Be Mine

It was his personal opinion that death was the thing that defined the world, not life. But he was bitter, he'd seen too much. He was old; if thirty eight could be called old. In the midst of a war, with the weak dying out and only the young surviving, he supposed you could. Today's wizarding world was a Darwinist's paradise.

He knew death; he'd been close to death. He'd invited death; if not to his own body, at least to all his companions. Every full moon was a step closer to the pearly gates, not only to himself but to his friends. Not that many of them believed in the pearly gates. War does that. Seeing witches and wizards dying on a battlefield with no one to answer their cries but a helpless few did that. But the strong survive. The strong change. He had. He remembers being a boy. The third shortest of four with hair completely brown, and freshly made scars hidden under a glamour he didn't care to keep up with in his old age. He remembers laughing at everything. He remembers laughing at death. And he remembers Sirius.

He'd never met a boy like him. Never seen a boy grow to a man like him. And he'd never seen someone change so drastically, like him. By the time he saw Sirius again, they were both changed. In this Darwinist's paradise, they were two perfect specimen. Perfect for propagating the species. By the time he saw Sirius again, the only thing he knew to do was cling to what once was. And so they clung together.

What they clung to was frantic, it was dirty. He felt used, and he used. There were no words of love, no comfort. Just hard thrusts and quickly murmured cleaning spells. But it was enough, it was what he needed. What they needed. It brought back the days of four boys, unknowing in the ways of sex, experimenting with each other, trying to find out how to make the girls come. All in all, what they did meant nothing to him.

It had started at his death, like everything does. He slept less and less. He would close his eyes with memories whisking across his lids, tempting and burning. To shut his eyes was to invite death over and over again. This was simple to stop though. He was a wizard after all. Sleep was just a problem easily cured by some potion or another. It was just, the potions stopped working after the first few months. So, like any good member of an evolving species he moved on to better things. He found coffee.

With coffee he found Tonks. Being awake in this world was hard without having anyone to cling too. So, when she started blushing at the site of him, he found what he needed. His breath always smelt of coffee, and she's started grimacing when he's kissing her. It's not like she should complain. It was what she wanted. She wanted it, so he kissed her, stroked her vibrant and vulgar hair, after a year he even started fucking her. But that's what happens when you get what you want. You start complaining, taking things for granted, thinking kissing a man with coffee on his breath is the worst of your problems.

But he'd kissed a man with alcohol on his breath, and death in his eyes. He'd touched a man with sickened skin and despair. And he took it for granted this time, just like he had thirteen years earlier. That man was a Faberge egg. Vibrant, beautiful and so bright. But drop him and he'd crack. Break him and even though you could glue him back together again, there would always be a chip missing. Stick him in a cell and watch him crumble; watch him lose what he holds dear.

He was turning into that man. So fragile, so fucking breakable. It wasn't what he had intended when he started his dalliance with Tonks. He wanted something simple. A warm, willing, pliable body. Just like Sirius. Except it turns out that's not what Sirius was at all.

Not at all.

He has pictures. They move, they wave, and they make him ache. There's no point in looking at a picture only to crumple and throw it in a raging agony. So now he never looks. He doesn't read any more. He only does what he's told. They told him he should kiss the vulgar little girl with no balance, so he did. They said he should propose to her.

So, he did.

He's getting married tomorrow. His parents are dead, and so are hers. It was a little late for a wedding. All the props were used, or gone. But tomorrow was still his wedding day, and he, Remus John Lupin was cordially inviting the world to his wedding. His wedding to Nymphadora Tonks. They told him the dress was beautiful. Too bad he despises white.

He is a dark creature, and he can only kills what he loves. That's what they tell him. Too bad the only thing he tried to love was Black.

He doesn't remember imagining a wedding when he was younger.Tomorrow was his white wedding. A day in which he would become a new man with new burdens and responsibilities on his back. Tomorrow he would be married. Tied to someone who was his second choice at comfort. Tonight he remembers what it was like before he stopped caring.

Tonight he'll comfort himself with chilled his hands and shut his eyes, coming with the name of a dead man on his lips.

The dead man who took comfort too far.

Come on Balthazaa I refuse to let you die
Come on fallen star I refuse to let you die
Cos that's wrong and I've been waiting far too long
It's wrong I've been waiting far too long
For you to be..be me..be..be mine
For you to be mine..be mine..for you to be mine
And it's wrong, I've been waiting far too long
It's wrong, I've been waiting far too long
For you to be..be me..be

All the centrefolds that you can't afford
Have long since waved their last goodbyes
All the centrefolds that you can't afford
You've long since faded from their eyes
So be..be mine

Centrefold, Placebo