Title: Silver and Cold
Pairing: Sirius/Remus
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Post-OotP, suicidal themes, angst (like you wouldn't believe)
Disclaimer: I do not own them. If I did...the whole series would be in the erotica section. At least.
Notes: Written for mah Solar. And this one depressed me as I wrote it.
Remus sat on their--his bed and stared at the photos on the bureau. Laughing...kissing...hugging...cuddling...in love...perfect...
Alive.
Gods, so alive.
He cried every night.
He put a concealment charm on the collar and wore it constantly.
He stared at his hands as tears stung at his eyes and his chin trembled of its own accord. He was everywhere. Everywhere in this house...everywhere in his heart and soul and memories...his clothes still smelled like him and so did his pillow and how could his scent outlive him? How dare it?
He was in his own personal hell.
And everyone was solemn and careful and sad and that's exactly what he wasn't . He'd never been like that. Even out of prison, he'd make jokes between silences and nightmares.
He drew his knees up like a child and sobbed. Because all of his things were here. All of his marks were here. But he. Wasn't. Here.
'I'll be okay, Moony.'
'You're going to get hurt if you aren't careful.'
'Aren't I always?'
'Since when?'
'You know me too well, love.'
'Of course I do.'
A brush of lips, 'Yes. 'Course you do. You're my other half, after all. Come on. We've got a godkid to save.'
Wasn't fair. Wasn't fair. Was not fucking fair!
"Lupin?"
Door creaked open and the smell of Wolfsbane cloaked the air.
"Take your potion. I won't have you mauling anyone."
Remus was still sobbing, "I want him back. I. Want. Him. Back."
The goblet was put on the bedside table and Remus only sobbed and rocked, chanting over and over:
"Wanthimbackwanthimbackwanthimback..."
He didn't see Snape's mouth press into a thin line or see him blink back tears from his black eyes. He didn't even notice him leave. He didn't notice him enter, either.
He didn't care. He couldn't care. His life was gone. His light.
"Sirius," he whimpered.
That night, he stumbled into one of the storage rooms and found a box of silver goblets that Sirius had taken out of the kitchen so he wouldn't drink out of one on accident. He grabbed one and went down to the kitchen, ignoring the burning ache in his hand from clutching the poisonous metal.
He turned on the tap and stared at the water before thrusting the goblet under the spray.
He went upstairs and sat on the bed again, staring into the water. Into the goblet. Into his death.
"Why did you go?" he asked in a raspy voice. "Why did you fight her? Why'd you leave me? You love me. You said so. You said I was your other fucking half!"
The goblet slipped from his trembling fingers and he brought his hands up to cover his face as he sobbed.
"Come back..." he begged. "Come back!"
No one answered.
No one ever did.
The End.
I know...Remus is all sob-y and angsty, but...hey.
The silver goblet thing comes from the idea that if a werewolf uses anything silver to eat/drink, they'll be poisoned as if they'd ingested silver.