Losing It All Again
Sirius walked in with fearful steps, shyly looking around Remus’ small house. It was in the countryside next to a small town, on the outskirts of Wales. It was where he grew up with his mum after his father died. Another thing that was Remus’ fault.
It was a nice place; quiet, small, homey. After everything that happened, he stayed back in London for a while, but that only hurt him more; living in his and Sirius’ old flat. His therapist recommended moving out and after his mum passed, Remus thought it’d be a good time to move in. By doing that, he finally left the magical world behind. Well, as much as it let him.
Remus closed the door behind himself and looked at Sirius. He was looking around the living room, possibly remembering the days they’d all spent here throughout their lives. The room seemed much darker now than it did back then. Smaller. Sirius walked to the counter in the kitchen and sat on one of the stools, wrapping his arms around himself.
It angered Remus to see how at home he looked here. This was supposed to be the one thing Remus had left and yet Sirius managed to make it his own.
He walked to the stove, wand still firmly in his grip, and put on a pot of tea. He turned around, looking at Sirius’ back. He was shivering. Remus hadn’t realized it before, but Sirius was wet. His clothes were sticking to his body- or what was left of it. It was so much smaller, frailer. Remus wondered if he’d even need his wand to protect himself from Sirius. Still, he didn’t put it down. Sirius’ hair was longer and broken, no more shine to show how soft and thick it once was. It, too, was wet, sticking to his face and dripping onto the floor.
Remus thought for a while about whether or not to get him a blanket. It would be good to see him sniffle and drip onto the floor, shifting uncomfortably on his soon-to-be wet stool. But then, what use would he be to Remus if he got too cold.
Sighing heavily, Remus lifted his wand and muttered a quiet drying charm. Sirius jerked abruptly, looking around his shoulder to Remus. He smiled shyly and whispered a small, “Thanks.” Remus wished he hadn’t done it.
He quickly walked to the living room, stepping over old glasses and bottles, picking up the small blanket knit by him and Hope, his matches and the pack of cigarettes. When he got back to the kitchen, he dropped them on the counter and shoved the blanket at Sirius.
The water was done. He took mugs from the cupboard, placed them on the counter with chamomile tea inside and poured water. Steam curved up from the mugs and twirled in the air, twisting together and then apart once again. Remus couldn’t remember when he last made tea for another person.
He sat down on the stool opposite Sirius. He had completely wrapped himself up in the blanket and was warming his hands on his mug. It was the mug Remus usually used; used to be his mum’s favourite, with a large sunflower on it.
Remus took a breath too loud for the quiet space and finally put his wand down. Sirius looked up, nibbling the inside of his cheek. Remus rubbed his face with both palms, pressing them into his eyes. He had no idea what he was about to hear, no idea how to react.
Before he spoke, Remus took a large gulp of not-yet-ready tea, feeling it burn down his throat and warm his body. He lifted his head, completely taking Sirius in for the first time.
Merlin, he looked so broken. Remus had no idea how to describe what he saw; it wasn’t the physical appearance that told him Sirius was broken, it was how he seemed to shrink whenever Remus looked at him. How he had twitched when Remus placed his mug back on the counter. How his eyes constantly darted to the wand, wondering if an attack was coming.
“Talk.” Remus said.
Sirius opened his mouth, ready to pour everything onto Remus and let him deal with the remains.
“No.” Remus put his hand up. Sirius’ face somehow still fell even though it seemed to already be at rock-bottom.
“Just-” he groaned. He had no idea how to do this. “Let me ask questions. I’m not letting you ramble for hours without actually saying anything.”
Sirius gave a small nod of understanding.
Remus rumbled around his brain for what questions to ask. There were hundreds.
What made you do this?
How could you do this?
Was this always your plan?
Why did you lie to me?
Did you ever love me?
How could you think I was the traitor?
Am I really just a monster?
Why are you back here?
Remus blinked suddenly, realizing Sirius was here and not it Azkaban. How the fuck…?
He scrunched his face in confusion. “How did you get out of Azkaban?”
Sirius smiled a painful smile, most likely having already known long before that he’d have to explain this.
Remus waited for an answer that consisted of murder and more murder. Instead, he got this,
“Wasn’t easy,” he started. “Most of my time there, I turned into Padfoot.” Remus looked away at the name.
He’d almost convinced himself he forgot the name. That whenever he saw a large black dog, it was just a dog.
Sirius continued. “Dementors didn’t come to me when I was Padfoot.” He swallowed and tapped his fingers on his mug.
Sirius took a breath and spoke faster, in a higher voice, as if it was ridiculous, “Figured out I could just.. leave, I suppose, when I was Padfoot.”
Remus looked away from Sirius’ hands and searched his eyes. “What are you saying?” Fear bubbled up in his chest; he didn’t know what for, but it did.
“I stayed.. because I deserved it.”
The fear kept rising, as if someone was rapidly pouring water into a cup and it was close to the brim, so close to overflowing and flooding the entire world.
Sirius took a pause before saying it. Saying what Remus had dreamed of for years. What Remus had feared. He was quiet, but his voice was firm when he finally said the sentence that overflowed the cup, flooded the world, destroying everything Remus had ever known.
“I didn’t kill James and Lily. Not directly.”
Oh.
Oh.
Remus was wrong.
It wasn’t fear that was overflowing. It was hatred. Anger and hurt so deep-rooted that he’d mistaken it for fear. It was anger for hearing him say their names. For denying the truth after all these years. For having been able to just walk out of Azkaban.
Remus’ world wasn’t just overflowing with hatred. It was built upon it. Hatred was the main component of his shitty little life. And right now, he’d never been more grateful for it.
“Oh? Not directly, yeah? I’m sure you must’ve felt real disappointed that after all those years of lies and betrayal you couldn’t finish the job. You had to let Voldemort,” Remus was sure he’d never hate his name as much as Sirius Black’s, “take over.”
“Fuck’s sake, Remus, will you just listen to me?!”
“Listen to you? You expect me to believe anything you have to say!?” Remus yelled back.
Sirius quieted again and it made Remus stop. Whenever they had a fight, Sirius never backed down. They’d scream at each other until there was nothing left. He didn’t know what to make of him quieting. It could be a scheme to gain sympathy points. It could be an act. It probably was. Most likely.
Or maybe he was tired as well. He looked drained; worse than Remus had ever imagined in his dreams. He pushed his hair back from his face, the long strands falling over his shoulders in bits and broken pieces.
Then he took a sip from his mug and closed his eyes to breathe in the scent. Remus wondered how many years it had been since he’d had a cup of tea.
He also drank, waiting. He thought about smoking. Then he took a cigarette and lit it.
“Still using matches,” came a quiet mumble.
Remus looked up, irritated that he remembered and slammed the matches back down. Sirius startled and tried to hide it. Something in Remus’ gut clenched. He snapped his fingers and the cigarette lit. He pulled, breathing it down, and blew it out slowly. Sirius was still looking at him.
Sirius put his mug down softly and placed his hands on the counter.
“Peter was the secret-keeper, not me.”
Remus scoffed and pulled on his cigarette again. He decided not to interrupt and let Sirius tell his lies.
When Sirius saw that he could continue, he spoke a bit louder, more emotion coming into his voice. “We changed after a while. I con-” he took a breath, preparing, “I convinced James and Lily to switch secret-keepers because I thought you were the spy.”
Silence.
Sirius stared at Remus, waiting for the reaction.
Remus had no idea how he was supposed to react. These were all lies, anyways. James and Lily would never have thought him to be the spy.
Would they?
He pulled on his cig again, trying to not think.
Sirius finally explained, “You were gone all the time,” on Order missions, you dumb fuck, Remus thought.
“Never told me how your missions went,” Because we weren’t allowed to. “I got.. paranoid.”
Remus burnt his lip with the burning end of the cigarette. He flicked it into his still half-full mug and took a new one.
“I thought- I- When you’d come back, you just- so distant-” Sirius struggled.
“Oh, out with it.” Remus said. He knew what Sirius was going to say. There was no reason to beat around the bush.
“I thought you’d switched sides.” He admitted, eyes darting away from his face and back multiple times.
Remus blew smoke into his face, unsatisfied with the answer.
“Tell me the truth,” he said, even though these were all lies. “Did you think I’d joined the other werewolves?”
Sirius looked away from his stare, red creeping up from his neck. It was the first sign of colour Remus saw on him. He knew the answer; Sirius’ body did nothing to hide the truth, but he couldn’t be satisfied until he heard it.
“Say it. Say that you thought I was the monster I was destined to become. Tell me!”
“Fine! Yes!” Sirius’ voice cracked and tears were falling from his eyes.
Remus sat back, flicking away the burnt end of the cigarette into the tea. He wouldn’t cry because of this.
He would not.
“I thought you had become one of them.” He admitted, voice so quiet Remus barely heard.
A tear fell. Another came following that one. Remus quickly lifted his head and blinked at the ceiling. He smiled, hating everything.
“Alright.” He managed to get out.
Sirius’ hands were still on the counter, open as if waiting for Remus to grab them. Remus wanted to burn them. To cut them off.
“I got suspicious. And Peter,” Sirius said his name the same way Remus had Sirius’ for over a decade. “That piece of shit, he only egged me on.” Sirius finally lifted his hands and used them for emphasis.
“He would come up to me, and plant these fucking worms in my brain about why you were never at meetings or why you’d become so distant.”
He was leaning over the counter, the blanket slipping from his shoulders, face crazed. If Remus hadn’t had known him for years, he’d have thought it was Azkaban getting to him.
Remus didn’t bother telling him that he was no better. Remus only pulled away because he felt Sirius do the same. And for fuck’s sake, they were children fighting a war. Of course he changed. But he never suspected Sirius. Looking back, of course, he should’ve.
“When we found out there was a spy in the Order, everything seemed to.. click for me. I talked to Peter and we decided to make him the secret-keeper.”
Remus dragged on his cigarette during the pause. When Sirius didn’t continue, he had to ask. If there was a chance this was real then he had to know.
“Lily and James. You said you convinced them as well.”
Sirius closed his eyes for only a moment, fingers tapping his mug again. Remus thought about breaking them off. It wouldn’t be hard, considering how weak they looked.
“They didn’t believe me at first. Lily especially.” Sirius’ eyes were so clear in this moment, so open and hopeful that Remus wouldn’t feel betrayed by what he’d say next.
“I talked with James.. he believed me.”
That was it for him.
James believed Remus could betray him and Lily. Their child.
James died thinking it was because of him.
Even if these were all lies, Remus couldn’t bare the thought of James thinking that.
“What about Lily?” He croaked out, wiping his snot away with his sleeve.
“She took longer, but eventually agreed to take the precaution. Even if we were wrong, it was better to be safe.”
Remus nodded. He kept nodding while his soul crushed.
Sirius touched his arm. “Re-”
He jerked away, standing up, tripping over the leg of his stool and walking out of the kitchen.
Sirius followed him to the living room, blanket abandoned, trying to get Remus to listen.
“Remus, please, I promise they didn’t really believe me. I- They-” But he stopped. There was no way for him to backpedal. No way for Remus to not picture them hating him in their last moments.
A sob escaped.
He put his hand to his mouth to prevent another from coming, but it didn’t work. A river of sobs came raking through his body, pulling him under. He sunk to the floor by the couch, tripping on one of his many empty bottles.
The sobs kept coming, followed by tears and snot and pain. So much pain. Somehow it was real and it was killing him. No matter how much Remus had cried in the past, how much he’d screamed, it had never hurt as much as it did now.
And the worst part.
Remus couldn’t tell if this was true.
He couldn’t understand how it could be. It didn’t click. And yet it hurt so much more than he could understand. As if his body knew the truth but his mind couldn’t keep up.
He cried, he sobbed, hell, he balled his eyes out. For how long, he didn’t know. All he knew was pain.
Heartbreak worse than every before. Because now he’d truly lost everything. He had no idea that there was more that could be taken from him until it was wrenched away, leaving him completely alone in a world full of pain and darkness.
When he started choking on air, or lack thereof, Remus lifted his head and rested it on the arm of the couch. He counted. He breathed.
He needed to smoke.
Slowly, he opened his eyes to the room. He saw the clock. It was half past two. The room was dark save for the light shining from the kitchen. Sirius was standing by the threshold, arms around himself, face wet, red and swollen. Remus was sure he looked even worse.
He stood up, stumbling and reached for the couch. He saw Sirius move towards him, to help possibly. He let out a pathetic laugh. Why he thought Sirius would help him, Remus didn’t know. It was stupid.
He walked past Sirius, who quickly moved out of the way, to his stool and sat down. Lit a cigarette and smoked.
Sirius slowly walked back to his own seat. He took the blanket from the floor and crossed over to Remus. Slowly and so so gently placed the blanket around Remus. Oh. He’d been shivering. Remus didn’t have the energy to fight him off and accepted it, pulling it closer around himself.
He walked back over and sat down.
Remus didn’t really understand what was going on anymore. He hadn’t felt this tired in.. two weeks? When had the last full moon been? He groaned. He didn’t want to think about being a werewolf at the moment. It had ruined everything. Everything he’d loved was ruined because of a stupid bite-mark on his thigh.
He pulled on the cigarette, glad that it was reaching his brain, slowing things down for a second.
“Remus,” Sirius said quietly, gently.
Remus missed hearing it. He loved how Sirius said his name. And right now, despite everything, he was exhausted enough to let it soothe him, if only for a second.
“You have to order the last Daily Prophet article. Peter is on it. Alive.”
Sirius continued speaking but Remus wasn’t interested in listening anymore. He’d lost it all again. Worse, somehow.
“Once you see it, you’ll believe me.”
A part of him already believed. A larger part than he’d like to admit.
Remus nodded, not fully aware of doing it. “I think I already do.”