Title: Between Dreams and Reality

Disclaimer: Artwork is Forgive Me Sirius by Satine Black ( satine- black. deviantart )

Rating: M

Chapter Six: Desperation in Love

'Aaron.'

Remus looked up from his drink, his lips twisting in a slight frown. The man looked undeterred by Remus's wariness and stuck his hand out, smile still in place. 'John,' he replied, after a moment of careful consideration. A mission was a mission, and secrecy was still at the forefront of Remus's mind. It didn't matter if the man in front of him was a muggle - sitting innocently; so very clueless about the war and the disaster that was going to strike upon them very soon.

'John,' Aaron repeated, holding on to their handshake as his thumb traced the lines that were Remus's veins slowly, seductively. 'Lovely name.'

'It's common,' Remus snorted, though not with as much venom as he'd intended. He should have attempted to snatch his hand back, but couldn't help but submit to the jolts of pleasure that shot through him. It had been a while; a long while since his last one night stand – an empty fuck in the back alley and an exchange of fags. He swallowed the last of his drink and made to get up.

He was held back by a gentle tightening of fingers. He could have slipped away. He could have paid for his drink and left, never turning back to see the dejected look in that wonderfully expressive face and full pink lips. It was the eyes that did him in – grey like storm clouds. 'John,' Aaron whispered his tone close to pleading, 'I know this sounds ridiculous but I've been watching you for the past three days.' Remus's heart sped up and his eyes darted around the pub cautiously as he wondered if he was truly so easy to follow. 'It took a lot of courage for me to come up to you, so please just…' Aaron bit his lip, '…won't you humour me with a drink? You won't regret it, I promise.'

It was stupid. He knew it the moment he sat back down and returned Aaron's grin with a tentative smile of his own. But those eyes were so grey and those hands – they were of someone who wanted him, craved him, and they got more and more intimate as the hands on the clock turned and minutes became midnight. Lips pressed softly against his, thighs pressed urgently against his waist, soft sighs were breathed against his neck; and for once, Remus let his eyes fall shut.

Lies. Lies. Lies.

Sirius tore through his papers, spreading them across the Potter's kitchen table haphazardly. His eyes roamed in desperation; weeks spent on research showing through in highlighted details and red circles. None of it said anything about his death; not even a concern on his disappearance. Nothing had changed; no one had been informed. It was almost as if Remus Lupin had never existed beyond a name. It was pitiful and clear proof of how low Dumbledore could sink so as not to even acknowledge the death of member who had foolishly given up his life for the Order.

Excuses of secrecy and questions being raised about the causes of death slipped from James's mouth. 'You have to understand, Sirius, people would have started digging into his past, just like you. He was the first werewolf to ever attend Hogwarts, the first of his kind to be given any privileges, to be accepted at least partially into society. There would be curiosity, headlines in the papers, conspiracies that we had to avoid…'

Excuses. Excuses. Excuses.

'What about him?' Sirius yelled, banging his fist against the table. 'He sacrificed his life for the bloody Order, yet no one had the integrity to honour him and find out who he was! Do any of you even know him? Have you ever tried? He was…he was…'

'Quiet,' James finished almost guiltily. 'He was passionate about fighting, Sirius. He was a true martyr and he-'

'Shut up!' Sirius screamed, kicking the table hard and causing it to topple over, the papers scattering across the floor. 'Fuck!' he cried softly, before falling to the floor, gathering his knees to his chest and burying his face in his hands. 'Fuck.' He brushed off the consoling hand that fell to his shoulder; feeling tears of frustration and grief sting his eyes.

He felt James settle down beside him, the proximity far from comforting. 'There's a grave,' James said softly, understanding hazel eyes boring into grey.

He ran. His muscles protested from pain, the tear tracks on his cheeks stung as they dried, and the shrill scream of his lungs tore through his chest. He needed air. He needed to breathe. But if he stopped now, he would die. If he stopped now, he would remember his sins: the blood that had squelched under his shoes and the light brown hair, so similar to his own, that had barely concealed the empty sockets once holding beautiful grey eyes. There was no face. There was no skin, nor was there a beating heart – just a gaping hole through his chest and teeth marks that were too small to be an animal's but too sharp to be entirely human. Aaron had been wearing Remus's shirt and a giddy smile across his face before they'd murdered him in cold blood.

Remus had told him his real name.

He finally stopped when the crunch of leaves and dried branches had died down. They were still there, he knew – hunting; trailing his scent with senses that had been sharpened the day they had surrendered to the animal within them. He was being hunted down by wolves in the skin of men.

'Fuck,' Remus whispered, before retching all over the forest floor. He braced himself against the rough bark of an acorn tree, feeling his eyes sting from the stench emanating from his own puddle of sick. 'Fuck,' he cursed again, dissolving into tears and bone chilling shudders. A man had died. A man had died because of Remus's stupidity. Because he had fallen in love with Remus, and Remus had been weak enough to want his love…

'Fuck…'

The reality of the situation finally hit Sirius when James apparated them to Crawley – Remus's home town.

There was no gravestone, no epitaph, no flowers; simply a bare patch of land where grass was yet to grow and the dirt settled at a slight bump on the otherwise flat terrain. There was no honour. Remus Lupin had died the way he had lived: unnoticed and unacknowledged. Sirius's heart felt like it was being squeezed to its death and he tried, he tried not to cry in front of James. To James, Remus had been an unknown. To Sirius, Remus should have been an unknown – a dream that he'd taken too far.

'I love him,' Sirius whispered, bending on one knee to place the small bouquet of violets he'd picked out from the store. Would Remus have liked them, he wondered. 'James, I'm in love with him.'

'Sirius…' There was something in James's voice that was too close to pity for Sirius's liking. 'You've never met him. You can't-'

'I've met him,' Sirius interrupted, too tired to be angry. The weight in the middle of his chest was only getting heavier and he allowed himself to wonder what it would have been like if Voldemort hadn't existed. If Dumbledore hadn't sought out to ruin Sirius's life by stealing every bit of his happiness like a leech that only took and took and took. He allowed himself to be selfish enough to envision a life with Remus by his side; kisses before leaving for work, burnt toast in the morning, and the comfort of Remus's scent that lingered on everything they owned. 'I've touched him. I've held him. I've kissed him…'

James rubbed his face, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly. 'Please don't do this to yourself, Sirius. You're only going to wind up hurt. Lupin is-'

'Don't say it,' Sirius cut in harshly, his eyes blurring as he stared resolutely at the ground. His fists closed around the dirt underneath and suddenly, he had the urge to dig. He wanted to see what they had done. He wanted to see Remus, just once…just once in flesh, in what could be considered reality.

'Lupin needs to move on, Sirius,' James continued, thankfully avoiding that one word that would have Sirius breaking into pieces. 'He's trapped in our world for whatever reason, perhaps for you, but he needs to go. For his soul to find peace, you need to let him go…'

Sirius's next words come out as a choked sob, 'I can't…'

He no longer had his wand.

Remus had spread his scent across the forest to confuse them, but even he knew that such petty mind games would only last him so long. They had caught up to him: a small group of three much to Remus's luck. He had fought. He had won. He had lost his wand in the process and gained several wounds that were quickly getting infected. They looked like raw meat, some bleeding yellowish pus and many turning a putrid green that no amount of water or makeshift cloth bandages could cure. He hadn't eaten in days, giving up quickly when he realised that there wasn't much he could stomach in his state.

Remus was going to die.

Alone; shivering as he lay on his side in a damp cave.

His whole body was coated with sweat and the putrid stench of rotting flesh. He had escaped Greyback and succumbed to an illness instead. It was pathetic.

And all Remus could think was how he had let Dumbledore down through his failures. He had owed the man everything – his life, his will to fight, the safety of his family – and yet, Remus had failed what could have been a fate altering mission. Remus had failed it and suddenly, he was glad he was dying rather than having to face the shame that he had brought upon himself. He could not send for help anyway, not without his wand and not without endangering the already dwindling number of Order members.

Remus's condescending laughter echoed in the small confines of the cave. His eyes closed on their own accord, too tired to aid him anymore. Despite being so close to the end, his mind drifted, like always, back to his parents and to Sirius Black. Remus always thought about Sirius Black - ever since the first day he'd set eyes on him.

That night Remus desperately wished for a different life. He wished he had been braver, smarter, louder. He wished for someone to know him, to remember him; he wished for someone who would shed tears upon his death. He wished he weren't so alone. He wished…he wished he had summoned the courage all those years ago to tell Sirius how he felt. Perhaps things would be no different than they were now; perhaps Sirius would have never loved a monster, but at least Remus would have had no regrets. At least Remus's yearning wouldn't transfer to dreams of him every single night…

'Sirius,' he would whisper, his hands pressing against the glass separating them 'I love you,'

'Please,' Sirius whispered, closing his eyes tightly. 'Please come. Remus, please, please…' His body shook from effort and the back of his eyes hurt from being squeezed too tight. Desperation. Sirius had never felt more desperate his entire life. For an answer, a call, just a flash of those amber eyes. He knew Remus was there; he knew this just as well as he knew that the Earth was round. He'd done it the last time; he had brought himself into Remus's mind and memories. Sirius had asserted one of his own memories of the Shrieking Shack– the frightfully pained screams he had heard one night when he and James had snuck out of school.

Remus had mentioned need. The first time and every other time it had happened, Remus had needed him; yearned for him to a point where his very soul hurt and thoughts of Sirius consumed him.

Then why wasn't it working now, when Sirius was laid on the floor of his flat, begging.

'Please, Moony…I need you, please, please…I'll do anything…'

It was Sirius who had given Remus the will to live. It was Sirius who had pushed Remus to his feet, foraging for herbs he'd learnt about in school that would turn his infection. Sirius who had given the courage for Remus to eat, to hunt, to keep himself safe from the wolves that hadn't deterred from their search for him. Months, he felt he had spent in caves, moving from one to another to spread his scent. But his new found determination only got him so far.

The day Remus had finally been captured, he hadn't been entirely conscious. He had been half asleep on a bed of leaves that felt very much like the bed he'd had back home. The home he'd never lived in - Somerset. Sirius had been there with him and he had asked if Remus always spoke in riddles. Remus had chuckled and felt at ease, opening himself to Sirius. He had begun to give himself hope at that time; a hope that he would make it home and to Sirius. If he ever made it alive, this time, he would do things the right way.

They had slammed his head to the ground; hard enough to draw blood and send him into a fitful of coughs, but gentle enough to jolt him slowly back into the real world. They tortured him, tore through him, and kept him in the darkness of a cell that looked like an endless chasm. So dark that sometimes, Remus had to reach out his hands to feel the metal bars keeping him in, each crackling with restrictive magic. They kept him until Voldemort arrived. They wanted to know about the Order, undeterred when Remus spat in their faces and bit them. It only made them laugh – a cub trying to be a wolf, they had taunted as they sent the Crucio burning through his nerves.

Remus still had Sirius.

There were rules, Remus slowly discovered. Whatever kind of magic this was, it did have rules. The first was that it fed off Remus's love and desperation – he could not reach anyone else because there was no one he craved as much as he did Sirius. The second was that what the mind believed to be true would come true. If Remus hurt himself during one of his "dreams", his mind perceived it as real and would create a blossoming bruise under his skin. Third, was the sacrifice of energy (or perhaps magic) - something that Remus would quickly run out of during his first week of captivity. With his energy, his "dreams" faded, sometimes behaving like static on a bad television set.

Things changed in the second week. There was more food on the chipped plate they offered him. Remus only ate enough to keep him with Sirius. His ribs were already showing and when they realised what he was doing, they forced him. Forced his mouth open to swallow, injected him with potions that would keep him alive and help the show of ribs fade. Remus puked it all out. There was a growing puddle of dried vomit in the corner of his cell and it mingled with the stench of his piss and degradation.

They never hurt him. There was anger behind slitted eyes and snarls behind tightening fingers (claws?), but they never hurt him. 'Don't damage the vessel,' he had heard one of them growl, barely suppressing his rage as his companion's nails dug into Remus's skin.

It was the day Remus learned about Horcruxes.

Bottles smashed to the ground, some blowing out in harmless fumes as the potions spilled to the bathroom floor. Desperation clawed his insides as he searched through the cabinet, the first shelf already emptied to the sink and littering the floor. He had it, he knew this much. Lily had given him an entire bottle in the early stages of his dreams to help him sleep. The sleep had not come and Sirius had never truly used it because despite the deep tired ache in his bones, he had wanted to dream. He had wanted Remus from the very beginning.

The fact that Remus was dead hadn't changed the longing he felt. It only heightened Sirius's madness.

He had tried. Just like the last time, he had tried to call out, to immerse Remus in one of his pensive memories. But as if Remus had seen the knowledge of his death in Sirius's mind, he had refused to come. He no longer invaded Sirius's dreams nor his waking moments of vulnerability. It was as if Remus had never been real to begin with.

Sirius knew otherwise.

'Damn it!' he cried, as one of the potions splashed and burned his hand as it rolled into the sink. He quickly doused it under a spray of cold water, cursing his luck. That was when his eyes spotted the little blue bottle, sitting innocently in the corner. In big bold letters it read, Dreamless Sleep. His hands shook as he reached for it, his fingers struggling to uncork the bottle. A spoonful for an adult dose, Lily had specified when she'd first handed Sirius the bottle.

He could not reach Remus, no matter how desperately he called.

Remus no longer came to him. How many days had it been? Four? Eight?

He walked to the bedroom and sat down on the edge of his bed. His hands were no longer shaking. He felt no fear, no trepidation. He'd already steeled his resolve. Dreams were his sanctuary, the place Remus always eventually came to. In Sirius's sleep, he found love; and in his sleep, they would both find peace..

One mere spoonful to guarantee six minimum hours of sleep.

James had been right. Remus needed to move on. But Sirius was tired of being left alone

Four spoonfuls to guarantee twenty four hours of sleep.

Sirius touched the bottle to his lips.

An entire bottle for an eternity with the love of his life.

'Damn it, you little cunt! You fucking puked again!' Remus barely had the time to see the bars slide open, before he was being pushed against the wall, a hand closed tight around his neck. Yellow slitted eyes stared at him furiously, teeth bared, and breath that smelled like blood fanned across his face. 'I can't believe I turned such a pathetic disgrace,' he emphasized this with another shove backwards. Remus saw stars as his head collided with the stone wall behind him. This was good. If Fenrir Greyback could do the job, Remus would be able to put his courage and inhibitions aside. All he had to do was agitate the old wolf and he did so - with a shit eating grin.

'You little fucker! I'll kill you!' Greyback snarled, his sharpened nails now slowly digging into Remus's jugular. Remus could already feel the trickle of blood pooling at his collar bone. A little harder; just a little harder and Remus would save himself the pain and anguish of ending his own life.

The first time he had tried two days ago, they had caught him, revived him, and removed anything and everything that could possibly be considered as weapon for suicide. This included the buttons on his shirt, the cutlery that came with the food, even the jagged bits of stone that had fallen from repeated attacks during full moons.

He missed Sirius terribly but he was too weak.

He didn't want to be alone but he needed to end this charade.

He didn't want to die, but he didn't want to become more of a monster than he already was.

They were going to use him as a vessel for what Voldemort called a Horcrux, where part of the Dark Lord's soul would be infused into Remus's body. He was the perfect host – immeasurably strong because of his werewolf blood, a self induced recluse, and Dumbledore's golden boy. There were secrets inside him that many of the Order did not know – strategies, plans, successes and failures. Voldemort would not only gain all that information through Remus's mind, but also be able to infiltrate into the Order seamlessly. Remus's own soul would be overpowered and pushed aside, and like the Imperio, his struggles would not amount to much. How long till Dumbledore figured it out? How many people would he manage kill on his side before they realised that there was perpetrator on their side.

Remus would rather die than hurt anyone. He would rather die before he ever hurt his family or Sirius.

Sirius.

Sirius.

Sirius.

Sirius.

There was a sudden cry of pain and Remus crumpled to the ground in shock. There was a crunch of bone as his entire weight fell upon his left leg at an odd angle and he was only able to catch a glimpse of Greyback, nursing his hand to his chest. It was charred black, Remus was able to note with surprise, before he was pulled into unconsciousness. An unconscious that was so starkly white that it belittled the paleness of his own skin. He couldn't stand, so he reached out with his hands, trying to compensate the loss of his sight to blinding whiteness through touch. He felt nothing.

'Moony?'

Remus's head snapped behind him. 'Sirius?' he called, his eyes squinting to catch anything, even if just a glimpse. His heart was already beating at a mile per minute from the anxiety of seeing Sirius again. 'Sirius, where are you? Where are we?'

He felt arms encircle him from behind; yet when he turned, he saw nothing. The weight against his back was heavy and comforting, but while he could see the paleness of his own skin and shades of pink where he'd been roughed up, he could see nothing of Sirius's own. The presence pressed closer and Remus shifted his hand backwards, scrabbling for a body to hold on to but only finding air. 'I'm here. With you…for you…' he felt cold breath against his neck. 'Forever.'

Something about the way Sirius said 'forever', coupled with the quickly dropping temperature of Sirius's weight pressed against his back sent shivers crawling down Remus's spine. 'What do you mean?' he croaked, fear dropping heavy in his gut. 'Sirius, what does that mean?' He was screaming now, suddenly so, so afraid. He knew. Inwardly, he already knew what Sirius had done; could feel it in the shuddering breaths Sirius took and the madness that seeped into the deep chuckle Sirius let out. 'Sirius, please, please…no…please…'

His eyes closed in pain as he felt soft lips press against the tears trailing down his cheeks. 'I love you, Moony. I love you.'

No.

No, no, no, NO!

JAMES!

A cliff hanger! :-o Where did that come from? Well, now you know that Remus isn't really dead. Sirius, um, might be? Ahem, do tune in to the next chapter. There aren't many left though you could probably tell. The finale is very close, so I do hope you enjoyed this one and it didn't seem too confusing with the past and the present and the switching POV's. Do drop in a review and thank you for all those lovely reader who bear with me through all this drama! Also, many of you have disabled private messaging to your account so please do look for your review reply down here. I do appreciate each and every review and make it a point to reply, no matter what. Love you all and cheers!

Zwart: You disabled private messaging, so I guess I have to thank you here. Oh, and I think you already got what you asked for. ;)photographwall: You disabled private messaging too so here's hoping you read my thank you and that you enjoyed this chapter! Remus is kind of dead and so is Sirius…hm…maybe I'm getting exactly where you thought I would. :D Randomisation: Lol. Sirius's hate for Dumbledore will perhaps forever be never ending and yes, I have left with yet another cliff hanger, though this is probably not as major…I think…um…hope you enjoyed it! The Sand Assassin: Lol. Unfortunately, I'm a total sucker for happy endings, though of course, my view on happy endings might be considered a little skewed at times. Right now, this fic looks like it is going to suffer a very Romeo-Juliet epilogue. Uh-Oh! ThornLeaf: Surprise is my middle name, or so I wish. It would be a lot cooler than the one I have now. But dun-dun-dun…here's another cliff hanger! Hope you enjoyed the story so far and keep reading! Moko: You are absolutely right! You figured me out...gah! And here I thought I was being quite the mysterious author. Hope I still managed to pack a punch with this chapter and you want to read on! Person with no name: Thanks for reviewing and I do hope that this chapter met your expectations. I try to bring something new with every fic, so . Moonlight: Yes, ma'am. One happy ending coming up! Though it might take a little time. As you can see, I don't have a lot of people convinced at this point. Romeo and Juliet had a happy ending, right? Right?