To Sleep, To Dream

by Dimitri Aidan

Sirius returns through the Veil but finds Harry, Remus, and, especially, himself different then before. He intends to do things right this time around but it may be too late for it to matter. RLSB, Dark. CrowSpawn themes.

4. I Breathe so You Breathe

AKA: The Crow: Dogs and Demons

Dimi: Nope, still not with the ownership. Maybe next time.

Authors: Dimitri Aidan, Aloysha, and Rochelle B

Rating: T/PG-13 at first, M/R or NC-17 eventually. Depends on where you encounter it.

Pairings: Remus/Sirius, Snape/Narcissa, Harry/Bill, Ron/Hermione, Draco/Ginny, Charlie/Tonks, and some other things that are still being worked out.

Warnings: Disturbing imagery, Blood, Violence, homicidal Sirius, and all around creepy Remus behavior. I'm pretty sure that therapy Sirius was thinking about would be helpful.

Notes: My mind is, at times, a scary place. I'm not usually much for 'action' scenes so I'm not sure how this turned out, what with Sirius being all homicidal and all. I'm more of a psychological writer; I like to pick brains apart, not bodies.

Inspirational Lyrics: And I breathe where you breathe, Let me stand where you stand, With all that I am…And I breathe so you breathe, Let me stand so you'll stand, With all that I am (All That I Am, Rob Thomas)

"Speech"

'Thoughts/inner voices'

Flashbacks/Flash 'forward'

'Written things'

XX Scene Change XX

00 Passage of Time 00

Summary: Sometimes a person dies and not even coming back as a ghost can satisfy the soul. Sometimes a spirit is allowed another chance to make things right. Sometimes death is just the beginning.

000000000000000000000

Chapter Four

I Breathe so You Breathe

000000000000000000000

Remus woke up again, feeling thoroughly wrung out. He'd managed to drink so much that even his hangover was muffled, the pounding in his head dulled as if his brain was surrounded in cotton. It was a strange fuzzy feeling, not quite like being drunk but amusing none the less.

He reached up, rubbing at eyes so dry they felt like they were covered in a thick layer of sandpaper, rubbing over them until they burned. He sighed and slid out of the bed, wincing at the taste in his mouth. It was dimly reminiscent of that time he'd hunted a rabbit while he was transformed and had woken up with the taste of raw meat, mixed with wolf saliva and allowed to stew for six hours, in his mouth. Sirius had thought it was hilarious but Remus had been far from amused.

His lips quirked bitterly at the thought of Sirius, laughing until he was crying at the disgusted look Remus wore while pointedly ignoring his annoyed ramblings about the three of them allowing him to eat animals. It had nearly driven Remus to a life of vegetarianism it had been so foul.

A lot of people had been fooled by the good looks that came along with being a Black and the bright, ready smile he wore. Even though he'd always been at the top of the class most people had never fully grasped what a keen, wicked, and almost evil mind lurked just beneath the surface.

Sirius had often accused Remus of being undercover mean, particularly after an incident in their seventh year where Remus had made their Astronomy teacher cry with a particularly harsh tirade about how unlikely it was that he'd done anything less than perfect on their mid-term concerning the phases of the moon and what they meant.

Remus hadn't thought the matter that serious but he'd never been able to live it down. It wasn't like it wasn't justified though: a B? He knew more about the moon, its phases, and their effects on nature than she could ever hope to.

Still, as mean as Remus was alleged to be, Sirius hadn't been exactly innocent himself. Sure, he often played it off with charming smiles and those big, innocent blue-gray eyes of his, but some of the things he came up with to torment the other students were nothing short of cruel, unusual, and brilliant.

They'd been quite the little shits in their youth.

He rolled out of bed and blinked blurrily at the grime covered window, less than enthusiastic with the moonlight that managed to sneak its way through. Another rub at his eyes and he began to look around, frowning when he saw that the bottles that had littered his floor had been piled up neatly in the farthest corner of his room. More than that the scent of dust and stale air had lessened and he could almost feel a change in the way the air flowed, not to mention that it smelled…cleaner.

A glance showed the window was indeed locked tight.

Had he done this? Remus was a great many things, but a productive drunk wasn't one of them…not to his knowledge anyway. He was more of a sour, sullen drunk that couldn't be bothered to do anything except drink until he was unable to continue. Yet someone had straightened up his room, to a certain extent anyway.

He just couldn't imagine whom. No one really came here anymore; too disturbed by the way he was living…or not living rather. Tonks had been the first to stop coming to see him. For almost a year she'd hung around, dragging him out of his house and prattling on about Order business. Remus had suspected she had a crush on him but had finally had it confirmed when she confessed to it the year after Sirius' death.

He'd tried to let her down easily, tried to tell her he was dangerous and far too old and anything else that would have gotten her to back off. In the end it had been as simple as telling her that, even if looking at her didn't remind him of Sirius, he didn't want to live anymore and there was no point in trying to force him to do so.

She'd stopped trying after that.

The Weasleys had been next but that was to be expected. As good of friends as they had become through the Order, they hadn't been close and they had only been able to take his silence and disinterested nature for so long. Ron and Hermione next and then Albus…

The man hadn't given up on him, ever. His weekly visits had never faltered and he never stopped sending him on missions for the Order or let the fact Remus had given up dim the infuriating twinkle in his eyes. No, rather than give up on Remus he'd joined the ranks of those Remus had been forced to bury and mourn.

All that was left was Harry, and now even the boy was drawing away. He no longer stopped by and tried to tidy up when Remus' back was turned or tried to draw him out into the fresh air. When he did come by they just sat, staring at each other for an hour with no words passing between them.

But there was understanding: the war had taken a lot out of both of them and changed who they were and neither would ever be the same. Neither really wanted to be. Neither really planned to live much longer than it took for one side to win the war, no matter the outcome.

Remus thought that maybe that should have disturbed him, or that he should be less okay with the idea of Harry dying sooner rather than later. Once he would have protested, fought with every fiber of his body to try and convince the boy to live but now…now he understood. Harry was being torn apart from the inside, shredded apart and hollowed out and even if they won the war he wouldn't be Harry anymore. He'd be a jaded, paranoid solider who'd lost his entire world. He would give up all of his innocence and purity and energy to save a world that, when all was said and done, wouldn't accept him. They'd revere him and be grateful for what he did and treat him like some kind of hero, but they would never accept him.

They never accepted darker things. Already Harry had the shadows haunting his eyes. Shadows…Harry wasn't the only person who had shadows in his eyes.

"Jesus Christ Moony, when was the last time you opened a bloody window? This place is rank, mate." Even in the darkness he could see that face, that achingly familiar face, peering at him with a trace of panic warring with the shadows on his face.

Remus shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself and bowing his head. Dream. He remembered the dream now, another common one. Or it had been common, until Albus was murdered. He used to dream that Sirius was alive, cocky and confident. That between the two of them they could fix Harry up, help stop Voldemort, and just…live. When Albus had died the dream had faded under the harshness of his own disbelief in it anymore. Even unconscious he knew that without Albus nothing could ever be right again.

It'd been easy to blot the world out in a haze of alcohol and blood after that. Before there had been a lingering kind of guilt for disappointing the man who'd put himself on the line countless times to protect and aid Remus. Without his presence hovering over him, the constant fear of displeasing the first person to accept him as he was lessened. Each drink became easier, each time he awoke with a pounding headache made the time before seem less important and worthy of his guilt.

It had already begun to blend together, becoming an endless hangover of sorts, with the only efforts at sobriety made when his godson visited.

He shivered again, dream rolling around in his brain and the oh-so-real feeling of being in Sirius' arms and hot breath fanning over his face while he sobbed crashed into him, twisting at his heart as if it were some kind of physical hurt. His eyes burned and he closed them again, which only served to make things worse.

He could remember it so well now, the calluses on his fingers and the strange soothing tone of his voice while he talked about nothing and let Remus cry against him. He longed for the hazy dreams other people had, but his were always perfectly sharp and realistic.

For months he'd woken up from the dreams, expecting to walk downstairs and find Sirius sleeping in the spare room or stumbling around the kitchen, making tea and breakfast even though he was barely awake enough to remember his own name.

That was never what he found of course. Stacks of unopened mail, newspapers, liquor bottles, dirty clothes, grimy windows and floors so covered in dust that he left footprints when he walked around. Desolation. This house, once his pride and joy because it was his and he'd been able to get it on his own, was decaying around him.

It was all rotting.

He pushed himself up and shuffled out of the room and across the hall to the small bathroom, raking his fingers through his hair anxiously. The blue and cream tiles were cool under his feet, small squares pressing against his skin with a strange sort of gentleness. He touched the wall, feeling the rough paper under his fingertips. Sometimes he thought he could feel the way the cream was yellowing and the blue was fading, feel it seeping into his skin and body.

He gripped the edge of the sink, chilly porcelain digging into his palm sharply. He let out a breath, exhaling slowly then curling his fingers around the edge of the sink until his blunt nails scraped over the slick surface. He let his eyes drift to where the mirror had once been. He had never thought himself particularly handsome or foul looking and thus had never put much thought into mirrors but now…

He couldn't stand to look at himself. It was a funny time to get vain or neurotic about his appearance but he found he hated what he saw these days. He reached out, touching the wood that had been under the mirror then let his fingers drift around the edge where jagged pieces of mirror still clung to their shell stubbornly.

One particularly sharp edge caught on the side of his middle finger and sliced the skin slowly as he dragged his finger across, going downward at an angle until he just reached the palm. A large drop of crimson stained the shard, traveling down it before hanging, a ruby drop in the air. It fell, falling into the sink, mere centimeters from the drain and bursting into smaller splatters.

He pulled his hand back, ignoring the way the wolf howled in the back of his mind, furious that he would dare do this to himself yet again. It had started as an absurd desperate…need to remove the wolf, the source of all of his pain and the pain of those around him.

He couldn't have been more than twelve, his second year at Hogwarts, and carving the beast out of him had seemed like a perfectly valid recourse after his parents had exhausted their fortune on more practical means. It had made sense in the way fears of dragons under your bed and vampires in your closet made sense to a child. Simple childish wanting and longing that was, ironically enough, how he had ended up bitten in the first place.

He'd wanted to explore the woods and explore he had, right until he was looking into a gaping, drooling mouth and razor sharp teeth had clamped down onto his neck, intent on ripping his throat out. If Remus' father had been a few seconds slower…

A pity really. He rubbed his fingers together, feeling the sting as the open skin was forced back, widening the cut and causing the blood flow to increase.

It hadn't exactly worked, unless getting sick at the sight of his own blood counted. The wolf had been eerily quiet for the rest of the week, no pacing or growling or whining in the back of his mind and he had thought perhaps he was on to something.

He tried it again, remembered the feel of blood sliding down his arm and reaching up to try and peel the flesh back to get a look at what was really inside. He'd gotten woozy and passed out, then spent the next two weeks hiding it, only to chalk it up to his transformation when Poppy questioned him after the full moon.

He had gone on that way for some time. And then he'd stopped, even though some part of him still wanted to see himself bleed and feel the prickles of pain a wound could cause.

He hadn't though. Not for a very long time. He'd been logical; he couldn't cut the wolf out and he couldn't very well hurt himself for no reason.

A drunken haze combined with a night not too far from the moon, where the wolf was almost powerful enough to control his actions if he let his guard down and he would have done anything to rid his body- mind- of the beast.

He eyed his finger then pulled at the already displaced skin, ripping it back slowly.

The wolf whimpered pleadingly. Remus chuckled darkly, putting his hand back up onto the frame of the mirror to pierce another finger.

Someone knocked at the door. He blinked and, with a slightly confused haze descending on his brain, turned and walked in the direction of the front door, grabbing a washrag for his finger as he went. Wouldn't do to bleed on all of the guests and risk passing along his 'illness'.

Mind you, he was pretty sure vampirism was the only one of the 'Big Three' passed from the blood of the infected. Werewolves relied on saliva or…other fluids, put directly into the body. Vampires had the disease in their blood and a simple bite wouldn't pass it, as werewolf bites were known to do. Dementors…theirs was more a torment of the mind than the body.

He had expected to get to the foot of the stairs and have to tell one of the members of the Order or someone from town to go away because he was fine, but instead found a cluster of men standing just inside his door. Twilight streamed in through the open door, making the shadows of the kitchen, living room, and stairs seem that much more prominent for no light came from any of the three directions and there was only blackness.

Remus had very good night vision.

His eyes settled on Minister Fudge. The Ministry of Magic…that explained things somewhat. As a magical creature Remus was not entitled to silly things like privacy and as such the Ministry had complete access to his house in the form of a key. They didn't 'grace' him with their presence often, but when they did Remus was always left with a lasting headache. He finished descending the stairs and arched an eyebrow at Fudge while quirking a smile, which seemed to disturb the man.

"Minister. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Fudge coughed, covering his discomfort, and nodded to the group behind him. One of the figures broke away and the sickly sweet scent of fear curled around Remus. The hood of the robe was pushed back, revealing unmistakable red hair.

He smiled tiredly. Percy Weasley. He hadn't caught more than a glimpse of the boy since the year after he graduated and had to confess he wasn't much in the mood for a trip down memory lane. Rather he just wanted to know what the Ministry was invading his house for and how long it would take to get them out. He had…bottles to empty.

"Remus John Lupin, we, on behalf on the Ministry of Magic, are here to inform you of the New Magical Creature Containment Act, passed on October 28th of 1999." Remus rubbed at the bridge of his nose, wondering where his glasses had gotten to. Wasn't today (or was it tomorrow already) the 28th? Had they really decided to pay him a special visit so soon? "It says that starting on this day all Unnatural Creatures are to be contained in areas as specified and monitored by the Ministry, for the protection of the general populace. You, being of the species werewolf, are hereby ordered to surrender to the Ministry upon being informed of the Act and go to the area specified for those of your kind. If you should refuse we will be forced to take immediate action, labeling you a threat to the safety of the Wizarding community and disposing of you as such."

Remus sighed heavily, looking at the boy from beneath heavy lids. "It's a shame you can't deal with Voldemort and his Death Eaters as easily as you can go about the countryside terrorizing wolf packs, nymph hoards, elfin families, and vampire clans isn't it?"

His voice was dry and cracked, weathered like the house was. It creaked in places as the steps did when weight was put on them and words slipped from his mouth and hovered like dust in the air. His fingers flexed at the sound, he hadn't heard himself speak in some time. He felt the warm trickle down his palm, blood prompted to flow harder.

Brown eyes widened just slightly and the bitter tang of guilt mingled with the fear. Well. At least the boy knew what a git he was being. Not that it mattered much in the long run.

"No." Remus said finally, the world rolling off his tongue with a sick kind of delight he couldn't really place. He'd always kind of gotten off on defying the Ministry and of course saying 'no' to Fudge was the ultimate in that, but he was a touch too old for it these days.

Maybe he was just hoping Fudge had devised a way to actually 'dispose' of him. Avada Kedavra would probably do it, quickly and cleanly with no real fuss. (is that spelled right? I'll assume you checked already, I don't have the books handy. I think I've been pronouncing it wrong in my head all this time…)

"Refusal isn't an option Mr. Lupin." Fudge's tone was just slightly mocking. "Considering your state I think your quality of life would improve."

"Doubtful." Remus shifted his weight, a sudden wave of dizziness rushing over him. The world tilted just slightly and he took a stumbling step backwards. The wolf was pacing in his mind again, begging to be allowed to the forefront to rip the smug look from Fudge's face. He sighed, pushing the beast back and straightening up some.

"I knew you would refuse. That's why you're first, you'll be an example to the rest of your sort." Fudge was such a uselessly racist bastard. A smug looking uselessly racist bastard, Remus amended when he fully took in the smirk the man was wearing.

He thought he'd set Remus up, instead of stumbling upon a werewolf too tired and a human too far gone to give a damn. He'd gotten lucky.

Another nod in Percy's general direction and the boy, shaking now with the scents of fear and guilt and shame and terror and confusion rolling off of him in waves, raised his hand so the end of his wand pointed squarely at Remus' chest. He wondered if perhaps he was finally, finally, looking death in the eye.

Smiled to himself because he hadn't expected it to go like this.

There was a movement to his left, from the living room. A shadow moved and stood in the doorway, human shaped and, this gave Remus a moment's pause, so familiar it hurt. Dust and soap and water were layered over something more, something that Remus didn't want to place.

There was a moment of silence punctuated by a total lack of movement. Then there was movement; the figure seemed to glide across the wooden floor fearlessly and put itself right in front of Percy. A deathly pale hand that almost glowed in the blackness reached out and touched his wand hand.

Brown eyes were so wide it was a wonder they didn't roll out of his head. The robed ameba, as Remus now thought of the cluster of silent Ministry workers, moved back, edging close to the door. Fudge had gone as pale as chalk.

"Y-You! You're-"

"Shhh. Listen." The figure put a finger over the trembling boy's lips and Remus could imagine the quirky smile perfectly. "You should go home. Your parents miss you terribly and have never wanted anything except your forgiveness for their mistakes, and an apology for your own. They'd like it if you brought your boyfriend with you. If you leave now I think I might not kill you next time I see you."

The voice was soft but heavy, each word seeming to weigh a ton and slam into Percy, judging by the way he was wincing. He was let go of and then, with a loud crack, was gone. The figure rocked back on his heels, voice thick with amusement.

"Kids these days, eh Fudge? Just aren't reliable. Can't even get them to take out a defenseless werewolf these days."

Fudge's expression twisted into one of rage. "Black. I knew you'd be back, I just never thought the werewolf would be harboring you after what you did to the Potters. I shouldn't be surprised though; what loyalty does an animal have?"

A hand was pointed at the ameba lazily. "Leave now. Bored."

The ameba seemed to collectively shudder and move again but Fudge snarled at them, spittle flying from his mouth. "Don't run; get him! He's one unarmed man protecting a deprecate animal! Don't be intimidated."

The figure moved with a fluid quickness that seemed to outdo the catlike grace Remus had always associated with him. He was behind Fudge; arm draped lazily over the man's shoulder before the ameba members could so much as seriously consider drawing a wand, let alone manage an attack on him. A hand moved, more like twitched, and the arm around his neck pressed against him until Fudge made a strange choking noise.

"Don't call him an animal. It angers me and last time I threw a temper tantrum thirteen innocent people got blown to hell." He spoke with a lazy kind of tone as if he wasn't slowly strangling the Minister of Magic. Fudge's lips were becoming a very unnerving shade of blue.

He lifted his head slightly and though ink colored hair cast a shadow over his eyes and most of his features were still hidden by shadow Remus knew him. Remus would always know him.

He inhaled: earth, shadow, lemon, and rosemary.

"Hi Moony."

"Hullo Padfoot."

00000000000

Chelle, as our resident Wicca, thought that Sirius' scent should include lemon and rosemary because they represent courage and friendship, respectively. Or…have traits of them or…something. I wasn't really listening….

Rigel: The three of us pretty much agree that Remus/Sirius is our OTP and no amount of Tonks/Remus hinting is ever going to change that, and its always nice to know of others who feel the same.

Doxxy: I love utterly destroying characters and making it believable, even though you never would have thought of it before. I've been told I'm really good at it, which I guess is a compliment, in a strange and scary kind of way.

Lin: It's not the amount of reviews, it's the content. I'd take one thoughtful review over ten reviews any day. I like to know you guys are reading and thinking. I think it's my inner wanna-be teacher… Sirius is the only one 'in character' bursts of homicidal anger aside, so I'm glad you thought it was a typical reaction.

Flame: lol. To love the insanity or to hate the insanity…a dilemma I go through with myself every day, I assure you. It's fun.

Shinigami: Neither will be making a move for a while, as Harry is pretty much broken and Bill…will have issues of his own, that we'll find out about in due time.

Kitty: Meh, we didn't like it much. Maybe because we're diehard Snape fans. Not necessarily Snape as a good guy fans, but just Snape in general and this apparent shift in his loyalties means we'll have to follow him over to the dark side, for lack of a better term. Trust me, we're not suffering from lack of ideas; that's simply never something I suffer from. My brain is always…on.

Mechante: Sarah McLachlan is of the good, it's true. I thought it fit the chapter very well. And yeah, there will probably be a lot more suffering…after all, you always hurt the ones you love to write about, that's what I always say. You most certainly don't have to wait two years, give us a little credit and…yeah. Carefree party life…right out the window. Remus would be devastated if not for the fact Sirius kind of traumatized him, I'd think. Oh, and Chelle said to tell you that yes, it was a slight Vamp!Willow quote. We thought it was…appropriate.

Thanks to Crazy, Xeroa, and Versipellis for their reviews.