Hence these Tears.
Sirius and Harry appeared outside the Lupin's little home at precisely two o'clock in the morning. Thankfully, Sirius noted, there was a little light left on in the front room, he wouldn't have to wake everyone up ... or break in. Again.
Mrs Lupin had not been best pleased with him the last time that happened. Which may have only been last year. And they (Sirius and Remus) may have been highly intoxicated at the time, and they may have brought an actual deer into the house, not the Prongs kind, but the real deer kind. They thought it was a marvellous achievement, at the time. Mrs Lupin, however, did not. Especially since Remus no longer lived at home and he only came back the few days after each full moon to recover a bit. She had dragged both Sirius and Remus through the house by their ears and booted them outside into the back garden. Without their wands. It had been snowing. A lot. Suffice to say Remus had not been best pleased with Sirius either.
It's funny what you think of when your best friends die. It really was.
Sirius discovered this to be an exceptionally sobering thought and began to make his way up the little garden path, relishing in the feel of a frigid wind on his skin. It hurt, but he could feel it. Somewhat philosophical, and mostly due to the fact he was certainly still in shock, Sirius thought that was what being alive meant. You got hurt a lot, but you could still feel.
James and Lily would never get to feel anything again. Not love, or joy, or sex, or pumpkin mashed into their faces by their son, or the leaves in autumn or the frigid wind.
Sirius was at the door now. Looking down he discovered Harry to be asleep. The poor kid.
What is Remus didn't believe him? What if he called the Ministry and took Harry away from him?
No. The Remus Sirius knew would never do that, in fact, if he ever met Voldemort he would probably let the bastard explain himself and be kind and let him finish his piece, and then kill him. But he would let him speak.
And 'speak' was all that Sirius would need.
Sirius knocked on the door with three succinct taps. Then silence. Sirius waited. Then finally, footsteps. Not of the Moony or Mr Lupin kind, which were a gentle sort of clop. No, this was the Mrs Lupin kind, There was hell of a lot of soul in those little footsteps. He couldn't tell whether he was relieved or terrified that it was Mrs Lupin.
Of all his friends parents, he probably liked Moony's mum best. Not that he hadn't loved Mr and Mrs Potter, Merlin knew he did, he loved them as he ought to have loved his own parents, but Mrs Lupin was different. She - in short - was awesome. It probably had something to do with the fact that she was a Muggle. She drove a car. She explained to him what a motorbike was in the summer of their fifth year, starting his love affair with the wonderful contraptions. She played The Beatles albums while cleaning. She also told the most wicked stories to her muggle friends to explain away the odd goings on in the Lupin household, and she enjoyed it. Merlin, no wonder Remus was cheeky, his mother was the original Marauder! She also made the best homey sort of food. With love and butter and lots of other important stuff that was severely lacking in magically made food from his own home. It was no wonder Sirius thought she was brilliant, really. No wonder he was so afraid of her rejecting him.
Did she know that he had believed her son a traitor? That he had all but abandoned Remus? That the only occasions he had actually seen her son in the last three months was at Order meetings and the full moon before last? Would she hate him as much as he hated himself now? Really, he should expect nothing more. But he did, and the thought of her turning him away terrified him.
The lock clicked.
Sirius swore his heart stopped.
"Sirius?" Mrs Lupin said, opening the door. "Dear, are you - Oh!" She gasped as she saw the bleeding bundle in his arms.
"Mrs Lupin. Could I come in please?" He whispered, clutching Harry tighter to his chest.
"Sirius..." What is going on?
"Please. Please, we need help." I can't talk about it out here. Please.
"Of course." I'm scared of what you've done.
He nods. Sorry. I'm so sorry.
Ushering her unexpected visitors inside, Mrs Lupin stuck her head outside the doorway to make sure no neighbours witnessed their sudden appearance at her front doorstep. That had happened more times than she cared to count. Sirius watched her. She was dressed in a pale blue dressing gown and matching slippers. Her blonde hair was wiry, sticking up at the ends and seemed to bounce around of its own accord. She had big brown eyes, and Sirius had often found it odd that a feature that was so quintessentially Remus, could be something that was also so completely hers.
The threesome walked into the kitchen, where Sirius watched Mrs Lupin put the kettle on. She had not said anything else to him, yet she made up for it with her constant worried expression - afraid to find out what had happened yet needing to know just as desperately.
She placed a cup of tea in front of him.
"Thank you." I'm so sorry.
She nodded. What have you DONE?
"Mrs Lupin?" Brown eyes met grey. "Is he all right?"
She nodded. Thank Merlin.
"Mrs Lupin?"
She looked at him, with the eyes of her son, bright and terrified and Sirius could see how tired she was. Not sleepy tired, but over absolutely everything tired. He had seen it often enough in Remus, which had never ceased to scare him, but it scared him three fold seeing it in Mrs Lupin. The woman was supposed to be unshakable. She had to be. How many other muggles could accept their only child was a werewolf and not be?
"I - Could I ... Could you get Remus please? I need to speak with him."
Silence.
Sirius was about to ask again when she finally spoke, staring firmly into the tea kettle.
"They're gone. Aren't they."
Sirius just looked at her, it was enough.
"Oh God," she began to sob. Quiet, gentle, but utterly heart wrenching sobs. Sirius was horrified as he watched the woman crumple into nothing but anguish and pain before his very eyes.
And then she was on him, holding him, hugging him, apologising to him. What could he do but take the love of a mother who was not his, and hope that it was enough?
Enough for what?
To make up the loss of his two brothers and countless others? For his horrible childhood? For the orphan in his arms? For the guilt threatening to swallow him hole in the middle of the Lupin's kitchen? He had no idea, but he knew for now at least, it was enough.
And then he was apologising to her in a desperate plea, telling her how sorry he was, how it was all his fault. She stroked his hair, her tears falling on top of his head, and he wished desperately that he had been wrong before, that he really had gone crazy. Because then he could have counted on Mrs Lupin coming into the ward in St Mungos for all the insane people and stroking his hair when all he saw was his horrible family and all the hurt and pain and insanity. She could have loved him regardless.
How could she love him now?
How could she even look at him?
He was perfectly sane and practically a murderer. It was all his fault. It was all on him. It was his responsibility to tell Remus, now.
"Mrs Lupin?"
"Why don't I take the little one and you go u - up? He had a hard time of it this month and I ... if I ... I think you ought to go, Sirius." She tells him, dabbing furiously at her red eyes. He is stunned by the sorrow in them. Of the love. Of the passion in them.
He gingerly placed Harry in her capable and loving arms and watched as she takes him into the sitting room, using the hem of her robe to wipe the blood off his little head, softly cooing to the sleepy baby. He was left sitting at the kitchen table, directly opposite the staircase leading up to Remus' bedroom.
The stairs looked impossibly high, and he wasn't too proud to admit that he was scared.
Are you a man or a rat, Black?
With no other alternative he stood.
He stood and he walked, up the stairs, along the hallway. He looked at the pictures littering the walls, watched as Remus took his first steps, as he ran around the sitting room which Mrs Lupin and Harry now occupied, completely starkers. Cute kid, honest. He watched as a skinny little boy with light brown hair and impossibly big brown eyes open a letter that he had never hoped to receive, and as the same little boy graduating seven years later, laughing with mirth at the antics of his friends. The world at their feet. Now two of them were going to be put six foot under everybody else's feet.
How was he to do this? Sorry Moony, Prongs and Lil packed it in tonight. Mind if the sprog and I crash at yours? Or even better, sorry I thought you were a lying bastard, wanna babysit so I can kill the rat who I trusted over you?
Merlin, this is gonna be fun. How could he do this the Remus? To Lily and James? To Harry?
The last step until the door seemed impossibly far away.
Unfortunately he reached it far too soon. His hand was on the handle. It was icy cold beneath his palm. So cold it felt as though his skin was being scalded. For a second he considered leaving. He could find Peter an kill him. Then he heard a faint snuffle from inside. He could have walked away from a silent door with disgusting ease, but not from a snuffling Remus Lupin.
He wouldn't.