Chapter 14 – Addict

Dear God, he had never thought that one mistake could cause so much pain. Even the fact that he couldn't bear to tell Sirius how he felt was getting him down. And the cravings … would they ever stop? Would the need for drugs ever leave him? It felt like it wouldn't.

Sirius was out at Quidditch practice. Remus couldn't blame him; the Chudley Cannons needed all the practice they could get. Even the members of the team and the faithful fans admitted that the whole team but for Yasmin and the two Marauders were crap, and James and Sirius were a Godsend.

But it didn't stop him from missing Sirius. He wanted him home, so he could just be with him. That seemed to ease the pain of wanting to go back and see Carachas and Jones again in their warehouse. His body was crying out for more of the drugs. For a week, Remus had ignored it, told himself he wasn't going to ever go back.

But today the cravings were particularly bad. He needed his mate's company to slake the need for the evil drugs, and Sirius wouldn't be back until late.

Slowly, Remus got up out of the armchair and turned off the TV. He walked into the hall and scribbled a quick note for Sirius before grabbing his coat and apparating straight to back to Carachas and Jones.


For two months, Remus managed to keep Sirius oblivious to the fact that he was quickly spiralling further and further down into addiction. But the drugs, late nights and unsettled sleep were taking their toll – Remus was a walking spectre, the shadows under his eyes blacker than ever before and his skin the colour of dirty snow. The grey in his hair increased more steadily than ever and his eyes went dim. He was constantly tired, but he couldn't sleep. By the end of most days, he could barely move. He took to going to bed early, so that Sirius wouldn't notice that he was almost falling over. When Sirius did come to bed – generally not long after Remus – the werewolf would pretend to be fast asleep. His lover would lean over, kiss his cheek and go to sleep himself. Remus would lie awake listening to his breathing for most of the night, until sleep claimed him scant hours before he had to wake again. Sometimes he didn't sleep at all.

The full moons were the worst. The wolf hated him for the damage he was inflicting on himself, so he made each wound deeper, each bite harder. Not even the presence of Padfoot could stop Moony from almost-literally tearing himself apart in self-disgust, even if it was the other half of his self that was doing the damage.

Every time Sirius went out, he returned to the warehouse under the guise that he was getting something. Every time he did he felt more and more guilty, but when he left off going back for more of the nameless drugs it made him feel worse. Gradually, the drug addicts welcomed him, accepting him as one of them. Whenever he went back, he would first talk to Carachas, Fisher or both. Every time, they would ask if he was sure he knew what he was doing. They tried to persuade him not to take any more. They could see how badly the drugs were affecting him. But Remus Lupin wouldn't listen.

Soon his dependence grew so bad he was taking them every day. His body couldn't build any defences against the large amounts of drugs and so each time he took more they affected him worse. He was killing himself from the inside out. He knew that. But he couldn't stop. Wanted to, but couldn't. The cravings were unbearable.
Eventually, Sirius noticed that Remus was always out when he was. He realised how ill his lover looked, his pale skin and the shadows beneath his eyes. He noticed also that he took a long time returning home, often without whatever he had gone for. He started to really worry when Remus disappeared for a whole day, leaving him completely alone in the house until very late that night without saying where he had gone. Never before had either of them done that. However, he didn't talk to his lover, but went to see James.

"So you think something's wrong?"

Sirius shrugged in reply. James said, "It does sound suspicious. Maybe you should follow him?"

"No. I don't … I don't want to know. I just want him to stop disappearing, or at least tell me where he goes."

Lilly, who was doing the ironing in the kitchen, called, "Maybe he's seeing someone else."

Sirius turned on her as though she had accused him of murder. "He is not seeing someone else!"

She jumped back as though he had literally snapped at her. "Sorry!"

James laid a soothing but anxious hand on his arm. "Sirius, calm down. I know it's a … touchy subject, but it's still a possibility. You should ask him if anything's wrong."

"I've tried that," Sirius muttered dejectedly. "He said he was fine. He was quick to change the subject, too."

"I know you don't want to hear this, but … could you ask him if there is someone else – "

Sirius growled. "Look, I'd know if there was."

"Only if he was physically cheating on you," Lilly butted in. Sirius' eyes flashed. James grabbed his arm. "Sirius, just ask. It's probably not the case, but … wouldn't you feel better if you at least knew?"

"Yes," Sirius whispered. James moved onto the sofa next to Sirius. He slung an arm around his shoulders and said, "It's OK, Sirius."

Sirius burst into tears. James jumped back as though he had turned into a ravenous monster with a thousand teeth and tentacles. Never, in all the time they had known each other, had James seen Sirius cry. Tentatively, he pulled Sirius into a hug. His friend put his arms around him. James rocked Sirius back and forth, making soothing noises. Lilly came and sat on his other side, murmuring that everything would be OK. Sirius stayed at Lilly and James' house for the rest of the day.

Remus was at the warehouse.
When Sirius came home that night, Remus was already in bed, for once actually sleeping. He curled up next to him and watched him for a long while, wondering, worrying.

Remus rose early the next day, woken by a particularly horrific dream involving a lot of blood and too much silver. He went downstairs and poured himself a bowl of cereal. However, it made him feel ill just looking at it. Sirius came down after a while, fully dressed, and watched Remus carefully from the kitchen doorway. He was staring at his cereal as though he didn't have the energy to pick up a spoon and eat it. Eventually, he made his presence known. "Morning Remus."

Remus didn't even register that he was there. Sirius sat down opposite him, frowning. He asked what was wrong. Without looking up, Remus muttered, "Nothing."

"Why won't you look at me?" Sirius whispered, his throat tight. He was remembering what Lilly had said the day before – "Maybe he's seeing someone else." 'Maybe she was right. Maybe he can't stand to look at me because I've become what he was always terrified of turning into. Maybe I'm the one trapping him…'

Remus shrugged. He really didn't feel like talking to anyone, but he felt like talking to Sirius the least. He knew he was betraying his mate's trust and therefore hurting him. He couldn't look Sirius in the eye – he couldn't even look in his direction – because of the guilt he felt when he did. He wanted to go upstairs and take another dose of drugs – he had some in his bottom drawer, along with the many receipts. They would make him feel better, make him happy, if only for a while.

Sirius asked, "Why do you keep going out on your own all day? Where do you go?"

"Into town," Remus muttered, forcing himself to pick up the spoon and start shovelling cornflakes into his mouth. The taste of the food made him retch. Sirius swallowed. His mouth was so dry. Remus' short answers, no more than two words so far, were annoying him now. He stopped himself from snapping. "Where in town?"

"Nowhere."

"Remus, who is it?"

"What?"

"Who're you seeing when you go into town?" Sirius asked, fighting to keep his voice low and calm. Remus looked up. "I'm not seeing anyone."

His voice sounded dead; his eyes lacked the sparkle of life they normally contained. That in itself was enough to tell Sirius that his mate was lying. "Don't lie, Remus!"

"I'm not lying."

He sounded like he had no motivation. Almost bored. Sirius' temper snapped. "Yes you are! You're seeing someone else, aren't you? You don't love me – you were right, we did make a mistake! Or rather, I did. I believed you when you said you'd never cheat on me – that you couldn't! I wish you'd just come out and told me! It would have caused us both less pain!"

"Sirius, I'm not – "

"Stop it, Remus! Just stop lying! Please!"

"I'm not lying, it's just – "

"It's just what? You never loved me in the first place? You wish we'd never even met? You've only just realised what a mistake we made? It's just I've become what you never wanted to be – something to trap you, to hold you back? Something to hate?"

The werewolf shook his head in disbelief as Sirius continued to rant at him. Remus' eyes filled with tears. He desperately wanted Sirius to understand, to stop shouting long enough to explain, but he didn't. Sirius knew he was going way too far – he knew in the back of his mind that he was making things up and that he was wrong. But he carried on yelling until he was hoarse. Finally, he stopped bellowing at Remus and stood up. "I'm going out!"

He stalked out of the kitchen and Remus heard the front door slam. He pushed his breakfast away. He felt sick, dizzy, hot and, to cap it all, extremely guilty. The one person he had ever cared about had just accused him of cheating on him. Sirius was really mad at him. He laid his head down on the table and cried silently for a long, long time.
Sirius returned home only when it was getting dark. He knew he had been in the wrong to accuse Remus like that. He had been so angry and upset at the time that he hadn't seen the look of anguish in his mate's eyes, the pain there. He hadn't seen the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. But he had seen them the moment he looked back at what he had said. His heart had almost broken.

On his way out that morning he had bought a couple of packets of cigarettes. There was one cigarette left by the time he turned to go home. He lit it while walking down the road towards their house. It was funny; he had given them up when he started going out with Remus – partly because the smoke affected Remus' nose badly, but mostly because he had been constantly reminded of the consequences by his health-obsessed mate – but the moment he was outside the house, blocking Remus' thoughts from his mind with all the will power he had, the cravings had returned with a vengeance. His fingers shaking, he slowly wandered up the street until he reached the outside of the house. He knew Remus was still inside, or at least intended to come back, because his car was still on the drive. Remus loved that car; he wouldn't simply leave it. Sirius stood outside until the cigarette was nothing more than a butt and dropped it on the pavement, stubbing it out with his foot. He walked to the front door and went in.

The very air inside the house felt wrong. He reached out with his mind for Remus, but met only a cold, blank wall of uncooperativeness. He headed for the stairs, dumping his coat over the back of a chair. As he walked up the stairs, he sensed Remus' presence in their bedroom.

Sirius opened the door to the bedroom, intending to launch straight into an apology, but his breath caught in his throat. Remus was lying on his back on the bed, his face deathly pale, the bedcovers slick with deep red liquid. Sirius swallowed hard and stepped further into the room. "Remus?" he called softly, already knowing his mate couldn't hear him. /Remus!/ he yelled desperately inside their heads. Remus twitched. Sirius' legs felt like jelly – or possibly lead – as he walked to the bedside. He lifted Remus' arm, planning to check his wrist for a pulse.

Remus' wrists were roughly slashed. In his other hand, Sirius now noticed, was a broken whiskey bottle. Sirius simply stared blankly at the cuts, unable to get his brain into gear. The blood seeped over his fingers, warm to the touch. Slowly, he reached over and checked the other wrist, in case he was wrong. No, it was exactly the same as the one he was holding. He tried again. /Remus?/

Tears started to spill from his eyes. His throat felt constricted. He could barely breathe, and what breaths he could take were quick pants. He looked down at his lover again, at the blood slowly seeping into the bedcovers, at the shards of glass strewn across the bed. His ears were ringing. Everything was going dark. He felt himself hit the floor, heard the thump, but felt no pain. Just heard the tinny whistling that finally left him. He was completely and utterly alone.
Sirius opened his eyes. The light was just the same – dull red, pouring in through the windows, a direct result of the setting sun. Almost the colour of blood. Blood? That reminded him of something … Blood. His memory came back into sharp focus.

He scrambled to sit up, and a wave of nausea swept over him as he set eyes on Remus again. He slowly got to his feet and pulled out his wand. He performed a very quick healing spell. It stopped the bleeding but only scabbed over the cuts. He swallowed hard and bit his tongue to stop himself from crying. He walked down the stairs to the kitchen. Slowly he grabbed a handful of floo powder and threw it into the fireplace. Then he stepped into the green flames and whispered the Potters' address.

James and Lilly were in the kitchen when Sirius appeared, pale as a ghost and shaking. James scrambled to his feet and steadied his friend. Sirius took a deep breath and muttered, "I need to get Remus to St Mungo's …"

"Why?" Lilly cried. Sirius opened his mouth to explain, but couldn't. He covered his face with his hands, unable to stop the tears from falling from his eyes. James asked, "Why don't you sit down, Sirius?"

"No! I need to get him there now!"

James glanced at Lilly. Sirius did not cry. It was a fact James knew well. Remus was the only one ever to have the warped privilege of seeing Sirius cry. Until, of course, Sirius had come to their house the day before and broken down because he was worried about his mate. Lilly understood the request in his eyes and went to the fireplace. She called Sirius and Remus' address and flooed to the house. She too could feel the wrongness in the house the moment she arrived. She walked upstairs tentatively and looked in at the bedroom door. She screamed.
(A/N: A kind of cliffhanger there! Yes I know I'm evil, and I do hate this as much as you! I feel really bad. Review and tell me to update – or I may decide to stop here. Nah, I'm just screwin' with ya! But I do appreciate reviews A LOT so please? Oh, and "Uncooperativeness" is A Horrible Word, and I did not make it up.)