Always

Chapter four: Remus Reminisces.

There had been no stopping Sirius from leaving Number Twelve Grimmauld Place when word came that Harry and his friends had been tricked into going to The Ministry of Magic. Of course I hadn't really tried to stop Sirius, Harry had been more important. Besides, Sirius had been an excellent dueller. His wand moved so quickly and effortlessly that it had been difficult to distinguish each separate spell. What were the odds that Sirius would fail in duelling?

But it hadn't mattered that Sirius had been the top dueller in our year at school and one of the best in the Order. Sirius had failed, and to worsen the fact he had been defeated, he lost to his most loathed relative, Bellatrix Lestrange.

I had seen death before, especially seeing as I was involved with the Order of the Phoenix in the last war against Voldemort. But it doesn't make losing Sirius any easier though. I had restrained Harry from following Sirius through that dratted veil. Even though it was temping to pursue Sirius myself.

However Sirius had made me promise, just days before he had died, that if anything, absolutely anything happened to him, I had to swear I'd look after Harry.

I didn't need to be told twice about keeping Harry safe. After all, Sirius, Peter and I, had all sworn to James and Lily to take care of their son, when Harry had been born. Even though Sirius had been Harry's Godfather and official guardian, we were all to love Harry like he was our own. I hadn't minded, the Marauders were brothers, Harry was part of the new generation, and he had to be protected. Everyone had agreed that Harry was special, and we, well at least Sirius and I had been honoured that we'd even been asked to 'join' Lily, James and Harry's perfect little family.

I don't blame Harry for Padfoot's death. Even if Harry had been able to get in touch with Sirius before he left, Sirius would have gone to the ministry anyway, to help stop Voldemort. Sirius had been trapped for ages and I know he would have jumped at the chance to leave his childhood home. His impulsiveness always got him into trouble in the past.

I have to try and content myself with knowing that at least Sirius had gotten the chance to touch Harry's life and the people he cared for knew that he wasn't the traitor. But then the comfort disappears when I think about how Padfoot will never wrestle with the wolf, and that I'll never be able to hear that bark-like laugh of his and roll my eyes at his terribly lame jokes, funny, boisterous and crude as they were.

I keep thinking back to that night in the Department of Mysteries, and the deplorable feeling in my stomach tightens and squeezes, as I watch the scene I was too late to prevent play out in my head, and how Harry's voice held nothing but panic and fear, despair and disbelief.

If it is unfair that I was to lose my best friend, then it was a true crime for Harry to lose his Godfather, the closest thing to a parent he has had since his infancy. Despite my all-consuming sorrow, I feel this ominous need to be there for Harry.

People like to natter about how much Harry is like James, but despite their unnerving appearance to each other, I'm sure that there is only one other thing they really shared; and that was their need for Sirius.

My eyes drifted to the window where a bulky white snowy owl sat on the windowsill. She seemed annoyed as though me not noticing her was a personal insult.

I gently opened the latch on the windowpane and let the rather supercilious bird into the room. I untied the neatly attached letter and unravelled it cautiously. It was a letter from Harry but he only wrote to the Order yesterday, what could be the matter?

I suddenly realised why Sirius had 'over-reacted' every time he received a note from his Godson. Sirius had always gone wide-eyed and frantic, muttering audibly about the health of his Harry.

I felt the same at that moment. What could have happened to make Harry owl me already? He had never done this before.

After reading the correspondence I felt relieved and anxious at the same time. Harry is sensing spirits? It sounded rather far-fetched to me. It was well known that there had been only a handful of people who can sense spirits and some of them are muggles. But besides the hugely more favourable option of Harry daydreaming the whole occurrence, Harry has a horrible track record about being right about these kinds of things.

So despite me not believing in an afterlife and reincarnation being a much better arrangement, I wrote a memorandum to Harry stating that I'd have to see him and talk to him about everything. I wrote that I didn't doubt him, or his sincerity, but I had my qualms about what he had really 'sensed'.

After writing an overly detailed paragraph about how much I trusted and believed in him, I finally ended the correspondence and impatiently secured it to Hedwig.

After Hedwig left, I once again sank back into my fraying, faded armchair and stared at the wall. How was I supposed to help Harry? Would I be able to? It isn't like we're in school and I'm teaching him the Patronus Charm, which is based on facts. Facts are something I can deal with, something I've always dealt with. James was the one who liked opinions and theories; he always liked to prove them wrong (Or right depending on what he was defending.) I never liked to deal with such things. But now I'm going to have to analyse whether or not a fifteen, nearly sixteen-year-old boy can really perceive spirits. And if I find that he's wrong and he *was * fantasising, I'll have to break his heart.

He finds some comfort in Sirius the Spirit I'd imagine.

But unfortunately, he might be mistaken and that comfort will be ripped away from him again.

I weighed my options out logically. Careful to make sure I looked at the situation in a sagacious and indifferent way. I wouldn't let my feelings of sorrow and sympathy obstruct any reasonable way of thinking.

In the end I came to the obvious conclusion of talking and listening to Harry. I wouldn't be arrogant before I'd seen Harry, and saw what evidence he might have. And then of course I'd speak to Dumbledore; he'll know whether Harry could be one of those sacrosanct seers, psychics, mediums or whatever else you might call them. Dumbledore likes to think he knows Harry better than anyone, even Sirius and I; I'll have to put him to the test.

'But what if Harry is correct and he did sense Sirius?' A rogue voice in my head asked. 'What would you do, knowing that Harry can feel his Godfather but not see him or hear him? You'd be helpless Remus and you know you'd be faintly envious of Harry. Being able to sense something you can't have but want, even if it was a slight echo of Padfoot.'

Quickly, after cuffing my forehead with a palm to banish such thoughts away, I stood up heading to the fireplace to floo to Grimmauld Place. I needed company and that's how I would keep such evil thoughts out of my head.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Robbie Williams - Sing When You're Winning- Better Man.

Send someone to love me
I need to rest in arms
keep me safe from harm
In pouring rain
~
Give me endless summer
lord I feel the cold
feel I'm getting old
before my time
~
As my soul heals the shame
I will grow old through this pain
Lord I'm doing all I can
to be a better man
~
Go easy on my conscience
'cos it's not my fault
I know I've been told
to take the blame
~
Rest assured my angels
Will catch my tears
walk me out of here
I'm in pain
~
As my soul heals the shame
I will grow old through this pain
Lord I'm doing all I can
to be a better man

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Do I need to do another disclaimer? I'm sure you know by now I don't own Harry Potter or any other character, location, or whatever else mentioned in the works of J.K. Rowling. If I did own Harry and Sirius do you really think I'd be writing fanfiction or killing off my darling characters and making their lives hell? No I didn't think so!

This is another rather gushy, weepy chapter with pretty much no plot. Hope I didn't make people cry again! Nor bore people to death.