Damaged Ones

Title "Damaged Ones" is a song by Anna Ternheim and is © her.

"I don't think I can do this, Remus."

Sirius halts in the middle of his step and lets his foot hover above the threshold for a few seconds before putting it down. He is standing in the doorway of no. 12 Grimmauld Place, staring blankly into the dark hallway. The confined smell of a house that's been abandoned for centuries is filling up his nostrils, almost making him nauseous. A cool breeze seems to drift towards him from inside of the house.

Remus places his hand upon his shoulder, which has become so emaciated from the years in Azkaban the skeleton seems to pierce through the skin. He bravely holds back a shiver.

"It's time that you deal with your past," he says, immediately after thinking that it sounded much better in his head. "Besides, this is the only place hidden enough for you. There are no alternatives, you know that."

Sirius draws a deep sigh, closes his eyes for a few seconds and then walks a couple of steps into the hall. When Remus shuts the door behind himself everything turns black, and he jumps as Sirius' hands touch him in search of the light switch. The lamp blinks and flutters like the wings of a hummingbird, but still provide enough light for them to have a look around. The first thing they both take notice of is the plum coloured velvet curtains covering the giant portrait of Sirius' hot-tempered mother. Sirius turns to his friend, his finger pressed against his lip, and sneaks off to the dining room.

"If I am to stay here, that painting has to go. I had enough of the wretched woman as a child."

He takes a seat on one of the eight finely carved chairs with blood red cushions that are placed along the sides of the mahogany dining table. Using his index finger, he draws a long line in the thick layer of dust that is covering the table surface, only to then blow it into the air. Silently he watches the tiny grains as they float downwards.

"How are you feeling?" Remus asks, leaning against the doorframe. From where he is standing, the light from the dirty windows fall in such a manner that he can't quite make out Sirius facial expression, and therefore has to squint.

"Like shit," he replies. "I thought that my days in captivity were over, but apparently I couldn't have been more wrong. And being back here, it... it's just... I didn't think I'd ever have to return to this place."

Remus thinks to himself that it at least has to be better than being locked up in Azkaban, but refrains from saying it out loud. Ever since he and Sirius were reunited the two of them haven't discussed prison more than that time when Sirius explained his innocence and his escape, that very first night after they had met in the Shrieking Shack. It is simply too heavy of a subject to speak of and neither of them really know how to bring it up.

"Do you want to be alone?" Remus asks.

"No!" Sirius exclaims at once. "Please, stay with me."

The two friends silently regard each other, as Remus walk up to him, once again placing his hand upon Sirius' scrawny shoulder, and says: "I'll stay for as long as you want me to." Sirius smiles up at him, his gaze shifting.

Remus think of how horrible everything is, what Azkaban did to Sirius; what James and Lily's deaths and Peter's betrayal and the war and... everything, did to him. Looking down into this bony, bearded face, it is hard for him to imagine this very man as a once lively and beautiful teenage boy, with dreams and ambitions just as the next guy. Everything that has taken place since then seems to have drained him of his very being so that he, these days, hardly resembles a shadow of his old self.

Things between him and Sirius are no longer the same; too much has been lost. When Sirius was jailed, Remus' heart broke, perhaps permanently, and he hasn't been able to trust another human being since. Sirius was facing death in his cell. The war had ended, but it was time to count the losses. So many that had died. So much that was gone, forever. The pain was too excruciating to ever be truly gone. And where they are now, Remus and Sirius, the former with his hand on the latter's shoulder, they both feel a throbbing ache in their chest, a reminder of all the things that they have lost. A reminder that they have lost each other.

To break the silence, Remus asks: "Coffee?"

He leaves the room and head for the kitchen, leaving Sirius to himself in dining room, his palm pressed against the table's dusty surface. Everything is so different. As a happy teenager, he never would have believed that this was how his life would eventually turn out, never. If you can even call it a life. He lost everything that day James and Lily died.

And now?

He has been given Remus back. But he can't help feeling that the friendship they once shared is gone forever. He has been given Harry. But he can't help seeing James in his face every time they meet, and each and every time there is a hard stab in his chest. He has been given his freedom back. But despite the fact that he is free from the dementor's rotting grip he can't help thinking that he'll feel more imprisoned in this godforsaken house than he has ever been.

Nothing is the way it should be.

Remus is making coffee on the stove and silently watches as the bubbles swell and then burst.

Sirius is gazing through the window at a sun that is setting. He lets out a dejected sigh and leaves the room.

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