DISCLAIMER: i own nothing. jk rowling owns everything. any language used in this fic is not meant to offend anyone so please don't hate me.
I'M SO TIRED:
Remus was tired, so tired. He was sick of pretending. It had been weeks or at least felt as long, maybe longer, and he knew his cheery façade was not any less obviously false to his friends. He knew they knew something was up, but he was quite happy to let them think it was his "break up" with this mystery girlfriend. He'd caught Sirius grumbling about the poor, non-existent girl a couple of times to James or Peter or anyone who cared to listen.
If Remus were to ever land himself a girlfriend, and what a highly unlikely circumstance that would be, he realised she would most definitely not be a Slytherin. He'd never considered dating one anyway, but Sirius seemed adamant that his "ex" was one, and was not happy about the fact.
Remus could handle that. He could handle them thinking that. It was lying, and he felt rotten anytime he lied, to anyone, but he had been doing so for most of his life, so one more lie couldn't hurt, surely?
More and more often Remus was turning to memories to get him through the day. Mainly childish ones from when he was young enough not to be burdened by deep thoughts and feelings. Young enough not to know real pain, emotional pain.
He let his thoughts drift to his mother. More specifically to him relaxing in his mother's deep, warm lap as she hummed to him and ran long, slender fingers ever so lightly through his feathery hair.
She had been trying to send him to sleep. He had seen that only with hindsight, and maturity. He knew because he remembered the pain crept up on him with far more force as he fought with his mind to stay awake. He had been enjoying himself far too much to give in to the temptation of a nap.
All the strength he had used whilst fighting the inevitable dream world took away from his reserves for fighting the more intimidating full moon.
Remus knew his mother had meant well, that she had been attempting to distract his attention away from any pain, and he loved her for it, but that night had been the worst transformation he had suffered thus far in his short life.
As he grew older, his transformations only became more excrutiating, however, Remus had learnt not to try distraction methods. It was best, he'd found through trial and error, just to ride it out.
After all, he'd soon have forgotten that pain for another month.
Sitting on the stoop, with his feet tucked as far beneath him as was possible, Remus fumbled for his cigarette packet and, once successful, numbly lit one.
He let the sensation of nicotine fill his veins as he inhaled from yet another cigarette. And maybe this one would let him forget the real pain, all of it. The exhaustion. The hurt. His own emotions.
Himself.
Sirius knew Remus had a bad habit. He knew that Remus was the occasional, every so often chain smoker. So when he heard movement by the window where the Marauders had discovered their secret ledge back in second year, he knew instantly who it was. What sounds he heard next, however, did surprise him.
A low rumbling hum was how it started, but it soon turned into a deep guttural groan. And then someone was strumming a guitar to produce the most beautiful and unsettlingly angry music he had ever heard.
And then Remus began singing; quiet, but oh so powerful.
"I'm so tired, I haven't slept a wink. I'm so tired; my mind is on the blink. I wonder should I get up and fix myself a drink –"
And he was good, with the emotional range of a Potter during a Quidditch match, or an Evans after a meeting with said Potter.
"No, no, no. I'm so tired; I don't know what to do. I'm so tired my mind is set on you. I wonder should I tell you but I know what you would do.
"You'd say I'm putting you on but it's no joke, its doing me harm you know I can't sleep, I can't stop my brain. You know it's three weeks, I'm going insane. You know I'd give you everything I've got for a little peace of mind."
Remus let out a sigh, one drawn out with the emotion of someone heavily put upon, before continuing in his husky if melodramatic voice.
"I'm so tired, I'm feeling so upset. Although I'm so tired, I'll have another cigarette. And curse Sir Walter Raleigh. He was such a stupid get.
"You'd say I'm putting you on but it's no joke, it's doing me harm. You know I can't sleep, I can't stop my brain. You know its three weeks; I'm going insane. You know I'd give you everything I've got for a little peace of mind.
"I'd give you everything I've got for a little peace of mind.
"I'd give you everything I've got for a little peace of mind."
The words eased into low mumblings again and then no more was heard. Sirius waited, as if expecting something more, but all he received was the smell of cigarette smoke and the sound of air being sucked in and released slowly.
Feeling oddly disappointed, and vaguely voyeuristic, he turned himself away from the window and grabbed his things for a shower, trying not to think about the reasons behind Remus' sudden musicality.
Remus moved his hands as quick as lightening along the strings of his Dad's guitar. It had always helped him relax when he felt troubled. He'd never felt quite this awful before, though, so his hopes for this relieving some of his near on a month's build up of tension were low.
Even so, he let his voice pick up from a hum into his mother's favourite song.
"Close your eyes, have no fear. The monster's gone, he's on the run and your daddy's here.
"Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful Boy. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful Boy.
"Before you go to sleep, say a little prayer. Every day in every way, it's getting better and better.
"Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful Boy. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful Boy.
"Out on the ocean sailing away, I can hardly wait to see you come of age, but I guess we'll both just have to be patient. 'Cause it's a long way to go, a hard row to hoe, yes it's a long way to go but in the meantime, before you cross the street take my hand. Life is just what happens to you while your busy making other plans.
"Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful Boy. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful Boy.
"Before you go to sleep, say a little prayer. Everyday in everyway, it's getting better and better.
"Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful Boy.
"Darling, darling, darling, darling Boy."
The tears were in full flow by the time he was finished. But even though he was weeping to himself up on a small ledge some hundred feet from the ground, he couldn't help but feel lighter just by the thought of his mum, and his dad. He knew they loved him.
Perhaps, though, love was best left in the past tense. How could anyone love him anymore? How could anyone love this monstrous wreck of an ugly boy?
AUTHOR: the first song is by The Beatles, written by John Lennon and called I'm So Tired from their White album. The second was also written by John Lennon for his son, Sean.
I think the Beatles and the Marauders have some striking similarities, well, a few. they may all be in my head, actually, but i do not care for i love them and John Lennon most especially.