He looked at the crumpled parchment in his left hand, half damp from the sweat of his palm. He furrowed his brow, and tightened his jaw. In his left hand lie a piece of parchment untouched, with the words "Why won't you answer me truthfully?" in scripted upon it. He clenched his teeth, gritting them so hard it would've been unsurprising if the enamel wore off. Ruthlessly, he dropped the sheets of paper, and was lifting his foot to stomp on them when he heard the big oak doors behind him open. The doors, a brown black, swung open with a great force; the person entering stopped in their tracks. From the entrance of the doorway stood a raven haired boy. Looming over an oak table, opposite the doorway, was Remus Lupin. Mourning and grieving; no surprise. The boy made to turn on his heel, when, without speaking, the older man turned around. His eyes did not meet the young boys, for it pained him too much to be so vainly reminded of what he sorely missed. He swallowed the lump of nausea forming in his upper throat. Clearing his throat loudly, he placed a hand firmly on the oak table aside him. His voice cracked as he spoke with little effort.
"You…you want to tell me anything?" he asked, knowing very well what the boys answer would be; a no. And as he so well knew, it was in fact a shake of the boys head, suggesting that no; he did not have anything to tell the man before him. Remus' fierceness in his eyes intensified, and again, he asked the question.
"Do you, or do you not, have something to tell me? Answer carefully, Harry…" he said, in a tone of warning and command. Harry stepped closer, only enough to get a look of Remus' face; he wanted to see how angry he was, if he was angry. His spirit sunk as he saw the expression; it looked vacant, but the sort of vacancy where you only know of one emotion; this one was anger. Harry didn't like it, and stealthily he stepped backward. Remus looked like all patience, however little it was, was leaving him with every slow, yet passing second.
"No," he answered plainly. He was, though, being honest. He'd only come into the study room to grab his backpack. And, as he thought of this, his eyes scanned the room for his knapsack. He found it, of course, but not as he'd left it. It was unzipped, and half of its contents were stacked in a pile on the oak table Remus was beside. Fear flooded his body, and he felt his knees buckle; he knew what Remus was asking him about. He collapsed, landing on his knees, his hands catching him. Although he did not show fear in his faces expression, his body language and aura let Remus know he was in fact deeply afraid. Over the rim of his glasses, he peered at the still standing man before him. Remus pulled out a chair from underneath the oak table, and sat down casually. He let out a sigh, as if he were tired of waiting for the expected response. He looked at his pocket watch, looked at Harry and gave him a 'well, what is it?' type of look.
"When were you going to tell me?" he asked, slightly annoyed with the boy on the floor. Harry looked up at him straight faced, and after a moments pause, he spoke.
"I…I wasn't going to. To be honest…I didn't want you to know I was seeing someone. I didn't think you'd accept it; not only because of whom it is, but what they are." Remus looked at him puzzled; and then, understanding dawned on him. He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and resting his face between the palms of his hands. Again he sighed, rocking his head from side to side.
"Harry…I already knew you were seeing Malfoy", he said, and he didn't see Harry's mouth drop open, but knew it had, "I wasn't talking about that". He looked at the parchment on the floor. He picked up the one that wasn't crumpled and torn, and looked at it blankly.
"Who wrote you this?" Remus asked, knowing the painfully simple answer. Harry gulped, afraid to tell him. In his mind, he knew he knew too, and was only doing this as torture to himself. He's changed so much since it happened.
"Sirius did," he said, and Remus flinched. The words attacked him like a thousand rusted daggers. His heart began to bleed as it tore violently, the claws of reality tearing at it fiercely. His hands began to shake mildly, and he shook his head slowly. His eyes shut tight, and Harry could see something glistening in Remus' eyelashes. He was crying. For the fourth time that night.
"Go," he commanded, not opening his eyes; he did not want his tears to go any further than where they were.
"But, how did you know I was-" he was cut off.
"I said go!" Remus almost yelled. Harry stared at him; it was the first time since Sirius' death that he heard Remus raise his voice. He stepped back, not looking, and bumped into the bookcase. A couple of books fell, and Harry sloppily placed them back anywhere they would fit; except for one. One remained, but he did not pay attention to it, and departed the room. His footsteps droned throughout the long hallway and up the stairs; a heavy door slammed. Remus wiped a hand over his eyes, thinking to himself. He cursed himself for yelling at Harry, and letting him see him cry. Was he pathetic, or could he not be anymore right for his grieving? Isn't it what Sirius would want? Wouldn't Sirius, being the silly git that he was, love to know he's getting so much more attention from Remus than he did when he was alive? But that was the problem as far as Remus knew; he never showed enough attention, concern, care, love, emotion, and joy when Sirius was with him. What's worse is, he never told Sirius that he did indeed love him. Even in all the years they'd known eacn other. Now, unfortunately, he'll never know. He blew out the candles on the desk, and sat in the dark. It wasn't completely dark, though; the window was open, and the big, spherical orb that was the moon shown almost too brightly in the room. Patterns of the cars passing by flitted across the floor of the room from time to time.
"Where are you, Sirius?" Remus asked into the darkness, hearing nothing but his own voice echo. Again he began to cry, in harsh, silent sobs. He got up, and walked over to an old trunk, standing above it with his sandy hair covering his eyes. He hadn't cut it since Sirius' death. He kneeled down onto one knee, and slowly opened up the trunk. Old, musty papers lie there; their edges stained and torn, their letters faded and smudged. Pictures lie in the trunk too, the images within it smiling and waving, their eyes warm. How unaware they were that their fate would be taken for granted. He rummaged through the trunk and pulled out 4 items. A picture with a young, charming young man whose smile was wide as ever, almost flirtatious looking. A cloak with two holes in the back; they looked burned into it. It was a faded black, and looked very small compared to the size of the man, now. There was a name on the bottom left of the cloak, in gold letters; Sirius Black. The last two items were pieces of parchments, permanently creased from so many folds; stained by coffee, fire, and water. Holding all these items in one arm, Remus smiled sadly and blinked a few times before getting up to move. As he walked back towards his desk, still smiling his sniffed; the sound of an oncoming cry escaped his mouth, and he covered his mouth with his free hand. Carefully, he placed the items in their own individual spot, marveling at them as his eyes glazed.
---
"Hey- hey, Remus, wait!" a boy called from the end of a field. He came running towards him, clutching books, paper, quills and a wand, all of which had fallen by the time he reached Remus. He smiled at Remus, and pushed back his matted black hair. As the wind coincidentally began to blow, he tucked it behind his ears.
"How are you, eh?" He asked, smiling still. Remus bit his bottom lip, and forced a smile. Every time he saw Sirius, his heart swelled and began to beat much faster than normally.
"I'm doing good…very good, and you?"
"Oh, as great as this illness will allow me to be" he said jokingly, and nudged Remus with his elbow. Seeing that Remus didn't laugh at this, he poked him in his side playfully, and winked at him. Sirius and Remus had been dating for a little over a month now.
"Something wrong, love?" Sirius asked concernedly. Remus looked at him, his beautiful eyes glistening with a glaze; he forced another smile, and looked down.
"No. Nothing's wrong…" Sirius eyed him suspiciously. He tipped Remus' chin up to the sky, and looked into his eyes; then, he kissed him. Deeply. His tongue ran over his bottom lip, and they parted willingly for him, allowing him to enter his warm, moist mouth. Remus sighed into the kiss, and Sirius' mouth vibrated with the soft moans followed. He raised his arms to his slender waist, before making their way down to his buttocks. Remus leaned forward, and smiled as they kissed. Sirius parted them, with a reluctant Remus pulling away, too.
"Why won't you answer me truthfully?" he asked him seriously. Remus opened his mouth, and looked at Sirius. His eyes showed he was hurt, as well as his voice, but his face did not. His face was stony, and rigid; his eyes, however, was soft and showed weaknesses within the hurt boy. Sirius wrapped his arms tightly around Remus, embracing him with a warmth and softness that Remus wasn't used to.
"I'm sorry…If you don't have anything to tell me, its okay. Whatever you need to say, I want you to say it on your own time…when something truly is the matter, okay?" he told the boy in his arms. He simply nodded, and nuzzled into his chest. It began to snow as they stood there in each others arms. Sirius heard Remus sigh, and smiled. Remus could tell he was smiling, and for the first time that day, he smiled genuinely, too. Sirius made it so he was facing him, and kissed his forehead.
---
Not being able to take his memories rude appearance, Remus stood up and began to fidget around the room. He turned the knob that measures the brightness of the rooms light, and dimmed it so it barely appeared to be on. By the door there was an old broom, half of the straw missing. He grabbed it and began to sweep effortlessly, barely moving anything forward. He had no dustpan, and cursed himself. He tilted his head back and shut his eyes. Putting the broom away, he noticed the fallen book besides the bookcase. Instantly he knew what it was; Sirius' diary. He'd never read it, but he knew Sirius left it there intentionally. He knew Sirius wanted him to read it whenever he died, if he died before Remus. Remus flipped the pages of it and scanned the pages. Throughout the book there were all sorts of pictures, and drawings. He smiled at how precise Sirius was; for every new entry, whether it is on the same day or not, he had the time. He even stated whether or not it had been after an event. One of them said "11:17 P.M after making love to Remus". This made Remus chuckle softly, and then he felt a pang, and tears welling. He sighed and smiled as he sat down on the floor, in front of the door, and opened to the first page. He began to read, still smiling at the first words.
'Dear Diary, I just got back from Remus' private dorm; Merlin, did I have fun! I really love what he does to me, and how he makes me feel and, ack! I can't handle it sometimes, I love him so much, why won't he say it back? I'm not all that hurt or anything, I just would love to hear him say it for once, the prat! I guess I'll just have to give him more proof that this is real. Mm…the taste of his lips still lingers on mines. He smelt so good; vanilla. Anyway, today in Potions, Snape got in so much trouble', and he stopped there. A tear trickled down his cheek, and fell onto the page. The wet spot made the page look older, but yet it looked like it belonged. Perhaps it was meant to be there; maybe Sirius knew that these sweet yet sad sentences of the first passage would bring him to a few tears. Remus flipped the page, his tears sliding down and cascading the pages.
Remus smiled at each page, and mouthed the words "I love you Sirius" while looking at a picture James had taken of he and Sirius; Sirius had kissed Remus' cheek, while looking at the camera and smiling deviously. They waved at Remus, and Remus cried both happily and sadly for most of the night.
-----------