ALWAYS THERE

Chapter Three: Upon Return

Any and all reviews welcome, even if they seem like a waste of your time I'll cherish them and take all advice and suggestions to heart. Thanks.

'Words in italics between half quotes are thoughts.'

end of author's rants

Summer of 1995- after Harry's fourth year.

Remus sat in the kitchen drinking tea. It had been an entire month since the end of Harry's forth school year, long enough for Sirius to have rounded up the old crowd. Remus expected him any day. He worried what would happen when Sirius came by. He'd heard from the Weasely family that Dumbledore had told Sirius to "lie low at his place." Remus hoped that Dumbledore hadn't phrased it quite like that. This apartment should have been Sirius's, too.

Remus wondered as to what scars Azkaban had given Sirius that he'd not yet seen. How much did Sirius remember? And how much had the dementors taken away? Remus wished desperately that when Sirius arrived, he would be able to help him, should he need help.

Remus refilled his teacup. It would be a long day for both them, the day Sirius arrived. They would have to work through everything. Even though Sirius had said he forgave Remus for blaming him for the Potter's death, Remus had the feeling that Sirius had never forgiven him in his heart. Maybe he was over what Remus had done enough to say it; that didn't mean he felt it.

'And you? Have you forgiven Sirius for blaming you in turn?' Said a voice in Remus's head. 'Of course I have,' he told the voice, 'but then I didn't spend twelve years with dementors because of his mistake. He can't say the same about me, though, can he?' Remus, until that voice had invaded his brain, the voice of the wolf, had not thought of forgiving Sirius. What was there to forgive? But Remus knew, and the voice continued anyway. 'He turned on you, took your friends, your only friends, away.' He was a werewolf and the support of his friends had meant the world to him. Their last years all together had hurt Remus. He had hated the looks of suspicion from James and Sirius, and the fake, but very good, looks of suspicion from Peter. Or maybe Peter really was scared of the wolf, and the suspicion had been real. Not that it mattered to him now, but it had helped to damage Remus back then.

And Sirius had been the one to put the idea in their heads. Or had he? Had Peter subtly been trying to set them all against each other? But Sirius had believed him. Why? Because Peter was too weak to serve Voldemort, as Sirius now claimed was his reason? Even though Voldemort had a much easier time controlling the weak? Or was it because he didn't trust the wolf in Remus? Remus tried to stop this train of thought, but it continued late into the night as Remus lay in bed, waiting for sleep.

What if, ever since Sirius found out that Remus was a werewolf, he hadn't trusted him? What if he only became an animagus to make sure Remus didn't hurt other people? The "what ifs" swam around in Remus's head. 'But I don't deserve his forgiveness at all. He may have made a mistake, but I was up and walking after everything came down on us. Besides, he never acted like he distrusted me until then. Of course he was a good actor.'

For the rest of the week, Remus's worries haunted him. They followed wherever he went: to bed, to the kitchen, to the shower, to the store, and everywhere else Remus went in effort to escape them. Then on impulse, Remus barged into Sirius's old room

Remus gazed around the room. It had been years since he'd been in here. Ever since he sold nearly everything Sirius had owned, he hadn't set foot in Sirius's old room. There was only the bed frame left in the room, and only dust left behind the closet door. It was rather depressing to see the once vividly colored room so empty of everything but a layer of grime.

Seeing what he'd done to the room in the following months after his friends' deaths, he felt as empty of positive emotions as this room was of proper furnishings. How would Sirius feel, seeing that none of his things- his robes, the mattress, and sentimental things- none of them remained?

That night Remus dragged his mattress onto the bed frame, and slept in Sirius's room. The dust irritated his sensitive nose, but that night he slept, and no worries kept him awake.

Remus woke up around eight o'clock, much later than normal for him, the next morning. He had more energy than he'd had in the past week and a half. Remus took his mattress back to his own bed and began cleaning the dust form Sirius's room. He cleaned the room until there wasn't a speck of dust anywhere.

The entire day Remus alternated between cleaning and having staring contests with walls that always won. He anxiously waited for Sirius's arrival. Sirius didn't come that day. Remus felt that Sirius was tormenting him on purpose. He wasn't, obviously, and Remus knew that, but feelings are hardly ever logical.

Finally, after waiting forever for Sirius to show up, Remus woke up knowing that Sirius was arriving today. It was just a feeling. Call it instinct, call it ESP, call it whatever you wish, he just knew.

The greatly anticipated knock sounded at 9:37 and 26.3 seconds. Actually it wasn't truly a knock, which is usually light and sounds more than just once, but a distinct thump. Remus got up to see what had thumped, knowing already that it could only be one person.

Remus opened the door on a rather large, yet starved and exhausted, looking black dog. The dog's head drooped; its eyes were millimeters from being shut. The dog stumbled into the room with a crooked walk, drunk with exhaustion. Remus scooped up the dog and laid him lightly on the couch.

The dog trembled, and Remus, kneeling by the couch, stroked it softly. Eventually, the dog's trembling calmed, and it fell into a fitful sleep. Remus went to the closet and grabbed the cleanest of the timeworn blankets that he lay gently down on the dog's fragile body, leaving only his head exposed.

Remus absently pet the unconscious dog as his mind wandered. 'Poor Sirius, he must have had a time rounding up the entire Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore should have sent someone else to do half the job. Sirius isn't exactly the ideal person for that kind of job. I wonder why Dumbledore thought he was… He'll have his reasons, of course, I just wish he'd tell all of us what they were.'

Remus came up with several theories, but eventually he dozed off, too. His sleep was not dreamless, but his nightmare was unmistakably easier to handle than Sirius's horrendous dreams.

In his dream, he found himself walking. He couldn't see a centimeter in front of his face; the fog all around him obscured his vision in all directions- except downward. The muddy, squishy grass beneath his feet made a squelching noise every time he took a step. Remus squelched his was down the hill on which he appeared to have began his journey. When he was half way down the hill the fog suddenly dissipated, and Remus could recognize the land in front of him. He was in a place that he knew very well. He was at the cemetery where James and Lily had been buried. Only one thing was odd, from what Remus remembered since he'd last been there.

There was a man, facing away from Remus and towards two plots: James's and Lily's. His shoulders shook with body-raking sobs. He had sandy colored, rather disheveled hair, and wore frayed black mourning robes. There was no sound as Remus descended towards the young man, not even a dirge.

Remus reached the pair of plots, but the young man didn't turn around. Remus, not wanting to interrupt him, walked around the lumps of dirt that held some of his dear friends. When Remus saw the face of this person he gasped quite loudly. The crying younger version of Remus took no notice of his older self as he sobbed bitterly over his friends, four years dead. Remus gave a sad smile to himself. He'd been twenty-seven then, and convinced that his only living friend had turned traitor.

Remus turned around, to look at the plots again, but as he turned the scene changed to a starry full moon night. In the dream, Remus looked up at the full moon and felt nothing but awe. No pain, no fear, just awe. To Remus it was wondrous to see the moon full again, and not have to go through the horrible change seeing the full moon usually brought upon him. Remus was breathing deeply, as though he could drink in the suddenly harmless full moon and make it forever a part of him, when a scream shattered the night.

Remus turned and saw, again, himself- seven years old this time- running. Remus felt his heart thud in his chest, watching the scrawny boy run through the forest. He knew why he was running, knew what followed. Involuntarily, he took a step back when he saw the monster lightly step through the undergrowth. It had been forever since he had seen a werewolf through human eyes…not since the night he was now revisiting, in fact.

Remus watched as the werewolf mercilessly sunk his teeth into the whimpering and pleading boy's skin. Watched as the wolf began tearing the boy apart. He watched, too, when the moon sank below the horizon, and the werewolf twisted in pain as it changed and ran to the forest, leaving behind the young severely injured boy. The dream slowly faded as the little boy gasped for air, trying figure out why he was still alive, breathing.

Remus awoke to a dog systematically slobbering all over his entire face with its tongue. The dog was standing over Remus, who'd fallen asleep leaned up against the couch. Laughing, Remus pushed Sirius away, "All right. All right. Yes, now, that's quite enough!" At the slightly sharper tone in Remus's voice on the last word, the dog pulled away reluctantly, wagging its tail hopefully.

Remus raised his eyebrows at the dog. "I don't speak dog, you know. I haven't the faintest idea what that is supposed to mean. You're just going to have to tell me in plain English what that translates to; I'm quite sure that it is rather crude, simple, and to the point, whatever it is." Remus smiled.

The dog abruptly vanished, and Sirius Black stood in his place. He had a human version of the look the dog had been giving Remus on his face. The get-up-you-idiot-why-are-you-still-sitting-there? look. Sirius reached out a hand and helped pull Remus to his feet.

"Thank you, Padfoot. Why don't we have something to eat, then?"

"Sounds fine by me," said the raspy voice of the escaped convict. Remus felt a painful tug at his heart, hearing Sirius speak. Sirius's voice used to me melodic and easy on the ears. People- namely interested females- used to try to keep him talking as long as they could, just to hear his voice another time. Now, when he spoke, the noise grated on all listening ears. Poor Sirius, he'd lost everything from his freedom to his wonderful voice. Remus wasn't gay or anything, but, being a werewolf, he had sensitive ears and a tendency to notice voices.

Remus walked into the tiny kitchen, Sirius trailing behind him. Remus watched Sirius as he absorbed all the changes the apartment had undergone in the past decade or so. He stood in the doorway and let his eyes wander over the entire room, trying to remember the room as it had been in his memory. Remus walked over to the fridge and found something edible and reasonably suitable for the two of them to eat.

As Remus got the magical oven started, Sirius finished his examination of the kitchen and walked back through the hall to the den to scrutinize that, since he hadn't looked at it much when he had come in earlier. Remus, once the entire dinner was started cooking, followed him.

Absently, Sirius ran a finger around the surface of the end table next the couch. "I don't remember there being so little furniture here," he whispered to Remus, still keeping his eyes determinedly on the wooden swirl design of the table.

Remus, even though Sirius wasn't staring accusatorily at him, looked away. "I had to sell most of it."

From near the couch came Sirius's rusty voice, "I'm sorry Remus."

"What are you sorry for?" Sirius had Remus's full attention; Remus's gaze bored into Sirius's profile.

"I kept telling you that you didn't need to be able to support yourself financially, but then we all just…abandoned you, and you did need… and we weren't there. I'm sorry Remmie." Tears trailed down Sirius's thin face.

"You didn't abandon me. Peter stole us all away from each other. None of what happened was your fault, and I want you to remember that, Sirius." Sirius- the name felt so foreign on his tongue. He hadn't said Sirius's name since…since that night in the shrieking shack, when he realized that Sirius was innocent and Peter had fooled them all; before that, though he hadn't said Sirius's name since… his Mom was using that childish nickname on him and he had to reprimand her.

Sirius didn't answer, nor did his gloomy expression lift. "Sirius…"

Sirius stood up, and without looking at Remus, strolled into the kitchen. Knowing that Sirius was hurting, and knowing, too, that he couldn't do anything, Remus followed.

Dinner, not being anything fancy, was nearly ready. Sirius set the table as Remus began placing everything into it's proper bowl- neither spoke. Their meal was equally quiet. Afterwards, Sirius stood and stretched lazily; Remus was reminded of old times. First Sirius would eat like a ravenous wolf, then he'd stretch, and then he'd go to bed. Remus's heart sank. Sirius couldn't go into his old room- not yet. Remus just wasn't ready for him to see that all of his stuff had disappeared over the years.

"Would you mind helping me with the dishes?" Remus asked hopefully.

"Sure, why not?" At Sirius's words, he breathed a silent sigh of relief. Both repeatedly plunged their hands into the soapy, warm water as they made an attempt at cleaning the dishes. It was a rather unusual sight to see Sirius up to his elbows in foamy water; he had most certainly changed. The old Sirius would've waved Remus off when asked to do any form of work.

Or perhaps, Remus theorized silently, he could sense that something was wrong by Remus's voice. Voices, he decided, were just plain useless. They often betrayed you when you most needed them to back you- as Remus's had just done. "Remmie, what's wrong?"

Remus sighed as quietly as possible to himself. Of course Sirius knew, how could he not? Had he not been Remus's flatmate for nearly six years? Remus neglected to answer, though Sirius scrutinized him until the last knife was spotless, and everything was put away.

Remus, in attempt to avoid questioning further, pulled a random book from the shelf, flipped carelessly to any page, and began to pretend to be reading. This, while achieving his aim, left Sirius with nothing to do.

"I think I'm just going to go to bed," Sirius informed him.

Trying to sound casual, Remus inquired, "Why so early?" His voice squeaked ever so slightly on the last syllable.

"I'm still tired from walking all the way here," he apologized.

"Oh." 'That was doubtlessly the least profound thing I've ever said.'

"Good night," Sirius yawned at Remus as he turned and trotted down the hall, not knowing that Remus was trailing after him.

Yawning, his eyes momentarily shut as he pushed the door open. In the middle of the yawn his eyes reopened, and he froze like that, mouth halfway open. He might have looked comical in a dissimilar situation, frozen in that particular position.

"I'm so sorry," was all Remus could find to say.

His words unfroze the statue that had been standing in the doorway; Sirius melted into a heap on the floor, unable to do anything but stare at the empty room as tears rolled down his cheeks. For Sirius, it was the last straw. He'd lost his friends, his freedom, his looks, his voice, and so much else. His material possessions, too, had been taken from him. He knew Remus hadn't done it to hurt him, but that did little to soften the blow.

Remus sank next to his friend and wrapped his arms securely around Sirius. He stared at the room, too, and knew everything Sirius felt. Upon returning to his own home, he realized that he truly had nothing. He promised himself then that every time Sirius reached out to him, needing him, he was destined to never be disappointed, absolutely never. He was always going to be there to heal what hurts he could. They'd have each other, always.

To be continued!

end of chapter; beginning of author's rants

Okay, so… Again you really, REALLY need to review. Yes, this lacks a plot. But that doesn't mean you can't review! In fact, all the more reason to do so!

Only one more chapter to go!

Advice of the chpater: Write your thoughts down, they'll be useful to you later, even if right now you tell yourself that you'll remember them without writing them down then, believe me, you're better safe than sorry.