Like sihlouettes
+ hands open and my eyes open, I just keep hoping.

by littlelesslostboys.

DISCLAIMER: I wish.
Remus Lupin/Sirius Black.
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Remus never thought much about love, or if he did it was only folded between the instances where he slipped. He didn't like to think about love, because he didn't like to think about the impossible. Peace, was another thing, as was the final defeat of Voldemort - but he never spoke of them either incase his rotten luck rubbed off and he doomed mankind. He was a practiced cynic, as Sirius like to say, but after years trapped in fur and flesh, he couldn't help but be a little unbalanced. Faith was rocky with Remus. And belief was even worse. Sirius almost tricked him into both once, but that had been a moot point since his death. On the nights that hurt the most, the ones before the full moon when everything was still and his heart pounded at every soft footstep ("Padfoot?" he would whisper in his head and his pulse would race, deflating with a gasp of the wind as he tightened the barethread blankets around him more, and sighed) he could remember it the clearest. He liked to sit in front of the fire (still half-watching for that familiar messy hair to appear in the coals) and think about him. Habit. It was all habit. That's what Tonks had said. What they'd all said. Apart from Harry, who simply twisted his face and bit his lip. Ron too, who, Remus had noticed, stood just a little too close during those moments.

Sirius would laugh at him, he was sure, and his old nostalgia that he was still too young for. Sirius would also laugh at how after all the run ins with Snape and his mother, facing dark wizards, being trapped in Azkaban and fighting Voldemort, it had been a piece of material his mother would love, that had ultimately killed him. "One curtain," he'd say in Remus's mind, looking as flustered and energetic as ever, "Not even a pair, not mismatched, just one. Nothing to argue over either." And remus, too, would laugh along, whilst not letting go. Now he didn't really have a choice.

That's why his breath didn't even catch in his throat, and his head didn't spin, and his legs didn't even shake when he got home to find Sirius Black lounging across his sofa. He simply went about his usual activities - shredding his jacket from his shoulders and folding it neatly across the back of the large, tattered armchair. Toeing off his shoes and lining them against the wall (double checking they were at a perfect ninety degree angle with the edge of the shabby coffee table). Pouring himself a drink, loosening his tie, and sitting down on the edge of the sofa. He didn't so much as spare a glance anywhere else as he spoke.

"I know it's you, Tonks," he said wearily, with a sigh, "You don't have to do this every night, you know. I told you, I'm fine."

The long, dark hair shot up into sharp pink spikes as the war-worn face contorted back into plump lips and wide eyes.

"You're not, though," she whispered, edging closer, "You're not. I can see it. Everyone can see. I know it's a bit unorthodox, but, you know. I thought, one night, you could get it out of your system. Or something. This -- this fixation, Remus, it's just --"

At least she knew what not to say, Remus thought, finishing the sentence in his head and feeling his heart thunder. None of them knew. And why would they? They could understand to the extent of -- of -- losing one another, losing their friends, saying goodbye to the Sirius they knew. Harry, he knew, felt it almost as deeply. Ron felt it more. He knew without saying a word. The amount of times he'd had to see Harry almost die. It was indistinguishable, almost, to everyone else. But he knew. And every small smile he graced Ron across Harry's hospital bed, made him think of Sirius. He would excuse himself and sit out in the hall until it subsided.

"It's not going to go away." he said softly, placing his empty glass on the table, which gave a loud screech at the gentle weight, "It's not -- I know I should get over it. But I can't. You don't get it. Nobody gets it. It's -- It's Sirius." His voice dropped to a mutter, "Nobody can get over that."

Tonk's hand quivered over Remus's knee before suddenly changing her mind and placing it on the sofa between them. Oh.

"But --" she said, feeling oddly uncomfortable at what she thought should probably be a revelation. Her words hung from her mouth, unsaid. And she sat in silence.

"It's not that I can't," Remus continued, regardless, unsure, "It's -- well, I can't because I don't want to. I don't want to forget him. I don't want to forget everything. I -- I can't help but hope that -- that --"

"That he'll come back." Tonks finished. And they both sighed.

"Molly said one night with him --" she paused when Remus's eyes turned on her sharply, swallowing past the lump in her throat, "-- one night with him would get it out of your system. I -- I can't be left in limbo, Remus. I'm sorry. It's. It's too hard."

"Molly told me one night would get it out of my system ten years ago!" he said a bit more forcefully, almost angry, for Remus at least, "She said it would go away. And that nobody would be hurt. One night and we could move on. But here I am, look, a sad old man telling stories about the man I used to -- the man I --"

Tonk's breath caught in her throat and she stood up abruptly, a hand covering her mouth. She stumbled and knocked the glass off the table, before the whole thing came crashing down.

"Oh -- Merlin I'm -- just -- I never -- so sorry Remus! Really!" she bent down trying to put the pieces of wood back together, slot them in, reparo the entire thing. But her hands were shaking. And her heart was too, against her chest. And Remus was just watching, taking deep breaths, before getting on his knees and grabbing her hands.

"You can't do anything," he said fiercely, and for a minute she thought he was, perhaps, talking about the table, until it sunk in and she bit her lip. Her hair fell about her in pale brown waves. "If -- if anything -- I would have done it by now. If there was anyway -- I shouldn't have agreed to this. I need to get over --"

"No!" she interrupted, her nails digging into his hands, "No. Remus, I -- I really had no clue. If I thought -- I mean. I was selfish. I was -- I was sad because you kept turning me down, you not wanting me back. I -- I never considered why." she paused, looking up into his eyes and placing a hand on his cheek, "It was because of him wasn't it? Because of -- of Sirius?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm so sorry."

His arms wrapped around her tightly and she let him cling to her, she let him run his hands through her hair which, as she held him back, turned darker and darker. Until the silhouettes of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black met against the floorboards. And the moon went out.