Author's Note: OTP for Magpie's Seeker is Sirius/Remus
Was betaed by: Moka-girl &, Jessica, thank you.
The Wolf in Your Stars
Sirius was there, even in the cold of the night, right by his side.
"The others?" Remus rasped.
"They're home," Sirius answered, leaning down to take his hand.
Remus closed his eyes and accepted the comfort, however little it may have seemed.
"I could just tell, you know," Sirius continued, "instinctively." He gave Remus' hand a little squeeze. "I came as soon as I felt it."
'But it's too late now,' Remus thought to himself.
He was dying, Remus knew, but there was something he wanted to say before it was too late. Even as all sensation began to leave him, he still had so many things he wanted to say. Wanting and doing were always so different, and it was sometimes hard to bring both together.
The moon was full above them, pale and glorious as it hung in the midnight sky. For the first time since he'd been bitten as a child, he was not going through the agonising transformation. He had found a cure in his search to be worthy, even though Sirius had continuously told him he had always been worthy and didn't need it.
He had searched and searched obsessively until the day he had found a cure at last. Unfortunately, that was the day on which he had been destined to die. He just hadn't known it yet.
Remus lay spread-eagle on top of a flattened mesa of stony ground where he had fought his beast and battled to the death. Blood was everywhere, dripping over his skin and down the rock, but the irony was that most of it wasn't even his blood.
He had scratches, sure, but that wasn't what was killing him. What was killing him was the removal of something that was such a vital piece of himself—a piece of his very soul—a beast that had merged with him and become man. It was the reverse for Remus, for he had been the man who had become a beast.
Remus laughed at the irony. It was a dry, humourless laugh that pained him. He had always thought that he and his beast were different, but the beast had taken a part of what made Remus a man, just as Remus had taken a part of what made the beast a beast. Remus had thought that the beast had festered and eaten what humanity he had, turning him into a monster that was irredeemable and unworthy of love.
That hadn't been the full truth. He'd been mistaken.
Somewhere along the path he had been set upon by Fenrir Greyback, Remus had lost sight of what made him human. He had believed himself to be lacking the very characteristics that Sirius had always told him he had.
Instead, Remus realised, Sirius had become his humanity. No, that wasn't quite right. Sirius had become a reminder of his humanity. Remus' eyes flicked towards Sirius, and he tried to lift his hands to touch his cheek one more time.
He couldn't.
"Remus," Sirius whispered in a low rumble, and, in that one utterance, he betrayed all of his emotions and all of his love. It was something Remus believed he had never deserved and never should have taken. And now, Sirius would mourn and suffer, and it would forever be Remus' fault.
He began to open his mouth, an apology ready at his lips, when a single finger stopped him, pressing against his mouth.
"Don't," Sirius rasped, voice choked back by emotion. "I love you Remus, I always will, and nothing will make me regret that."
'Don't love me. Move on. Find someone who loves you. Be happy.'
He wanted to say those things, but the words never came. Instead, tears stung the edges of his eyes. The wind picked up, and Remus could smell the coppery blood of the beast he had defeated. Sirius looked up to face the creature, eyes soft as he sighed.
It was then that Remus knew. Sirius did not see a beast; he saw Remus. His eyes were as loving as they took in the monster as they had been with Remus only moments ago.
The monster was Remus.
The beast had truly been a part of him. Sirius loved and had loved every part of Remus—even the beast. Sirius loved him still, even as he lay, literally, in two pieces: a man and a beast.
Remus smiled because he realized in that very moment what he had never been able to bring himself to truly believe before. It was strange that it was only after killing one side of himself that he was finally coming to accept that the wolf and the man had never been two separate entities. Now, as the beast—no, the wolf—lay dead not so far from Remus, he found that he was finally willing to accept the wolf and truly live with it.
Remus looked up at the full moon, and for the first time admired it for its beauty. He saw Sirius' dark hair framed in the moonlight and felt true regret. He felt a profound sadness for Sirius — his best and truest friend, who perhaps could have been so much more than a friend, had he allowed it. Sirius was a dog, loyal to the end. Remus hoped that Sirius would not pine himself to death like the akita from the Japanese legend of Hachiko. He truly believed he did not deserve such unfailing loyalty. He was here on the mesa, dying, having thought of nothing but himself and fitting in, despite being told by other people than Sirius that there had been nothing he needed to prove.
There was one thing Remus knew he had to do. He could not die and leave Sirius wondering about all the what-ifs, could haves, and maybes. He deserved better.
Remus' hand jerked, and he clasped Sirius' fingers in his. "I'm sorry."
"Shut it, Remus," Sirius barked, wincing.
"I've been a horrible friend," Remus confessed. "I wanted to prove—"
"You had nothing you needed to prove, Remus," Sirius said adamantly. "Nothing."
"I've always loved that about you, Sirius," Remus said gently, his eyes starting to drift closed. "You are always so convinced I am someone worthy."
Sirius' hand clasped his harder. "You've always been worthy, do you hear me?"
"I love you," Remus confessed at last. "I always have."
At last, he placed his hand on Sirius' cheek. "Find someone to love, Pads. Find someone as loyal to you as you've been to me all these years. Be happy. Please."
"I've been happy," Sirius said, staring down at Remus' face, "with you."
Remus stared at Sirius Black's grey eyes. He marveled at how his unkempt black hair always seemed to land in perfect disarray no matter what he did. The full moon stared back at him, reflected in Sirius' eyes.
"I may have always questioned myself," Remus said after a while, his body growing heavier with each passing second, "but I have never questioned that you would be there for me."
Remus felt Sirius' arms wrap around him as he pressed their foreheads together. He smiled. "Be happy, Pads."
Suddenly, Sirius had transformed, and he wedged his hand under Remus' arm and whined.
Remus placed his hand on his head, scratching his ears. He pressed his face against Padfoot's head and smiled. His thoughts returned to so many nights under the full moon when he and Sirius would run together under the moonlit sky, chased by an over-sized stag that liked to get his antlers stuck in odd places. He remembered the first time he had seen the grizzled black dog that had once been Sirius and realised that he wouldn't be alone during the change.
Good old Padfoot—loyal to the end.
"Good dog," Remus praised as his hand fell to the ground.
He stilled, and his eyes lost their warmth.
The mournful howl of a dog was heard across the hills, calling to his old friend to return.