Written for Camp Hogwarts, the July Writing Club and the Spring Seasonal Challenges of the same forum.

Chapter warnings: mentions of suicide? It isn't prominent, and trust me, no one is dying here. I'm only stating this as a possible trigger.

Word count (chapter): 1403 words

Things get serious. Don't hate me, this had to be done. *grimaces* I nearly cried while writing it, so yeah, I did my time for the crime.

And I'll follow right down the river where the ocean meets the sky

To you, to you

1.3 - In Horror

He Apparates in with a pop that rings in his ears. Echoing, over and over. It is a soft sound—hardly noticeable amidst the deafening crashing of angry waves—but in his state of mind, every sound, every sense sends another hard stab of pain through his veins.

Why is he here?

Wet sand squelches under his worn shoes. He takes another step towards the water.

The waves crash but a foot away from him. He shouldn't have Apparated so close to the edge. It was far from safe, and he could have so easily been pulled into the tide. But he hadn't been thinking, he doesn't want to think. If he lets himself drown into desolation, there's no one to pull him out. He has no one.

He cannot bring himself to think. The raging tide is right there in front of him, mocking him. Enticing him.

Five more steps, and instead of being swept up by the pain, he'll be swept into the current. Never to live more of this torment. Gone forever, but still close enough to be with him. He'll be one with the ocean, and they'll revolve around each other forever, just as he'd promised.

He cannot bring himself to think, because if he does, he knows he will accept the invitation. Five steps, and it will be over.

He doesn't want to take those five steps.

What is he doing here?

Five steps, and he can see James again. Lily. Peter.

He looks out into the murky black. Everything is black. The night sky, the churning water, his blurring vision. He wants to breathe, he wants to look up, but the stars are just another reminder of him. Every breath he takes is a reminder of him.

The North Sea stretches out before him, breathtaking in its dark fury. He is constantly sprayed with its stray drops as the waves lash to the sand, mere inches before his tired feet. It gets into his eyes, but he blinks them away. His gaze is blurry, but he continues his attempts to locate the tower masked behind the mist.

There. The tall structure is barely discernible against the nebulous gloom, but he is persistent. He strengthens his focus, and as he does, the tower reveals itself to him.

The tall tower is imposing, even through the haze. It's black, blacker than the night, and the sharp triangular corners of its edges convey as much doom and terror as the tower itself. He gasps.

He has been anticipating a nervous reaction to the sight of that condemned structure, but reflexive terror still hits him like a punch to the gut.

He stares, transfixed, as the rolling mist hovers over the black, black tower in eerie sluggishness. As he watches, a scream slices through the dark night, harsh and unending. The sound is distorted by the roiling waves—cut off in some places, a mere groaning in others, but it is unmistakably, a man's scream of utmost terror.

Azkaban.

Another scream, higher this time. Not as hoarse as the first, not as immersed in its terror. The scream echoes everywhere, surrounding him, drowning him. It goes on and on, and he shudders at the sheer horror it evokes. The voice beckons to him, pleading, like a nightmare that just won't stop.

Sirius.

Is that his voice? Is it him? Or is it a figment of his imagination?

"Is it true? I came as fast as I could. Where are they? Albus, where are they?"

"Remus, my boy…"

"Albus, stop. Is it true?"

"Remus, sit down. You've come a long way, and your last mission has weakened you, my boy."

"WHERE—" Deep breath. "Albus. Albus, where is Sirius? Where is James, Lily, Harry? Peter, where is he?"

"They're… gone."

"Wha—How? What happened?"

"It was Voldemort. He broke the Fidelius last night, and—"

"NO! It can't be!"

"—they're dead, Remus. All dead."

"No. No, no, no, Albus they can't be gone, it can't be true, it can't..."

The events of the past days—maybe minutes, maybe days, maybe months in the making—catch up to him. They catch up to him, and all at once, the numbness surrounding his heart freezes. He can feel his chest squeezing, his breaths halting, his mind shutting down and giving in. He feels like a dead man walking, and everything hurts.

How could he do this? What brought him to this? Why didn't he see this coming?

Why is it so easy to lose faith in the man he claims to love?

"It was Sirius, my boy. He—he was the spy. The one we have been searching for. He gave Voldemort the coordinates, he betrayed the Order."

"NO! No, it couldn't be—not Sirius, not—Albus, don't lie to me. It—it's Sirius, he wouldn't—"

"I'm sorry, Remus, but it's been confirmed. Sirius Black is a Death Eater. He's already been shipped to Azkaban."

"NO! DO NOT LIE, ALBUS! He loves—he loved—he—"

He takes another step towards the water, and another and another. He will not let himself be enticed by the call of the sea, he won't. He will not succumb to this madness.

But there's an entire sea separating him from the man he loves, the man he has always thought he knows. The man he had once known, the one who's now a stranger to him. He doesn't know what to think, but he still wants to be as close to him as he can get.

A final step, and his feet now touch the very lip of the water's edge. One more, and he will lose himself to the sea. A single step more, and the pull of the sea will be too tough to resist. He's come as close as he can get.

He wants to run straight into his arms, hold on and never let go. He wants to be comforted, he wants to feel his warmth again, even through this torment that seems like it will never let him escape its cold grasp. He wants to commit terrible crimes to find release from this agony, he wants to turn himself in and be incarcerated; they could both be together forever, just like he had always been promised.

He wants to run away from this, run away from him, run and run and never look back. He wants to forget. He wants to have never known love, because it was love that brought him this.

They are both monsters. He is a monster by circumstance, and he is one by choice. It used to make their relationship feel validated, because how could a monster like him be loved by another, unless they were a monster too?

It had been a point of consolation before, but it doesn't work any longer—not since he made a choice that took him too far. He cannot overlook this mistake. He has forgiven all this man's past sins, but he cannot forgive him this.

"Remus, my boy, there's nothing we can do. Thirteen victims, fifteen witnesses. How much more confirmation do you need?"

"He wouldn't do that—"

"Sirius Black is the very mole we feared was present in the Order. We just have to accept it for what it is. All in time, Remus. Time will heal."

Did he even think it a mistake? Was this always meant to be how it would end?

He wants to cut off his strings, sink to the sand and grieve and weep for what could have been. He wants his tears to become one with the sea, to mix and flow away into the ocean until they are unrecognisable beyond means.

Another unearthly shriek cuts through the air, carrying crystal clear even though the distortion of the breaking black waves.

He cannot decide what he wants. He wants so much, he wants too much, and above all else, he wants to scream.

"I'm sorry, my boy."

He screams.

Gimme all the feedback! Love, tears, curses, I can take it all. I do promise though, that this will have a happy ending. See you for the next chapter!