title: Letters to a loved one
author: Me. (Surprise!)
summary: Remus' unsent letters to Sirius. Early Pre-PoA, Post-Hogwarts.
rating: Um... PG-ish?
warnings: some angst, minor slash, horrible english
disclaimer: You could make this little test: Were Remus and Sirius snogging in Order of The Phoenix? No? Then still not mine, honey. I only own the writing. But I probably unconsciously copied that, too, from someone else. -_-
Author's Notes: I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed my other work, and tell the flamer of FR that that was childish. *mutters something that sounds very much like 'idiot'*
Now, go read it, and please leave a review. I'll worship you eternally if you do. Even the flamers, but because they make my blog so much more amusing.
I know, it IS horribly cliché. And it repeats itself way too much. But I like it anyway. ^_^;
I SO need a beta. -_-;
Letters to a loved one (Argh, terrible title, I know, but I couldn't come up with anything better.)
***
I'm losing my grip of reality. Why should I struggle to keep a hold of things going on around me? No-one cares if I am here or not. Dumbledore must've known I'd think something like that, sending me a note the day you were sent to Azkaban. "We need you." One hell of a assurance, that was. We need you. The hell you do. Haven't heard of him since.
I really didn't have other friends besides you three, except that Ravenclaw girl who skipped off to live a happy domestic life with a husband, two kids and a dog to some London suburban, leaving me to rot in this hellhole.
Why should I care for the world? It dosen't care for me, why should it? I'm a beast, an animal, not worthy of having same rights as my friends.
Mm, friends. What friends? You're dead. Or at least as good as dead. You betrayed me. I don't understand, it just doesn't fit the image I have of you. Well, blasting a street to air is not much more familiar. What happened to you, Siri? You've changed so much during the last six months. Or could it be that you were trying to hide your betrayal from me? I just can't believe you did it. I won't believe.
I know it's wrong, not being able to hate you no matter how hard I try. Of course I'm mad at you, leaving me alone, but shouldn't I hate you for betraying Lily's and James' trust? I think a part of me already does, but it's a small part somewhere in edge of my mind. The very same part that is breaking my heart and shattering my soul, my hopes, nagging at edges of my sanity. I can hear your steps and your voice, sometimes only soft padding of paws or a whisper, but I still know it's you. Your manners, your voice, your scent, even the sound of your breathing is imprinted to my heart. I am afraid to close my eyes, beacause your image is all that is wating me in the realm of dreams. And they are not pleasant dreams. They are the ones that should be nightmares for me, now, but they aren't. Memories of our Hogwarts' days, running out during the full moon. You, me, Prongs and Wormtail. Well, better not forget them, now I can't have new memories like that. But I'm not bitter, altrough I should propably be, just sad.
I need you, just to know I'm still alive. Sometimes I highly doubt I'll make it through life. But, well, no-one lives and gets to tell the tale. That's pretty much the point. Life equals death. Although I think death can't by any means be worse than this.
I loved you, you know. I know you know. I loved the few years after school when we could just be together, not having to do anything. Those memories are the most painful ones, the happy memories I know I should doubt. But my heart tells me they weren't a lie, a facade. I don't want to lose them, like I lost everything else. But they hurt, every single time I see something that reminds me of you it twists the knife in the wound. A wound that doesn't heal, because it's too deep for that. It'll never stop bleeding, time can't save me from being drained.
That's the main reason I moved out of our flat. Your presence was almost intoxicating, it seems to have seeped in the walls, floorboards, the furniture. I left everything behind. Everything, except a few books, empty sheets of parchment, my quill and clothes with least holes in them. And the photo album. You remember it, don't you? A thick, leather-bound book with 'Memoires' written on top of it? I remember the time you first showed it to me, when it was still empty and brand new. The typo was the first thing to get my attention. I can't understand what was so damn funny about it. Now the book is almost my most prized possesion. Even if I don't open it. Ever. It hurts too much, the memories and living pictures of happier times. Maybe I'll get to give it to Harry one day. Until that, it stays shut in my bookshelf. But I took out one picture. The one of you and me on Valetine's day, seventh year. The one James took to prove you're a lovesick puppy. I'm not saying you weren't, but old Prongs failed quite miserably with the picture. For one, the camera was in a really weird position, and second, his thumb covers half of it. But i's the other half that matters. The right side of my face is covered by the thumb, but you are completely visible, looking at me with an expression that still makes my knees go weak. And every now and then, of course, you turn to death-glare at Jamie. One of the things that make it so special for me is the way sun shines in trough the commonroom window behind us, giving your hair absolutely gorgeus higlights, and giving you a golden aura. Not even a professional could have pictured you better.
The photo is framed and on my desk, despite how horrible piece of photography it actually is. It makes me smile, but also shatters me.
I miss you, I miss you so much it's driving me insane. I would give the world just to see you, hold you, but some other part of me just wants you dead, the part that goes with the mind telling me you're guilty. But somehow, the part that go with the heart have the better of it. Because of it I can't forget you, even if I should. It's the right thing to do, what I have to do. But I can't let you go, not just yet. Not after suffering so much for you. I won't let go so easily.
***
AN part two: Well, there was part one. I might write another one, I already started to write it, and I have an idea for one more. The second would be later pre-PoA, and the third post-OotP. Tell me what you think! ^^
author: Me. (Surprise!)
summary: Remus' unsent letters to Sirius. Early Pre-PoA, Post-Hogwarts.
rating: Um... PG-ish?
warnings: some angst, minor slash, horrible english
disclaimer: You could make this little test: Were Remus and Sirius snogging in Order of The Phoenix? No? Then still not mine, honey. I only own the writing. But I probably unconsciously copied that, too, from someone else. -_-
Author's Notes: I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed my other work, and tell the flamer of FR that that was childish. *mutters something that sounds very much like 'idiot'*
Now, go read it, and please leave a review. I'll worship you eternally if you do. Even the flamers, but because they make my blog so much more amusing.
I know, it IS horribly cliché. And it repeats itself way too much. But I like it anyway. ^_^;
I SO need a beta. -_-;
Letters to a loved one (Argh, terrible title, I know, but I couldn't come up with anything better.)
***
I'm losing my grip of reality. Why should I struggle to keep a hold of things going on around me? No-one cares if I am here or not. Dumbledore must've known I'd think something like that, sending me a note the day you were sent to Azkaban. "We need you." One hell of a assurance, that was. We need you. The hell you do. Haven't heard of him since.
I really didn't have other friends besides you three, except that Ravenclaw girl who skipped off to live a happy domestic life with a husband, two kids and a dog to some London suburban, leaving me to rot in this hellhole.
Why should I care for the world? It dosen't care for me, why should it? I'm a beast, an animal, not worthy of having same rights as my friends.
Mm, friends. What friends? You're dead. Or at least as good as dead. You betrayed me. I don't understand, it just doesn't fit the image I have of you. Well, blasting a street to air is not much more familiar. What happened to you, Siri? You've changed so much during the last six months. Or could it be that you were trying to hide your betrayal from me? I just can't believe you did it. I won't believe.
I know it's wrong, not being able to hate you no matter how hard I try. Of course I'm mad at you, leaving me alone, but shouldn't I hate you for betraying Lily's and James' trust? I think a part of me already does, but it's a small part somewhere in edge of my mind. The very same part that is breaking my heart and shattering my soul, my hopes, nagging at edges of my sanity. I can hear your steps and your voice, sometimes only soft padding of paws or a whisper, but I still know it's you. Your manners, your voice, your scent, even the sound of your breathing is imprinted to my heart. I am afraid to close my eyes, beacause your image is all that is wating me in the realm of dreams. And they are not pleasant dreams. They are the ones that should be nightmares for me, now, but they aren't. Memories of our Hogwarts' days, running out during the full moon. You, me, Prongs and Wormtail. Well, better not forget them, now I can't have new memories like that. But I'm not bitter, altrough I should propably be, just sad.
I need you, just to know I'm still alive. Sometimes I highly doubt I'll make it through life. But, well, no-one lives and gets to tell the tale. That's pretty much the point. Life equals death. Although I think death can't by any means be worse than this.
I loved you, you know. I know you know. I loved the few years after school when we could just be together, not having to do anything. Those memories are the most painful ones, the happy memories I know I should doubt. But my heart tells me they weren't a lie, a facade. I don't want to lose them, like I lost everything else. But they hurt, every single time I see something that reminds me of you it twists the knife in the wound. A wound that doesn't heal, because it's too deep for that. It'll never stop bleeding, time can't save me from being drained.
That's the main reason I moved out of our flat. Your presence was almost intoxicating, it seems to have seeped in the walls, floorboards, the furniture. I left everything behind. Everything, except a few books, empty sheets of parchment, my quill and clothes with least holes in them. And the photo album. You remember it, don't you? A thick, leather-bound book with 'Memoires' written on top of it? I remember the time you first showed it to me, when it was still empty and brand new. The typo was the first thing to get my attention. I can't understand what was so damn funny about it. Now the book is almost my most prized possesion. Even if I don't open it. Ever. It hurts too much, the memories and living pictures of happier times. Maybe I'll get to give it to Harry one day. Until that, it stays shut in my bookshelf. But I took out one picture. The one of you and me on Valetine's day, seventh year. The one James took to prove you're a lovesick puppy. I'm not saying you weren't, but old Prongs failed quite miserably with the picture. For one, the camera was in a really weird position, and second, his thumb covers half of it. But i's the other half that matters. The right side of my face is covered by the thumb, but you are completely visible, looking at me with an expression that still makes my knees go weak. And every now and then, of course, you turn to death-glare at Jamie. One of the things that make it so special for me is the way sun shines in trough the commonroom window behind us, giving your hair absolutely gorgeus higlights, and giving you a golden aura. Not even a professional could have pictured you better.
The photo is framed and on my desk, despite how horrible piece of photography it actually is. It makes me smile, but also shatters me.
I miss you, I miss you so much it's driving me insane. I would give the world just to see you, hold you, but some other part of me just wants you dead, the part that goes with the mind telling me you're guilty. But somehow, the part that go with the heart have the better of it. Because of it I can't forget you, even if I should. It's the right thing to do, what I have to do. But I can't let you go, not just yet. Not after suffering so much for you. I won't let go so easily.
***
AN part two: Well, there was part one. I might write another one, I already started to write it, and I have an idea for one more. The second would be later pre-PoA, and the third post-OotP. Tell me what you think! ^^