The Last Night

The last night, if you know it is the last night, is sad and painful. But if you have no idea that the one you love will be ripped away from you, there is nothing unusual. You will go about your evening rituals with no thought to tomorrow. It is merely heartbreaking when you find, later, that you could have been more sentimental and romantic that last night. But what good does that do you? And so, perhaps the most trying question of love must be asked: Is it better to know or not?

~

    Sirius Black stretched comfortably, the crisp old linen sheets soft against his aged brown skin.

    There was a confident knock on the bedroom door. “Sirius?”    

    “Come in, Rem,” he said, but the door had already opened to emit a wizard, the same age as Sirius and nearly as over-aged. His dirty blond hair was greying quickly, thinning, but it still fell almost seductively into his eyes. These eyes were, Remus knew, the thing that had first attracted Sirius to him, first made them friends, way back in their first year. They were big eyes, round and sparklingly bright. A golden brown color, Sirius said they reminded him of toffee, and was constantly reminiscing over them. Flecked with rich cobalt blue and emerald, Sirius had once commented that his eyes were like gems set in gold facing.

    Sirius looked up from the bed. “I’ve missed you.”

    Remus stood beside the bed. “Me too. You ready?”

    “As ever.”

    “Good,” said Remus, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him out of the room.

    They ended up on the roof of Grimmauld Place. “I didn’t know this hellhole had a roof,” Sirius commented. Remus tensed; maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all.

    “Me neither,” he whispered. “I found it just this morning. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

    This was a matter of opinion, Sirius thought. The ‘floor’ of the rooftop was simple concrete blocks, not-so-carefully aligned. There were cracks between them, and Sirius jammed his toe on a block several inches higher than the others. In the middle of the patio stood a pair of cheap Adirondack chairs, the Muggle kind, with an unmatching aluminum table between them.

    Sirius loved it.

    Remus was already sitting in one of the chairs, looking up at the stars. Sirius sat down in the remaining one, leaning way back to stare at the constellations. For a long time they were silent.

    “See anything?” asked Padfoot finally.

    Remus nodded. “Just there,” he said vaguely. Sirius followed his finger to the almost-full moon.

    “How long now?” Sirius started to ask, but Remus had already began to speak.

    “Waxing gibbous,” he said gently, his hand returning to his lap.

    “Eh?”

    “Waxing gibbous,” Lupin repeated tenderly. “The last moon phase before full moon.”

    “I’m sorry, mate.”

    Remus looked abruptly at Sirius. “Don’t be.” He snapped his fingers once, and a tall champagne bottle and two glasses appeared on the metal table between them.

    “May I?”

    Sirius giggled outright. “Of course, dear Moony. It has been so long since we drank together.”

    “Yes, of course it has,” said Remus, pouring first Sirius’ glass, then his own. “Two nights ago since I have seen you is like crossing two forevers.”

    Sirius laughed, taking a sip from the top of the foaming glass. He smacked his lips once. “Do you remember that time we stole that whole bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey from the Three Broomsticks’ cellar, and the two of us drank it all?”

    Remus laughed despite himself. “How could I forget? I was throwing up all the next day.”

    “I remember.”

    They didn’t speak for a long time. The stars flickered slowly in the impending moonlight.

    “It’s bright,” said Sirius.

    “What is?”

    “The moon,” whispered Padfoot, as though afraid the moon might overhear.

    “It looks so pure,” Remus said thoughtfully, looking back up at it. “All white and silver light. Like a portal into heaven.”

    Sirius turned to his friend. “Rem?”

    But Remus continued on. “It is merely a shadow of sunlight, a masked vision of good, a portico into darkness, despair. It is Hell.”

    His words faded as he spoke them, until they blew away on the chilly city wind. He remembered, so long ago, sharing dreams with Sirius of country homes, and trees, and fresh, cool breezes. It all seemed a lifetime away by now.

    “You okay, Rem?”

    Almost instinctively, though it had been so many years, the darker man wrapped his arms around the other.

    “I’m sorry, Moony.”

    “Don’t be,” he said again. The words came out muffled, spoken into Sirius’ strong shoulder.

    The moon, so painfully dazzling, washed them in it’s light.

    “But I am, Remus, I am.”

    There was, for a moment, no answer from the blond man. Then he looked up. “Sirius-”

    But he was cut off, as they basked in the moonlight, by a pair of affectionate, worn lips caressing his own. It was nothing like their old kisses, full of passion and desire. No, it was understood to be platonic, understood that the only love they shared was of deep, coursing friendship.

    When they broke apart, Remus’ golden eyes were silver in the luminosity.

    “I love you, Padfoot,” he said, resting his head comfortably on the other man’s chest.

    “Me too, Moony, me too. I love you.” The white radiance kept him awake even as his friend slept.

~

    No one could have guessed that this would be the last night. No one could have known that tomorrow night, Sirius would be dead, gone, fallen. No one could have guessed that there would be no more platonic kisses, no more champagne, no more Adirondack chairs or ashen moonlight baths. No one could have guessed that this would be the last night. No one could have guessed-