Title: Sleeping with Ghosts
Author: Nevoreiel (lamortnoirhotmail.com)
Pairing: Sirius/Remus
Rating: PG
Summary: Remus feels the acute loss of a companion.
Disclaimer: All familiar characters and situations are Copyright by J. K. Rowling and Co.
Spoilers: Much spoiling to Order of the Phoenix, but if you haven't read it yet, run!
Notes: Inspired and titled after the song "Sleeping with Ghosts" by Placebo. Line - "soulmates never die" taken from the same song.
--------------------------------
Sometimes Remus dreams that Sirius is there with him, safe and unharmed as if nothing was ever amiss. Sometimes he dreams that Sirius crushes him to his chest, worn and tired but glad to be back. He can almost smell that distinct swarthy scent that is wholly Sirius'.
Partly, Remus wishes for the dreams to continue and partly he wishes for them to cease, to stop tearing his soul to shreds with useless hopes.
Looking into a mirror, Remus can swear that a shadow has just brushed the corner of his eye but when he turns, heart thudding, there is nothing there. Long lost whispers reach his ears and the fluttering of the Veil haunt Remus. One day he tore all the curtains to shreds; with each torn cloth he half-expected Sirius to be crouched behind it, grinning sheepishly in apology.
It's cold to sleep alone. It brings back memories of the years spent in fruitless wait while Sirius languished in Azkaban. At least then there was a glimmer of heat in the air, a foolish hope but a hope nonetheless. Now a permanent chill has settled in, a crisp breeze hovering in bare rooms where Remus walks, retracing the past, replaying long-forgotten gestures, mouthing long-past reproaches, miming sighs, yielding up endearments.
It's hard to walk among other wizards. Each voice holds a hint of Sirius' timbre, pulling at his heart. He sees him everywhere; it breaks him a little bit at a time.
It's a habit for Remus to fall asleep, his mind reflecting on the happy memories, the kisses and the soft laughter, the sleepless nights and the nights spent in playful abandon. His tears are cold as they roll down his cheeks, dampening the pillow. The breeze sweeps by and soon the tears are dried. The ache in his chest has not lessened. Every breath pulls on the sightless hole.
The breeze turns fiercer and whistles past, ruffling Remus' robes. It seemed the burden lightened as the fresh smell of the sea, that endless expense of blue, reached him.
The shadows shifted on the ceiling above his bed and Remus succumbed to fitful rest.
Teetering on the edge of sleep, Remus could've sworn a warm, familiar voice whispered softly in his ear, "Soulmates never die."
End
--------------------------------
A/N: Feedback appreciated.