Chapter 1: Beyond Salvation
Remus swirled his scotch and sighed as the ice clinked against the glass. What he would give to have Sirius back at his side. His eyes, his heart, his soul… hell even his shaggy balls. No, wait, he thought as he grimaced. That was the scotch talking.
But really. In all the days of his wretched and self-deprecating existence, Sirius was the one constant that had kept him on this side of sanity. Now that he was gone, Remus was often left wondering why he stayed willingly anchored in this world of misery where every God-forsaken thing reminded him of the past that he could never go back to, the present with a large, empty hole in his soul, and the future that had nothing in it for cursed half-breeds like him. Perhaps it was the lingering possibility that Sirius had not utterly vanished from a world that desperately yearned for him.
God couldn't be that cruel.
But oh, how that had been proven wrong time and time again. Maybe I really am damned. Then, as an afterthought, Jesus, how damnation hurts.
All this had transpired under a careful mask Remus had permanently fashioned for his face. But the alcohol had done its job, and as Severus stood in the doorway watching the naked emotions flicker across his face every now and then, he very nearly walked in and lied down in that empty space next to Remus as if he had always belonged there. After all, he knew what it was like to long for something he could never have. Oh he knew much too well.
But today was Remus's birthday. Quite a jolly atmosphere, to be sure, yet Severus did not want to intrude on this little tête-à-tête between the wolf and his scotch. Mostly he was afraid to come between Remus and his memories of Sirius—their relationship was almost sacrosanct. And his own dealings with Sirius when that mangy dog was still alive perhaps did not leave Remus with a wonderful impression. If only that were the real reason though, because deep down inside, he knew that a word of rejection, however slight, would set him back for years; years he had spent trying to build up courage to approach Remus. And you'd think spying on the Dark Lord had prepared him for that. When it came to that shabby wolf, reason did not hold.
He gently backed out of the room and closed the bedroom door behind him, but his longing was so strong that he raised his hand to knock a few times, thought better of it, and stayed rooted to the spot. Finally he shook his head, leaned his back against the door, and slid to the floor with his face turned upwards as if praying that someday God would spare them all. Was it even too much to ask for a peaceful death? Happiness, after all, was out of the question. He laughed raggedly as he thought of those who were content with life. He couldn't even hope.
Back in the room, Remus jerked his head up, noticing for the first time the patchouli smell that could only be Severus hanging in the air. As much of a fool as many took him to be, he knew Severus saw him as more than just a comrade fighting on the same side. He knew and yet he couldn't bring himself to see the dark man in that light. Not yet, at least. Sirius still weighed heavily in his heart.