Disclaimer – Yeah. Mine? No. Rowling's. Crap-on-a-stick.

Author's Note – A reposted, slightly rearranged version of the final chapter in my Sirius/Remus slash series, which was written – yeah, a year and a half ago now. You don't have to read the others, but it starts with "Collar," if you're interested.

Grieving You Awake

Chapter One

Nothing

If things had worked out the way they were supposed to –

Well, let's be honest with ourselves. If things had worked out the way they were supposed to, I would be in Godric's Hollow with my parents, and Sirius and Remus would be living in domestic bliss down the street, where they could visit often.

But if things had worked out the way Sirius meant them to, I wouldn't have to live here. It was around last Christmas we talked about all this. It was late, and I went down to the kitchen for some water. Sirius and Professor Lupin – though he's been asking me to call him Remus lately – Sirius and Remus were at the table talking, and they asked me to join them. They told me how they wanted it to be. Remus apparently owns this house which belonged to his father. It's off in the middle of nowhere, too far from civilization to sell to anyone. Remus doesn't want to live there, though. "Bad memories," was all he said about it. From this and his letters, and some things Sirius told me, I'm starting to gather that his dad beat the shit out of him every couple of days. Hard to believe, Remus is what Mrs. Weasley calls "good-natured." Anyway. Their idea was that I could go live there, since it's so far from anywhere. And Remus is supposed to be really good at protective charms. We could all live there together. There are two bedrooms, which, since they were pretty openly sharing a bedroom already, would be a perfect number.

That was their dream, for all three of us to go off and live together, like the Marauders together again. They told me all about that at Christmas. They made sure I knew I had to come if they went to live there, which makes me think that damned portrait told someone I was going to leave. We talked about it all night – that and other things. I asked, joking of course, if we could get a dog, and Remus got the funniest look on his face. Sirius told me about one full moon in their sixth year, when they tried to mate Remus to somebody's border collie. They replaced the dog, because Remus said they had to. When Sirius finished the story, Remus said we could get a gerbil if I really needed another pet besides Hedwig.

We talked about it for hours and hours. And Remus has told me more about it. He's been writing to me pretty often for the whole two months of summer. Every couple of days. There were two weeks at one point where I didn't hear from him. I still don't know what happened there. He wrote me after two weeks telling me he was "perfectly all right" – his words, not mine. His handwriting was all shaky, and the letter wasn't too long – usually he writes a few pages. I'm a little worried about him. How can someone sound tired in a letter? Who cares how, he does sound tired.

If I were to live with them, I wouldn't be in my room right now. I'd be in the kitchen, or outside practicing Quidditch. Sirius was a Beater; Remus never played. He says he'd have had to skip too much practice. Sirius told me that's just an excuse, and that Remus doesn't fly very well at all.

I wouldn't be hungry right now. Sirius said that Remus cooks really well. I could go down for dinner right now, but I don't want to face my aunt and uncle. They won't miss me.

I've liked having Remus write to me. He answers all my questions, and he tells all these stories about when he was in school with Sirius and my dad. He answers all the questions I ask, anyway. Some of the things I'm afraid to ask are about him and Sirius. Have they lived together before? And – though I can't decide whether it's an important question or not – what did my dad think about it? About them? I never have gotten up the nerve to ask about that. And the real question – how does he feel now, now that Sirius is gone? Not as his friend or as my friend, but as Sirius's lover. I guess I could ask, but Remus is the mature, responsible one. I don't know if I could handle it if he said he felt like he was dying every day – or like he wishes he was – like I feel.

I think maybe now I know how Sirius felt when my parents died. It hits me suddenly, when I'm doing something normal and everyday. Then I feel guilty for forgetting up to then. And God how it hurts. Then again, I'm lucky. Sirius couldn't forget.

And I think too much and much too hard. About Sirius, of course – God, I loved him, he was my best friend and my brother and in some way my father too – but about other things too. And here's the strange part – I hate Bellatrix, who killed him, and I hate the Death Eaters who follow Voldemort – but I've learned a little about death, maybe, and I can't hate Voldemort himself. How must it be to have everyone you know either dead or despise you? And if he has power over death, like he claimed to me when I was eleven, isn't that so much worse? For that matter, what's evil? Maybe he only ... I don't know ... followed his heart. Heir of Slytherin. Fated to open the Chamber of Secrets. Which is probably metaphorical for the evil deep within a human being or some similar bullshit. Maybe he was born with something dark inside of him(and it would be so damn-it-all-to-hell easy if I really believed that). And maybe he wasn't. And maybe both. And I'll bet that's why we can't live in the same world without killing each other. Sooner or later we would come to understand each other. And I cannot allow that to happen, because he's evil. And in the same way, he can't allow it, because I'm good, I hope. And he has to be evil, maybe, went one step too far down some metaphorical or magical or maybe even physical road, went too far before he even realized what he was doing-- or maybe he made a decision he can't take back. And God I know what it is to feel trapped.

Fact is, I don't know.

Which is why I do know I'm going completely insane here ...

... and if I'm not insane yet, I'm going to drive myself crazy, thinking in these dangerous circles. Hermione could handle these thoughts, Remus could, but the water is way, way too deep for me.

I wouldn't have thought so hard on this if I'd lived with them.

Dumbledore would never let us, of course. But we could have done it anyway, just not told him for a while. We could change the house so it wouldn't remind Remus of his dad anymore, and get Sirius out of that house where he's so miserable all the time. If we all lived together, Remus would be doing a lot better. He can't get a job these days. He has to show his registration to possible employers. He had to get a number, too, which he says is the most humiliating part of it all. It's tattooed on his arm. Looks like something from the Holocaust. Hedwig usually finds him at Grimmauld Place now. I think that might mean he doesn't have anywhere else to go.

It wouldn't matter if we were all together. Sirius' family was dripping in gold, none of us would really have to work. Remus could help me with my homework, and Sirius would give me flying tips, and I could maybe forget the fact that my life got signed on to kill or be killed by a megalomaniac who lacks a healthy death wish.

Maybe understanding people you hate is part of growing up. I can't get out of that, can I? Crap. I'll bet this is why Dumbledore is slightly mad. He's two hundred or so, that's one hell of a lot of growing up.

Sirius told me once that Remus plays the piano. Really well, I guess. I had no clue. He is a musician type, but I'd have expected violin or flute or something. I used to hear somebody playing at Grimmauld Place, but I thought it was a recording, that's how good he is. Sirius called him a "man of many talents" and I thought that was a good time to get out of the room. Hermione said I shouldn't encourage them, but I notice she didn't go back in there.

Hermione seems the least creeped by the fact that they sleep together. She doesn't approve – of course – but she doesn't approve any less than she would if it was a girl. That made no sense. She doesn't approve that they're having sex in a house full of juveniles, but she doesn't mind that they love each other. I'm pretty much okay with it, myself, now that I'm used to the idea; I just have to avoid any mental pictures. I can't really make it work in my head. I don't understand it. I could never think about Ron that way. Ron, now, he was the last one to figure out that they were sleeping together, and he just sort of cringes whenever he sees them next to each other, but I think he'll come around eventually. Mrs. Weasley is a terror, though.

It would have been great, really great, to live with my dad's best friends. I don't really mind that they sleep together. I don't really care, honestly – maybe it's a little weird, I guess, but Remus is a werewolf. You don't get much more different than that.

Wouldn't that be something to tell the Dursleys – "Bye, I'm going away to live with my godfather – you know, the convicted murderer – and his gay lover who happens to be a werewolf. I'll write sometime."

God, the looks on their faces would last a lifetime.

It could have been spectacular.

Which all brings me back to the very weird letter Hedwig brought me yesterday. It was in very, very familiar handwriting.

Harry –

Remus has done something capitally stupid. Weird, huh? He's off having an identity crisis. I'd be angry with him, but he's too cute when he's depressed to stay angry at. So while he recovers his sanity and self-esteem, I'm writing to you, even though he told me not to. At five o'clock tomorrow evening, have all your stuff packed. I'll see you then and we can talk about that gerbil, right?

It wasn't signed.

So it's a quarter to five now, and I haven't packed. Of course I haven't – even in a world of magic, this is way too far-fetched. I just sort of got everything together in one place.

Ten till five, and I'm waiting. Not waiting for anything in particular, of course. What would I be waiting for? There's nothing to wait for. You can't bring someone back from the dead. So I'm not waiting for anything, really.

Just waiting for nothing.

TBC