The image keeps him up that night. He had seen the pictures in print, saw Sirius's insane laugh, the glint of madness in his eyes - they were embellishments, journalism tools.
The Sirius he met after thirteen years needed no illusions. He was thin and frail and his laugh was so empty. There was little left showing of the man Remus once knew and loved. It was a ghost staring back at him, a cruel haunting reminder of what he gave up on. Remus would laugh if it weren't so very cruel.
Sirius was there and then he was gone again. Dumbledore sat perched on what was left of the bed in the Shrieking Shack and Remus paced the floor and tried to reason why he was alone again.
"I should have known." And Remus sighed. Dumbledore did not look him in the eyes, and for a second Remus was sure he was thinking of something entirely different.
"How would it have made a difference?" Dumbledore asked, finally looking at him and Remus felt something heavy settle and expand in his chest.
It was an idle question. They both knew it would have made one, even if they couldn't put into words what it would have been.
---
Sirius writes one letter - one sentence - to Remus while on the run.
I can hear your guilt from here
Remus tries to smile. He fails.
---
He shows up a year later.
Remus is making tea and getting ready to curl up with a good book when there's a loud bark at the front door. He tries not to think of how his heart skips a beat at the sound. He's at the door a second later, and instead of being disappointed by the sight of a leashed pet being led around the floor like he has so many times before, he comes face to face with what he's been searching for.
Sirius stays in canine form even after Remus has shut the door. He trots around the apartment - the same one they once called home.
Remus never moved - held tight to that home and all the memories it had because he never did believe they were all lies.
He nudges at the coffee table - the first piece of furniture they picked out together. He sniffs at the fireplace where Remus had first taught him about the Muggle wonder called S'mores. He whimpers by the couch where he first told Remus he loved him. He forgets that Remus is there or maybe he doesn't care. Remus can't be sure.
Remus turns to pour his tea and when he looks back Sirius has transfigured back into his human form and is sitting at the counter. Remus doesn't blink.
"Not much has changed," Sirius says quietly. He stares at the same counter-tops they christened the house on. His fingers trace the faint lines on the granite tiles with the same precision they used to trace the scares on Remus's torso.
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timeasmymeasure
lesson learned, harry potter, remus/sirius,being lost and trying to get home [1/2]
Date: 9/5/10 06:08 am (UTC)The Sirius he met after thirteen years needed no illusions. He was thin and frail and his laugh was so empty. There was little left showing of the man Remus once knew and loved. It was a ghost staring back at him, a cruel haunting reminder of what he gave up on. Remus would laugh if it weren't so very cruel.
Sirius was there and then he was gone again. Dumbledore sat perched on what was left of the bed in the Shrieking Shack and Remus paced the floor and tried to reason why he was alone again.
"I should have known." And Remus sighed. Dumbledore did not look him in the eyes, and for a second Remus was sure he was thinking of something entirely different.
"How would it have made a difference?" Dumbledore asked, finally looking at him and Remus felt something heavy settle and expand in his chest.
It was an idle question. They both knew it would have made one, even if they couldn't put into words what it would have been.
---
Sirius writes one letter - one sentence - to Remus while on the run.
I can hear your guilt from here
Remus tries to smile. He fails.
---
He shows up a year later.
Remus is making tea and getting ready to curl up with a good book when there's a loud bark at the front door. He tries not to think of how his heart skips a beat at the sound. He's at the door a second later, and instead of being disappointed by the sight of a leashed pet being led around the floor like he has so many times before, he comes face to face with what he's been searching for.
Sirius stays in canine form even after Remus has shut the door. He trots around the apartment - the same one they once called home.
Remus never moved - held tight to that home and all the memories it had because he never did believe they were all lies.
He nudges at the coffee table - the first piece of furniture they picked out together. He sniffs at the fireplace where Remus had first taught him about the Muggle wonder called S'mores. He whimpers by the couch where he first told Remus he loved him. He forgets that Remus is there or maybe he doesn't care. Remus can't be sure.
Remus turns to pour his tea and when he looks back Sirius has transfigured back into his human form and is sitting at the counter. Remus doesn't blink.
"Not much has changed," Sirius says quietly. He stares at the same counter-tops they christened the house on. His fingers trace the faint lines on the granite tiles with the same precision they used to trace the scares on Remus's torso.
Remus looks away and concedes. "You're right."