In Medias Res…
Sirius sat on my bed with his head in his hands; hunched over, he looked hapless. His black hair now contained little of the volume I remembered from our youth, and his skin was pale, not handsomely tan. He appeared almost a shadow of his former self. He'd lost a lot of weight recently, which was odd, given his stance as a prominent Auror and daily training sessions that were on the verge of ridiculous, when speaking in terms of what was healthy, not necessarily what was necessary.
I was surprised to come home and find him in my room, surprised to find him even just in my flat, a place he'd seemed to be gradually withdrawing himself from these last few weeks. He'd been withdrawing himself from me. He didn't hear me enter, so I stayed in my doorway, leaning against its frame, arms crossed, not interrupting him.
The thing that took me aback the most, really, was the way he was sitting.
Many a man, I'm sure, sat like that, with their backs forming half of a parabola, and with a sense of failure emitting from them at some point in their lives, but Sirius Black did not. When all was down, he still had a few tricks up his sleeve. He still had hope. But the man on my bed, the one who appeared to be almost lost in prayer, which I would've assumed if I didn't know that Sirius was virtually faithless when it came to supreme beings, had lost everything. He'd lost hope.
"What are you doing here, Sirius?" I asked, finally entering and kicking his boots, haphazardly strewn into the lane reserved for walking in my small room, as if Sirius had slid them off mid-step, back over to his stocking-clad feet.
"Moony!" He jumped up, looking as pale and stressed as his form had led me to believe. I slid my hands into my pockets and gazed at him shrewdly.
"What are you doing here, Padfoot?"
"I dunno," he said in a sigh, plopping back onto my bed. "I just wanted to be in a comforting place, I suppose." He looked up at me then, grey eyes big and full of a desperate plea for understanding.
Even as I internally swore that I was not going to give into his wishes, swore that I was going to distrust him because I knew who he really was, I found myself sitting down next to him and sliding my arm over his shoulders.
"What is it, Sirius?"
"So many people are dying." His voice was quiet, but intense, and his gaze was on the corner of my room, where there so happened to be a small mouse hole. "So many people are dying, and while we say we're doing things to stop it, we're not. I'm not changing anything. It's all---It's the end of the world, it feels like." He gazed at his hands and picked at a fingernail.
"Just keep doing all you can is all that I guess I can say."
I found myself incapable of reaching deep into my heart and saying something meaningful in that moment, to be honest. If part of me didn't hate Sirius and think that he was an awful person, a betrayer, I probably would've gone into a long speech ending with just how wonderful and meaningful Sirius's life is. But because part of me still very much loved Sirius, I at least answered him.
"That's not all you can say, that's all you're going to say." Sirius understood my internal conflict instantly, but did not seem too mad and in fact seemed grateful that I was at least hearing him out. "I can't have these kind poignant heart-to-hearts with James, you know."
His sarcasm made me laugh and I allowed myself to break my stoicism and envelop Sirius in a brief, but effective, one-armed hug.
"You look so sad," I said, standing up and walking back towards my door. "Have you eaten yet?"
He shook his head, and though I was not facing him, I could tell that he did, a sixth sense obtained at some point during our friendship over the last ten years. Turning to him, I asked, "Would you join me then, Sirius?"
He frowned and seemed to contemplate his decision. I waited patiently; hand on hip, unexpectedly hanging onto Sirius's very answer. My heart was pounding heavily in my chest.
"I dunno if that's too great an idea," Sirius finally said, and I breathed a sigh of relief, more from the anxiety of the moment than from his answer, though, and I then found myself wondering just what answer I'd been anticipating. "Let me walk you to the door at least," I offered, and Sirius neither consented nor argued before bending down to pick up his boots and walking out of my room.
"I'm sorry I came here," he finally said, when he reached my flat's door. Sirius was now back into his work cloak and boots, wand strapped firmly at his side. "I invaded your privacy, and I apologize."
I didn't take that opportunity to remind Sirius that on more than one occasion he had invaded my privacy before because I knew this was different, as did he.
"It's all right," I said, opening the door and gesturing him out.
"You know you should probably get that fixed so that not everyone can walk in. Lily can set you up with some nice security charms," he cautioned. I nodded along in agreement, although he and I both knew that I'd left spaces in my security charms to allot for him coming through. After today, that would be amended.
"I'll look into that, thank you. Goodbye, Sirius."
"Goodbye, Remus," he said, only, he didn't move. "Thank you for not kicking me out."
"What kind of friend would I be if I did that?" I asked, raising my eyebrow. Sirius looked at the floor, ashamed, and I thought back to the baby shower at the Potters' not too long ago. "Don't feel guilty about that," I said, but Sirius shook his head.
"You've been nothing but great to me."
"I know."
"Whoever called you cocky didn't know what they were talking about."
"Don't be snappy. You've been great to me, too."
"Not as great as I wish I'd been." Sirius stared at me, losing even more color and looking borderline ominous. His use of the past tense hit me like a wave. Without warning, he stood on his toes and closed the four inches between us, placing on me a sloppy kiss. "I prayed for you," he said. "I was praying for you."
Sirius turned around then, cloak forming a formidable arc behind him, and then he was gone.
I stayed there, for what felt like an eternity, feeling suddenly empty, tracing my numb lips with my fingers.