is the lunar calendar he memorized for Moony.
Moony.
It's December 1981 and every other thought centers around Remus dredging up the memories he tries to keep buried, both because they're his most painful and his most precious. It's December 1981 and Sirius has never been more thankful for Walburga Black in his life, because she forced him to learn occlumency in hope of reigning in his temper when he was still at home (not that it worked), because he was able to keep all his memories of Remus and life at the Potters' firmly hidden, at least for now.
It's December 1981 and, despite the occlumency and his best efforts, all he can think about is Remus.
It's December 1981 and, at the sight of the nearly full moon and his hands, he joins in with the anguished yells of the prisoners around him. It's December 1981 and the moonlight is the most moonlight he's seen since he got here nearly two months ago, or so he assumes- time passes so differently in Azkaban, simuletaneously rushing forward and dragging by. It's December 1981 and his thoughts are full of Remus, but not the past; Sirius can't stop thinking about Remus, his husband, alone and hurting and hating him because Sirius was so suspicious of everyone and everything that he wouldn't even tell Moony, the love of his life, the only person he's over trusted implicitly. It's December 1981 and his right hand has moved to twist his wedding band around his finger, a nervous habit he picked up during Order missions to reassure himself, only to be met with the touch of his own could flesh as the memory of his loss of the one thing that might've kept him sane floods his mind. It's December 1981 and Sirius is trapped, once again, in his memory from November first, when Aurors stripped him of his wand and his clothes and his dignity, as well as his wedding ring. It's December 1981 and he remembers asking, begging, the Aurors, his colleagues- some of them members of the Order even, not for his freedom (no, he'd felt guilty enough about the switch in secret keepers to feel just as responsible as Peter was), but for them to check his ring- check it for jinxes or curses or any kind of magic at all but they just dropped it into evidence with everything else. For a moment, for Sirius, it is November 1981 and he relives that moment when he gets the sense of finality at the loss of his ring, even though they had all this "evidence," he wasn't getting a trial- he was as good as dead. It's December 1981 and he still believes he is guilty, even though Peter did the betraying, the killing, he was the one who let it all be set up; he was the one Lily and James trusted.
It's December 1981 and his last thought before he blacks out, both from the assault of the Dementors and his own efforts at occlumency to stay somewhat sane, is had as he runs his fingers over the pale band of skin against the tan of the rest of his hand where his wedding ring sat for two years, the pale skin he knows will never leave him because he knows he'll never see the sun again- never see Moony again either.
It's December 1981 and he wonders if Remus will be okay tomorrow night, or ever, and he wonders if he's still got his ring. It's December 1981 and he wants nothing more than to hear Remus's voice, but the last thing he hears before he drops completely into the depth of unconsciousness is his own screams and he knows he is well and truly alone.