Come Undone
By She's a Star
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Also, this story is based on some references made in 'Truly Alone' by Bohemian Storm, which is an absolutely fantastic fic that everyone should go read. Now. Shoo.
Author's Note: Yay for random inspiration? Righto. I've been wanting to try to write OotP Sirius – y'know, that moody, snappish, depressed guy – for awhile, and so I finally did with this. And, naturally, 'tis R/S, because I am addicted. *shakes fist at Storm*
While I'm on the subject, this is for Storm, 'cause her lovely fic inspired it.
This is set sometime during the Christmas holidays in OotP.
*
I'm bleeding and broken
Though I've never spoken
I come undone.
-'Mad Season' by Matchbox Twenty
*
"I wish you were happier," Remus said one morning over coffee. It was early – the sky was still black, and none of the other Order members had arrived yet. Remus didn't mind. He missed Sirius; missed the slightest something more in the air that always lingered when they were alone together.
"What d'you mean, Moony?" Sirius asked, and grinned. He'd had a handsome smile once, Remus remembered clearly; one that had weakened the knees of every girl at Hogwarts. But this wasn't the same anymore. It was haunted, and forced, and Remus wondered if Sirius truly thought that he couldn't see right through it. "I am happy."
And fifteen years ago, Remus would have left it at that. He didn't like arguing with Sirius, because Sirius always won. Sirius had a way of twisting the truth so it was impossible to argue with him. Remus hated that.
But he realized, quite suddenly, simply, as he poured a bit of cream into his coffee, that he simply wouldn't allow it anymore. They were adults, proper adults. Or he was, at least. And if Sirius wasn't, if Sirius still behaved like he was twenty-two, then Remus couldn't blame him. Not when he'd had twelve years ripped away.
"We both know you're lying, Padfoot," Remus said quietly, and looked at the tablecloth. It was ivory, with tiny blue flowers. Molly had picked it out. Sirius hated it, but he had always refrained from saying anything. "And you shouldn't anymore."
"Okay, fine," Sirius said, and there was a recognizable hardness in his voice that could only mean one thing – he was annoyed. Remus didn't care. Much. "Yeah. I'm not happy. So what? Am I supposed to be bouncing around with delight because I'm trapped in this hellhole with no one but a deranged house elf and a bottle of whisky for company? Actually," he let out a sharp laugh that sounded more like a bark, "I'm not complaining about the whisky."
"You shouldn't drink," Remus lectured, knowing he shouldn't. He couldn't help it, sometimes. "Not when the children are here."
Sirius's eyes darkened. "Do you honestly think that if I put on a grin whenever they're around, they'll just assume I'm perfectly content? They're not stupid, Remus."
"I know that – I'm hardly accusing them of being unintelligent—"
"No," Sirius muttered darkly, "you're just being a condescending bastard."
Don't snap at him. Don't. He has every right to act this way.
Remus took a calming breath and sipped his coffee. "I suppose you could put it that way."
Sirius shrugged and slammed his mug down onto the table. The sound echoed throughout the empty kitchen.
Remus found himself at a loss. He had never known how to deal with Sirius entirely, but he'd been able to well enough in the past. Now, everything was different. His best friend was falling apart before his eyes, and he had no idea how to stop it. He had no idea how it could be stopped.
Maybe sometimes, people just had to come undone.
It was an unsettling thought, and Remus tried to push it from his mind.
"So," he said, attempting a smile.
Sirius stared back at him, scowling slightly.
God. He couldn't do this.
"I should get going," Remus said, standing up. Sirius nodded, but didn't say anything.
"So," Remus continued, "I'll see you tonight."
"Yeah," Sirius agreed dully.
Remus watched him for a moment before sighing quietly and walking toward the door. Against his will, he found himself remembering Sirius, back when he'd been funny and arrogant and careless and—
"Oh, fuck."
Well, some things never changed. For example, Sirius's incurably bad language.
"What?" Remus asked, stepping back into the kitchen.
Sirius was staring at the tablecloth in dismay. Somehow, he'd managed to spill his coffee across it, leaving a dark brown stain among the white and blue.
"Molly's going to kill me," Sirius moaned.
"She won't," Remus replied calmly, coming over and surveying the damage for a moment. "She won't even know about it." Remus was about to retrieve his wand from his pocket when Sirius placed a hand on his arm.
"What?" Remus asked, looking up in surprise.
"Do you really have to?" asked Sirius. There was a bit of a devious sparkle in his eyes. "I mean, it'd be so easy to tell her that it was stained beyond repair . . ."
"You mean lying?" Remus asked, unable to resist a wry smile.
"'Course not, Moony. What's wrong with you?" Sirius said playfully. "If we let the coffee sit for another minute or two, even a charm won't completely clear it up."
"I don't know," Remus said, relief flooding over him. It was unsettling in itself, the way that Sirius could switch so quickly from sullen to scheming, but at the moment, Remus couldn't bring himself to dwell on it. He was just happy to have Padfoot back. "Molly would—"
"Oh, play nice, now. Don't make me have to distract you."
"Distract me?" repeated Remus skeptically.
Sirius grinned. "That's right."
"And how, exactly, do you plan on—"
Sirius, however, didn't have to explain to Remus how, exactly, he planned on distracting him. Slamming him down onto the table and pushing his mouth to his really was an explanation enough in itself.
Though maybe Remus was a little biased on that matter.
If it were
any other circumstance, he would probably be slightly annoyed by the fact that
his back was rapidly becoming entirely soaked with coffee. Oddly enough,
though, he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment. There were more important
things to focus on--
"Eh ehm."
Like the fact that they could get walked in on at any moment.
Sirius promptly fell off the table. Remus cringed.
And Nymphadora Tonks was looking very, very amused.
"You know," she said conversationally, "we eat on that table."
Remus and Sirius exchanged a look before Sirius replied, charmingly as could be, "'Morning, Tonks."
"'Morning, Sirius," she replied sweetly. She turned to Remus. "Ready to go?"
"Very nearly," he replied, as composedly as he could manage. Which, incidentally, wasn't very. "I just need to get my cloak."
"Of course," Tonks grinned.
Remus cleared his throat. "So . . . see you tonight, Sirius."
"Right," Sirius agreed, retrieving the upturned coffee mug and walking over to the sink with it. "See you then. Bye."
Remus followed Tonks out into the hallway, and she gave him a sly smile.
"Anything you want to tell me?" she inquired.
"Not particularly, no," he replied smoothly, grabbing his cloak from the coat rack.
"Mm," she said, and smiled. "Just checking."
They took a few steps in silence before Remus couldn't resist asking, "You're not, er, going to tell anyone, are you?"
"Tell anyone what?" Tonks asked in mock surprise. "That the two of you somehow managed to spill coffee on Molly's favourite tablecloth and it's irreversibly stained due to you two?"
"Er. Yes. That."
Tonks grinned. "Wouldn't dream of it. I'll blame it on Fred and George."
"Thank you," Remus said, smiling at her.
The pair of them stepped outside into the timid morning sunlight; inside, Sirius threw the tablecloth into the fire.