Remus is numb.
No numb doesn't cover it. He is empty, hollow, a shell of a person. His world, his everything, his life, is gone. Not even a body to weep over, nothing to convince him his other half is truly gone, no proof. His love, his Sirius, gone, lost to the veil.
He supposed he was in shock, for he felt he should be crying. That was the normal thing to do when you lost the love of your life. Yet here he is frozen unable to shed a single tear for the loss of his lover. He felt as if his soul mate had taken his heart and soul with him through the veil leaving the lycanthrope with nothing.
He managed to apparate to Grimmauld place. He vaguely notices with surprise that he hasn't splinched himself. He walks, almost flouts in a trance like state, he climbs the stairs slowly eerily steady for one of his emotional state. He reaches the door, their door, he silently turns the knob. His senses are immediately assaulted with Sirius' scent.
Remus' eyes snap shut and he sways as if a strong wind has hit him. His mind is flooded with a seemingly endless supply of memories as he stands in the doorway of the room where they slept, where they made love, where they wept. He slowly opens his eyes one at a time, the bed is unmade, and a shirt of Sirius' is on the floor right where it was flung last night.
Remus walks over to the shirt his eyes never leaving it, hypnotized by the simply article of clothing. With shaky hands he reaches down and picks up the shirt, he holds it gently, treating it as some fragile, priceless, artifact that might crumble at any moment. He shakily sits on the bed his fingers grip the shirt tighter now as if someone might attempt to take it from him. He sits there staring at the simple black piece of fabric.
He startles noticing drops of liquid steadily hitting the thing he was examining with such intensity. He reaches up and touches his face is astonished to find it wet. The dam breaks and the tears come steady now quickly turning into sobs. He lies down, now clutching the shirt like a lifeline, the tears refuse to stop. All is silent but his heaves and shaky breaths and the unbearably cry, the sound of a heart breaking. He is now curled in a ball cradling the shirt as a child might cling to a blanket, or stuffed animal.
He starts at the sound of the door being opened. Minerva McGonagall stands in the doorway. He quickly sits up and attempts to stop the tears; he wipes his face with one hand still clutching the shirt with the other.
"Oh Remus," She breaths looking at him with a mixture of understanding, kindness, and sympathy. Her eyes are pained almost as if she can feel a small fraction of the torture he is experiencing.
"Your late husband…" Remus tentatively starts; McGonagall gives him an encouraging nod. "You still miss Him?"
"Every day." She states gravely. He looks at her with pleading eyes.
"Please tell me it won't always hurt this much."
"No." Remus looks shocked and hurt. "It will always hurt as much as the moment you saw him fall through the veil and realized you were alone." McGonagall takes his hand. "But you will learn to cope." She states fiercely. "You will learn to deal with the pain, you will find other things to live for, and you will do just that." She squeezes his hand for emphasis.
"You will live."
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