My Immortal

my immortal

The last time they'd been together, they had fought.

This was his last memory of Sirius, as he had known him. Those confused minutes during the battle in the Ministry, the taunting note of Sirius' voice, the look of surprise on Sirius' face, that hateful curtain fluttering in the wind--none of these were his memories. They were things he had witnessed, things that had happened. But they weren't his.

His memories were of jokes shared over breakfast, working side-by-side to make Number Twelve Grimmauld Place livable, of softly murmured comments very late when one supposed the other was sleeping. His memories were of secret looks, hidden touches, stolen moments that supposed it was possible to hide their relationship from the dozen other people living in the Order Headquarters. His memories were more painful than the last battle.

i'm so tired of being here
suppressed by all of my childish fears
and if you have to leave
i wish that you would just leave
because your presence still lingers here
and it won't leave me alone

How could Sirius be gone? Remus could still remember the way he looked just after sex. He could see the smug, teasing expression that said Remus had been a fool for resisting him, and the vulnerable, needy expression that said Sirius needed him.

The letters Remus wrote to Harry all came back unopened these days. Sirius would've got angry, would've burned them with an impetuous incendio as they appeared, and regretted it later. Remus smoothed the wrinkled envelopes and saved them carefully in the top drawer of his bureau. He knew Harry would want to read them someday.

He saw the pity in Molly's eyes every time Hedwig ruffled her feathers and looked at him in disgruntlement, as if even the owl knew Harry were being a fool, and knew Harry couldn't help it--and felt Remus should do something about it. He appreciated the disgruntlement, and resented the pity. At least he could defend himself against Hedwig's silent attacks--I loved him, too! I've lost more than Harry! Harry didn't even know him the way I did! There was no defense against the pity, though. Nothing except silent resentment, because Molly hadn't even liked Sirius. She hadn't approved of him, had thought him too reckless, too immature. A bad influence on Harry.

Well, he was, all of those things. And Remus had loved him for it.

these wounds won't seem to heal
this pain is just too real
there's just too much that time cannot erase

There had been no way to quell the furious joy that had welled up in him that day a year ago, when the gaunt and footsore dog had appeared at the door of his cottage. He had dropped to his knees and hugged Padfoot so tightly the animal had yelped, and even though he'd expected Padfoot to become Sirius and push him away, laughing, the dog had suffered his affection with what seemed a weary relief.

In fact Padfoot had lived with him two days, doing nothing besides eating and sleeping, before Remus even caught a glimpse of Sirius. He'd come back from market one noon and found a raggedy, long-haired man asleep on his sofa. He'd smiled, put down his market basket, and covered Sirius tenderly. At tea Sirius had delivered his message from Dumbledore, and they'd started sending owls out to all the old crowd. Remus had officially given Sirius the sofa to sleep on, but every night, just as he dropped off to sleep, a large black dog had crept into his bed and under the covers.

when you cried i'd wipe away all of your tears
when you'd scream i'd fight away all of your fears
and i've held your hand through all of these years
but you still have all of me

The dog had nightmares. It would wake Remus, twitching and whimpering, and he would run a hand down its spine and speak reassuring words, and it would calm again. It hurt him to see, but he grew accustomed to the ritual.

The morning Remus had woken up with Sirius pressed against his back, arms wrapped around him, had almost been a relief. He held still, afraid to move, afraid even to breathe, for fear he would wake the sleeper. Sirius breathed deeply, content at last. Remus had drifted back off to sleep, and when he wakened again, Sirius was gone.

The next night Sirius had announced he would be sleeping on the sofa again, and Remus had agreed without giving any hint that he knew why. That night his sleep was shattered by the heart-rending screams of a man in terrible pain, and without thinking he ran out to the sitting room and threw his arms around Sirius and held him until the screams were silent. He ran a hand down Sirius' spine and discovered that it was comforting for Sirius as well as for Padfoot. He pressed his face into Sirius' neck and whispered that he was safe, that it would be all right.

He and Sirius both knew he was lying, but it didn't seem to matter.

you used to captivate me
by your resonating light
but now i'm bound by the life you left behind
your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams
your voice it chased away all the sanity in me

He'd spent so long being unconsciously in love with Sirius, and so much longer being consciously in love with Sirius, and so long blaming himself for not seeing that Sirius was the traitor, and so long blaming himself for believing that Sirius had been the traitor--he thought he lived in a perpetual state of confusion where his best friend was concerned. He'd never actually expected Sirius to love him back. It had come as quite a shock when, one night, the low growl Sirius emitted seemed more to indicate pleasure than fear.

The next night Sirius had come to Remus' bed. After that the sofa had been abandoned entirely.

Remus got used to being wakened in the middle of the night by Sirius striking out, by the low whimpers of fear that came before the screams. It got so Remus could feel, even in his sleep, when the nightmares arrived, just from the way Sirius tensed next to him. He would wake before the nightmares got too bad, and he would wake Sirius, and distract him from unpleasant thoughts.

Now, after Sirius was gone, Remus still woke every night, expecting to hear muted sounds of grief next to him, only to find that he himself was making the sounds.

He took to prowling about the Headquarters after everyone had gone to bed. He tiptoed past the portrait of Sirius' mother, feeling tears sting his eyes every time he noticed the singed curtains (Sirius had got angry, had burned them with an impetuous incendio, but had not regretted it later. Remus had laughed at him.) Now more than ever he felt he deserved the nickname of Moony, as he became more and more a truly nocturnal creature. He sometimes went and stood out in the back garden, staring up at the sliver of moon and wishing it were full so he could transform and rage and howl and give these roiling emotions somewhere to go.

these wounds won't seem to heal
this pain is just too real
there's just too much that time cannot erase

Kingsley came to see him, and then Snape, and both left without having said anything to him that he hadn't already said to himself. But how did you convince yourself that you couldn't have saved your lover's life? How did you convince yourself that he knew you loved him, even if your last words had been angry ones?

Remus had been worried about Harry, because he'd seen Harry and Snape together, he'd seen Snape's method of teaching, and he knew Harry would never willingly learn anything from Snape. He'd tried to convince Sirius that he needed to talk to Harry, to tell him he should put aside his differences with Snape and learn occlumency.

He should have known better than to even try; Sirius couldn't tell Harry to set aside his hatred for Snape, because Sirius himself couldn't set aside his hatred for Snape. In school Remus had tolerated their torture of Snape because they were his friends, and he'd always believed their friendship was simply too good to last. He'd been afraid of angering them, of alienating them. He should have thought about the fact that he and James were the only people Sirius would ever listen to.

But that was circular logic--he shouldn't have tried to get Sirius to listen to him, because Sirius hated Snape, yet he should have put a stop to the Snape-torture in school because Sirius would listen to Remus? At this point in the argument with himself, Remus always fought the impulse to tear his hair and howl, but he didn't always fight the impulse to pour some of Sirius' leftover Firewhisky in his teacup and pretend he wasn't drowning his grief. He knew he was self-destructing in true Sirius fashion, and he didn't care.

when you cried i'd wipe away all of your tears
when you'd scream i'd fight away all of your fears
and i've held your hand through all of these years
but you still have all of me

He ignored the fear in Hermione's eyes when she looked at him these days, Arthur's cautious attempts to offer words of comfort. The only person who mattered to him anymore was Harry, and Harry was out of reach. It got so the other occupants of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place treated him like fine china, to be handled infrequently and inspected carefully for cracks.

Sometimes the twins would come to visit. Their joke shop on Diagon Alley was doing well--their role in embarrassing Umbridge would be a legend at Hogwarts until the end of time, and was an excellent advert. Remus liked it when they found him sitting in the back garden, and sat with him, and said very little. Of all people, he imagined, they would understand what it would be like to have half your soul--half your being--ripped away from you.

They spoke no comforting words. It comforted him.

i've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
and though you're still with me
i've been alone all along

Dumbledore arrived at the Headquarters the morning after the Hogwarts Leaving Feast. He found Remus in Sirius' mother's study, attacking a trunk with alternating scourgify and deletrious spells. When the door creaked open, Remus left off and buried his face in his hands, feeling despair settle on him like a comfortable jumper.

"Harry asked Nearly Headless Nick how to get to Sirius," Dumbledore said, his voice quiet. He settled on the floor an arm's length from Remus and waited.

Remus' first thought was envy that he hadn't thought of it first. Then he realized the implications of that statement. "You mean Harry wants to kill himself?" His voice was croaky, and he wondered when he'd last spoken to someone.

Dumbledore shook his head and kindly refrained from saying that he thought that was more what Remus wanted than what Harry wanted. "He thinks Sirius is still alive."

Remus listened to the thudding of his own heartbeat for several seconds before he tasted those words again. "Thinks Sirius is still...alive?" He hated the hope that sprang up in his chest and burned his throat, hated the tears that welled up in his eyes, hated the way his hands began to tremble.

"Harry seems convinced of it."

"He isn't." Remus was surprised at the harshness of his own voice. "Sirius is dead. He's gone."

"I know that, and you know that," Dumbledore said quietly. He stood up and placed a firm hand on Remus' shoulder very briefly. "The Hogwarts Express is slated to arrive at teatime."

Remus closed his eyes for a very long time, and when he opened them again, Dumbledore was gone.