Title: Moving On
Author: Synthesis Landale
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: Not mine, these characters all belong to JKR.
Author Notes: This fic is totally spoilerish for HBP, be warned! This is how I came to terms with... a certain issue involving the R/S ship. For everyone who is depressed at the moment about what it means for our ship, read this fic and think a bit, ok? It's not the end of the world, and people do deserve to be happy, hm? It's probably not the best thing I've written but it made me feel better about the whole thing and I hope it does the same for you. And remember, don't take fandom too seriously! It's just a bit of fun. Remus's POV, BTW.

Moving On

I wasn't surprised that Sirius left everything to Harry. I thought I knew why he did it; because he knew I would want to go back to Grimmauld Place and lay on the soft, dilapidated bed we had shared. He knew I would reach for the shoebox under the bed where we kept the Hogwarts photos and weep over lost memories, he knew that I would wear a couple of his old sweaters because they still smelled just like him... It was as if he knew that he would die, and he set it up so that I could not look back.

I sat by the fire at the Burrow that Christmas and I stared into the flames, thinking about Sirius. It had only been a few months and everything was still so raw inside. People kept telling me about the extra gray in my hair, and I how I looked thinner than ever, and all the other things I knew but didn't want to hear. I got odd looks from Molly every now and then. She didn't know it, but she'd been adding to my misery by constantly suggesting I return Tonks's advances. I thought Tonks was a nice woman, but I wasn't ready, I thought I might never be ready to move on. I didn't need to be forced to move on by people who never truly understood or accepted the relationship between Sirius and I.

I couldn't stand the thought of leaving him behind. That's why I went to try and talk to the werewolves - a part of me hoped they would kill me and it would all be over. I couldn't go back or forward in life, and I didn't know what to do.

Sometimes I blamed him for dying - it was a stupid thought, I know, but I thought it - and sometimes I hated myself for living when he died. A part of me never wanted to be happy again because Sirius would never be able to share that happiness with me.

I remember hearing music - Celestina's "A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love" and thinking how Sirius hated that song. Then I heard Harry having a conversation with Mr. Weasley and I listened in, hoping to hear Harry saying how much he missed Sirius that Christmas, but there wasn't a mention of him. It was as if everyone had forgotten he ever lived, as if he'd become an inconvenient subject for everybody. Then I knew Sirius would be angry if I was bitter towards his godson, so I made conversation with him. I told him about living with werewolves and he asked me about someone called the Half Blood Prince and I was relieved when he asked if it was Sirius. I was glad to know that someone other than me still remembered him, still thought of him sometimes.

Molly gave me another guilt trip about Tonks spending Christmas alone, and Harry was whisked away by the Minister of Magic for a chat, so I retired to bed and dreamt of Sirius, falling again though the veil that took him into another life.

Some parts of me wouldn't let me move on, whatever Sirius intended.

The next day I reported to Dumbledore on the werewolves - most of them were loyal to Fenrir Greyback and unwilling to change their allegiance to him and Voldemort. He thanked me and I started to get up to leave, not wanting to stay too long in The Three Broomsticks where we could potentially be noticed, when he cleared his throat and pushed a small key across the table to me.

"I have found that Harry is indeed the rightful owner of Grimmauld Place, and he has allowed us to use it for Order meetings. I see no need for the Order to return there at the moment, but if you would like to perhaps... look through Sirius's things... discreetly, of course..." Dumbledore said in a low voice.

"Does Harry know about this? Sirius left him everything," I said, with a hint of bitterness in my voice.

"No," Dumbledore said, "Harry does not know about this."

"Perhaps Sirius didn't want me to go anywhere near the house," I said.

"Perhaps Sirius did not know what torment you would put yourself in if you refused to move on," Dumbledore said, "Your happiness would be his concern."

"Then why am I penniless, Dumbledore?" I asked, "Harry's got enough money to see him through life, why did Sirius leave him everything he owned? Why didn't he leave me anything?" I put my head in my hands, "I thought he loved me, even though he was a broken man... even though things weren't the same after Azkaban, I thought he still cared..."

"Perhaps he was concerned you would not wish to use the house for the Order, or that you would keep it as a shrine he did not wish to have, or perhaps sell it to acquire the money. Sirius had little love for Grimmauld Place, Remus, but he wanted the Order to use it. He felt it was the only thing he could give to the fight against Voldemort."

It made more sense to me then, "Sirius... he left Harry everything because he wanted him to use it to defeat Voldemort... It was all Sirius could do in the event of his death, to help Harry... To defeat Voldemort was more important to him than anything."

Dumbledore smiled and pushed the key to him, "I hope you find some answers, Remus. Centain members of the Order may annoy you sometimes, but they're all just worried about you. Remember that." And with that, he was gone, his robes flowing swiftly along the floor.

The door creaked open and I entered the entrance hall of Grimmauld Place. I felt strange, like I was intruding on a place that was not my own, and I wondered if I should leave; this was Harry's house now, not Sirius's or mine, but I wanted to say goodbye. I headed up to Sirius's room. I'd had a room of my own here, but the memories were in Sirius's room, where I'd creep in in the night and lay beside him. Sometimes we would make love, sometimes I would just hold him as he slept and wish I could repair all the damage that Azkaban had done to him, but I knew it was impossible.

I stood in Sirius's room and I crumbled then, falling to my knees as the memory of his scent filled me up with sorrow. I don't know how long I was there, weeping, alone in the dark, but I crawled to the bed and lay my head down on the pillow, taking the other pillow and just holding it against me and weeping more until I was sure there was enough to fill a river. It exhausted me, and I slept then, all the bitterness and sorrow having flooded out of me.

When I woke, I looked around the room and realized how little there had been that Sirius could have left me. The only thing I took with me was a picture of Sirius and I in our Hogwarts days; it was oddly disconcerting to see Sirius moving around in the picture with wild abandon, and I realized that perhaps he'd died long before, died when they sent him to Azkaban. He came back as a ghost, wanting revenge against Wormtail and Voldemort for James and Lily and all his years in Azkaban, and he loved Harry because he was James and Lily's son but also because he was the one who could fight Voldemort and get revenge, and that was why he'd left him everything, to help him on his quest.

I knew I had to accept it then, that he was gone, that he'd been gone for a long, long time, and I remembered then the bittersweet memories of all those times when it had felt like Sirius was far away, when I had looked into those eyes and seen a broken spirit, the times when he would drink far too much, the time he hit me in one of those rages and I knew love's young dream was dead, but when somebody dies you always remember the best, the good times, the happy times...

I left then, feeling oddly empty of all my grief, all facts simply sat there in my mind with no emotion attached to them, I didn't know then and I still don't know now what I expected to find in Grimmauld Place that day, but I know I left with something different, some sort of grim acceptance of the truth that life went on without Sirius.

Perhaps I realized then that it was time to move on.

Dumbledore was dead, Harry announced in the hospital wing that fateful night the Death Eaters attacked and it made my heart sink. I was grateful to Dumbledore for giving me that key to Grimmauld Place, for helping me to take hold of life again, and now he, too was dead. I reminded myself that Sirius, Lily and James now had company behind the veil somewhere and I held onto that thought, all the while thinking how fragile and short life could be.

I think that's why I hesitantly agreed to try a relationship with Tonks, because I realized then that perhaps time was running out for us all. I knew then, and I know still that I will always love Sirius, that he will shine on like a star forever in my memory, and that moving on would not diminish my love for him. If I can find a measure of happiness, would Sirius begrudge that? I think at the end he was always angry at how little he could give to me; the only purpose in his life that he could even hope to fulfill after Azkaban was fighting against Voldemort's followers and protecting Harry. Perhaps he did it because he wanted a better future for us all, for Harry, for me? I want to think he did it for me, at least in part.

So I like to think I had his blessing when I held Tonks's hand at Dumbledore's funeral; I hope that beyond the veil he understands that life is short and we all have to make the most out of what we have in the time that we have left to us. Of course I will return to him should death take me to another life, but for now, I simply wish to have someone near me who understands the dangers and perils of life, the terrible loneliness of being different from the crowd, the need for companionship that every human being has.

I'll never stop loving Sirius, nor will I try to replace him or fill the gap with Tonks; it would be unfair on both of us for she would be a woeful substitute for Sirius. I simply wish to move on, to find peace and hope that he loved me enough to want me to find some semblance to happiness in his wake.

I believe he loved me that much.