18.11.1981
Sirius, lately the nights have been hard. I can’t sleep, I turn and toss around. I wish I could let it all go
Remus
And there it was: the first time Remus ever left the dot out of a sentence, indicating a turning point in his life. Or really, it was just the breaking of the tiny, fine thread that had kept his life whole. But the thread had already been streched out, turned and tossed around and it was a miracle it was still holding. Or, had been. It had broken now. Leaving the dot out was as though forgetting to feed the thread, and in doing so slowly, but steadily, killing the life of the thread.
19.11.1981
Sirius, I started smoking again. Life’s a mess. I miss you. I don’t know where Harry is. Dumbledore said he’s alright. I don’t believe him
Rem
20.11.1984
I can’t believe you did it. Were you scared? How could you sleep in my arms knowing you would do that? How could you do that? Did you, in your head, blame me for your doings or did you simply just not care? Did you tell yourself to sleep good because you think it was my fault? Did you blame me for our friends’ deaths?
Re
In the three years since Sirius’s betrayal he had let the thought slowly poison his mind. Remus had been never one for alcohol or drugs, only cigarettes, but the Halloween had changed that. He decided that if he would die, at least he would die on his own terms. He buried himself to the smell of smoke because he would soon be buried to the ground, too. He didn’t bother to shower for anymore, because nobody cared. He excited Hope’s gottage a few times a week, though, always ending up to a muggle pub near him.
His nights out always involved drugs and alcohol. When it was coming near midnight, he always found a guy that was as far from Sirius as night was from day. After the night he always left before the guy woke up. He never remembered their names. He didn’t recognize them when he saw the on the streets.
It was strange. Remus had never, ever, been good at forgetting, but he was now. The again, was he Remus Lupin anymore? He once asked from the skull that lay in his floor. It stayed silent and that was better than having an answer.
He had once asked from Severus, too. Severus had come to his flat, yelled at him and left. Remus did not remember if it had been hours, months or years since that happened. Time didn’t mean anything. Nothing meant anything, anymore.
But after Severus’s visit his alcohol, drugs and cigarettes had all dissapeared. Remus had been angry. It had felt good, to feel something. He didn’t feel anything anymore. Once in a while he transformed into a wolf and he felt nothing. When he was a shell of a human he sometimes scratched his hands to feel something. He never did.
As the years went on, his hip got steadily worse, although he could not feel it. People, muggles, sometimes told him he should go to surgery and get it dealt with. No one remembered him anymore. Not even Severus or Dumbldore, who had decided to bully him with their disgusting pity, and who Remus supposed had tried his everything. He wished he could forget too. He could not.
He could not forget a sixteen-year-old boy with big dreams and a loving boyfriend, amazing friends and a happy found family. He had cherished those moments then, and he wished he could cherish them now. He could not. He did not feel anything at all when he remembered their faces. Every once in a while he remembered Harry. He supposed Harry was dead, though he wasn’t sure. Dead like everyone else was. Except him, of course. What a pity.
Everyone was gone. Remus hated to be an exception. Sometimes he remembered that Sirius was alive too. He felt nothing. He remembered Sirius’s face, though he was not sure if that really was Sirius. Or James. Or if they were all just a dream and he had never been a wizard at all. He had lost his wand.
He was a werewolf, though. That should be proof enough, shouldn’t it? Or was it drugs. Remus had no idea. He had not known for a long time what was real and what imagined.
25.12.1984
So you did blame me. Only logical conclusion
He lost himself in the new darkness of Christmas. It had once been his favorite feast. Now the whole cottage smelled like cigarettes, cheap alcohol and drugs mixed with Remus’ own bad smell. The cottage had not been cleaned in ages, not since the year ’79, when he and Sirius had cleaned it whole, every room completely clean and shining. Sirius had cast a spell that had made the home seem even more home-y than it had been, but the spell had faded long ago. Just like Remus. It wasn’t a suprise to him in any way whatsoever when one day it was all gone and the last piece of Sirius’ magic Remus had left went away.
Remus was waiting to go away too, after all. He did not blame the magic, a hopeful thing, for going. If magic was real, Remus imagined it was like a plant; you cared for it and it grew. Remus had never been a good gardener.
On Christmas day Remus found an old record player. It was dusty and buried under dirty clothes, clearly forgotten. He could see a red record left next to it, and it was dusty too. Everything in the cottage was dusty, dirty and old.
Remus knew what the record was. He knew it was Christmas day, and he knew Sirius would like to see his pain, so he put the record inside and pressed play.
One hour later Remus was listening to Happy Xmas, Sirius’ and Remus’ favorite Christmas record.
So this is Christmas
And what have you done?
Another year over
And a new one just begun
And so this is Christmas
Hope you have fun
Remus didn’t know when the tears started, but once they had begun, they wouldn’t stop. Remus didn’t search for napkins, because he wasn’t the Remus he knew anymore.
And so this is Christmas (war is over)
For weak and for strong (if you want it)
For rich and the poor ones (war is over)
The world is so wrong (now)
Remus couldn’t bear it anymore. He had let the record player dust for a good reason, after all. More whiskey it was.
——————
Twelve years later Sirius Black, a free man, stood in his friend’s grave and cried his heart out for the man he had loved almost all his life.
He had known Remus for so long. The things that had kept him sane in Azkaban had been his dog-form and Remus. Both had been equally important.
He left a candle to the grave. It was the only candle there, and Sirius knew no one wanted to remember Remus. It was Christmas, after all, the season of joy and happiness.
So this is Christmas
And what have you done?