Remus POV - Part 2
James and Lily Potter killed. Peter Pettigrew dead. 12 innocent Muggles murdered. Harry Potter “the boy who lived” orphaned. Sirius Black arrested.
Remus stared at the front cover of the daily prophet. There he was. Sirius Black. His Sirius. His Padfoot. Shouting and holding up his Azkaban number. Looking deranged and dishevelled.
James was dead. Lily was dead. They were both dead. Gone. Remus slowly sank back onto the sofa, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.
They were dead. All of them. James, Lily, Peter. Marlene. Dorcas. Sirius was dead to him. Sirius deserved to be dead. He killed James. James. Of all people. His best friend.
Remus took one more look at the daily prophet before scrunching it up and tossing it into the corner of the room. He picked up the bottle from last night and drank. James died first. Lily died protecting Harry. Harry miraculously survived the killing curse and defeated Voldemort simultaneously. How did a one-year-old do that? Why couldn’t James? Why couldn’t Lily? Why did Sirius betray them? Their secret keeper. James’ best friend. And after everything James had done for Sirius.
Oh and Peter. Poor, loving Peter. Murdered. Sirius probably had lots of fun with that kill. All that was found was his finger. Sirius was disgusting. How could he? Why would he? What for? He was just like his family. A cold-hearted murderer. A stupid, fucking murderer. A traitor. Sirius deserved to die. Azkaban wasn’t nearly bad enough for what he had done.
Remus's head hurt, his mind racing. Sirius, the soft boy who had seen his scars and not judged him. Sirius, who had become an animagus just to spend the full moon with him. Sirius, who bought them a flat to live in together.
Sirius, who nearly got Remus expelled. Sirius, who nearly got Snape and James killed in one swoop. Sirius, who had been acting strangely for weeks now.
But it was Sirius who loved James more than anyone in the world. It was Sirius who James trusted with his life. A mistake. 21 years. That’s how long James and Lily had to live. The two kindest people on earth. Both of them deserved to live a thousand more. Sirius didn’t deserve to live another day. Although, maybe living in Azkaban for the rest of his life would drive him crazy. Remus hoped it would.
It didn’t make any sense though. The more and more Remus thought about it, the less sense it made. Would Sirius really sell his best friend to Voldemort? Apparently, the image he had of Sirius was utter bullshit, because yes, he would. It was right there in writing.
Sirius Black murdered 12 muggles, Peter and sold Lily and James to Voldemort. 15 people killed. 16 attempted. All because of Sirius.
And Remus had loved him. He was disgusted with himself. How could he ever have loved someone like him? A deranged murderer. Just like his family. They were crazy. The lot of them. Yet, Remus had loved Sirius. All of him. Through everything. He had loved Sirius ever since he was 13. That was 8 years ago now. For 8 years he had loved a deranged murderer, and he was supposed to love him for many more. He would have.
And the worst part is, somewhere, deep down in his heart, he still does. He loves Sirius. Probably won’t ever be able to stop. Because Sirius is Sirius and he belongs to Remus. He’s his.
So Remus drinks. And he smokes. And he does drugs. And he re-reads James' last letter. And then he drinks some more. He drowns himself in alcohol to avoid drowning in his feelings. Over, and over again. There’s no one left to stop him, he has nothing left. It’s just him. All alone, in a flat that’s too big for just him. A flat that still smells of Sirius and reminds him too much of their love. A flat that Remus cannot move out of, no matter how much he wants to, because deep inside he is still waiting for Sirius to come home and tell him it was ‘just a joke’ like he did so many years ago.
But for now, Remus will hate himself for loving Sirius, will hate Sirius for making him hate himself, and will hate Sirius some more for betraying everyone.