Remus Lupin sat in the darkness of his kitchen, one hand gripping the bottle of Firewhisky in front of him, and the other slowly rubbing circles on his forehead. His headache was only getting worse. It was a combination of three things- the impending full moon and the rapidly decreasing Firewhisky being two of them. The third was one Remus preferred not to think about. He had spent every waking second (of which there were many- sleep did not seem to come anymore) of the last two weeks doing everything he could to forget. He had not been successful.
Sirius was gone. Sirius Black, who he had known since he was eleven years old, secretly loved since he was seventeen, was gone. Sure, there had been twelve years spent apart when Remus had wanted to hate Sirius with every fibre of his being, but Remus preferred not to think about that either. Remus had wanted to blame Harry for Sirius' death, but he knew deep down the boy wasn't at fault. Harry was exactly that- a boy. A boy driven by love and a desperation to save the only family he had ever known. The exact same desires that drove Sirius to go to Harry in the first place.
Sirius. Funny, stubborn, clever, infuriating, handsome, brave Sirius Black. Gone. The glass trembled slightly as Remus picked up his fifth drink. He took a huge gulp, feeling the sting at the back of his throat and the pounding in his head increase. He closed his eyes, glass resting precariously in his hand. There was no peace from this. Sirius' face, sunken yet still handsome and his grey eyes shining with life. This had happened before. No matter how much he tried, Remus could not get Sirius out of his head. But tonight, the face seemed different. It's mouth was moving.
Very slowly and deliberately, as though it understood Remus' senses were somewhat impaired, Sirius was mouthing something. The grey eyes were sharp and alert, willing Remus to hear what he was saying. Remus couldn't make it out. He needed to focus. He pressed his still shaking fingers over his eyes as though trying to force some understanding into them. And then all of a sudden he saw. He properly understood what the face of Sirius was trying to say.
The glass dropped to the floor in surprise and shattered all over the darkened kitchen.
In a stifling bedroom approximately one hundred miles away Harry Potter woke up. He was breathing hard, sweat causing his t shirt to stick to his chest.
Trembling with something that definitely wasn't cold, Harry staggered across the room and pushed open the window in an attempt to let in some air. He leant out, taking desperate breaths of the night air. There was no breeze, and Privet Drive seemed to have almost wilted in the heat. The yellow grass was tired, and the usually proud sunflowers in next door's garden had collapsed as though exhausted. There was nothing abnormal about this summers night in Surrey.
Harry's dream however had been extremely abnormal. It wasn't the fact that he dreamt of a bright green flash of light, or Cedric's shocked face as he crumpled to the ground. That was part and parcel of a Harry Potter nightmare. No, it was Sirius. Sirius was a recent addition to the night terrors, but usually he just stared silently and accusingly at Harry. Usually he advanced on Harry like a lion on a deer, ready to pounce on his Godson for leading him to his death.
But tonight had been different, almost more disturbing. Sirius' face had appeared, thin and haunted as it had been in real life but the handsome grey eyes had a fire of energy within them. They stared at Harry determinedly, Sirius' mouth moving slowly and carefully. He had been mouthing something. In his confused state of semi consciousness, Harry had been unable to figure out what was being said. He focused all his sleepy energy on decoding the message, willing himself to stay asleep in order to figure it out.
And then suddenly he knew. He properly understood what the face of Sirius was trying to say.
It was then that he woke with a start, breathing hard with sweat causing his t shirt to stick to his chest.