From the Heart of...Remus Joseph Lupin
Journal,
I haven't written since he died. I haven't loved since he died. I haven't done much of anything since he died. I'm a broken man, and I wonder if I may always be this way. There was nobody there to sit beside my bed and tell me stories of how we used to be, no kind face to smile and kiss my nose or my cheek. He's gone. Sometimes at night, I imagine I can still feel him there beside me or that I can smell his hair, his soft hair that I would run my hands over at night. I still hear his voice, his laugh, his sobs. I still see him in my dreams. I taste him when I am lonely and when I feel empty on the inside. When I dream of him, we smile and embrace. He walks with me and we talk of silly, trivial things, like weather and what new candies lay in the window on Honeydukes. Soon, though, the cold finds me. The field that we walk turns to a chilly, large room with shouts and flashes of light. I see only his face, smiling, mid-laugh. And he falls away from me. I sit up and it seems Molly has already heard me screaming, for there is warm chamomile tea on my bedside table, complete with three cookies. I sit up in bed. It isn't the bed we used to sleep so comfortably in. It is just large enough for one man and his miserable thoughts. I never eat the cookies. She knows I never eat them, but she always brings them with her. I go downstairs, thinking that I could make a death upon them look so easily like an accident. I think this with every step, but by the time I reach the kitchen, I push it away and think only of helping in any way that I can. One of the women will spot me when I first enter and hug me. If school is out, I get three hugs sometimes. Molly, Hermione, and then Minerva, which always seems to shock me. Sometimes, if I look too dreadful, the boys will pat my back and start telling me about how wonderful they did on their charms exams. I smile, but it's only a ghost. I know they try to take my mind away from it, and God knows I love them for trying. Severus seems to not care one way or another, but he doesn't sneer at me or show hatred toward me anymore. He is civil, which is still quite astonishing.
I loved him so much, my Sirius, and now he has left forever, but he'll walk with me tonight in that field in my dreams. And maybe tomorrow morning, I'll eat the three cookies, after all.
Journal,
I haven't written since he died. I haven't loved since he died. I haven't done much of anything since he died. I'm a broken man, and I wonder if I may always be this way. There was nobody there to sit beside my bed and tell me stories of how we used to be, no kind face to smile and kiss my nose or my cheek. He's gone. Sometimes at night, I imagine I can still feel him there beside me or that I can smell his hair, his soft hair that I would run my hands over at night. I still hear his voice, his laugh, his sobs. I still see him in my dreams. I taste him when I am lonely and when I feel empty on the inside. When I dream of him, we smile and embrace. He walks with me and we talk of silly, trivial things, like weather and what new candies lay in the window on Honeydukes. Soon, though, the cold finds me. The field that we walk turns to a chilly, large room with shouts and flashes of light. I see only his face, smiling, mid-laugh. And he falls away from me. I sit up and it seems Molly has already heard me screaming, for there is warm chamomile tea on my bedside table, complete with three cookies. I sit up in bed. It isn't the bed we used to sleep so comfortably in. It is just large enough for one man and his miserable thoughts. I never eat the cookies. She knows I never eat them, but she always brings them with her. I go downstairs, thinking that I could make a death upon them look so easily like an accident. I think this with every step, but by the time I reach the kitchen, I push it away and think only of helping in any way that I can. One of the women will spot me when I first enter and hug me. If school is out, I get three hugs sometimes. Molly, Hermione, and then Minerva, which always seems to shock me. Sometimes, if I look too dreadful, the boys will pat my back and start telling me about how wonderful they did on their charms exams. I smile, but it's only a ghost. I know they try to take my mind away from it, and God knows I love them for trying. Severus seems to not care one way or another, but he doesn't sneer at me or show hatred toward me anymore. He is civil, which is still quite astonishing.
I loved him so much, my Sirius, and now he has left forever, but he'll walk with me tonight in that field in my dreams. And maybe tomorrow morning, I'll eat the three cookies, after all.