First and foremost, I want to thank everyone that has left a review, as they are what pretty much keep me going. Love you all!
That being said, I got a flame the other day. And I laughed until I cried XD Now I get the appeal of flames, actually, because it was pointless, it was fun and I was smirking for the entire day. So:
Dear Flamer: You amuse me. Really, you do. And how do you pronounce EWGH anyway?
Life After Death
By: Nekare
A soft breeze with the slippery concrete black and full of muddy slush, contrasting with the hoarfrost, clean and hung on a tunnel of silent shivering trees (the ones you said you'd like to be), and the birds that screamed at the sun now buried deep down below the ground, beneath the snow, I press my shoulder to this wall between us.
- The Weakerthans, "Without Mythologies
The frozen, lifeless body of a butterfly appears on the windowsill the next morning, ice frosting smearing the bright blue tips, and as Remus caresses the carcass with a fingertip he can't help but think he should stop wishing at all.
He sends it flying to the breeze, one last moment of freedom and it becomes a spot of color in the black and white world beneath the Tower, a graveyard made of snow and slush where the secret thoughts of hundreds of teenagers go to die. The trees at the edge of Remus' sight are moving with the wind, shivering with the cold the threat of war has brought.
Remus shivers too, out of what he doesn't know, and then it's time to face the day.
---
Breakfast is a strange affair.
People continue to give him pity-laden looks, and girls take turn to spread butter in his toast, as if that might help anything. Remus is tense during the whole thing, feeling uncomfortable while with everyone's attention, the fussing and extreme caring he's only known and hated from his multiple elderly aunts. He smiles, feebly, and the girls around him sigh and pass him the marmalade.
Sirius is sitting with him, too close and too real, everything he's wished for in months and everything he's dreaded at the same time.
They don't talk much, although that's mainly becouse of the giggly, girly chattering voices that drown his voice. "You look too thin," Lily says as she takes the place next to him, moving the previous girl in there aside.
"Uh," says Remus quite inteligently, wondering if he should be offended by that. He's always too thin, it's not something he has a say in.
"You should have more glucose, here, some fruit will help to your complexion, and I've heard bananas have lots of calcium, and-"
"Oh, bananas are so interestingly shaped, aren't they?" says Sirius at his right, nonchalantly as usual, and Remus chokes a little.
He swats him in the thigh, and Sirius chuckles. "I'm okay, Lily, really," he lies between his teeth, with the practiced ease of someone who has been hiding his true self for eleven years.
Her mouth finally closes, and then she looks wise beyond her years. "I don't believe you. But I trust in you, so I know you will be. Okay, I mean." She reaches for his hand and squeezes it just for a second, before smiling at him sweetly and standing up to go to classes. The four boys stare at her in wonder, red hair looking bright and alive in contrast with her black robe. She will be a fine mother someday, Remus suddenly thinks, and he just hopes that the far away dreams of families and promising jobs of everyone around won't be sent to an early death because of this war.
The death of Remus' father had stopped his world, a sudden, painful jerk that just froze time for him. Now, he's surprised to find life does goes on after all, and an ending is nothing but a beginning.
"I knew there was a reason I was madly in love with her," says James, and everyone else in the table laughs.
---
Sirius turns Milly Davidson into a flamingo, and both he and Remus are thrown out of the class by a very irate Professor McGonagall.
"It's not fair," says Remus as he kicks a stone with his boot-covered toes. "I didn't even do anything." They're by the lake, throwing rocks at the frozen parts, seeing who can break the ice first, both literally and figuratively.
"Guilt by association, Remus, you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time." The next rock he throws is particularly impressive, but Remus just shakes his head, cold getting into his ears and making them buzz. His cheeks are bright red, from the cold and the blood that just refuses to stay in his brain and think about consequences.
"Aren't I always," he says sadly, and Sirius finally turns to look at him, worry in his eyes, scarlet-lipped and pure temptation to Remus' swirling mind.
He wants to kiss Sirius. He wants to stay put and look at the peaceful water. He wants to tickle Sirius until he screams. He wants to get his hands into his pockets and breathe forever in the bittersweet longing. He wants to do something, he wants to do nothing .
They stare at each other, and Sirius makes the decision for him.
His breath goes out in a puff as Sirius tackles him to the ground, snow flying as if it was colorless confetti. They scuffle, and as the roll in the snow Remus is reminded of his fight with James in the first day of the year (an eternity ago, when the world made sense), and notices the way the fights feel nothing alike.
(There's lingering touches, cold hands under clothes that bring gasps and sighs, closeness scented with foreplay).
Sirius gets a handful of snow inside Remus' mouth, and he doesn't get anytime to complain before Sirius leans down for a kiss. Every single nerve in Remus' body comes to life, and the coldness in his mouth, numbing and sweet, mingles with the heat of Sirius', corrupting and salty; addictive.
There's a rustle of cloth, and Sirius is suddenly partly on top of him, not breaking the kiss, breathing for him, and Remus wonders if he just may die right now.
He doesn't, though, and when they part and Sirius bites his lip and the exquisite pain tears his soul apart he just breathes out, breaths in; staring into his eyes. Sirius rests his chin on Remus' chest, and they just let the silence speak for them.
"We are going through with this, aren't we?" Sirius says after a while, and the movement reverberates along Remus' body. "The Order, I mean."
"Well, I know I am, Pads," The nickname slips off his lips like alcohol, easy and well-known and definitely well-missed. "We just wouldn't last with open war, we're not trained for it, and something must be done. For my dad. But I don't really want you to get involved."
Sirius gives him anther kiss, one he knows they won't talk about, since emotions are just a touchy topic, and he makes sure Remus' gaze is on him instead of the lonely birds standing on the branches – the ones that didn't fly south, before he speaks.
"We already are, Moony, just because you are." Remus doesn't think he could bear this weight on his shoulders, but there's something steely in Sirius' tone that manages to convince him. "We're together in this."
---
Sirius disappears that night, and when he finally enters the dorm, the third quarter moon shines on his hair. Remus doesn't ask where he's been, but then again, he's not sure he wants to know.