This was initially part deux of chapter eleven, but it started to annoy me like that, so instead of one normal chapter update, you'll get two shorter ones. Thank you.
He wishes for the cloths of heaven, W.B Yeats.
The final day of the holiday dawned with the foulest weather that England could conjure. The oppressive storm clouds failed to help enliven the atmosphere in the small cottage.
All week they had been growing edgy, snapping at each other for the slightest fault. Remus had been getting letters from Sirius every day since Dumbledore had left the house.
They were increasingly vivid and passionate as Sirius described all the things he would do to Remus, bringing an unwanted blush to the receiver's cheeks.
These distressed Harry greatly and every evening he would burn them with Remus' wand.
They had been to Diagon Alley in the morning, buying the books that Harry needed in stony silence. They met several of his classmates and Remus forced himself to smile as they greeted their former-Professor.
It was late afternoon when the storm broke; the booming thunder rattled the shutters and wooden door. Amidst the noise Remus detected shouting.
Alarmed that a hiker might have been caught in the storm, he rushed out to open the door and dash onto the porch. Stood on the pathway, barefoot and soaking wet was Sirius.
He was fighting the volume of the thunder as he shouted poetry.
"HAD I THE HEAVENS' EMBROIDERED CLOTHS,
ENWROUGHT WITH GOLDEN AND SILVER LIGHT,
THE BLUE AND THE DIM AND THE DARK CLOTHS,"
Had it been anyone else, Remus would have been touched by the sentiment, as it was all he felt was pity. "COME IN!" he bellowed over the din.
"OF NIGHT AND LIGHT AND THE HALF-LIGHT,
I WOULD SPREAD THE CLOTHS UNDER YOUR FEET;
BUT I, BEING POOR, HAVE ONLY MY DREAMS;
I HAVE SPREAD MY DREAMS UNDER YOUR FEET;"
Sirius shook his head with dogged determination, his heart set on finishing the stanza. Remus almost laughed as he dashed out in the rain, grabbing his friend by the shoulders and pulling him in.
They stood on the porch. "Tread softly because you tread on my dreams."
Remus despite his frustration felt tears starting to burn in the corners of his eyes. He dashed them away irritably then clipped Sirius over his damp head. "Silly pup, you'll catch your death out there."
They rested their foreheads together in an act that Remus remembered from their childhood friendship. "Now you'll catch your death as well," Sirius murmured.
His eyes were clear and focused. Not blurry in drunkenness. "I'm a changed man, Moony. No more alcohol for me."
"That's good news," Remus answered. He smiled at his friend who gazed at him with a strange expression on his face.
"You don't know how long I've wanted to see that," Sirius said hoarsely. He cupped Remus' cheek then let go as if his skin was on fire. "You have a beautiful smile."
"Are you sure you're not drunk?" the werewolf asked teasingly.
"I may be depressed, but I'm not drunk," came the gloomy reply.
"One last time, Moony- will you have me?"
Remus found himself crying as he slowly shook his head. "I don't think Harry would be too happy!" his laughter mingled with tears and he started to hiccup.
"Come on now," Sirius said awkwardly, patting his friend's shoulder. "There's no need for you to be crying- that's what I ought to be doing." For a moment there was an angry blaze in his blue eyes as he saw Harry dithering in the doorframe then he shuddered.
His tall build drooped with resignation. "Goodbye Remus. Have a nice life." He bowed his head slowly, reaching downwards to kiss a pale hand before turning one final time towards the boy. "Sorry Harry, I'm such a shite godfather to you… I never really wanted to involve you in my problems, I didn't want to involve anyone in them really- but it all turned into such a big mess."
Harry wasn't really sure what was happening, all he could see was that both Remus and Sirius were crying as they embraced. Feeling a wave of misery sweep over him he dashed forward, all clumsy adolescent limbs and threw himself into the midst of the small circle. "I'll miss you," he whispered, hugging his arms around Sirius' waist. "Honest, I will…"
"I know," the man whispered back, his voice hoarse with tears. "Now, I better be going," he sniffed loudly and visibibly straightened up. And with a cheery and ill disguised wave that Remus recognised from the days when Sirius had to return to Grimmauld Place for the summer, he strode out into the rain.
Remus watched as he made his way out into the middle of the garden. Sirius stood on the wet grass, his dark hair plastered against his skin and a crooked smile on his face.
For a moment Lupin swore he saw the boy that he knew before the war, before Voldemort – before everything that had screwed him up so much. As lightning struck on the horizon, he saw a flashing image of a handsome youth.
Clean skinned, with a devilish smile and laughing as though he had not a care in the world.
Then he disappeared leaving in his place a bitter middle-aged man. A wasted beauty with a sorrowful expression on his tired face. His lips moved three times then he was gone.
Remus dashed out into the garden, not caring as mud splattered up his trouser legs. He tripped and lay on the wet ground. He considered for a moment moving, but then decided not to.
He lay, his face resting on the drenched soil and wept. Padfoot and now Sirius were gone.