Chapter 17
“No, James, don’t. It’s the weekend. Let me sleep in, please,” Remus grumbled from beneath the blankets. Merlin, he was tired. It was like the weight of the world had seeped into his bones in the last few weeks.
“Moony.” James said sternly, tugging the blanket back. “You’ll just stay in bed all day if you don’t get up now.”
Remus rolled over, covering his face with a pillow, “Remind me why that’s a bad thing?”
James sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Peter stood behind him, pulling on a jumper. Remus thought it was probably his, but he couldn’t remember whose clothes were who's at this point.
“Remus, come on, you’ll feel better with some breakfast in you. We can go on a walk. You like walks, Remus, remember?” James said gently. Remus almost laughed at how much James sounded like Euphemia. Instead he just burrowed further down in the blankets, and sighed.
James was pulling out Remus’s robes and folding them, setting them carefully on the bed next to Remus, “I can’t make you move, but here’s your clothes for when you want to get up.”
Remus sighed again. He felt guilty for worrying James, and Peter too, but he could hardly muster the energy to breathe nowadays. He could barely imagine standing. Everyday was draining a little bit more life out of him. So he didn’t stand, instead he turned his face into his pillow, and just mumbled a muffled thank you.
James and Peter stood for a moment, quiet. Then they both turned, James muttering a soft, “Bye Remus”, before shutting the door gently behind him.
Then, Remus was alone. Sirius was hardly ever in the dorm anymore, he walked around more ghost than boy. It made Remus unbearably sad to see him so diminished. And at the same time he felt a strange sort of satisfaction. Yes, he thought, Feel what I feel. It hurts, doesn’t it? It hurts and it keeps on hurting. Feel it with me, traitor, friend, boy that I love.
Sirius tried, but it wasn’t enough. He whispered apologies whenever he saw Remus, sorry’s dropping from his mouth like stones. Remus sometimes heard him in the night, a mantra of I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But it wasn’t enough. Remus wanted him to feel the pain that he did, and he wanted to watch him scream in the agony of that. Perhaps a better person would’ve forgiven Sirius, or at least forgotten him. Remus could do neither, and he bore that weight like a goddamn chain around his neck.
The stillness of the air surrounded him, and Remus wept. All he did these days was weep and remember.
His days were spent in silence. James and Peter would force him to go to meals and classes, and then Remus would inevitably find himself back in bed. He hardly studied, unless forced. It was funny, he used to care so much about O.W.Ls, and now… Well, it was the furthest thing from his mind.
His teachers had noticed, but they didn’t say anything. McGonagall sometimes shot him worried glances, and every so often offered Remus a biscuit that he declined. Remus assumed Dumbledore had told them.
Remus was angry a lot. It came and went like the tide, but it was always there in some form or another. It reminded him of his childhood, the years after his mom passed spent with his hands curled up in rage. He didn’t want to go back there. Something in him had softened in him after he’d met the marauders, but here was the anger like an old lover knocking on his door. Here was that familiar knot in his gut.
It came out at random, which was the worst part. He yelled at James after he offered to help with homework. He slammed the door in Peter’s face for smiling at him. Merlin, he was a monster, Snape was right. It all just felt like pity, and Remus was drowning in it. He didn’t want it, he didn’t want to be the burden that he was. But Remus was, he knew it, he was. It hurt. He wished he could be lovable without making people carry the weight of what he was around like a boulder.
The day passed quickly, or maybe slowly. Remus couldn’t be sure. James brought him food, Peter wrapped an extra blanket around his shoulders. Remus cried and wished he could turn back time. Go back to that godforsaken day when he was bitten.
If he could, Remus would murder Greyback, make him regret what he’d done to Remus, to all the young children he had bitten. Or maybe he would just kill himself. Remus hated thinking that way, and yet. And yet, it was always there. Because if Remus had a time turner, he would go back in time and kill Greyback, and then himself because he couldn’t stand the pain of living in a world where he had known Sirius Black, lovely, charismatic, kind Sirius Black. He couldn’t live in a world where he had known this beautiful boy, befriended this beautiful boy, fallen in love with this beautiful boy, been betrayed by this beautiful boy.
He’d rather die than live with the pain of knowing Sirius Black, and then suddenly not.
…
Sirius rose each morning with the sun. He never stayed in the dorm past six, afraid of disrupting his friends. If he could call them that anymore. They felt more like strangers who shared a space and memories than anything else. Strangers who knew each other better than anyone. Strangers who used to spend hours doing nothing together. Merlin, it hurt. Knowing these people and then being ripped away from them.
It wasn’t fair to think like that, Sirius knew. He’d done unfixable things, and he knew with everything in him that the blame fell squarely on his shoulders. He couldn't undo what had been done, but, oh, how he wanted to.
Remus couldn’t look him in the eye. Remus, lovely Remus. His favorite person to talk to, the only person he wanted to be around when he was sad. He’d tried apologizing too many times to count, but it wasn’t enough. Sirius wasn’t sure if he could fix something so broken. Peter wouldn’t talk to him, only gave him sad glances and a gentle frown. He missed Peter and the days spent talking about nothing and everything. And, James, his friend, his best friend, the only person he ever really wanted to be around. James avoided Sirius like the plague. The distance between them grew so wide, Sirius could feel himself falling in.
Every moment alive without his friends hurt. Sirius was sure it hurt them too. He could see the pain he’d caused clearly in their downcast eyes.
He wished he could fix this. Sirius didn’t know when he’d become so damaged it had spilled out. But it had spilled out, and the hurt building up inside of him had splintered across space and time and shattered the only true friendships he’d ever had. He wished he could kill the thing inside him that made him this way.
Sirius didn’t know what to do. He spent days trying to give himself to Remus like an offering, a sacrifice to make up for what he’d done. Remus only turned away. Apologies, Sirius learned, could only do so much.
He was afraid there was nothing he could do to ever make them love him again. They had realized the monster that he was, and they would never unlearn it.
Sirius’s days passed uneventfully. The world had lost its color without the marauders. He devoted most of his time to studying, despite hating it. There was nothing else to do. He was banned from Quidditch, which he knew was deserved, but still it hurt. And the rest of his time was spent in detention. Snape joined him, but neither of them spoke a word. Sirius had learned his lesson; His words were poison, so he shut his mouth and scrubbed the trophies until his fingers bled.
…
James,
I’m writing back, per your request. I’m not a very good writer either, despite having taken private lessons as a child.
I told the stars hello for you like the fool I am. They say they miss you. The tower is strangely absent without you, which is odd because before it never felt lonely being up there by myself. But now it does. I don’t blame you for wanting space, not in the slightest, but I do have to ask: do you know when you’ll be back? It’s just, the stars miss you you see. Not me, of course. I’m perfectly fine up here by myself, so don’t get any ridiculous ideas like that I miss you or anything.
I haven’t been to the kitchen for a while. How are the house elves? Don’t be crazy enough to think I’m joining you and your gang of Gryffindors there for meals. I have not yet sunk that low.
Am I allowed to ask what has become of my brother? He seems to have floated away from you and all the others I’ve noticed. No need to respond if you don’t want to.
I do have another book for you, if you so desire. I think you’ll like this one, it’s about magic. It’s called A Wrinkle In Time. I quite enjoyed it, though it was very strange.
Perhaps if you’re nice I’ll lend you a few books for over the summer. But only if you’re nice.
I do love chocolate. You’ll laugh, as I know you have a ridiculous adoration for all things sweet, but my favorite is a very rich dark chocolate. As dark as it gets. My family and I vacation in France, and there’s lovely chocolate there.
Do you like chocolate? You do, don’t you? I can imagine you like all sweets.
My favorite kind of music is indeed classical, but don’t be so judgmental. It’s quite lovely if you take a moment to listen. And plus, it’s inspired much of the music you and your friends enjoy. I suppose I may have an appreciation for it because of my background in music. Did you know Sirius and I were forced to learn violin as children? He hated it, of course. As did I, for his sake. But I’ve learned to love it over the years, which has eventually led to my love of classical music.
I’ve never heard of this Bowie fellow or ABBA, though they sound like a bunch of fools. Fitting that you would like them. I haven’t listened to much muggle music, though from what I hear, I don’t need to. Sirius played a few records for me once, and I have to admit I am not a fan. I can imagine your horrified face so clearly right now. Forgive me, but I prefer to stick to the classics.
You’ll have to share that book of muggle fairy tales with me at some point. I’ve always wanted to read them.
Adieu,
Regulus
James grinned happily down at the parchment in his hands. Regulus had written him back. The day had been shit, Sirius still staring at him like a lost dog, Remus not once moving from his bed. And yet, James smiled because Regulus had written him back.
“What are you smiling about?” Peter asked from his spot in front of the fireplace.
“Nothing, Pete.” James said hurriedly. Peter gave him a skeptical frown but turned back to his herbology essay without further questioning.
James knew in a few minutes he should check on Remus, and definitely finish his transfiguration homework, but he pushed it all away for a moment. He curled up in his armchair, staring down at the journal in his hands. He smiled once more before grabbing his quill and beginning to write.