Chapter 1
He never did it. Remus’s heart thudded in his chest, too shocked to even cry. Sirius Black did not kill James. All those years of resentment, hatred, every night that he wished Sirius would die a slow, painful death to pay for the lives of James and Peter, for nothing? All of the time he spent trying to convince himself he didn’t love Sirius, trying to tell himself it was all over after the prank, for no fucking reason? A single teardrop crept down Remus’s face, getting caught on the slight ridge of his scar. He had to find Sirius before it was too late.
Sirius’s suicidal tendencies were no secret. Sirius had tried, and tried, and tried till he gave up. The last year of school had been a living hell for both Sirius and Remus. Neither of them spoke, till midway through seventh year when one of Sirius’s attempts almost worked. Remus had spent hours at his bedside; sobbing uncontrollably, re-reading the note Sirius had left him that was meant to be his last, till his eyes felt numb. When Sirius had woken up, he was shipped straight back home to his god-awful mother, and wasn’t seen again- till James’s birthday. Covered in bruises, barely talking to anyone. That was the last time Remus ever saw him.
Everyone believed that Sirius Black was a murderer; no one ever even thought to think otherwise. Including Remus. It seemed so perfect. Sirius Black- known for being mentally unstable and unpredictable. No one batted an eye. Neither did Remus. Sirius’s Moony. The same person he came to sobbing in the middle of the night when his dad died, the same person he would spend hours talking to, the same person he loved. But Remus was too shallow to see that.
The note Sirius had left him before his attempt still sat there in Remus’s office, collecting dust. No matter how much he told himself he loathed Sirius, he could still never bring himself to throw it away. Remus reached a shaky hand back into his desk drawer, pulling out the note. His eyes traced the outline of each word, the shaky pen-strokes, the small splatters of ink, the small spots of telltale texture signalling tears that could belong to either of them.
Remus knew Sirius well enough to know what he was going to try to do, including where he was going to do it. Sirius and Remus had always loved the cliffs in Hogsmeade, wandering the edges, hands intertwined. Sirius had always joked about how funny it would be if he jumped off, earning a firm scolding and a smack across the back of his head from Remus.
That was exactly where he was going.