Title: Can't Be Really Gone
Author: Ex-Professor Remus
Lupin
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst?
Era: Marauder/Post-Hogwarts
Pairing(s): Remus/Sirius
Summary: "I grew angry
and he left me."
Disclaimer: This story is
based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling,
various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books,
Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money
is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Note: This is why
I shouldn't listen to country. Ever. The quote from The
Fellowship of the Ring can be found in the soft cover edition of
the trilogy (single bound edition) in book two, chapter ten on page
three hundred and ninety-five.
-
A dull pounding in the back of his
skull woke him. It was the combination of too much Firewhiskey and
the sounds of a muggle radio in the next flat over. Reaching blindly,
Sirius clutched his head and moaned. Then, fighting back the wave of
nausea, he sat up. He gazed at the empty place beside him on the bed
and then it hit him. Remus was gone. How he even knew that Remus was
gone was a mystery, but it seemed that a Remus shaped hole has
appeared somewhere in the back of his mind.
The question now was where – or more importantly, why? – had he gone?
He struggled for a moment and then, as if someone had turned something on inside his mind, his memory started putting together scenes. He remembered the stairs (as did his bruised shins). He could see Remus helping him up. Remus had been angry. Why was he angry? Sirius remembered yelling. He remembered being angry. He couldn't remember what it had been about. When did this happen? Yesterday? No, last night.
He stood up, lurching from the bed, and made him way into the sitting room hoping desperately to find that Remus had slept on the couch. Remus wasn't there. There was no sign that Remus had even slept in the flat. This meant Remus had left after Sirius had passed out and hadn't been back since last night. Not since he had helped Sirius to bed. Remus' hat, something he'd had since his seventh year, was on the floor.
He'd left it there.
He'd left everything.
What if he didn't come back?
He made his way toward the door, somehow managing to cross the room without falling and breaking his neck. He glanced at the wall and his chest constricted. Remus' coat was hanging by the door. Sirius had bought him the coat when they had graduated to replace the one that had been threatening to fall apart for nearly a year. It wasn't much for stopping rain, but Remus would never leave without it. He couldn't be gone for good then, he would never leave his favorite coat. Would he?
A pair of boots, beyond repair, had been tossed into the corner. Remus' of course, they were comfortable and broken in with time. His favorite. No one left their favorite shoes when they didn't plan on coming back.
His head was killing him and he stumbled over to the couch, shoving aside several books and newspapers. A few of the article titles swam before his eyes.
"Death Eater Attack in Surrey."
"Several Attacks in Wales."
When Remus came back, they would have to organize all of the books again. Sirius groaned. What if he didn't come back?
Remus' books were still on the floor and covering the books shelf beside to the fireplace and Remus' Butterbeer bottles lined casually on the table along with a few empty glasses. A stack of literary magazines – Remus' – piled haphazardly on the empty loveseat and Remus' shirt thrown over the back of a chair.
The Lord of the Rings lay in Remus' chair, a playing card poking out from the top of the book. He hadn't finished it yet. Remus had sworn up and down that he would finish the book before Christmas. It was September. Remus wouldn't leave the book. He would have to come back. If only for the book.
Sirius' eyes were suspiciously watery. Remus was never coming back and – he growled dangerously – no one should be this damn upset. Remus was coming back. He wiped the heel of his hand across his eyes and reached out for the book. Opening it casually to Remus' place, he gazed at the two of hearts for a moment and then scanned the page.
I grew angry and he left me.
He slammed the book shut and gazed frantically around, hoping for some sort of sign, something to stop the ache from settling fully in his chest. Nothing. The small flat was silent. It seemed too large to hold only one person. With a moan, Sirius pitched forward, bracing himself on the edge of the table and emptied his stomach.
Pale and shaking, he swallowed and looked for his wand. It was lying on the table just a few inches from his hand. He reached for it and murmured a cleaning spell on the puddle of vomit on the floor and then stumbled to his feet and into the kitchen, his wand falling to the floor.
It was on the counter beside the sink underneath Remus' favorite mug. Sirius reached out for the crumpled and ink stained parchment, smoothing it absently before he read it.
I know you didn't mean it and I know you think that saying you're sorry will make it better, but I made the choice to leave.
Not even a name. Not even a goodbye. Simple and clean and over with a few biting words. Sirius could almost hear them being read aloud in his head. He wasn't even sure what it was he didn't mean. He couldn't remember. The bits and pieces from last night were blurred and lost in a haze. He set the parchment down onto the counter and went back into the living room.
Remus' book was laying on the floor now, the two of hearts marking his place. He had sworn he was going to finish the book before Christmas.
Desperately, Sirius knew couldn't really be gone. There was Remus' favorite coat, Remus' favorite shoes, and Remus' favorite mug and the flat was a mess of Remus' books that need to be picked up and organized. He couldn't really be gone.
But he was.
-
Author's Note: I blame Tim McGraw.