Okay here it is!

-Cat

P.S., re-emphasis on the trigger warning for Remus' part.


Chapter 24

Lost/Found

The First Moon

"It's going to be okay."

"It's n-not." Remus' mouth barely made a sound. He could not even hear it over the pounding of his heart.

"It is," Carmichael refuted levelly. Except his hands were trembling like dead leaves in the winter wind. "I have a plan. Of a kind."

"Do you?"

A plan of his own was beginning to take terrifying shape. One he'd never thought would be necessary.

"I've known Pyrites for a very long time. We… we were friends once. But that was a lifetime ago. Loss changed him. Or he was always that way and I never… I never saw."

"Ileana," Remus whispered. There was a sour taste of bile in his mouth. Distantly he considered the wall pressed against his spine.

"Yes, her death," said Carmichael. "He was never quite the same after that. Part of that was my fault. I could not forgive him for being a Slytherin, the same house as the people who murdered her. I turned my back on him, just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Wrong place, wrong time," Remus repeated. Like them. He was getting weaker, but the wall was hard and solid. How many times would it take? Moonrise ticked closer and closer and Liam continued unaffected, as if in a trance.

"I never found out what happened." His hands were winding and unwinding something that he pulled from his pocket. A slip of parchment. "Only it had something to do with Riddle. He came to talk to Dumbledore one day, before Christmas that year. B-but…now I know a little more..."

Another spasm jolted through his bones. They were getting more and more frequent "Y-you said you had a plan," Remus gasped. Maybe the plan was like his. Permanent. Final. Experimentally, he leaned his skull back until it gently tapped the rough concrete.

"Yes, yes, I have a plan," whispered Liam. He continued to twist the square of cream-colored paper in his shaking fingers. He did not move from where he stood or explain, too intent on finishing his tale. "I contacted Euri years later. Guilt, I think. I didn't know then… I was an Unspeakable once, studied magic beyond our human limits. And my knowledge of wandlore… After You-Know-Who fell, he thought I could… thought I would help. He k-killed my son… then he t-trapped me here. But I couldn't explain why Harry Potter lived and You-Know-Who was destroyed. The Dark Lord must return, he said. He thinks that night is the key, that if he could harness the power of what happened he can resurrect his master. But the wands had no answers. Maybe he thinks you have answers-"

"I don't-"

"Doesn't matter," muttered Liam. "You'll be dead to the wizarding world soon enough. There's no escaping this place."


After

The lies he told himself became his truth. He was sinking in it, down, down, down. The bottom had to be close… His mind became a carefully pruned haven. Christmases spent at the Potters shaped themselves in tinsel and candlelight. Harry grew bright within his new world, bigger and bigger and so loved. James clapped him on the shoulder and laughed at his own jokes. Lily shook her head and collected autumn leaves. Peter revelled in springtimes and painted the shadows of new life.

Sometimes Sirius was good. Sometimes he never existed. Remus learned not to think about him at all. Thinking about him only reminded Remus of where he was. A forgotten cellar in the belly of the earth.

As if the moon did not already return him with the violence of a meteorite each month. In a remote, ironic way, he knew the monster that tore him apart was also the only reason he had not completely lost himself.

Another reason to hate the moon.

Pyrites started to spend more and more time upstairs. Remus could hear the floorboards creaking, soft mutterings and shuffling of parchment and books. Sometimes he would go still and quiet. But Remus knew he was there. The silence here was such that he could even hear his own blood sliding rhythmically inside his veins.

Remus wondered if Pyrites told lies to himself too. If that was the purpose of "here."

There was a day that Pyrites was agitated. He paced in circles for so long, Remus forgot about him and lost himself in a waking dream of Godric's Hollow at the new moon. He could feel the grass of the yard under his bare feet and stare upwards into the dome of millions of stars. The moon could cease to exist those nights…

"This place is supposed to be an escape."

The voice came as an intruding thought. Remus clung to the view of the stars, willing the voice to leave him alone, to leave him here.

"Do you find it to be? You asked me once where you were."

His eyes wandered from point to point, tracing patterns in the sky. Lily's laughter echoed from the open windows, floating on the smell of a fresh meal. Then his eyes landed on the brightest star. The dog star.

He crashed back to earth. Pyrites was standing at the foot of the stairs, watching him with manic curiosity.

"Let me show you," he said. He stepped back and gestured to the door on the landing. Remus did not understand. He stared at the white glove, showing the way out of the cellar.

"Come and see."

Time slipped and skidded clumsily, like he was dream-walking. He was suddenly at the top of the stairs, his breath rattling in his thin chest. A faintly singing light came through large panes of glass, far too bright. He shielded his eyes from the true starlight outside. After ages in the dark… It was a long adjustment.

He had been in this place before.

But the shelves were empty and dustless. A pale mist glinted in the twisting alleyways and streets, obscuring the places they should lead.

"There."

Pyrites pointed and Remus realized the walls were not all empty. Above the cold fireplace was a mirror. He met his own reflection like he was a stranger. He hardly recognized the man… the monster. He had become a skeletal waste. His hair was ragged and a scraggly beard obscured most of his face. Pyrites watched him hungrily, his lips hardly moved as he spoke.

"It is called the Mirror of Iunne. We are inside, you and I. Safe. On the other side, the world keeps spinning on and on, wreaking chaos and pain. Here we can forget… we have control."

Remus did not feel in control. Thin threads tugged at his memory, plucking at friends long buried. That was not what he wanted.

"Getting out is simple really," Pyrites said. "You have to see yourself and want to go back. I couldn't stop you."

But Remus did not want to go back. He certainly did not want to be here anymore. The problem was, he no longer knew what he wanted.

He had to try, he knew. He searched and searched for something…but he came up empty. He had drifted too far into the infinite vacuum. He was wantless. No Truth could compare to the lies he'd told in the dark. At least, not one he could find in the memory he'd mangled on purpose.

"That's what I thought," said Pyrites. His voice dripped triumph.


June 23, 1986

"Lumos," croaked Sirius. Silver wandlight seeped into the darkness of the shop.

He had not changed. And he had. A faded jumper hung loosely on angular shoulders. His cloak was threadbare, but neatly patched. Nearly domestic. Yet there was a wild edge to him, something weathered and rigid. Every line of him was braced. Slightly off-balance. His hair was grayer. Or maybe it was the wandlight? A discontinuity sliced across the bridge of his nose, furrowed his hollow cheek to his jaw and slitted all the way down to his collar. A new scar. His visible skin was littered with them, written for Sirius to see and understand. Old memories. Newer history.

But his eyes were unreadable.

The watery wandlight illuminated them in their deep sockets like glass. Glass with tiny imperfections, miniscule cracks, so hard and brittle that the lightest tap could shatter them. Expressionless. Sirius could see nothing there, no recognition, no joy or sorrow…

"Remus?"

Not a single, solidified muscle moved in his body. The hand holding the wand at Sirius' chest did not even shake. But it was him. It had to be. Pieces had already started to shift and change inside of Sirius' very being. He had been right, he was right all along. He wanted to shout, but it was all too shocking and too sudden.

"You're alive," he exhaled instead.

Finally, a reaction. There was an intake of breath across from him. Remus' clenched hand tensed and curled itself tighter around his level wand.

"Disappointed?"

His soft question was cutting, like a knife made of the same glass as his hard, expressionless eyes. And it cut deep. Thrown, Sirius could not immediately think of a response. He sounded like Remus. But the question…the hurt in it, the tempered emotion, the strange intimacy…

"Or do you plan to finish it?"

"Finish what?"

This seemed to unravel whatever fragile composure Remus had. The once steady wand was now quivering. His eyelids fluttered shut. When they reopened, his head had tilted. The light no longer touched them, replaced by a deep shadow.

Sirius came to realize something, slowly. A dawning fear he'd only half-considered. Thunder boomed outside.

"You… have you… you don't-oh Merlin-you don't know?" His words were mixed and unsure. He took a small step that creaked on the wooden floor.

Remus flinched and stuttered harshly, "Don't." Red sparks fell from his wand, burning out before they hit the floor.

"Okay, sorry, staying here."

They stood for a moment in a delicate stalemate. Remus' breath was coming quickly now, shuddering on the exhales. Sirius was struggling to breathe at all.

"Of course it's you," Remus muttered, almost to himself. "He would send you. He knew I'd come back."

"Remus, please listen for a moment-"

"I don't want-" he snarled. He swallowed and inhaled again. Then said, "I don't want to fight you. But I will." Fierce and… heartbroken.

"Neither do I," Sirius said, as gently as he could. He lowered his illuminated wand level with his waist. Long shadows moved across the walls like a solemn audience.

Remus' eyes flickered, his wand arm staying where it was. Sirius' heart was thudding. This was not how he imagined this happening. He had thought… he assumed that Remus would know about the trial, that he wouldn't need an explanation. That there was something else keeping him from coming forward.

"Can we just talk for a moment?"

Remus let out a brief, breathless huff. It could have been a laugh. Or a sob. "You want to talk?"

Sirius knew how ridiculous it sounded. What could one offer someone they'd betrayed? A confession? An explanation?

The truth?

"I'm innocent."

Even after he had said it, he knew it was not enough. Remus exhaled a bitter laugh, his disbelief filling the shop. The cracks that had started to appear in his guarded stance sealed and he hardened to cold stone. The corner of his mouth twitched. When he spoke it was bone-dry and apathetic. "So was I."

Sirius warred with the blooming confusion, but Remus was not finished. He shifted then returned to his odd, off-center stance. Like he was following some other vector of gravity. Sirius glanced down and realized why. A cane was discarded on the floor behind him. With another scan, he concluded that Remus was determinedly keeping as much weight off his left leg as possible. Sirius looked back at his face. His dark, shadowed eyes were not friendly.

"What a pair we make, Sirius," he whispered acidly. "The traitor and the werewolf. Blood won out, it seems. It was just in our natures to become monsters. Everyone who got too close was just collateral, right? And now here we are. I heard about the breakout. So you were one of them, then. Released for his little game when Greyback failed."

His harsh words rang in Sirius' ears. Carefully, he said, "Pyrites didn't help me escape Azkaban. I was released. Months ago." Remus' gaze held him fast. He did not speak, so Sirius continued as if treading on a single thread of spider-silk. "I was never the secret keeper. It was Peter all along."

"Peter's dead."

"He's alive. They caught him."

"You're lying."

"I'm not. I'm not here to-" he couldn't voice the horrible conclusion Remus seemed to have reached. "Look, let me just..."

He held up both hands, one gripping the lit wand. Remus narrowly followed his movements. Slowly, Sirius placed the wand on top of the nearest shelf, still lit. The shadows in the shop stilled. He held out his empty hands, then lowered them to his sides.

"Is that supposed to prove something to me?" Remus hissed.

"I'm unarmed," Sirius reasoned. "You can hex me if it makes you feel better."

Remus glared, but he seemed unable to use his shaking wand.

"Moony," Sirius tried.

"Don't," barked Remus harshly. "Call me that."

"Okay. Okay. I don't know what Pyrites said or did-"

"How do you know his name if you're not a traitor?" Remus demanded.

"I've been looking for you," Sirius replied honestly. "Mad-Eye and I. We figured it out. Everything. We know what Pyrites is now, everyone does."

Another flash of lightning.

"Looking for me," Remus echoed, as if he had not heard the last part of Sirius' answer. The tension in the werewolf's muscles finally dissolved. Bit by bit, the trembling wand went down at his side. He limped backwards until he hit the wall, then leaned heavily against it. He closed his eyes. "Why are you doing this?"

Pain shot through Sirius' chest. "This isn't a trick," he whispered. But Remus just stood there with his eyes closed, exhausted and broken and unmoved. "I could never…"

"Be so cruel?" Remus finished faintly. There could have been a twist of dark humor to the statement, if it had not been said with such quiet despair.

"Merlin, no. I'm not lying to you," said Sirius desperately. "I'm innocent. It was Peter. He betrayed Lily and James. He killed all those muggles, faked his death. But they found him. There was a trial, he was sent to Azkaban. It all happened so fast… and… I thought you'd know. If I ever found you, I thought you'd know."

But Remus would not open his eyes. Almost as if he were afraid of looking.

"What do you want from me, Sirius?"

"Nothing," Sirius entreated, wishing he could come closer, that Remus would let him touch his bent shoulders and feel that he was alive. Then shake some sense into him. "They told me you were dead. I couldn't believe it. I searched and searched. I don't want anything from you. I just needed to know for sure."

"You sound like you care."

"Of course I do."

A long silence stretched between them. So long, that Sirius felt his knees start to ache from standing. His mouth was dry.

"I want to believe you."

The longing in Remus' voice was like starvation.

"Remus, please," Sirius croaked. "I solemnly swear, I never betrayed you."

Remus did sob then, quiet and empty. Just once. Time came to a standstill.

Sirius couldn't move, though every instinct told him to. Was the chasm between them shrinking? There was no bridge, no way for him to cross until Remus let him. All he needed was some kind of sign, something to give him just a shred of hope that maybe… maybe Remus would listen. Trust again. If it were even possible.

The rain slowed to a gentle tapping on the roof and a hushed patter on the cobblestones outside. The door was still ajar, allowing a damp, sweet scent to enter the shop. The thunder was growing distant. Sirius scanned the shop to distract himself, the movement stretching stiff muscles in his neck. Merchandise was scattered across the floor, glittering and broken. A skull grinned nakedly at him, halfway between him and Remus. Several glass cases were cracked, the shattered one spilling out all manner of dark items. Sirius distantly reflected that this was the second time that particular case had been broken. Dumbledore had repaired it after Sirius punched it in the wake of finding Remus gone. And now… things had circled back to this place.

His skin prickled, suddenly aware of the Mirror that hung not far away, innocently reflecting the dark shop. Remus had not looked at it once.

"Why did you come here?" Sirius asked.

Remus did not respond.

"Remus…please…just say something."

Still, Remus was silent. But his gaze drifted slowly to the side, almost trance-like. Sirius followed it to a spot on the stained wallpaper, a few inches from the Mirror of Iunne. Not quite meeting the silver glass. He felt the hair stand up on his neck.

"Should we… should we go somewhere else?" he suggested softly. Maybe this… maybe it was too much. This place. This moment. He could feel it nearly drowning him. Was it drowning Remus? "Not far. Just… maybe I could make us some tea?"

Remus' head snapped back to him, brown eyes wide. Any irresolution seemed to have vanished with surprise.

"Tea?" he repeated hoarsely.

"Yeah. You still like tea, right?" Sirius kept his voice light, trying to conceal the surge of hope at the change. "Mad-Eye said you practically survived on the stuff and nothing else. Or we could get something stronger. Merlin knows I could do with a stiff glass of firewhiskey right about now-"

Remus shoved away from the wall so suddenly that Sirius flinched and nearly took a step backwards. His friend's expression was still guarded, but he studied Sirius with a different intensity. Less brittle. Like he was seeing him for the first time.

"Sirius." He drew out his name carefully. Almost reverent.

Sirius cleared his throat, which had become suddenly tight and painful. "That's me," he choked around the dam. "Sirius Black, son of a bitch, world class screw-up. Marauder. And-and fuck, this is killing me because you're alive and I've been fighting against the odds for so goddamn long. We're just standing here and you-I need you, I can't-"

"Padfoot, shut up."

His molars clicked together, resonating in his skull.

"I…" Remus paused, his voice hitching. "I don't think I could stomach firewhiskey right now."

"Tea then?" Sirius managed.

"Tea would be nice." Shaky exhale. "You looked for me?"

"Every day."

A hint of warmth brushed through the air and faintly lifted the corners of Remus' mouth. "I missed you too," he murmured. He didn't come any closer-his cane was still lying at his feet-but that was all the invitation Sirius needed to close the breach.

He grabbed the werewolf and pulled him into a fierce hug.

Remus' entire body stiffened at first, as if he had not been physically touched in a very long time. But a few moments later, he returned the embrace with that familiar, unexpected strength. He smelled like Remus, of old books and dry leaves and sheets still clinging to sleep. And Sirius could feel the warmth of a living being beneath. He could feel the ragged air moving his lungs. Every bone, every vertebrae and rib, each scapular wedge grazed his fingertips through his woolen jumper. Remus could probably feel the same.

Remus broke it first. He sniffed and swiped at his eyes. "Where…?"

"I have a house," Sirius said briefly. "Or if you'd rather go to wherever you're staying…"

"A house?"

"Dumbledore provided it after my release."

He must have said something wrong, because Remus looked away. Instead of speaking, he pocketed his wand, then bent down slowly and picked up the cane at his feet. He studied Sirius, then, quiet. Sirius had filled out a little since Azkaban, thanks to Molly's cooking, but he knew he still bore scars. And Remus, so intuitive, would know right away.

"Azkaban is not a kind place," he murmured.

"It's hell."

Remus winced.

"I was going to…" he whispered. "I should have known."

"You couldn't have," Sirius responded immediately. Too casual. Remus saw straight through this and gave him a penetrating stare.

"I should have," he said.

Why didn't you? Sirius wanted to ask. Like he had wanted to ask for months and years. Where have you been? And now, so guarded and watchful, Remus was still an island in the distance. He could feel the painful space between them again. A quick embrace could not make up for the years lost.

"We should go," Sirius said. "The aurors you stunned will wake soon. Our place is quiet. I was called away earlier today, so Harry is with a friend."

"Harry is with you?"

"Yeah," Sirius replied with a faint smile.

"He… is he okay?" Remus asked.

"He's… he's perfect, Remus. He's like James and Lily, the best of them," Sirius said, realizing he was speaking to the only other person in the world who truly understood what that meant.

Something bled out from Remus then, that Sirius had not noticed until it was gone. A miniscule relaxation of his shoulders, a softening in his jaw.

"Let's go then," he whispered.


A/N: ...

If you're going to review any chapter, I would love some feedback on this one specifically (the next one too actually, since I ended up splitting the reunion into two parts). The entire story evolved from the idea for this scene, though I never expected it to take so long to get here haha. I have written it and re-written it for two years now, so kind of scared and relieved to finally share it. Also, I've read it so many times it's kind of lost its impact for me, so I hope it didn't disappoint!

Also, if you reviewed last time, thank you again! I did manage to respond to some people individually, but if you reviewed a little later, I'm sorry I never got to you. So to you guys, thank you for reviewing, especially guest reviewers! And also Teufel1987, your opinion is always welcome and you'll just have to wait and see where the story goes :)

Lastly, this is obviously a pivotal moment in the story, but I'm building to a climax so there is more to come! I have a (nearly) completed draft (the final chapter is still in outline form). Just so you know what to expect, I anticipate the final chapter count to be 32 or 33, possibly an epilogue.

Love you all!

-Cat