Author's Notes
1) Gee… I' always surprised when I find a new lovely review attached to my story, so THANK YOU!!!
2) Mmh. Not into songfics myself lately… so I guess I'll just write the songs that inspire me at the beginning of the fanfic, as a sort of introduction…
********** CHAPTER SIX **********
****** LOSING IT *****
Pride can stand a thousand trials
The strong will never fall
But watching stars without you
My soul cried
Heaving heart is full of pain
Oh, oh, the aching
Cause I'm kissing you
Touch me deep
Pure and true
Gift to me
Forever
Where are you now?
Where are you now?
Cause I'm kissing you.
--- "Kissing You" by Des'ree ---
Gradually, Lupin came to. He blinked, then looked around. He was lying in his bed, still dressed. What was the time? What day was it? He didn't understand…
Then he felt it. Unmistakable, the power of the approaching full moon. Ouch. It must be tonight, he thought, shaking his head. So he'd been sleeping? How odd. He hadn't slept this peacefully in a long time…which was what tipped him off. His sharpened senses were suddenly on full alert. He slowly got out of bed. Whoa. It must be around eight or so. Almost time to transform!
Piece by piece, everything came back to him. The meeting with the order, Tonks, Snape… of course. Who else could have given him some Dreamless? Yes, he'd taken it that very morning, the potions master had insisted on it. And the reason why he'd taken it…
At first he hadn't thought it was a good idea, but now he was absolutely sure it was the stupidest thing he could possibly do… he cursed himself for giving in to Snape's arguments. His head felt like it was going to split in two, so there hadn't been a real change there –the Dreamless after all wasn't a curing potion.
The only difference (for the worse) was that certain thoughts he'd shut off long ago were struggling to break free, now that his defenses were a bit lowered. He clenched his fists. He mustn't think about it. Especially not with the full moon three mere hours away… but despite everything, he could feel himself grow weaker by the minute.
The dangerous image of a certain veil swaying slowly, barely brushing the floor, yet hiding perfectly whatever it was that hid behind it –or whomever, Lupin corrected himself mentally—swam in his mind.
He bit his lip until he was sure he'd drawn blood, concentrating on the metallic taste and sharp pain that invaded his mouth… and it still wasn't enough. So he thought about the war… about Dumbledore. And Voldemort. He couldn't let go, just like that, just for a stupid personal issue. His life was worth throwing away *only* if by doing so it would be of help to the Order. That was all that mattered.
"Nothing else. Harry' safety, Harry's survival… Harry. Think of the boy…"
Lupin hadn't even realized he'd started to speak out loud… he was too busy trying to actually *believe* what he was telling himself. And besides, Harry had the unfortunate fault of resembling James so closely that Lupin found himself gasping for air.
The Marauders. They had been his one true family… Those years spent with them had been the best of his life… they had been so free, so…careless. Then came Voldemort. But in that period, even outnumbered as they were, they were still together. Still holding on to each other. And then Peter… well, he'd thought about Peter's betrayal so much that the pain wasn't really new. He'd analyzed all that had happened times and times over, during the year he'd spent here at Grimmauld Place, with…
* Sirius. *
His heart stopped, skipping a few beats, and he felt his throat go dry. He shut his eyes tightly. No, he had to stop it… but the thought of him slithered out of the depths of his mind, and suddenly he *felt*. He felt his absence like he hadn't in a long month. Like he hadn't allowed himself until now.
And it hurt. Merlin, if it hurt. His mind began to fog, as every single memory of Sirius came rushing back to him.
Every single smile, every single grin and look he'd given Lupin. The way he used to brush his hair away from his face, with that typical gesture of his hand, so similar to James and yet so different. The way he got angry, or happy… the first time he'd seen him after twelve long years, dirty, with his hollow cheeks and the blue bags under his eyes, his body no more than a skinny skeleton… and then he'd gotten better, and his eyes had gone back to the eyes Lupin remembered from their youth, though with that vague trace of sadness which never seem to leave him.
His stubbornness, his selfishness, his damn recklessness…and everything else he loved about him. His braveness, his good heart. So maybe, on second thought, the past year had been the happiest of his life, even though everything had seemed to go wrong… How odd. Lupin had hoped better times would come, when Sirius would be less preoccupied, less keen on taking the weight of the world on his own shoulders…and yet, how could Lupin have foreseen it would only *worsen*… that it would end so abruptly?
And all the things he'd longed to tell him –for so long– and hadn't found the courage to…
Had Sirius known? Had he known all along, and pretended he hadn't understood?
Would he have ever felt the same?
Lupin grabbed his pillow and tore at it with his hands, then threw it away with all his might, sending it flying in a whirling of feathers to the other side of the room; but there was nothing he could do to stop his thoughts from overflowing.
Sirius had been the first one to accept Lupin for who he was, for *what* he was. He'd always told him that the werewolf curse didn't matter to him. That others were the things important in this world, and prejudices were not one of those. Friendship, loyalty were.
Love.
But then he had gone. That had been the first time. He was a traitor, nothing more. And Lupin had cursed himself for being so stupid and allowing his weakness to take the better of him. He had wanted to believe him, he hadn't thought more rationally… or else, he would've realized there was something wrong with Sirius. There *had* had to be, if he'd been ready to sell Lily and James to Voldemort, and to kill Peter. Over and over, Lupin had asked himself why Sirius hadn't killed him too… because they had caught him too soon, or because he'd meant to play one last sick, mocking joke on his 'friend', the stupid werewolf?
Lupin had hated himself so much, for so many years… for not realizing the truth, and because a small, insignificant part of him had never fully accepted Sirius as guilty. Lupin was on the side of good, yet he was still secretly connected with a murderer, the murderer of his best friends and former friend himself. Those twelve years hadn't been easy, to say the least. And meeting a thirteen-year-old Harry, so similar to James at his age, hadn't helped either…
Notwithstanding truth is always stronger than lies. And the truth had been uncovered. Peter had been forced to show himself for the traitor he was, and a new, wonderful feeling had once again invaded Lupin's heart and mind… happiness. Something he'd thought he would never experience again… it wasn't perfect happiness, because the worsening of Voldemort's threats, and Harry's precarious safety had been keeping them worried, almost suffocating them.
But they'd had time to talk, every now and then.
Sirius was the only one left who knew Lupin's inner torments, who understood him better than Lupin himself was ready to admit. He had once again reassured Lupin that worrying so much about being a werewolf was silly… and this time Sirius had been able to understand how he had always felt, because now Sirius had experienced Azkaban, and being considered a murderer of the worst sort…
'A nice couple we make', Sirius had joked one day, 'a convicted murderer and a werewolf… what a wonderfully positive influence we'll have on my godson…'. They had laughed about it, because people's prejudices had never touched the Marauders when they were together.
Privately Lupin hadn't managed to get rid of his problems in dealing with himself… he was so used to being despised that he would never be able to really let it go. Still, he'd longed to believe Sirius for as long as he could remember, and this time it was okay to just accept things as they came… He had his brother back, and therefore was ready to face Voldemort himself, regardless of the consequences.
Then, just as he'd once again found something worthy in his life… it was taken away from him. Again. In a single instant, all that was him had crumbled down, his heart crushed as though it were made of paper. This had been the second time.
Until now, Lupin had kept these thoughts on a subconscious level only, never daring to analyze why he felt like he had no more reason to live after Sirius' death. Now he did.
It was earth-shattering. Mind-blowing.
And it all suddenly made sense.
More than friend, more than brother, more important than *anything* else. More than this stupid war, more than sanity itself.
Him. Just him. Just Sirius.
It was not in Lupin's nature to be selfish. He was a reasonable man. Yes. He wasn't the only one who'd lost Sirius. Then why did he feel like he actually was?
It was so unfair. He should've died instead –it wouldn't have been a lot better that way. It would have been 'right'. The outcast, the loner, the werewolf, the monster, the freak.
Not Sirius. Not wonderful, brave Sirius Black.
Lupin felt like he couldn't breathe anymore. Tears had begun to slid down his cheeks, and the wetness startled him. He hadn't shed a single tear since Sirius had died… His fingers reached up to his cheek, as if to make sure the water was really pouring from his eyes. A month had gone by since that damned day at the Ministry, yet it felt like Sirius had died that very day.
It felt so fucking real.
He grit his teeth, and clenched his fists, grabbing a handful of the blanket, but to no avail. There was no escape from this pain. His thoughts lingered for a brief instant on the flask Snape had given him. He wouldn't use it. He felt like dying, but if making the pain go away meant making all the memories of Sirius go too –even if the effect was just temporary– then the hell with it.
Death… did it mean he might be able to go where Sirius was, at last? He noticed that the blanket was becoming soaked with his tears, but he didn't try and restrain himself. He just couldn't.
No one would come at Grimmauld Place for a while. He could just stay here, wasting away in tears until he was consumed. Was it possible to die 'simply' of a broken heart? He was sure of it now, beyond the shadow of a doubt.
His heart was shattered, all of him was. His mind wasn't going to survive much more. He had fooled himself into thinking he could bear it all in silence… but he wasn't Sirius. He had never had his bravery, nor his strength.
He needed Sirius like Sirius would never have needed him.
And right now he needed him to be here, *in front of him*.
He stumbled out of bed, then dragged himself to his drawers. He managed to open the secret part with the small key he always kept around his neck, and fumbled with the things inside. His fingers brushed against the cool glass of the Oblivion flask, ignored it, and moved to the pictures instead. He took the two at the bottom, the sealed letter and a small golden key which he stuck in his pocket, then went back to the bed.
He held up the pictures with trembling hands and finally allowed his eyes to rest upon them. And there he was. The most extraordinary man he knew.
In the first picture Sirius was staring off into space, his expression grave, his eyes deep and sad and a bit unfocused… (very much like his own were now, Lupin thought)… then he seemed to notice Lupin; he brushed his hair away from his face, tucking it behind his ear, and flashed him one of his most gorgeous, mischievous smiles, and he suddenly looked young and careless and free again. Lupin's heart was beating faster now, as he lost himself in those images of Sirius. He himself had taken this one, a couple of days after they'd moved to Grimmauld Place. Sirius had been lost in thought, and Lupin had sneaked up on him with a camera, but soon enough Sirius had sensed him, and he'd snapped out of his brooding, and had grinned like that… he used to live halfway between the past and the present, but maybe at that time Sirius had started to convince himself that reality was so bad after all.
Tonks had taken the second picture only three months earlier. It showed two people, Lupin and Sirius, sitting on the edge of the couch in the living room of that very house. They were bent forwards, their heads touching at times, clearly lost in some kind of whispered, yet excited conversation. They occasionally glanced up and around them, but apart from that they looked completely absorbed in whatever they were discussing.
It had been a tough day, Lupin had just come back to Grimmauld Place after one of his missions, and as always he'd found Sirius anxiously waiting for him –though he'd never admit it, of course. Not because of worry for Lupin's person, he thought, but because he felt so helpless, trapped in that house he hated so much. Things hadn't been alright for awhile. Sirius had grown restless, a silent foreboding of bad things to come, like a shadow hanging over him.
But it wasn't always like that. Some days were different, and the two of them would behave like they used to, taking a much needed break from reality, making plans for the future, when the war would be over, or listing the things they would teach Harry to do –things that weren't actually taught at *Hogwarts*, but that turned out to be pretty useful out in the real world… from small, innocent curses -Lupin was glad they hadn't been able to teach him those, or he wasn't sure that Malfoy kid would survive Harry after he was through with him- to how to become an illegal animagus; or they would try and fill in all the years of Quidditch they'd missed… and just about anything that kept them occupied in some way.
Days like these had become infrequent, but they always helped the two of them face the next thing, and the next, and all the things that would come ('well, not this time though…', said a voice inside Lupin's head). That Saturday morning had been one of those. Sirius had been trying desperately to lure the werewolf into taking him out 'for a walk'; Lupin had always denied him his help with that, not because he didn't want to, but because he was afraid something might happen to him if someone recognized the animagus. Sirius had reminded him that as much as the wizarding world knew he could transform into a dog, they didn't really know what *kind* of dog it was. 'Come on, look at the pictures they took of me in Azkaban,' he'd said jokingly, though his eyes had darkened just that little bit. 'They probably think I can become a *beagle* or something. A basset. Okay, a bulldog most probably.' Lupin's serious expression had broken into a smile, and he'd shaken his head. But it was true. The type and size of 'Sirius-the-dog' was top secret. Only the Aurors knew about it, Fudge had especially requested that (and Dumbledore had made sure that the information the Ministry got was very messed up; he had encouraged a lot of rumors… yes, even that of the beagle…).
Sirius hadn't mistaken the smile: Lupin's defenses were lowering. So he'd chased him around the house for two weeks, giving him the puppy-eyed look Lupin hated (because with that look Sirius had always been able to make him do what he wanted, ever since he'd been appointed the Prefect badge), doing him favors and being sickly gentle with him all the time.
'Come on, Remus, just like the old times…' and his eyes had really darkened this time, but then he'd shaken it away. 'I mean… this part of the city is in such decay that I doubt they even know what a dog *is*…', or 'Reeemus…'.
Lupin couldn't believe it. With everyone else Sirius behaved casually, friendly… but was always controlled –apart from the rage outbursts of course--; it looked like he only allowed himself to be a bit looser when he was around him. And it was flattering, dammit. Especially because he knew Sirius couldn't stand having to stay at Grimmauld Place while Lupin went 'to be a hero', as he bitterly put it when he was in a bad mood.
So one day Lupin had given in. He'd returned from a mission and was exhausted, so of course Sirius had taken full advantage of it. He'd asked him and begged him, and Lupin had thrown up his hands in frustration. Sirius' grin had been so huge Lupin might have stuck in a whole chair. Which by the way he contemplated, before finally dismissing it and allowing himself to grin back at him. Sirius had grabbed him by the arm, dragging him to the couch in the living room, and pushing him down on it before sitting right next to him. By then Lupin had begun to feel kinda excited at the idea of being a bit reckless for once. It was tiring after all, being always the calm, rational, controlled one. And besides, a small walk wouldn't hurt; it wasn't like they were going to risk getting caught.
Yes, it might convince Sirius he could boss Lupin around all he wanted… 'Well, let him think that. He'll find out I'm much more firmer in my decisions now…' he'd told himself, smiling. So they had begun making plans… about when in the house there was going to be just the two of them, when there would be no danger of Snape being around –at this point he'd thrown Sirius such a glare that he'd swallowed, saying he would try and be civil to the "greasy g—I mean, to Snape" if Lupin helped him--, and the exact route they'd follow. Hell, Lupin had been sure Sirius would go so far as dressing as a woman if it helped him get outside –a suggestion, this, courtesy of Mundungus, who'd said he always did it when things got particularly bad.
They had been so taken up with their conversation that they hadn't even noticed Tonks taking the picture. They'd discovered it a week later, when she'd given them two copies of it, smiling and threatening to tell Dumbledore they were going to "try and visit Hogsmeade without their parents' permission"; she had joked, not knowing she wasn't far from the truth. She'd looked at them curiously when she'd realized they were blushing and carefully avoiding eye contact with each other.
Lupin looked at the picture lovingly, as he remembered how his left elbow and knee had occasionally brushed against Sirius' every now and then –at the time he hadn't even given it much thought, but now it burned painfully in his memory. Sad, how he'd allowed himself to explore the way he felt only *after* Sirius' death, when it was too late to do anything about it.
He took his time to examine it closely, not caring that the amount of time he spent doing it and the degree of sanity and self-composure he had left in him were inversely proportional. The two Lupins, the one in the picture and the one who was studying it with a vehemence and hunger that suited the werewolf inside of him rather than the ghost he had become, looked extremely different. The one sitting on the couch had graying hair and the slightest hint of bags under his eyes, but there was something about him—the awareness of having a whole life ahead of him, and some hope that the war would end and happiness might come at last.
How idiotic. How utterly stupid of him.
Now, Sirius. Sirius was just Sirius. Long black hair and glittering gray eyes… his gaze was lit up, mischievous, *alive*.
If it weren't for their more mature facial traits, they might have been mistaken for the Marauders they once had been.
'Only' Lupin thought sadly, 'if it were so, then James would be there instead of me.' But this could not be, because James was dead. And Sirius had quite likely to just have *settled* for Lupin as best friend…
He remembered how Sirius used to look at Harry at times… Molly had been right the previews summer. Sometimes Sirius had the tendency to lose contact with reality and think his godson could be like James. A little one percent of Lupin hated it.
Then again, Sirius had always been open about it. James had been his best friend of a lifetime, and always would be. Hard to compete with that. But Sirius had a big heart, and there was plenty of room for Lupin too. Being his next-best-friend was more than fine with him, and the remaining ninety-nine percent of him was okay with it. When you have two brothers, you love them both, even if you tend to be close to one of the two in particular.
Friends, brothers… was it enough though? Was that really it? Wasn't there anything else, anything *more*?
His free hand clutched his chest as a searing pain shot through him. Damn, he'd known it would be hard, he'd known it all along… and he'd refused to let his emotions loose out of cowardice… but this was harder than he'd thought. Maybe what he'd told Tonks wasn't just figurative.
\\\ "I can't let go. Cause if I do, I know I'll die. \\\
No, not yet. There was one last thing he had to do. The letter. Something Sirius had written. Just to him.
His wandering gaze finally settled to the letter. He broke the seal, and something inside him broke as well –this was the last connection he had with Sirius…-- then he extracted two pieces of parchment covered in Sirius' handwriting. The first was very formal, and clearly indicated the list of things Sirius wanted him to have; the second was scribbled all over, with some sentences crossed out and rewritten, and some jotted down in the margin… it was clearly a draft. Lupin dismissed the first quickly, and turned his attention to the second. He took a deep breath and began to read, his hands shaking, and the silent pouring tears veiling his eyes made it a bit hard to decipher the words. The date was that of the very day before he died: that was the reason why Sirius hadn't had time to write the definitive copy…
"Remus. Moony. If you are reading this, it means I have gone. I can only hope my death served some greater purpose –that I was useful in this war. Because to tell you the truth I haven't been feeling that useful lately. I—damn. This is hard. I've already written letters to both Harry and Dumbledore, so this is the last one. Believe me, it's the most difficult one. I thought about not leaving you any letter –but that would have meant taking the easy way out, I guess.
Then again, what to write to your best friend xxxxxxxxxxx, when you know it's the second time he's lost you?
Let me put this right. If by my death I helped Harry or the Order in any way, then I'm satisfied. There's some form of comfort knowing you went down fighting, no matter what *you* say.
There's a 'but', of course. I know that I've just made your life a bit more miserable. And for that, if nothing else, I xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx cannot forgive myself.
Damn, I forgot… the formalities, of course, have to come first.
I leave you a third of my properties (don't you dare weasel out of this, have I made myself clear?), plus Grimmauld Place –I'm sure you won't want it at first, but… we've had xxxxxxxxxxx (this part was practically illegible, no matter how Lupin tried, he couldn't decipher the words) xxxx our good times here. Use both as you wish. I don't care. This house was never dear to me until now, and I hope the Order will continue to use it.
That said… I leave you all the stuff I have in my room –not that there's much, I still haven't really recreated myself a life… Anyways. Burn it all, if it makes you feel better.
Remus. You have to look after Harry for me, okay? I know it's gonna be hard for you, but it's necessary, it's *vital* that you do so. In time, he will understand why I had to go. And hopefully, so will you.
Merlin, I'm hating every second of this. Why the hell did I have to start writing my will just now? Today has been one of the happiest days of my life xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx –and I've had a few since Azkaban. Yet I know I must do this. I owe it to you, for what you've done for me in the past few years.
I know you'll hate me for this: you are the one alive now. Xxxxxxxxxxxxx Do not forget about our good times. Remember me, xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx. I'll live through you. Xxxxxxxxxxx And James too. Keep us in your heart. Tell Harry about it some time.
Okay, okay, I'm getting sentimental…xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx hey, it's not like I'm about to go, okay? I have no intention of going anytime soon!!!
Lupin paused for a second, and when he resumed reading it was the hardest thing he'd done in his entire life.
There is also something good about writing this down though. It kinda creeps me out, but I can't pretend it's not there.
I know you're rolling your eyes right now, so hold it. If you are reading this it means that though I have gone, you are *alive* xxxxxxxxxxxxx (by the way, cute charm, uh? No one besides you can read this!!! I'm a genius or what?).
What I'm trying to say is that I'd rather have my stupid self killed than yours, if I had to choose. But I guess you know that already, don't you? I mean, wasn't I clear enough about it when we discussed it?
Remember, just like when McGonagall used to give me detention even when there was something you were in on, too.
You have to promise me something as well. Fight if you have to, but try not to be to rash on your decisions. Meaning: stay out of trouble if you can help it. Be careful. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
I know now that you're not quite so controlled and quiet as you look… Moony. .xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
PS Don't you do anything stupid, Moony. I *mean* it. It might be selfish of me to say this, but if you do, you'll kill me all over again. I'd rather have you suffering than dead. No matter how bad you feel. It's not your time yet. Who says it? I do. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Lupin's gaze was blank when he finished the letter. He sat there on the bed for the longest time, feeling only the dumbness that had invaded his heart. The first thought that finally sneaked out of his mind was that… 'Merlin, he's called me 'best friend.' And then the whole content of the letter began to sink in.
Now, *what* the hell was *that*? Lupin re-read it all over and over again, to make sure he wasn't imaging things. His eyes were hurting from all the crying, but there was no mistaking. This was Sirius' handwriting, it was Sirius' seal he'd broken, and the paper had been charmed to preserve the writing even if it was exposed to fire. Moreover, in his heart he knew this was him.
Only, this didn't sound like Sirius *at all*.
Had Sirius changed so much right before his eyes, without Lupin noticing it? It seemed unlikely. Okay, the few days before his, well, "departure", Sirius had been tensed and snappy. On the contrary, the man who'd written this letter seemed calm, controlled, and rational.
There was another post scriptum, on the back of the piece of parchment, but Lupin had to look away for a while. This was too much to digest and his brain wasn't cooperating. The shattered pieces of his heart were floating in the empty hollow inside his chest. Was it possible to *ache* so much?
Why was Sirius suddenly so keen on analyzing Lupin's psychology? As if he'd had an idea of just how much Lupin would miss him, and wanted to settle everything before disappearing from his life forever.
So, a) Had Sirius had some sort of gut feeling about what would happen to him? And if so, then *why* the hell had he followed them to the Ministry? And b) What could possibly happen to make Sirius think about the *FUTURE*? Let's face it, the wizard had barely learned to live the *present*… An epiphany was out of question, Sirius wasn't that kind of person. Then what was it? The only person Lupin thought could tame Sirius down –and not without some effort and most of all TIME—was Dumbledore. But the Headmaster and the Animagus hadn't really been on speaking terms with each other for the two weeks preceding the episode of the veil.
The last post scriptum read:
PS About the you-know-what… you know what to do…
Lupin shook his head, realizing Sirius would not be there to explain the parts the werewolf couldn't comprehend. Not anymore. He re-read the last part, desperately trying to understand what the hell it was all about. When he didn't manage to, he put the letter in his pocket along with the pictures, and hung his head.
As his head went over it again and again, all of a sudden a strange anger seemed to take hold of him, and he rose from the bed on uncertain feet, his teeth gritted in belligerence.
"Damn you…" he said slowly, almost in a whisper. "Damn you, Sirius." He said again, then stumbled out of his room; he stopped only when he reached the door next to his. It was locked, but somehow he was able to quiet his shaking hands for as long as it took to unlock it with the golden key he had put in his pocket. He pushed the door open and seemed to hesitate before entering. Holding his breath, he stepped inside, shutting himself in.
It had been a month since the room had last been opened, but somehow the dust hadn't managed to cover everything, not yet. Lupin's keen senses were overthrown by the smell of Sirius that still lingered in the room… he registered his own smell as well, probably amplified by the vibes of emotions he was emanating; and then he couldn't think anymore, because all that Sirius was driving him mad with sorrow. He totally lost it.
"Damn you, Sirius!" He yelled at the empty room, with a force he hadn't suspected he had left, worn and broken and tired as he was. His voice fell a bit, but he continued quite loudly nevertheless.
"You're right! You *did* take the goddamn easy way out! How… how *dare* you ask me to promise you those things? How dare you ask *me* to be rational? You hypocrite! That's what you are, a damn hypocrite! Why didn't you try and think of your butt first, for once in your life??? If not for me, then for Harry!!! Stubborn hypocrite…And what's with all those 'Moonies'? You hadn't called me Moony for bloody *ages*!!"
He sank to his knees next to the bed, and started to cry again.
"I hate you…" he muttered, choking in his own sobs; then he slipped underneath the covers and curled up on the soft mattress, clinging to Sirius' pillow. He closed his eyes and buried his head into it, losing himself in Sirius' scent.
He began to feel drained, like a piece of paper that slowly, inevitably surrenders to the flames. His chest hurt with every single silent sob, with every breath. Sirius couldn't really be gone… if Lupin had been standing in front of the veil right now, he would have passed through without even thinking, thus joining his missing half. But he wasn't, so he'd just have to wait for his heart to stop beating. And it would –stop beating--, he was certain of it. Nobody would disturb him here… nobody would notice…
He stroke his cheek against the pillow, wanting Sirius' smell to penetrate his own very skin, so that he would never forget it.
"Padfoot… I didn't mean all those things I just said… please, Padfoot, come back… come back to me… Padfoot…*Padfoot*…" He began in a whispered chant, until his brain shut off everything that wasn't Sirius.
And suddenly, a sharp pain, a *physical* pain this time, as if someone was torturing him with thousands of knives. It almost woke him up, but no, he was too tired to even open his eyes. Too worn out. He waited for it to stop, but it didn't. Was it happening, then? Was he really dying? The pain became ever more insistent, and had no intention of going away. But what did it matter now? Nothing, nothing mattered anymore. Whatever it was, Lupin wasn't afraid. He just hoped it would be quick, so that he could finally be with Sirius.
Then he vaguely remembered the full moon… only, his brain registered the information as something without meaning, unimportant… just before everything went black.
*******************************************
END OF CHAPTER SIX!!!!!!
Sorry it took me so long to write it.. it's just that I was never satisfied with the way it turned out, no matter how many times I re-edited it…
So what do you think?
Maybe I went too far… I didn't want to make it too pathetic, but I somehow *had* to convey just how much Lupin is hurting. In my opinion, platonic love stories are so heartbreaking exactly because they are not consumed… they are the higher form of love, but in this way they are never truly complete. Know what I mean? I wanted to show the lacking side of the story –well, not to mention the fact that Lupin thinks it is a *one-way* love (and we'll see about that late on).
Sirius' letter is intentionally obscure. There have to be some things that don't make sense, the plotline requires it.
Anyways, if I had to explain the reasons behind the choice of each word, I'd write a whole book, so… I hope you can understand what I mean… if there is something that doesn't make sense, please point it out and I'll try to make it clearer. (How can I find a beta reader? How does the beta-thingy work?)
Read and Review please!!!
I've been looking in the mirror for so long
That I've come to believe my soul's on the other side
All the little pieces fallen, shattered
Shards of me, too sharp to put back together
Too small to matter
But big enough to cut me into so many little pieces
Lie to me, convince me that I've been sick forever
And all of this will make sense when I get better
I know the difference between myself and my reflection
I just can't help to wonder
Which of us do you love
So I bleed, I blees
And I breathe, I breathe
I breathe no more
--- "Breathe No More" by Evanescence ---