Wind howled and rain crashed down, thunder exploded like bombs and lightning threw the world into sharp relief. The man was wet, but didn't seem to care; his long black robes clung to his skin, his ebony hair hung down in wet stringy strands. His silver eyes were blank, perfectly blank as he let the elements abuse his body. A piece of dark, wet wood hung from between his fingers, tears mixed with the rain on his face so nobody could tell the difference. His mouth was open in a scream, but his cries were drowned out and washed away by the roaring thunder and driving rain. Pain was what he felt, on his body, in his heart, in his mind, everywhere. He couldn't get away, the shadows seemed to creep closer, lurking as if they stalked him, waiting for him to trip and fall, desiring to devour him completely.
The room was quiet and still, the harsh scent of chemicals filled the room and assaulted the man's sensitive nose. Jagged pain ran across his chest, across his eyes, across his legs and his stomach. He moaned in pain and moved to sit, but found he couldn't. He opened his eyes, and blinked, thinking he was dreaming, or locked in a dark place, so he forced his eyes wider, but no amount of light hit his eyes. He felt his breathing quicken, and with each inhale sharp bursts of pain lanced his sides. He panted, and frantically tried to touch his face, but found only one arm could move, his left hanging in front of him, strapped tightly with linen bandages. His right hand touched his face, moving over the skin, finding his open eyes, he blinked and felt his lashes move against his palm, and then he was screaming. All of the pain, horror and fear making the sound desperate and agonized. Everything was so wrong, so wrong, he couldn't handle it, and he passed out, unnoticing to the change from conscious to unconscious.
The rain was slowing, and the man continued to weep as he strode towards the castle, wiping his eyes, drying them on his sleeve. He knew his actions; he knew he should have died that night. But he hadn't, and nothing he did could atone for his sins, absolutely nothing. He didn't notice as the tears began to fall again, coming harder when he heard the screams echoing across the grounds, filled with pain and horror and agony. He stopped and fell to his knees and held himself and sobbed, oh the pain, oh the agony, of knowing the pain he had caused. He wanted to die, to destroy himself, to do something, anything to undo the actions he had done.
He sat still, silent as he stroked the bandage wrapped around his eyes. They were useless, but his other senses were sharper. He could hear every inhale of breath, every shift, every rustle of cloth, he could hear the beating hearts of the men present, he could hear the echoing sobs as one cried, uncontrolled. He smell everything, he could smell the scent of wood smoke and grass and growing green things coming from his left, signifying James. He could smell the scent of roast turkey and yams, rolling from Peter to his right. In front of him he could smell the scent of cloying agony and self-hate, the scent of unkempt hair and unclean clothing; he could smell a lost man, Sirius. Behind him he could smell gentle clothes soap and patient calm, Dumbledore. Remus could also feel everything, every twitch of the air that told him the movements of every person present. He didn't need his eyes to know that they all were lost.
He didn't cry, he couldn't cry, no matter how much he wanted to. He wouldn't cry, because he had been asked not to. He would hold himself upright, and he would continue to live, if only to atone for his crimes, he would continue to silently love, never acting on his urges, because he was already branded a sinner, he needn't have yet another brand of sin on his skin. He was atoning, and the path for atonement was long, painful, and lonely, but he was walking down it, and he was doing it by himself, not being held by someone, not being cuddled or supported by anyone, because it was his fault, and it was his punishment, and it was his responsibility to find the end of the road, even if he had to crawl the entire way.