WANTING, WAITING, WAIVING, Chapter 2
By Reija Linn
The tight silence that has settled between the three of us is finally broken by Remus, using the very clichéd age-old British cover-up in an awkward situation.
"Would anyone like some tea?"
"Yes, please" I answer, just in tact with Joyle's "I'd love one, dear."
Dear. I know my reaction's childish - I should be glad for Remus to have found someone to love and to hold and who'll do the same for him. In a way I am, of course, because I wish my old friend only the best, and if he can find that with /her/...
But at the same moment, I feel awfully jealous, and hurt, and rejected.
Intellectually, I know I couldn't have expected Remus to remain single all his life just because of one kiss we shared, more than a decade ago. I can't blame him, or even Joyle (though I'd like to...). Somehow, I'd just imagined Remus would be living alone. Rather selfish of me, actually. The poor werewolf, rejected by everyone, never having found love or acceptance, then, finally, the arrival of the fairy-tale knight, who eases all this suffering and pain - myself, obviously. I should feel happy for him. I should congratulate him. I should... but it tears my heart apart to even think about it, about them...
"Let's sit down in the living room," I hear Joyle's voice, as if from far away, and only then notice that Remus isn't there - probably in the kitchen, making tea.
I follow Joyle's light steps into a middle-sized room containing a sofa, two comfortable looking armchairs, a small glass table and long rows of bookshelves containing any and all sorts of literature, from muggle fairy-tales over arithmetic treatises and history books to a couple of novels and three rows of books entirely made up by encyclopaedias and similar reference books, and make myself a seat in one of the armchairs.
Joyle and I regard each other silently for a tense moment. I know of nothing I have to say to her, and I guess she doesn't want to hold a small talk conversation. We've known each other for years before my imprisonment, but we were never close friends - to her, I was Peter's friend, and she was his girlfriend to me, nothing more, an enjoyable person, but no one who took up a special role in my life. And it's kind of hard to hold a conversation with me, nowadays. I know nothing about fashion, music, cultural developments or anything modern, and it isn't exactly a casual question to ask, "how was Azkaban" or "well, I imagine you suffered much, there," or "Fine day for having been on the run, now, isn't it?"
Thus, we sit there in tight silence, waiting for Remus to return. Finally, it seems like ages since he departed for the kitchen, he does, three cups of tea floating through the air behind him. With a flick of his wand, they gently glide down on the small table, not spilling a drop.
"Thanks," I mutter, as Remus sits down on the sofa - next to his wife.
God, it's so hard to even think the words - his wife.
Sipping on my hot tea, I avoid looking at them.
"Well," Remus finally breaks the silence, "here we are, then. Gosh, this is really awkward. You'd think we'd have loads to tell each other after so long, but..." his voice trails off. But, I silently, continue, there isn't much to tell, really, is there? All I've seen in the past years is my cell at Azkaban, and the random places I've been while on the run.
"How's Harry?" Joyle asks, finally, and I bite back the comment that it's none of her business. After all, she's just trying to be polite, I guess.
"Okay, regarding the circumstances. It's been a hard year for him, and all, but he seems to be taking things well. I wish I could be there for him, though, instead of being reduced to sending him letters."
"You will be, Sirius," Remus softly replies, and I finally allow myself to look at him when I feel the touch of his hand on the back of mine. "One day, you'll be free to be there for him."
I can feel a large clump forming in my throat. Oh, God, please don't let me cry, please don't let me break down now, in front of her, please don't let me loose control, please don't take your hand away... But of course, he does, and I'm left feeling suddenly cold and isolated, despite the warm fire in the fireplace.
"Could I..." I manage, still fighting to keep my voice calm. "Could I take a shower, perhaps? I'm feeling kind of dirty after the trip."
"Of course," Remus nods, somewhat thoughtfully. "I'll show you the bathroom."
Following Remus up the narrow spiral staircase, I breathe a sigh of relief. How am I supposed to survive the following weeks, perhaps even months, if I can't even sit down with the two of them for a cup of tea?
Halting in front of a door, Remus turns around to look at me. "There's the bathroom. I'll bring you some towels and some fresh clothes in a minute. You can put yours in the dirty clothes basket, I'll be doing the laundry tomorrow. By the way, the toilet's downstairs, next to the opening hall."
"Thanks," I nod, then open the door to the bathroom. It's small, containing only a basin and a shower stall as well as the aforementioned basket and a small wooden stool. Discarding my clothes in the basket, I step into the narrow shower, turn the tap on and wait for the water to warm up.
The feeling of the hot water on my skin is wonderful. I can't even remember when I had my last really hot shower. Probably the morning before being sent to Azkaban, that day when...
Slow sobs start creeping up my throat, I don't even feel the trail of the tears on my cheeks because the water keeps running down my face, and my surroundings are replaced with flashbacks to that dreadful day...
James' face, still, his eyes opened wide, glassy eyes, no longer soft hazel but dull - I remember looking around for his spectacles, because James can't see without them, finding them shattered on the floor...
Lily, her arms protectively wound around her year-old son, her skin so white, and I remember thinking that it now really represented the flower she was named for, white as innocence...
Harry, so young, so lost, playing with Lily's soft red hair, not comprehending the situation, but knowing something was wrong as he uttered "Ma..." over and over again, pulling his dead mothers hair since that had always brought a reaction from her before, blood on his forehead...
I feel the cold tiles of the wall against my head, the needle-sharp droplets of water, I hear the strangled sound of my own sobs but the world is twirling around me, a mad circus of colours and sounds and echoes of the past engulfing, drowning my mind...
And suddenly, the feeling of something warm and wet and strong, arms around my shoulders, holding me tight, pulling me towards the source of the warmth, a body against my crouching form, I feel myself grabbing for the body in front of me, blindly trying to find something to hold onto, to pull me away from these images, these sounds that threaten to drown my own voice inside my head...
"Shhh," a strangely familiar voice whispers into my ear, "Shh, Sirius, I'm here. I'm here. You're safe."
Safe.
The word echoes in my mind. Safe. I'm safe. I'm safe with Remus.
The realisation of where I am draws me back to the present. I'm in the shower. In Remus' home. I notice the water that is still falling down on me, and finally open my eyes to the present.
"You're wet," I her myself say, not quite sure where the thought came from, not quite sure the voice is really my own. "You got your clothes wet."
Remus smiles, then turns off the shower spray with one hand, still holding me close with the other. "It doesn't matter."
But for some reason, it does matter. Remus went into the shower to help me, and he got his clothes wet, and it does matter. I can feel new tears creep into my eyes and new sobs shaking throughout my body.
"I'm so bloody pathetic, and it's my fault you got your clothes wet, and I shouldn't be here, and it's my fault, and, and, I shouldn't be here breaking your peace, and..." Somewhere in my mind, I know that I'm not really making sense, but I can't sort out my thoughts, can't find my way through this whirlwind of emotions that threaten to overwhelm me...
"You're not disturbing my peace, Sirius. We're friends, remember? And friends aren't just for the good times, real friends are most important in times of need. Always remember that."
I still can't think clearly, but the words are soothing, and familiar. From somewhere afar I notice we're standing in front of the shower stall, notice the warm feeling of cloth rubbing my wet body dry, notice my arms moving into the sleeves of some soft fabric of their own volition, notice myself being led into another room, supported by the strong arms of Remus, I notice my body yielding to the gentle prodding of his form, lying down on the yielding fabric of a mattress.
"I'll be right back, Sirius, okay?"
Then, the feeling of suddenly being alone again, not as desperately alone as before, but yet alone. And the tears that I cry now aren't uncontrollable tears of despair, not the assassins creeping up from behind when you least expect them, simply the release of pain held up inside for far too long.
I can hear the door open, soft footsteps coming towards me, prodding me up to a sitting position, then gently pushing me down again, the sudden feeling of warmth as a blanket is wrapped around me and a warm body slips under the sheets, wrapping warm, comforting arms around me, holding me tightly to the source of soothing consolation. Memories from so long ago, filling my head, a situation reverse...
***
Remus stepped into the dormitory quietly, as to not awaken the others, and almost silently made the way to his own bed, pulled the curtains apart, quickly creeping under his blanket, craving the warmth after the tiring and painful transformation. His body hurt, and his soul hurt even more.
Distracted, he did not at once notice he wasn't alone in his bed, though he instinctively let himself be pulled into the comfort and warmth the other body provided. Only after several minutes of silent embrace did he notice who the body belonged to, and only after several seconds of gathering his thoughts did he start questioning whether the acceptance of this comfort was right.
"Si... Sirius. You... you shouldn't have stayed up... I..."
"Shhh. It's alright, Remus. I want to help you as much as I can, even if it's not much at all."
"It's... it's more than I can ask for. More than you should. You shouldn't stay up, tomorrow's a school day, and, and," Remus felt tears welling up in his eyes which he quickly blinked back though it was dark and Sirius wouldn't see them anyway. "Am I so pathetic you feel the urge to take care of me? You shouldn't feel obligated..."
"I'm not feeling obligated. I *want* to help you, Rem. Friends aren't just for the good times, real friends are most important in times of need. Always remember that."
And bit for bit, Remus allowed himself to relax in his friend's arms, that night and every night following the full moon from then on.
***
The memory is soothing, yet, at the same time, it triggers another emotion...
***
As Remus fell asleep, finally overwhelmed by the night's tiring torture, Sirius still lay awake, his arms around Remus' body, his thoughts in guilty turmoil, as always when he lay beside his friend like this.
Guilty. Remus needed friendship and comfort, not the additional burden of a friend attracted to him, aroused by him.
Sirius' arousal was not the desperate, needy one he often experienced when thinking of his friend, not the painful arousal he felt when standing in the showers or sleeping alone in his own bed. It wasn't the urging of his anatomy, the burning craving of another body, Remus' body, it wasn't the raw, aching desire of the flesh that he felt when alone. No, this arousal, his desire was completely different, not so much bodily - he wasn't even hard, and thanks for that - but mental.
He *needed* Remus, as much or more as Remus needed him. He felt guilty for his own feelings, not so much for the feelings of desire, but for the thoughts these provoked. Full moon nights were so painful for Remus, and yet Sirius could never wait for the next, selfishly longing for the nights he could spend in his friends arms, egoistically yearning for this touch, as it was all he would ever have from his friend...
***
I suddenly find humour in the situation. Tears and silent sobs are replaced by soft chuckles that shake my body, so close to that of Remus, chuckles that slowly build up to laughter, laughter that is still tainted by tears running down my cheeks.
"Sirius?" Remus' voice, sounding concerned. Well, of course, he must think me mad. "Sirius, is everything alright? What's the matter? Padfoot?"
Between chuckles, the words flow out of me without much thought.
"It's just funny, is all."
"What?" Once again, I am nudged into a sitting position, and I dimly note the form of Remus in front of me, eying me concernedly, clad only in his briefs, and I notice my own body, the clothing from before gone - I hadn't even noticed being undressed - naked as the day I was born, body covered only by the blanket, the blanket which I'm sharing with Remus, and this thought provokes new giggles to rise up in my throat.
"Sirius! Sirius, what is? What is so funny you can't control yourself?"
I once read that tears and laughter taking turns within only a short period of time can be one sign of shock, or even madness, yet I cannot stop chortling at the ludicrousness of the situation, though it is hardly funny - though again, in a way, it most certainly is.
"Sirius?"
"Oh, it's only," I start, wondering at myself, and somewhere in my mind there is this tiny voice that tells me to stop, tells me that is *not* the right situation to tell Remus... "It's only, it's funny that I should have to have some kind of pathetic nervous breakdown just to feel you the way I just did, when I waited for it for fifteen years, even longer, for over twenty years really, only to find that I never would..."
I can sense Remus' gentle gaze on myself, and suddenly, the situation isn't as funny anymore, and the previously quiet voice inside me is suddenly so very loud, reprimanding me that it was right and the rest of me was wrong, and that I have just told Remus what I had sworn myself never to tell him, and in the worst of situations. If I hadn't been so foolish, fourteen years ago, perhaps I could have had a chance, even if perhaps only for a night, but now, with Remus married and me a broken wreck, that chance is gone, and even mere thought of it should have remained buried.
Feeling sobered from some kind of delirium, I open my eyes (which I hadn't noticed I had closed), and regard Remus with fear in my eyes, the same fear I had each and every full moon night after the transformation, the same fear I harboured throughout my school years, when I was alone in bed, and wishing I wasn't... Fearing rejection, fearing repulsion, yet needing to know.
But what I find in the gaze of my friend is only acceptance, and sadness.
"I..." Remus finally says, oh-so-softly, "I never knew. I never knew."
"Well, I never wanted you to know, and now you do, and I'm sorry. So sorry. Please, don't hate me, Remus, because... because... you're all I have left."
Warm arms, hugging me close, and a whisper in my ear, "I could never hate you, Sirius, I tried to hate you for far worse, and I couldn't. I only regret that I never knew."
"It wouldn't have changed anything, or only for the worse. I shouldn't have told you now."
A short silence spreads around us, though his arms are still holding me tight, then, again, an almost not audible whisper in my ear, "But it could have changed everything."
A quaver in his voice, a tremor going through his body, then the soft feeling of his lips on mine, closed, sweet, gentle, desperate, and to my shock I find that Remus is crying as tears that are not my own fall on my cheeks, my neck, my lips, a salty taste amidst sweetness as our bodies join as one in a tight, desperate embrace, as his lips are pressed so tightly to mine, as his body lowers itself on mine, pushing me back to the mattress, so-long-for craved warmth and weight, heat becoming unbearable as his lips part, his strong hands holding mine above my head as if bound. And tears, still falling on my face like the gentlest of showers, barely noticeable.
A kiss, as sweet and yet as hungry as it is short, then his warmth leaves me briefly only to return at my side, hands releasing my own, settling around me in embrace once more as we hold each other firmly, both of us crying as small children do, but silently, bodies shaking.
And finally, as tears dissolve, the gentlest of kisses from his lips to mine, and his soft whisper,
"Goodnight, Sirius."
TBC
~I sincerely hope this wasn't too clichéd, and that you will all forgive me for the extensive use of tears. Please tell me if it did bother you! - T'Reija
By Reija Linn
The tight silence that has settled between the three of us is finally broken by Remus, using the very clichéd age-old British cover-up in an awkward situation.
"Would anyone like some tea?"
"Yes, please" I answer, just in tact with Joyle's "I'd love one, dear."
Dear. I know my reaction's childish - I should be glad for Remus to have found someone to love and to hold and who'll do the same for him. In a way I am, of course, because I wish my old friend only the best, and if he can find that with /her/...
But at the same moment, I feel awfully jealous, and hurt, and rejected.
Intellectually, I know I couldn't have expected Remus to remain single all his life just because of one kiss we shared, more than a decade ago. I can't blame him, or even Joyle (though I'd like to...). Somehow, I'd just imagined Remus would be living alone. Rather selfish of me, actually. The poor werewolf, rejected by everyone, never having found love or acceptance, then, finally, the arrival of the fairy-tale knight, who eases all this suffering and pain - myself, obviously. I should feel happy for him. I should congratulate him. I should... but it tears my heart apart to even think about it, about them...
"Let's sit down in the living room," I hear Joyle's voice, as if from far away, and only then notice that Remus isn't there - probably in the kitchen, making tea.
I follow Joyle's light steps into a middle-sized room containing a sofa, two comfortable looking armchairs, a small glass table and long rows of bookshelves containing any and all sorts of literature, from muggle fairy-tales over arithmetic treatises and history books to a couple of novels and three rows of books entirely made up by encyclopaedias and similar reference books, and make myself a seat in one of the armchairs.
Joyle and I regard each other silently for a tense moment. I know of nothing I have to say to her, and I guess she doesn't want to hold a small talk conversation. We've known each other for years before my imprisonment, but we were never close friends - to her, I was Peter's friend, and she was his girlfriend to me, nothing more, an enjoyable person, but no one who took up a special role in my life. And it's kind of hard to hold a conversation with me, nowadays. I know nothing about fashion, music, cultural developments or anything modern, and it isn't exactly a casual question to ask, "how was Azkaban" or "well, I imagine you suffered much, there," or "Fine day for having been on the run, now, isn't it?"
Thus, we sit there in tight silence, waiting for Remus to return. Finally, it seems like ages since he departed for the kitchen, he does, three cups of tea floating through the air behind him. With a flick of his wand, they gently glide down on the small table, not spilling a drop.
"Thanks," I mutter, as Remus sits down on the sofa - next to his wife.
God, it's so hard to even think the words - his wife.
Sipping on my hot tea, I avoid looking at them.
"Well," Remus finally breaks the silence, "here we are, then. Gosh, this is really awkward. You'd think we'd have loads to tell each other after so long, but..." his voice trails off. But, I silently, continue, there isn't much to tell, really, is there? All I've seen in the past years is my cell at Azkaban, and the random places I've been while on the run.
"How's Harry?" Joyle asks, finally, and I bite back the comment that it's none of her business. After all, she's just trying to be polite, I guess.
"Okay, regarding the circumstances. It's been a hard year for him, and all, but he seems to be taking things well. I wish I could be there for him, though, instead of being reduced to sending him letters."
"You will be, Sirius," Remus softly replies, and I finally allow myself to look at him when I feel the touch of his hand on the back of mine. "One day, you'll be free to be there for him."
I can feel a large clump forming in my throat. Oh, God, please don't let me cry, please don't let me break down now, in front of her, please don't let me loose control, please don't take your hand away... But of course, he does, and I'm left feeling suddenly cold and isolated, despite the warm fire in the fireplace.
"Could I..." I manage, still fighting to keep my voice calm. "Could I take a shower, perhaps? I'm feeling kind of dirty after the trip."
"Of course," Remus nods, somewhat thoughtfully. "I'll show you the bathroom."
Following Remus up the narrow spiral staircase, I breathe a sigh of relief. How am I supposed to survive the following weeks, perhaps even months, if I can't even sit down with the two of them for a cup of tea?
Halting in front of a door, Remus turns around to look at me. "There's the bathroom. I'll bring you some towels and some fresh clothes in a minute. You can put yours in the dirty clothes basket, I'll be doing the laundry tomorrow. By the way, the toilet's downstairs, next to the opening hall."
"Thanks," I nod, then open the door to the bathroom. It's small, containing only a basin and a shower stall as well as the aforementioned basket and a small wooden stool. Discarding my clothes in the basket, I step into the narrow shower, turn the tap on and wait for the water to warm up.
The feeling of the hot water on my skin is wonderful. I can't even remember when I had my last really hot shower. Probably the morning before being sent to Azkaban, that day when...
Slow sobs start creeping up my throat, I don't even feel the trail of the tears on my cheeks because the water keeps running down my face, and my surroundings are replaced with flashbacks to that dreadful day...
James' face, still, his eyes opened wide, glassy eyes, no longer soft hazel but dull - I remember looking around for his spectacles, because James can't see without them, finding them shattered on the floor...
Lily, her arms protectively wound around her year-old son, her skin so white, and I remember thinking that it now really represented the flower she was named for, white as innocence...
Harry, so young, so lost, playing with Lily's soft red hair, not comprehending the situation, but knowing something was wrong as he uttered "Ma..." over and over again, pulling his dead mothers hair since that had always brought a reaction from her before, blood on his forehead...
I feel the cold tiles of the wall against my head, the needle-sharp droplets of water, I hear the strangled sound of my own sobs but the world is twirling around me, a mad circus of colours and sounds and echoes of the past engulfing, drowning my mind...
And suddenly, the feeling of something warm and wet and strong, arms around my shoulders, holding me tight, pulling me towards the source of the warmth, a body against my crouching form, I feel myself grabbing for the body in front of me, blindly trying to find something to hold onto, to pull me away from these images, these sounds that threaten to drown my own voice inside my head...
"Shhh," a strangely familiar voice whispers into my ear, "Shh, Sirius, I'm here. I'm here. You're safe."
Safe.
The word echoes in my mind. Safe. I'm safe. I'm safe with Remus.
The realisation of where I am draws me back to the present. I'm in the shower. In Remus' home. I notice the water that is still falling down on me, and finally open my eyes to the present.
"You're wet," I her myself say, not quite sure where the thought came from, not quite sure the voice is really my own. "You got your clothes wet."
Remus smiles, then turns off the shower spray with one hand, still holding me close with the other. "It doesn't matter."
But for some reason, it does matter. Remus went into the shower to help me, and he got his clothes wet, and it does matter. I can feel new tears creep into my eyes and new sobs shaking throughout my body.
"I'm so bloody pathetic, and it's my fault you got your clothes wet, and I shouldn't be here, and it's my fault, and, and, I shouldn't be here breaking your peace, and..." Somewhere in my mind, I know that I'm not really making sense, but I can't sort out my thoughts, can't find my way through this whirlwind of emotions that threaten to overwhelm me...
"You're not disturbing my peace, Sirius. We're friends, remember? And friends aren't just for the good times, real friends are most important in times of need. Always remember that."
I still can't think clearly, but the words are soothing, and familiar. From somewhere afar I notice we're standing in front of the shower stall, notice the warm feeling of cloth rubbing my wet body dry, notice my arms moving into the sleeves of some soft fabric of their own volition, notice myself being led into another room, supported by the strong arms of Remus, I notice my body yielding to the gentle prodding of his form, lying down on the yielding fabric of a mattress.
"I'll be right back, Sirius, okay?"
Then, the feeling of suddenly being alone again, not as desperately alone as before, but yet alone. And the tears that I cry now aren't uncontrollable tears of despair, not the assassins creeping up from behind when you least expect them, simply the release of pain held up inside for far too long.
I can hear the door open, soft footsteps coming towards me, prodding me up to a sitting position, then gently pushing me down again, the sudden feeling of warmth as a blanket is wrapped around me and a warm body slips under the sheets, wrapping warm, comforting arms around me, holding me tightly to the source of soothing consolation. Memories from so long ago, filling my head, a situation reverse...
***
Remus stepped into the dormitory quietly, as to not awaken the others, and almost silently made the way to his own bed, pulled the curtains apart, quickly creeping under his blanket, craving the warmth after the tiring and painful transformation. His body hurt, and his soul hurt even more.
Distracted, he did not at once notice he wasn't alone in his bed, though he instinctively let himself be pulled into the comfort and warmth the other body provided. Only after several minutes of silent embrace did he notice who the body belonged to, and only after several seconds of gathering his thoughts did he start questioning whether the acceptance of this comfort was right.
"Si... Sirius. You... you shouldn't have stayed up... I..."
"Shhh. It's alright, Remus. I want to help you as much as I can, even if it's not much at all."
"It's... it's more than I can ask for. More than you should. You shouldn't stay up, tomorrow's a school day, and, and," Remus felt tears welling up in his eyes which he quickly blinked back though it was dark and Sirius wouldn't see them anyway. "Am I so pathetic you feel the urge to take care of me? You shouldn't feel obligated..."
"I'm not feeling obligated. I *want* to help you, Rem. Friends aren't just for the good times, real friends are most important in times of need. Always remember that."
And bit for bit, Remus allowed himself to relax in his friend's arms, that night and every night following the full moon from then on.
***
The memory is soothing, yet, at the same time, it triggers another emotion...
***
As Remus fell asleep, finally overwhelmed by the night's tiring torture, Sirius still lay awake, his arms around Remus' body, his thoughts in guilty turmoil, as always when he lay beside his friend like this.
Guilty. Remus needed friendship and comfort, not the additional burden of a friend attracted to him, aroused by him.
Sirius' arousal was not the desperate, needy one he often experienced when thinking of his friend, not the painful arousal he felt when standing in the showers or sleeping alone in his own bed. It wasn't the urging of his anatomy, the burning craving of another body, Remus' body, it wasn't the raw, aching desire of the flesh that he felt when alone. No, this arousal, his desire was completely different, not so much bodily - he wasn't even hard, and thanks for that - but mental.
He *needed* Remus, as much or more as Remus needed him. He felt guilty for his own feelings, not so much for the feelings of desire, but for the thoughts these provoked. Full moon nights were so painful for Remus, and yet Sirius could never wait for the next, selfishly longing for the nights he could spend in his friends arms, egoistically yearning for this touch, as it was all he would ever have from his friend...
***
I suddenly find humour in the situation. Tears and silent sobs are replaced by soft chuckles that shake my body, so close to that of Remus, chuckles that slowly build up to laughter, laughter that is still tainted by tears running down my cheeks.
"Sirius?" Remus' voice, sounding concerned. Well, of course, he must think me mad. "Sirius, is everything alright? What's the matter? Padfoot?"
Between chuckles, the words flow out of me without much thought.
"It's just funny, is all."
"What?" Once again, I am nudged into a sitting position, and I dimly note the form of Remus in front of me, eying me concernedly, clad only in his briefs, and I notice my own body, the clothing from before gone - I hadn't even noticed being undressed - naked as the day I was born, body covered only by the blanket, the blanket which I'm sharing with Remus, and this thought provokes new giggles to rise up in my throat.
"Sirius! Sirius, what is? What is so funny you can't control yourself?"
I once read that tears and laughter taking turns within only a short period of time can be one sign of shock, or even madness, yet I cannot stop chortling at the ludicrousness of the situation, though it is hardly funny - though again, in a way, it most certainly is.
"Sirius?"
"Oh, it's only," I start, wondering at myself, and somewhere in my mind there is this tiny voice that tells me to stop, tells me that is *not* the right situation to tell Remus... "It's only, it's funny that I should have to have some kind of pathetic nervous breakdown just to feel you the way I just did, when I waited for it for fifteen years, even longer, for over twenty years really, only to find that I never would..."
I can sense Remus' gentle gaze on myself, and suddenly, the situation isn't as funny anymore, and the previously quiet voice inside me is suddenly so very loud, reprimanding me that it was right and the rest of me was wrong, and that I have just told Remus what I had sworn myself never to tell him, and in the worst of situations. If I hadn't been so foolish, fourteen years ago, perhaps I could have had a chance, even if perhaps only for a night, but now, with Remus married and me a broken wreck, that chance is gone, and even mere thought of it should have remained buried.
Feeling sobered from some kind of delirium, I open my eyes (which I hadn't noticed I had closed), and regard Remus with fear in my eyes, the same fear I had each and every full moon night after the transformation, the same fear I harboured throughout my school years, when I was alone in bed, and wishing I wasn't... Fearing rejection, fearing repulsion, yet needing to know.
But what I find in the gaze of my friend is only acceptance, and sadness.
"I..." Remus finally says, oh-so-softly, "I never knew. I never knew."
"Well, I never wanted you to know, and now you do, and I'm sorry. So sorry. Please, don't hate me, Remus, because... because... you're all I have left."
Warm arms, hugging me close, and a whisper in my ear, "I could never hate you, Sirius, I tried to hate you for far worse, and I couldn't. I only regret that I never knew."
"It wouldn't have changed anything, or only for the worse. I shouldn't have told you now."
A short silence spreads around us, though his arms are still holding me tight, then, again, an almost not audible whisper in my ear, "But it could have changed everything."
A quaver in his voice, a tremor going through his body, then the soft feeling of his lips on mine, closed, sweet, gentle, desperate, and to my shock I find that Remus is crying as tears that are not my own fall on my cheeks, my neck, my lips, a salty taste amidst sweetness as our bodies join as one in a tight, desperate embrace, as his lips are pressed so tightly to mine, as his body lowers itself on mine, pushing me back to the mattress, so-long-for craved warmth and weight, heat becoming unbearable as his lips part, his strong hands holding mine above my head as if bound. And tears, still falling on my face like the gentlest of showers, barely noticeable.
A kiss, as sweet and yet as hungry as it is short, then his warmth leaves me briefly only to return at my side, hands releasing my own, settling around me in embrace once more as we hold each other firmly, both of us crying as small children do, but silently, bodies shaking.
And finally, as tears dissolve, the gentlest of kisses from his lips to mine, and his soft whisper,
"Goodnight, Sirius."
TBC
~I sincerely hope this wasn't too clichéd, and that you will all forgive me for the extensive use of tears. Please tell me if it did bother you! - T'Reija