Ah, angst is so very good to the soul XD That day's prompt was boots on puddles of melted snow. Thanks so much for the reviews, and remember, they're the chicken soup for the author's soul. :)

Mourning Over Spilled Water

By: Nekare

The remnants of the Dark Mark still hover on top of the Lupin's household when the four boys arrive, reflecting emerald in the puddle of melted snow in which Remus wants to drown. He steps on the puddle with more force than necessary, splashing water around. Tiny waves erase the reflection for a minute, and Remus' mind eases for the time it takes it to reappear.

Dumbledore's signed paper allowing him to come home is at the bottom of his pocket, the other three are supposedly still in Gryffindor Tower. His mother is standing on the threshold, hands clutched tightly around what Remus can recognize as one of his father's handkerchiefs, as red-eyed and restless looking as Remus himself. He runs the last steps until he has her in his arms, and then they're sobbing together, muttering lost words and sweet nothings neither really hears. His three friends stand just a few steps behind, hunched and uncomfortable; swallowing back the words they don't know how to say.

They're already late, and Remus only gets a few seconds alone with the empty shell of his father, his mouth opening and closing again, trying to speak, wanting to scream himself hoarse and let the tiny ball of emotions buried deep in his throat, asphyxiating him, out. He's breathing hard and he wants to share some of the oxygen with his father, breathe life into the cold unmarked body.

His mother enters the room, looking like a disgraced queen with her black (as mourning, as death, as their hearts right now) frock, and Remus mutters a quiet See you soon before the body is taken away for the service.

The cemetery's snow goes gray after three dozen black-clad people stand close together around the casket, the same shade as the downcast sky, but Remus finds it rather fitting. There are tears on his cheeks, falling to the white rose he's grabbing too hard, thorns digging into his skin, but he doesn't make any kind of sound; the same choked silenced he's kept since he woke up, since James created an illegal portkey, since the new day didn't bring his father back.

Remus grabs his mother's hand as the coffin is lowered to the ground, and the reassurance presence of his friends behind him is everything that keeps him from throwing himself to the final opening in the frozen ground.

---

Remus has always thought reunions after funerals are awfully hypocritical, but he has never felt such a cold stab of anger at seeing people laughing in corners quite as much as right now. The house smells of strong cheese from the appetizers, and Remus opens a window to let some fresh air in, a few snowflakes falling on his hair, turning it white, and Remus suddenly knows it will someday look like that. He takes his head out in the cold, his nose getting red immediately. Someone pokes him in the stomach, and he turns to see Peter carrying a large drink and an apologetic smile.

"I- I'm here, you know?" he says, and the corner of Remus' lips curl a bit upwards just before he downs the drink.

"I know, Peter. Thank you." They don't say much after that, but then again, they don't need to.

---

Some hours later, a muttered conversation between some of his father's co-workers gains his attention. The words beast , menace and got what he deserved burn in his mind, and he seethes in silence, wanting to hit something, wanting to i hurt /i something. He looks around the living room, and he sees Sirius in a far corner looking mildly frightened as he gets accosted by Remus' female cousins. Remus has another glass of whatever liquor is resting on the table before going and grabbing his wrist without any kind of explanation, much to the girls chagrin.

"I have something to show you," he says as Sirius' face changes from relief to confusion when he notices Remus is leading him upstairs.

Each step is a warning in the back of Remus' brain, wrapped in flush red carpet, ignored as he keeps on walking with resolution on his gaze. Sirius trails after him sheepishly, and he can hear him swallow as they go past the moving photographs on the wall, the waving hands and big smiles Remus has just lost forever. Sirius' skin feels warm beneath his fingers, and he puts the other hand against the wall, trying to feel the different textures, fingertips caressing the wallpaper in which he had painted on as a child.

Remus opens the door to his room without any kind of hesitance in his movements, accuracy born of shock and anger and grief and every unshed tear. "So what was it you wanted to sho-" Remus drinks Sirius' words from his lips as he kisses him, shoving him against the just-closed door. There's warmth in there, and he nips at it hungrily, eyes shut too tightly, heart racing too fast.

Sirius makes a startled noise in the back of his throat before melting into the kiss, pulling Remus close by his hair, sinking blunt nails into his neck. Blood becomes alive and feverish, lips become bruised and cut; clothes become ragged and tugged at. Remus isn't thinking clearly, isn't thinking at all as he gets his cold hands underneath Sirius' shirt, fumbling for zippers and aching for skin, crazed and out of control.

There's a gasp, a shaky exhalation against his lips, and then grey eyes staring right into his own.

"Is this another of your so-called mistakes?" slips from Sirius' lips without the scorn Remus knows he must have wanted it to have, and Remus shrugs, chest pressed together to Sirius'.

"It's not like I have anything else left." The bitterness in his voice surprises even himself, but he ignores it in favor to lean in for another kiss, mouth already open.

Sirius shoves him, and he stumbles back with eyes wide open. The wrath in Sirius' face makes his eyes bright, and Remus doesn't quite know what to do, what to feel, what to want. "You've still got your mother, you ungrateful bastard. You've still got us," Sirius walks a step forward as he speaks, panting on Remus' face. His mouth sets in a thin line as he adds, "You've still got me, so stop acting like this is your bloody fault and start actually doing something about it." Sirius' finger pokes him in the chest in tune with his words, and by the last of them Remus trips with the bed he hasn't slept in since summer, falling into the checkered duvet with his eyes still wide open and his mind in a mess.

(Shame and confusion floating in his brain, just wishing he would explode).

Sirius is still breathing hard, standing in the dim-lighted room with his shirt wriggled and his pants undone, looking as if he can't decide whether he wants to punch Remus in the face or hug him close. Neither of the urges wins, and he opens the door with slightly shaky fingers, looking back over his shoulder. "Talk to me when you finally get it inside your thick skull, and when you no longer want to use me as your fucking toy."

Then he's gone, and Remus is left alone in the dusty room, surrounded by his childhood memories, hands over his face and wanting desperately for his father to come up and comfort him as he did after a Full Moon.

He doesn't go back downstairs, but he's fairly sure he's not missed.